#on the way home you realized the hell with being comfortable your throat was to be trained

[gonzodangerfeels]

Comes back with fries.

Looks like grimace comes with this happy meal.

[readsaboutreid]

Everything To Me | S.R.

summary: Spencer is in love with his coworker and best friend and goes all out to celebrate her birthday on the day after when she catches her boyfriend in bed with another woman when they arrive home from a case.

this is 100% season 1 spencer

warning: cheating, making out, angst/comfort

“(Y/N)! Wait up!” Spencer stumbled, tripping over his feet as he hurried to catch the elevator with his friend. He covered the distance from his desk to the elevator doors in record time as (Y/N) hit the button to presumably hold open the doors for him. He slid in and stood next to her while panting lightly. He really needed to do some cardio, he noted to himself.

“Wow, with speed like that I should start calling you Barry Allen,” she giggled, making Spencer's heart flutter in the best and most terrifying way and drawing a laugh out of his throat (even though he didn’t really get the reference). He couldn't help it when all he could think about was how much he wanted to hear that laugh every day for the rest of his life.

“Sorry,” he flashed a sheepish smile at her and ducked his head a little bit as he felt his cheeks heat up slightly.

“Hey, uh, I was wondering if you had any, uh, any plans for the evening? There’s a Star Trek: The Next Generation marathon and I know that’s your favorite Star Trek series so I was thinking maybe we could hang out and maybe get some takeout?"

"That sounds like it would be a hell of a time," she began. Spencer could already feel the incoming, "but I promised Warren I'd spend the evening with him since it's my birthday and all." Spencer had to keep himself from making a face at the mention of her asshole of a boyfriend, not wanting to upset her, and so instead he opted to skip over that and react to the next part of her statement.

"Wait it's your birthday? Why didn't you say anything? We all would have done something to celebrate before going home today," Spencer started kicking himself internally. How could he not have known today was her birthday? The two of them had become attached at the hip pretty much since she started at the BAU 4 months ago. She had even celebrated his own birthday with him and the rest of the team.

“Hey, it’s okay! You don’t need to feel bad or anything, I tend to just treat my birthday like it’s any other day so I often just don't even tell anyone when it is,” she shot him a sweet smile in an attempt to assure him that it was okay but it didn't make him feel any less guilty.

Spencer's heart sank a bit at the thought of not being able to celebrate (Y/N)'s birthday with her, but he knew Warren was important to her regardless of how much Spencer and the team disliked him. He mustered a smile and nodded, "No worries, spending time with Warren sounds great. Happy birthday, (Y/N). I hope your day is as wonderful as you are."

(Y/N) blushed at the compliment, waving it off modestly. The elevator dinged softly, indicating they had reached the ground floor. As the doors slid open, they stepped out into the bustling lobby of the FBI building. Spencer glanced at his watch and realized it was already late in the evening.

"Well, I should let you get going. Have a fantastic birthday night with Warren," Spencer said, trying to hide his disappointment behind a cheerful facade.

"Thank you, Spencer. I really appreciate it. We should definitely catch that Star Trek marathon another time," she replied with a warm smile before turning to head towards the exit.

Later in the evening, Spencer found himself sitting on his worn-out couch, a container of lukewarm Chinese takeout resting in his lap as he absentmindedly watched reruns of Star Trek. His mind kept wandering back to the encounter in the elevator with (Y/N) earlier that day. The missed opportunity to spend her birthday with her weighed heavily on his heart.

Just as Captain Picard was about to make a diplomatic decision that could change the course of an entire star system, Spencer's phone rang, jolting him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the screen to see (Y/N)'s name flashing brightly.

With a mixture of confusion and worry, he answered the call. "Hey, (Y/N), is everything okay?" His heart clenched at the sound of her quiet sobs on the other end of the line.

"Spencer," her voice cracked, "can you... can you come pick me up?"

Without another word, Spencer sprang into action. "Of course, (Y/N). I'll be right there. Where are you?" Spencer's voice was filled with concern as he quickly grabbed his keys and rushed out the door, leaving behind the half-eaten container of Chinese takeout and the flickering TV screen showing Star Trek.

As he drove through the quiet streets towards (Y/N)'s location, thoughts raced through Spencer's mind. Why was she crying? What had happened? He couldn't bear the thought of her in distress, especially on her birthday.

Finally reaching the spot where she said she would be, Spencer spotted (Y/N) sitting on a bench outside of a sketchy looking apartment complex, her head buried in her hands. He parked the car and hurried over to her, his heart breaking at the sight of her tear-streaked face.

"(Y/N), what's wrong?" Spencer knelt down beside her, gently placing a hand on her back. She looked up at him with red, puffy eyes, and he felt a crack in his chest

as her trembling voice filled the cool night air.

"I... I waited for Warren at my apartment, but he never showed up or called. I got worried and went to his place," she paused, taking a shuddering breath before continuing, "I let myself in with my key, and... and I found him in bed with another woman."

Shock rippled through Spencer as he struggled to process her words. The image of (Y/N) standing in the doorway of Warren's apartment, witnessing such a betrayal, tore at his heart. Anger flared within him, directed not only at Warren but at the unfairness of it all. How could someone as kind and genuine as (Y/N) be treated so callously?

Without hesitation, Spencer pulled (Y/N) into a tight embrace, offering her solace in the warmth of his arms. He felt her tears soak into his shirt as she clung to him, seeking comfort amidst the storm of emotions raging within her.

As she sobbed into his chest he felt tears pricking his own eyes. He gently cupped her head and started stroking her hair in an attempt to soothe her before saying, “let’s get you into the car, okay?”

As Spencer led (Y/N) to his car, he couldn't shake the image of her devastated face from his mind. The weight of her heartbreak hung heavy in the air, suffocating him with a sense of helplessness. He opened the car door for her, watching as she settled into the passenger seat with a heavy sigh.

"I'm so sorry, (Y/N)," Spencer murmured softly as he started the engine, casting a sympathetic glance her way. "You deserve so much better than this."

(Y/N) let out a bitter laugh, devoid of any humor. "I should have known better than to get my hopes up. This is why I never celebrate my birthday. It’s more trouble than it’s worth," she confessed, her voice laced with resignation and nothing more than a whisper by the very end. Spencer's heart clenched at her words. He wanted nothing more than to ease her pain, to show her that she deserved all the love and happiness in the world.

"You deserve to be celebrated, (Y/N)," Spencer said with conviction, his eyes meeting hers in the dim light of the car. "No one has the right to make you feel otherwise. You are kind, beautiful, and deserving of all the love and joy that life has to offer."

Spencer's words echoed in (Y/N)'s mind as they drove through the quiet streets of the city, the soft glow of streetlights casting a serene ambiance over the car. The heaviness of her heart began to lift ever so slightly, buoyed by the sincerity in Spencer's eyes and the comfort of his presence beside her.

As they reached a stoplight, Spencer turned to (Y/N) with a tentative smile. "How about we make a detour?" he suggested gently. "There's this little ice cream shop a few blocks away. Maybe some ice cream might help lift your spirits."

(Y/N) managed a small smile in return, touched by Spencer's thoughtfulness. The simple gesture felt like a ray of sunshine breaking through the storm clouds that had gathered around her heart. "That sounds nice," she replied softly, her voice still tinged with sadness but with a glimmer of gratitude shining through.

They parked near the ice cream shop, its cheerful neon sign beckoning them inside. The bell above the door jingled as they stepped in, greeted by the sweet scent of freshly made waffle cones and a colorful display of ice cream flavors. Spencer guided (Y/N) to a cozy booth by the window, where they could watch the world pass by as they indulged in their frozen treats.

As they savored their ice cream, the heaviness in (Y/N)'s heart began to thaw, melting away with each spoonful of creamy sweetness. Spencer listened attentively as she shared snippets of her favorite childhood memories, her voice soft and wistful against the backdrop of cheerful chatter from other customers.

Once they had finished their ice cream, Spencer suggested another detour. "There's this little vintage store down the street that always has some classic movies on sale. How about we pick up one of your favorites and head back to my place to watch it?”

(Y/N) hesitated before saying, “I don’t know about picking up anything from a store but is that Star Trek marathon still on?” The slight amount of hope in her voice made Spencer’s heart flutter with a mix of relief and warmth. He had been longing for a chance to make her smile, to see a glimmer of happiness light up her eyes once more.

Nodding enthusiastically, he replied, "Absolutely! We can swing by the store another time. For now, let's head straight to my place for that Star Trek marathon." The anticipation in (Y/N)'s eyes was palpable as they made their way to Spencer's cozy apartment. The familiar scent of old books and fresh laundry greeted them as they stepped inside, the soft glow of string lights casting a warm ambiance over the living room.

Spencer turned the TV back on, dimming the lights to create a cozy home-theater atmosphere. They settled on the couch, surrounded by plush pillows and soft blankets, basking in the nostalgic thrill of the sci-fi classic unfolding on the screen.

As the episode played on, Spencer got up and reheated the Chinese food from earlier and putting it on plates for each of them. He grabbed himself a fork and got one of the sets of chopsticks from the restaurant for (Y/N). As he made his way back to the living room he saw (Y/N) happily rocking back and forth as she watched Data and Geordi share another one of their intriguing engineering discussions. Spencer couldn't help but smile at the sight, a flicker of contentment lighting up his own heart as he handed (Y/N) the plate with her food and settled back onto the couch beside her.

Between bites of General Tso's chicken and sips of hot tea, Spencer couldn't help but feel a sense of peace settle over him. The soft glow of the TV cast shadows across the room, creating a cocoon of warmth and familiarity around them. The gentle hum of the spaceship's engines on screen seemed to lull them both into a comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional chuckle or comment about the characters.

After a few episodes, Spencer found himself stealing glances at (Y/N) out of the corner of his eye, admiring the soft curve of her profile as she watched intently. He could see a spark of joy in her eyes, a fleeting moment of escape from the weight of unspoken emotions that lingered between them. Sensing a rare moment of vulnerability, Spencer cleared his throat softly before turning to (Y/N) with a gentle smile.

"Hey, (Y/N)," he began, his voice soft and tentative. "I was wondering... If you could have done anything for your birthday today, what would it have been?"

(Y/N) paused, her gaze shifting from the screen to Spencer. Her expression softened as she considered the question, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. "You know, I've always wanted to visit the Smithsonian," she murmured, her eyes distant with longing. "And maybe the Botanic Gardens too... It's on my list of things to do someday."

Spencer nodded, committing her words to memory as he filed away the simple desires she shared. He made a mental note to himself, silently vowing to make those dreams a reality for her someday.

As they finished the last episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation, Spencer noticed the clock on the wall ticking closer to midnight. With a sense of reluctance, he turned to (Y/N) and said, "I hate to cut this short, but it's getting late. I should call a cab for you."

(Y/N) looked up at him, a mixture of disappointment and understanding in her eyes. She nodded quietly, gathering her things and slipping on her coat. As Spencer dialed for a cab, he couldn't shake off the feeling of missed opportunities hanging heavy in the air.

The subdued sound of the approaching cab echoed through the quiet street outside. Spencer opened the door for (Y/N), his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary. "I'll be picking you up at 11 am tomorrow so be dressed and ready," he said, surprising both himself and (Y/N) with his sudden declaration.

Confusion flashed across her face as she stammered, "But... why? Where are we going?"

"Just make sure you’re ready,” he smiled, ideas blossoming in his mind as he decided he was going to show her what her birthday meant to him. He closed the cab door behind her and waved as the car drove off before turning on his heel and heading back inside, preparing to show his best friend the time of her life tomorrow.

Spencer woke up at 8 am the next morning to the soft rays of sunlight filtering through the curtains, illuminating his room in a golden hue. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he stretched his arms above his head and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Today was going to be special; he was determined to make it a day that (Y/N) would never forget.

Remembering her mention once that morning glories were her favorite flower, Spencer decided to start by weaving a delicate flower crown out of the vibrant blooms he had picked from his backyard garden. As he carefully intertwined the petals and vines into a crown fit for a queen, he couldn't help but smile at the thought of seeing (Y/N) wear it.

After finishing the flower crown, Spencer's thoughts drifted to a memory she had shared with him long ago. Before her parents had passed away, they used to build her a pillow fort and hang fairy lights in it on special occasions. Determined to recreate that sense of childhood magic for her, Spencer set about constructing a fort in his living room. He gathered every pillow and blanket he could find, stacking them strategically to form the walls of the fort. With a bit of effort and creativity, he managed to fashion an elaborate yet cozy hideaway filled with soft cushions and twinkling fairy lights. His PhD in Engineering was finally seeing some use.

As he stepped back to admire his handiwork, Spencer's heart swelled with a mix of emotions. The soft glow of the lights cast a warm, inviting aura over the fort, creating an atmosphere of whimsy and nostalgia. He could almost picture the look of wonder on (Y/N)'s face when she saw it, and the thought filled him with a sense of anticipation.

With the fort completed, Spencer glanced at the clock and realized it was almost time to pick up (Y/N). Quickly changing into a clean shirt and vest and grabbing the flower crown he had made earlier, he made his way out the door, excitement bubbling in his chest.

As he drove to (Y/N)'s apartment, Spencer's mind was a whirlwind of nerves and anticipation. He parked the car a few blocks away, wanting to give himself a moment to compose himself before their day together began. Taking a deep breath, he stepped out onto the sidewalk and started the short walk to her building.

The street was alive with the sounds of the city waking up - the distant hum of traffic, the chatter of early risers going about their day. But in Spencer's mind, all he could focus on was the image of (Y/N) in his mind, wearing the flower crown he had made for her.

Finally reaching her apartment building, he climbed the steps to her floor, his heart pounding in his chest. Standing in front of her door, he took one last deep breath before lifting his hand to knock.

The sound echoed through the hallway, reverberating in Spencer's ears as he waited with bated breath. After what felt like an eternity, he heard footsteps approaching from inside the apartment. The soft shuffling of footsteps grew louder, and Spencer's pulse quickened in anticipation. Suddenly, the gentle click of the door being unlocked filled the air, and it slowly swung open to reveal (Y/N) standing before him.

She looked breathtaking. (Y/N) was wearing a simple yet elegant dress with cute buttons lining the front and a delicate peter pan collar. Her chin length bob was slightly curved under her chin and her bangs fell across her forehead in such a perfect way and Spencer looked away quickly, his cheeks burning when he realized he was staring. For a moment, they stood there in silence, the air thick with unspoken words and emotions.

Then, Spencer slowly brought forward the flower crown he had hidden behind his back, holding it out towards (Y/N) with a shaky hand. “Happy birthday," he finally whispered, his voice barely above a breath as he nervously offered her the crown. The soft petals of the flowers brushed against her fingertips, and (Y/N)'s eyes widened in surprise and delight as she took the flower crown from Spencer's hand. A small gasp escaped her lips as she held the delicate creation, a mix of awe and gratitude shining in her eyes as she looked up at him.

"Spencer, it's beautiful," she murmured as she gently placed it atop her head, her voice soft with emotion. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a golden glow that illuminated her features, making her look even more ethereal. In that moment, caught in the gentle morning light, Spencer felt a swell of affection for her that threatened to overwhelm him.

After a beat of silence filled with unspoken words hanging in the air between them, Spencer cleared his throat and offered a hesitant smile. "Are you ready to go?" he asked, his heart beating a little faster at the prospect of spending the day with her.

(Y/N) returned his smile with a nod, her eyes sparkling with anticipation as she looped her arm through his, the flower crown perched delicately on her head. They strolled down the bustling street, the city waking up around them with a cacophony of sounds and scents. Spencer couldn't help but steal glances at (Y/N), her presence beside him filling him with a warmth he hadn't felt before.

Their first stop was a cozy bookshop just across the street from her apartment building. The bell above the door chimed softly as they entered, and the scent of aged paper and ink enveloped them in a comforting embrace. Rows upon rows of books lined the shelves, each one whispering promises of new worlds and adventures.

"Pick out as many as you'd like," Spencer said, gesturing to the endless array of titles surrounding them. (Y/N)'s eyes widened in delight, a soft gasp escaping her lips as she wandered through the aisles, her fingers trailing over spines in search of stories. He watched as she made her way through the shelves until she reached the SciFi/Fantasy and Horror section and begin removing books from the shelves, reading the backs and either adding them to the stack in her arms or placing them back on the shelves.

Spencer couldn't help but admire the way (Y/N) immersed herself in the world of books, her eyes alight with a passion that made her even more enchanting. She moved with purpose, carefully selecting each book as if it held a piece of her soul within its pages. His heart swelled with fondness for her, her love for literature reflecting a depth to her character that he found endlessly captivating.

As (Y/N) returned back to him, her arms filled with a stack of books that seemed to reach towards the sky, she gave him a sheepish smile. "I might have gotten a bit carried away," she admitted, a hint of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “Could you help me narrow things down a little bit?”

Spencer chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners in amusement. "No need to apologize. Let's see what treasures you've found," he said, reaching out to take a few books from her arms. Together, they perused the titles she had chosen, discussing the plots and themes. After they had no luck in narrowing down the pile, Spencer scooped them all up into his arms in a stack and began making his way to the checkout stand.

"Why bother narrowing it down?" Spencer's voice was filled with a playful lilt as he carried the stack of books towards the checkout counter, (Y/N) trailing behind him with a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Impressive selection," the bookstore clerk commented as he rung up the stack of books, each title a window into (Y/N)'s interests and desires. (Y/N) beamed at the compliment, her eyes shining with confusion and gratitude as Spencer pulled out his wallet and paid before she could even reach for her own from her bag.

As they left the bookshop, the sun had climbed higher in the sky, casting a warm glow over the crowded streets. The sounds of the city swirled around them—honking cars, lively chatter, and the distant rumble of a passing train. Spencer glanced over at (Y/N) walking beside him, her face illuminated by a soft radiance.

(Y/N) quickly unlocked the door and placed the bags of books onto her dining room table before they walked back outside. Spencer patiently waited as she locked her door before holding his arm out again for her to grab on to as he lead her to his car.

As they arrived at the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum, Spencer's steps were light with anticipation. The air was alive with the promise of discovery, and he couldn't wait to share this world of wonders with (Y/N). The museum loomed before them like a giant treasure trove, its grand architecture a testament to human ingenuity and ambition.

Stepping inside, they were greeted by a vast hall filled with aircraft suspended from the ceiling like metallic birds frozen in flight. (Y/N)'s eyes widened in awe, her gaze flitting from one exhibit to another as Spencer led her through the maze of history and innovation.

"This is the Wright Flyer," Spencer said, pointing towards the iconic biplane that started it all. "It's incredible to think that this simple machine paved the way for all modern aviation."

As they moved deeper into the museum, Spencer's voice became a gentle murmur of knowledge and passion. He regaled (Y/N) with stories of astronauts who dared to venture beyond Earth's atmosphere and the technological advancements that made it all possible. (Y/N) listened with rapt attention, her eyes shimmering with wonder and admiration for both the exhibits and the man beside her.

Each artifact held a story, a piece of history waiting to be unraveled. Spencer's explanations brought life to the static displays, turning them into vibrant tales of human courage and scientific progress. He pointed out the intricate details of each spacecraft, each spacesuit, each photograph, as if they were sacred relics in a grand temple of human achievement.

As they entered the lunar module exhibit, (Y/N) gasped in awe at the sight of the actual spacecraft that had touched the surface of the moon as well as a piece of rock from the moon that was free for visitors to touch. She reached out a hand as if to touch it, but stopped herself, as if afraid to disturb the fragile connection between past and present.

Spencer noticed her hesitation and smiled softly. "It's okay, you can touch it," he encouraged. "Feel the history in your fingers."

(Y/N) tentatively reached out and brushed her fingertips against the cool, pitted surface of the moon rock. A jolt of electricity seemed to pass through her as she made contact, connecting her to a distant world that had once seemed so unreachable. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, overwhelmed by the weight of history and the magnitude of human achievement.

Spencer watched her with a mix of admiration and fondness, his heart swelling with a bittersweet ache at the sight of her emotional response. He longed to reach out and comfort her, to share in this moment of vulnerability and connection, but he held back, knowing that some experiences were meant to be felt in solitude.

As they moved on to the space shuttle exhibit, Spencer's voice took on a reverent tone as he explained the intricacies of space travel and the courage of those who dared to venture into the unknown. (Y/N) listened intently, hanging onto his every word as if they were precious treasures. The stories of the astronauts and their daring adventures resonated with her in a way she couldn't quite explain. It was as if each tale of exploration and discovery tugged at something deep within her, awakening a yearning for the stars that had long been dormant.

After exploring the wonders of the cosmos in the Air and Space Museum, Spencer suggested they visit the Museum of Natural History next. (Y/N) eagerly agreed, her curiosity piqued by the promise of delving into the mysteries of the natural world.

The moment they stepped into the museum, a wave of earthy scents enveloped them—the musty aroma of ancient fossils, the fresh green fragrance of preserved plants, and the tangy scent of minerals. (Y/N) took a deep breath, savoring the rich tapestry of odors that surrounded her as they ventured deeper into the exhibits.

Spencer guided her through halls filled with towering skeletons of dinosaurs, exotic taxidermy specimens, and sparkling gemstones that seemed to whisper tales of ancient worlds and forgotten creatures. His voice, now a gentle hum of fascination, wove intricate stories of the natural wonders before them, each exhibit a chapter in the never-ending book of Earth's history.

With every step, (Y/N) felt herself being transported back in time, her senses overwhelmed by the sights, sounds, and scents of a world long gone yet preserved within the walls of the museum. She marveled at the sheer diversity of life that had once inhabited the planet, from the majestic bones of a towering T-Rex to the delicate wings of a butterfly frozen in time.

As they reached the Butterfly Pavilion, (Y/N)'s eyes lit up with childlike excitement. She walked among the lush greenery, her fingers gently trailing over velvety leaves and vibrant petals as she inspected each plant with keen interest. Spencer watched her with a soft smile, his admiration for her knowledge and passion shining in his eyes.

"It’s like stepping into a living kaleidoscope," (Y/N) breathed, her voice hushed with wonder. "Each butterfly and moth, every plant here tells a story of adaptation and survival. Look at this one," she gestured to a plump monarch butterfly sipping nectar from a bright orange bloom, "did you know they migrate for thousands of miles to escape the cold?"

Spencer was happy to listen intently to her spout knowledge that he already held, captivated by the gleam in her eyes and the animated gestures that accompanied each explanation. He found himself falling even more deeply under her spell as she shared her wealth of knowledge, her voice growing more animated with each tidbit of information.

As they wandered through the pavilion, (Y/N) pointed out the intricate patterns on the butterflies' wings, explaining their purpose and significance with a mix of scientific precision and unbridled enthusiasm. Spencer couldn't help but be swept up in her passion, feeling a warmth bloom in his chest at the sight of her so fully immersed in her element. Her rarely used PhDs in Botany and Microbiology shone brightly through her words and actions as she explained the importance of every living thing within the enclosure down to the network of fungal mycelium in the dirt, making Spencer see her in a whole new light. The way she spoke about each species of butterfly or moth, each plant or fungus they saw, showcased not only her expertise but also her deep love and respect for the natural world.

Spencer found himself hanging onto her every word, just as she had done with his tales of space exploration earlier. He admired the way her eyes sparkled with excitement, the way her hands gestured animatedly as if conducting a symphony of knowledge and wonder.

As they reached a secluded corner of the pavilion, (Y/N) knelt down beside a cluster of milkweed plants, her voice soft and reverent as she explained their importance to the monarch butterflies. Spencer watched her intently, a sense of peace settling over him as he observed her in her element. He then checked his watch, his eyes widening in realization as he saw the time. They were going to be late for the dinner reservation he had managed to secure at the new Italian restaurant (Y/N) had been longing to try for months. With a gentle touch on her shoulder, Spencer interrupted her explanation about the symbiotic relationship between the milkweed plants and monarch butterflies.

"(Y/N), as much as I hate to interrupt your fascinating lesson, we should start heading out. We have a dinner reservation," Spencer said apologetically, a hint of regret in his tone.

Startled by the mention of dinner, (Y/N) straightened up, her eyes widening in surprise before a sheepish smile crossed her face. "Oh gosh, I completely lost track of time! I'm so sorry, Spencer. Let's go."

They hurried through the Butterfly Pavilion, their steps quickening as they made their way to the exit. Spencer opened the passenger door for her as they approached his car, and they soon found themselves seated inside as Spencer started the engine. The warmth of the setting sun bathed the interior in a golden glow, casting long shadows across (Y/N)'s face as she fastened her seatbelt. She glanced over at Spencer, her eyes shining with a mix of excitement and anticipation for the evening ahead.

The drive to the Italian restaurant was filled with comfortable silence, the only sound the soft hum of the radio playing a mellow jazz tune in the background. Spencer stole glances at (Y/N) from time to time, admiring how the fading light accentuated her features, casting her in a soft, ethereal glow.

Arriving at the restaurant, they were greeted by the tantalizing aroma of garlic and tomato sauce wafting through the air. The cozy ambiance of the place enveloped them as they were led to their table, nestled in a corner with a flickering candle casting dancing shadows on their faces.

As they perused the menu, (Y/N)'s eyes widened in delight as she scanned the offerings, her excitement palpable. Spencer couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm, feeling a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the romantic candlelight surrounding them. This moment, this simple act of sharing a meal with her, felt like a glimpse into the life he had always wanted but never dared to reach for.

Their conversation flowed effortlessly, filled with laughter and shared stories. (Y/N)'s eyes sparkled with joy as she recounted a hilarious mishap at work, and Spencer found himself hanging onto her every word once again. It was moments like these that made him forget about his own worries and fears, immersing himself in the present moment.

As the waiter brought out their food, the table was soon filled with plates of steaming pasta and fragrant sauces. The first bite sent a burst of flavors dancing on (Y/N)'s tongue, and she couldn't help but close her eyes in bliss. Spencer watched her savor each mouthful, her expression a symphony of delight and contentment. The flickering candlelight played on her face, accentuating the curve of her smile and the sparkle in her eyes.

Spencer's gaze lingered on her, a sense of longing tugging at his heart. He wanted to freeze this moment in time, to etch it into his memory forever. The warmth of the restaurant, the soft glow of the candle, the sound of (Y/N)'s laughter – all of it wove together into a tapestry of perfect happiness.

But beneath the surface of their shared joy, Spencer felt a pang of bittersweet realization. This was just a moment, a fleeting interlude in their lives. Tomorrow, they would return to their separate paths, their separate dreams.

As (Y/N) reached for her glass of wine, her hand brushed against his, sending a jolt of electricity through him. Their eyes met, and in that brief moment of connection, Spencer felt a surge of courage wash over him. As they finished their meals, the waiter returned to their table with a flourish, presenting a tray of decadent desserts that Spencer had secretly ordered while (Y/N) was in the bathroom. A smile played on his lips as he watched her eyes widen in surprise and delight at the unexpected treat.

"Spencer, you didn't have to do this," she murmured, her voice soft with gratitude.

"It's my pleasure," he replied, his tone gentle yet tinged with a hint of nervousness. "Would you like to enjoy it here or take it to go and eat it while watching something?"

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering between the cozy restaurant ambiance and the promise of a quiet moment elsewhere. After a brief pause, she decided, "Let's take it to go."

Spencer nodded in agreement and politely requested the bill. As he settled the payment, a sense of resolve settled in him, guiding his actions as they left the restaurant. The cool night air caressed their skin as they walked towards Spencer's car parked just around the corner. He opened the passenger door for her, a gesture that was both chivalrous and intimate.

As they drove through the city streets, (Y/N) couldn't shake off the feeling of curiosity that gnawed at her mind. Why were they headed to Spencer's apartment instead of hers, as she had anticipated? Her thoughts raced, trying to find an explanation for this unexpected turn of events.

Upon arriving at his apartment building, Spencer handed her the to-go boxes with their desserts before unlocking the door. A sense of bewilderment washed over (Y/N) as she followed him inside. Before she could voice her confusion, Spencer moved behind her and gently covered her eyes with his hands, guiding her further into his apartment.

The faint scent of his cologne lingered in the air as (Y/N) let herself be led by Spencer through the dimly lit hallway. Her heart raced with a mix of anticipation and curiosity, her trust in him unwavering as he guided her with careful steps. The soft shuffle of their feet echoed in the corridor, creating a rhythm that seemed to match the beat of her own pulse.

After what felt like an eternity of darkness behind her closed eyelids, Spencer's hands finally left (Y/N)'s eyes, revealing a mesmerizing sight before her. As she blinked away the temporary blindness, a gasp escaped her lips at the magical scene that unfolded in front of her.

The room was transformed into a whimsical wonderland – an elaborate pillow fort stretched across the space, twinkling with fairy lights that cast a warm, inviting glow. Soft blankets cascaded down like waterfalls, creating nooks and crannies that held the promise of cozy comfort. The air was scented with old books, eucalyptus, and lavender, adding to the ethereal atmosphere that surrounded them.

Spencer watched (Y/N) with bated breath as she took in the sight before her. The flickering lights danced across her face, illuminating the awe and wonder reflected in her eyes. It was a moment frozen in time, suspended between reality and a dream.

"Happy birthday, (Y/N)," Spencer's voice was barely a whisper, filled with a vulnerability that he had never dared to show before.

Tears welled up in (Y/N)'s eyes, moved by the effort and thoughtfulness he had put into creating this enchanting surprise. She turned to face him, her heart overflowing with emotions she struggled to put into words.

"Spencer, this is... it's perfect," she finally managed to say, her voice trembling with emotion. She reached out to grasp his hand, holding onto it as though afraid this magical moment would slip away if she let go.

As they settled into the cocoon of blankets and pillows, Spencer grabbed his laptop from his desk and popped a DVD into the disc player. The opening to a movie he had never seen but had heard her talk about multiple times, Clueless, played in the background but all he could do was look at her. Under the twinkling of the fairy lights he could almost swear she had to be a fairy herself. That’s the only thing he could think of that would explain her beauty.

As the movie played on (Y/N) explained to Spencer that it was actually an adaptation of her favorite novel by Jane Austen, Emma, which did little to make him feel the main character was more likeable but watching her happily chatter about the movie filled him with a sense of comfort and affection. This is how it should always be, he thought to himself, wrapping his arms around her as she settled against his chest.

They sat and cuddled in a comfortable silence until it was broken by her voice, soft and timid as she said, “hey Spence?”

“Hm?” He hummed into her hair, his eyes closed.

“Why did you do all of this?” She queried, sounding like she was on the verge of tears, which immediately pulled Spencer from his half asleep haze.

Spencer thought about his next words carefully, taking so long that (Y/N) was about to ask if he had fallen asleep before he finally responded. “After seeing you so heartbroken last night and seeing how Warren just tossed you aside like you didn’t matter I just felt like I should show you how much it means to me that you exist." His voice was gentle, barely a whisper as he confessed the depth of his feelings for her.

(Y/N) felt her breath catch in her throat at his words. The vulnerability in his voice touched her heart in a way she had never experienced before. She turned to look into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and care reflected back at her.

Tears glistened in her eyes as she reflexively leaned into his hand as he reached to cup her cheek, caressing it with a tenderness that spoke volumes. "Spencer," she murmured, her voice filled with emotion, "you didn’t have to—I’m not worth all this—I-I don’t—"

He placed a finger on her lips, silencing her words. "That’s what I’ve spent all day trying to show you, (Y/N). You are worth it. You are worth everything to me," he whispered, his gaze unwavering.

In that moment, (Y/N) felt a rush of emotions swell within her, a mix of disbelief and overwhelming gratitude. Her heart pounded in her chest as she gazed into Spencer's eyes, seeing a depth of love and sincerity that she had never expected to find. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, wrapping around them like a warm embrace.

As they sat there, suspended in time, (Y/N) felt a gentle tug at her heart urging her to lean forward. She hesitated for a moment, uncertainty clouding her mind as she debated the implications of such a gesture. Could she allow herself to be vulnerable again after everything she had been through? Was it worth risking her heart for the possibility of something more?

But before she could overthink it any further, Spencer's gaze softened even more as he leaned in towards her. In the briefest moment of hesitation, his lips hovered centimeters away from hers, silently asking for permission. And just as he began to pull back, (Y/N) plunged forward, closing the distance between them as she pressed her lips against Spencer's. It was a tender, tentative kiss filled with all the unspoken words and emotions that had lingered between them for so long. The world seemed to stand still as they shared this intimate moment, their hearts beating in harmony.

Spencer was momentarily stunned by the sudden turn of events, but as he felt (Y/N)'s warmth against his lips, all doubts and insecurities melted away. When they finally pulled away, they were both met with flushed cheeks and wide eyes. There was a charged energy in the air, a newfound connection that sparked between them like a flame igniting in the darkness.

"(Y/N)," Spencer whispered, his voice barely above a breath as he searched her eyes for confirmation.

(Y/N) simply smiled, a radiant expression that lit up her face with joy and relief. “I love you, Spencer,” falls from her lips before she crashes them back against his.

[jaykaysthicthighs]

Kiss Me Better | JJK

excerpt | jungkook said some really mean things to you when you started coming home so late. when he realizes how horrible he was, he tried making it up to you.

genre | angst, fluff, hurt /comfort

pairing | jeon jungkook x fem!reader

warnings | strong language, unintentional manhandle, jk being a jerk in the beginning, reader puts him in his place, lots of crying, hating oneself

wc | 4k+

notes | i tried my best to make something emotional, and i'm hoping it turned out well :)

It was around ten at night and you still weren't home. This has been going on for about a week now, and Jungkook is tired of it. He wanted answers as to why you were always late.

He was sitting in the living room with his legs bouncing, waiting for you to come home. He was anxious to thrust this issue onto you, but he felt like you were neglecting him; that maybe you might be cheating. Jungkook was never one to judge your faithfulness, but ever since you started coming home late every possible idea started popping up in his head. And when he tried talking to you about it, you would wave him off saying that you're tired.

Jungkook heard the familiar car beep. He got up instantly and trudged his way near the end of the entryway. He saw the doorknob twist open to reveal the fatigued woman he called "his". He watched you take off your shoes and place them on the shoe rack, throwing your work purse on the entryway table. It wasn't until you were steps away that you noticed your lover at the end of the hall.

Your body perked up at the sight of your boyfriend. You dragged your feet to Jungkook and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. "Hey, baby." But before Jungkook had time to greet you back, you were already sprawled out on the couch. Jungkook made a face of disdain to himself; how could you treat him like this. He felt hurt by your action. He took a minute to compose himself; he didn't want to confront you with rage coursing through his body.

Once he was calm, Jungkook made a beeline to you. He saw that your eyes were already closed; you looked very exhausted. He wanted to leave you alone, that he will have this conversation with you some other time, but he thought against it. Jungkook cleared his throat, making you open your eyes. You did a light stretch on the couch. "What is it, babe?" Jungkook took a shape inhale, "I want to talk to you."

You instantly sat up. In your four years of dating, Jungkook rarely says the words "I want to talk to you.", every time they get spoken, they would usually lead to arguments. Your attention was wide awake; you were getting nervous about what this conversation might lead to. "What is it, Jungkook?"

Jungkook clenched his jaw, tightening his facial muscles. With gritted teeth, Jungkook seethed, "I want to know why you've been coming home so late now?" You were shocked, to say the least. You knew that coming home so late would bring suspicion to your boyfriend, but you didn't think that he would be this angry.

"Umm... I..." You didn't know what to say to him. You wanted to tell him the reason, but you didn't want to ruin the surprise. Jungkook didn't like the fact that you were hesitating. You were always honest with him, never afraid to be blunt. "Why the hell are you hesitating, ____? You're fucking some other man, aren't you?" he yelled.

Your body jolted at his interrogation. His words were harsh, sending goosebumps through your body. You didn't like his assumption of you cheating. You stood up and questioned, "You think I'm cheating on you?" Your voice was laced with warning; warning that if he thought that way of you, you wouldn't be afraid to stand your ground.

One thing that Jungkook would never admit, is that every time you gave him this certain type of tone, he feels like being buried six feet under. Jungkook gulped down some spit that he didn't know was being harbored. "I don't know. You could be." You scoffed at his words, "Fuck you. I don't have time for this. I'm going to bed." You turned your body in the direction of the bedroom.

As you started walking, you heard Jungkook hysterically laughing. He growled, "Fuck me? No, fuck you, ____!" Before you halted your movement, Jungkook stomped his way to you and tightly latched his hand to your wrist, pulling you towards him. You yelped at the sudden action, pain taking hold of your arm. Jungkook immediately lets go. He was about to apologize, but you beat the gun.

You pushed him to the carpeted floor, holding your wrist to your heart. Tears started welling up. Never in a million years did you think Jungkook would say those things to you. The physical pain could not compare to the pain you were feeling emotionally. You cried out to him, "You wanna know why I've been coming home so late? You wanna know why I'm always so tired?" At this point, your tears were freely flowing. Jungkook was on the floor, not moving an inch, but he so badly wanted to wipe your tears away.

You bellowed, "It's not because I'm fucking some other man, Jungkook! It's because I took in overtime at work! I took in some extra hours to earn more money for our trip!" Jungkook was stunned at your confession. Shame taking its place in his heart. How could he accuse you of cheating? How could he say those hurtful things to you?

You softly added, "Do you remember two weeks ago, when we were talking about our parents? You had missed yours so badly because you hadn't seen them in months. You wanted to go visit them, but we didn't have the money." Jungkook started crying; he was starting to realize your reason. You faced the other way, not wanting to see Jungkook cry. You knew if you did, you would fall prey to him. He hurt you, and you didn't want to fall so easily.

Jungkook cried harder, and hearing him, so did you. You tried containing any sound leaving your mouth, coming out muffled. You sniffled, "I wanted to surprise you this Sunday. I was going to buy the tickets and book the hotel room tomorrow. I didn't want to tell you this way." Jungkook was biting his lips so hard when you were talking; he almost drew blood. When he felt your presence fading, he shot up and gently looped his arms around your torso.

He cried to you, tears falling on your shoulders, making your shirt damp. "Baby, I'm so-" You intervened, "Stop." You unhooked his arms apart. "Just stop, Jungkook. I'm tired." Jungkook shook his head vigorously. He wanted you to know how shameful he feels; apologize until you're tired of hearing it. "____, please. I'm so sorry."

You whipped your body around, facing him. You demanded, "Shut up, Jungkook! I said I'm tired, okay? We'll talk about this later." And after your ending sentence, you marched your way to the bedroom, not giving Jungkook a second to respond.

You plopped yourself on the shared bed, taking off your clothing, only leaving you in your underwear. You would've loved to have Jungkook wrap his arms around you while you went to sleep, but right now you just wanted to be alone. It only took a few minutes for your tears to start flowing again, and this time you didn't stop them. You let the tears, the darkness, and the warmth of the blanket lull you to sleep.

Jungkook on the other hand, was sitting on the couch pondering about his actions - his words. He hated himself for what he did. The way he talked to you, the way he gripped your wrist with so much force, the way he doubted your faithfulness; accused you of cheating. You are everything to him. He would move hell and heaven if you demanded it. You could say the vilest insult to him, throw your hardest punch and he'll still run back to you. He would do anything and everything just for you, but at the moment he didn't deserve you. You were the light of his life, but he knew that tonight he had dimmed you.

You woke up with the biggest headache. You haven't felt like this in years, so emotionally drained. The last time was when you had officially cut off ties with your mother. She never really approved of Jungkook, always calling him a bad influence. She was the type of person to judge the exterior before knowing what was on the inside. Hating Jungkook is an understatement, she loathed him.

You love your mother, but all the things she said about Jungkook stirred you away from appreciating her presence. He didn't want you to cut communications with her, but it was not only for him but for your sanity. The longer you kept in contact, the more you'll start going crazy about her foolish assumptions about your boyfriend. It was hard cutting her off, but it was definitely needed.

You rolled off of the bed, not caring that you were basically nude. You stumbled your way to the door, wanting to go to the bathroom. When you opened the door, you found Jungkook laying right against the beige wall. His appearance was rugged. His hair sticking up from every angle, and the faint smell of beer, he was still wearing the same clothes from last night.

Your heart tingled at the feeling that Jungkook must have stayed out here for you, wanting to be close to you, but also giving you your space. But then the reoccurring memory from last night punched its way through your brain. You slammed the door, stirring Jungkook awake. For a split second, Jungkook thought lighting came striking down to their house. His body jumped from the sudden bang, hitting his head against the wall in the process. He rubbed the sore area, hoping the action would ease the pain.

He didn't know what happened. He looked around the area for anything that might have caused the loud sound. But then he heard shuffling on the other side of the door. Jungkook got up without a second thought and was about to knock. His fist hovered the wooden entrance. He wanted to knock, but he was scared. After everything that he had done, he was worried that you wouldn't want to see him again.

Moments go by until Jungkook finally knocked on the door. "Baby?" he softly said. "Baby, can I come in?" He waited for your response, but all that answered him was silence. He clenched and unclenched his fists. Jungkook has never felt this nervous. He took a deep breath, "I'm gonna come in, ____. Okay?" He tapped his fingers against his thigh a few times, trying to calm the bundle of nerves. With one more deep breath, Jungkook carefully opened the bedroom door.

In his line of sight, Jungkook saw you curled up in the bed, the blanket hugging your body for security. He saw the throw pillows along with your clothes scattered across the floor; the whole atmosphere was messy. You were always the clean one in the relationship, so the fact that you couldn't care for the unkempt room made Jungkook more nervous than he already was.

Jungkook tried navigating his way to you, but he still wound up stepping on your clothes. When he got to you, he sat on the edge of the bed next to you silently. None of you guys peeped a word; the air was tense. You wanted to speak to him first, to yell at him for his absurdity, but you're also stubborn. So, you waited for Jungkook to talk first. Jungkook knew how you were; he knew that you were itching to say something first, but you were headstrong on finishing last.

He took it in himself to speak first. "____, I want to tell you how incredibly sorry I am, and that I regret everything that I had said." He looked at your covered figure with much sorrow. He wanted to see your beautiful face, even if you were to give him the most angered look. "Baby, can you please look at me?" You meekly spoke, "No."

A few tears threatened to escape his eyes. Jungkook took a deep breath and brought out his hand to cup your face. He slowly turned your head to face him, and you made no retaliation to his actions. Your face showed no emotion, but Jungkook saw the pain swimming in your eyes. He hurt you deeply, and he hurt you hard. "Please, know how sorry I am."

You took his hand away from your face. You rolled your eyes; you were tired of hearing it. "I know how sorry you are, Jungkook. I can see from your body language, your facial expression. I can hear it in your voice, okay? I know... So, please stop saying it." He nodded his head, understanding what you were saying. "I'm sor-"

"Jungkook!" you warned. "If all you're going to do is say sorry, then leave me alone." You went back to your previous position, trying to ignore your boyfriend's presence. He definitely knows how to push your buttons. Jungkook didn't want to leave this situation alone like this; he wanted to make it better. So, he said the first thing that came to mind, "Tell me where I hurt you, and I'll kiss it better."

You jested his words, "Kiss it better? Seriously?" Jungkook couldn't see your face, but by the tone of your words, he knew that the idea was stupid. But stupid or not Jungkook wanted to make you feel better. He shrugged his shoulders and said, "Yeah. It can be a start, right?" You took a minute to reel in the idea. It could maybe be a start.

You clicked your tongue and brought your wrist to his face. Without facing Jungkook, you demanded, "It didn't bruise, but you really hurt me here. So... kiss it." Jungkook gave a tiny smile; he was happy that you were open to his idea. He carefully grabbed your arm, making sure to not touch the area he has hurt you. Jungkook's soft touch sent small currents through your body. He brought your pained wrist to his lips and placed small but mellow kisses on them. Afterward, Jungkook rubbed the area with his thumb, hoping that it would soothe the pain.

He docile his voice, "Where else?" You were thinking of a place where he should kiss next, and during that time you positioned your body forward. Jungkook watched you readjust your body; you had looked so cute to him.

You looked at Jungkook with a stern expression, and said, "My ears, from hearing you talk shit to me." Jungkook invisibly flinched at your words, but a slight hint of grimace surfaced. He bent down to you and positioned his lips to your ear. He gave you a kiss, and the small smack of the contact rang. With his lips pressed against your ear, Jungkook quietly spoke, "Tell me more, baby. Where else are you hurt?" His breath shadowed your skin, leaving you dumb.

When you stayed quiet, Jungkook got a little concerned. He lifted his head up, his face inches away from yours. "Baby?" You saw the worriedness etched into his face, creating crease lines on his skin. He placed his forehead on yours and stared deeply into your eyes. He could still see that you were angry, but slowly he saw a bit of softness take place. You didn't want to admit that your boyfriend's idea was proving right, but his gentle kisses were so hard to ignore. It's like Jungkook has this magic spell where you could never say no.

You gulped down some spit, you didn't want to choke when you talked. "My eyes. You made them painstakingly teary." You had closed your eyes for Jungkook to kiss. He took a second to stare at them. Even with your eyes closed, you could still make out the redness around them. The more he looked, the more Jungkook hated himself for your pain. With each kiss of your eyelids, Jungkook had closed his, projecting his pain to himself.

When it was done, Jungkook remorsefully uttered, "____ - baby... I'm so sorry. Ev-" You interjected, "I have one more place that I want you to kiss better." Jungkook replied, "Of course. I'll kiss wherever you want." You slightly sat up; your upper back pressed against the headboard of your guy's bed. You choked, "Kiss my heart. Out of all the places you have hurt me, my heart hurts the most." You didn't want to sound choked, but you couldn't help it. "Please, kiss me better, Jungkook." you cried.

Jungkook's heart panged harshly at your pained confession. He started crying; his heart broke into a million pieces. The one place where he vowed to not hurt at the start of your guy's relationship, he did. You tried watching your boyfriend intensely, but your tears were blurring your vision.

Jungkook moved his hand to the blanket that was still covering you. It slid down and your breast was fully seen. Usually, Jungkook would be surprised at your nudity when he wasn't expecting it, but right now, all that Jungkook could see - could focus on was the area that your heart resided in. He looped one arm around your bare torso, gently pulling you towards him, and the other rested along your back.

He kissed your heart with so much tenderness. He cried while doing so, his tears falling on your bare skin. You couldn't stop the waterworks once his soft lips landed on you. Jungkook kept kissing you, hoping that each kiss took away the pain he had caused, but the more he did the more you cried. He had hurt you too much that even the kisses couldn't heal you.

Jungkook moved his head away from your chest and fully grabbed you. He hugged you tightly, just letting you cry your pain out to him. He didn't know what to say, all he could really do was comfort you. Jungkook placed one of his hands on your nape, while the other did long comforting strokes on your back. You heard Jungkook trying to shush you, not in a mean way, but to relax you, but it didn't work.

What felt like hours were only minutes, you had finally calmed down. You pulled away from Jungkook. You spotted a big wet mark on his shirt. You apologized profusely for making his shirt dirty. Jungkook only laughed; he didn't care that your snot and tears - possibly your saliva were on his shirt, hell, he wouldn't care if you even threw up on him. All that he cared about right now was how you were feeling.

You were about to wipe your face on your arm, but you didn't have a shirt on. "I'm sorry, I look horrible right now." Jungkook shook his head at your words. "You don't have to be sorry. You don't look horrible right now. To me, you look beautifully messy." You blushed at his compliment. "Yeah, but I still have snot and tears all over my face."

Jungkook sarcastically rolled his eyes. He jumped off of the bed and stood in front of you. He bundled his shirt up to his chest and carefully pulled you towards him. You were confused at first, but then you realized he was going to wipe your face with his shirt - like a mother. When he did, Jungkook shrugged, "It's already dirty, so, don't worry about it. Plus, nothing like a few more bodily fluids, right?" You felt like laughing at his rhetorical question, but all you could feel was the guilt for ruining your boyfriend's shirt.

Jungkook chucked his dirty shirt on the messy floor and climbed into bed with you. He hesitated on pulling you close to him; he didn't want to push any boundaries you might have set on him. "Is it okay if I hold you?" Instead of answering his question, you pulled him towards you. You buried your face in his chest. You wanted Jungkook to hold but he wasn't. You murmured against his skin, "Why aren't you holding me?"

"I didn't know if I was supposed to." You wrapped your arms around your boyfriend's build. "Well, I want you to hold me." And like so, Jungkook held you close. He buried his face in your hair, breathing in your intoxicating scent. If Jungkook were to die right now, he would die a happy man; being in your arms, breathing you in is all he could ever ask for.

Before speaking Jungkook licked his lips, "____, I want to tell - shit! Babe, ow!" You had kicked Jungkook to further stop his sentence. "Like I said before, if you're going to keep apologizing then please leave. Because honestly, babe, I'm really tired of hearing you say that." Jungkook chuckled at your annoyance. "I wasn't going to apologize if that makes you happy. I was going to say how regretful I am to accuse you of cheating. How regretful I am of gripping you hard on the wrist. Cursing and yelling at you. I regret everything that happened last night."

You held Jungkook tighter to you. In situations similar to this, Jungkook was always the one comforting you; you were the stubborn one in the relationship. It was kind of hard being on the opposite side. You tried your best of comforting Jungkook, but you couldn't really do it physically, that spectrum resides for Jungkook.

So, you did what you do best, you comforted him verbally. "I know I can't ask you to feel a certain way, but know this, Jungkook," You lifted your head up to him, and expressed, "Everything that happened last night could never erase my four years of love for you. What you did to me definitely hurt me, but you cannot shoulder all of this guilt. I also was at fault."

Jungkook pulled away slightly. He couldn't believe what he heard. He denied, "No! You did nothing wrong." You furrowed your brows. "But I did, Jungkook! If I hadn't kept this a secret... if I had just told you my reason for being out so long, we wouldn't be in this predicament. I should have told you, and for that, I'm sorry." Jungkook wanted to argue your statement, but the look on your face was pleading with him to forgive you.

Jungkook shimmied his way down to you, eyes meeting at the same level. He pushed some of your hair away from your face, tucking them behind your ear. Your beauty was something to treasure. Jungkook smiled, "You're so beautiful, baby. If you want me to forgive you, I need you to forgive me as well."

You lifted your pointer finger up when an idea came to mind. "One last request," Jungkook smirked, wondering what trick you have up your sleeve. You continued on, "Kiss me on the lips and I'll forgive you."

You didn't have to tell him twice. Jungkook smashed his lips on yours, taking you all in. He cupped your jaw in between his hands, holding you tightly. Your small moans drowning in your lover's mouth. Your wondering hands feel the toned muscles beneath your fingertips. Somewhere along the way, you climbed on top of Jungkook. The slight grinding you were doing on his lap made him jolt. He softly gripped your arms and pushed you away.

"Baby, I think we should stop, because if we continue this, I don't think I'll have the urge to control my craving." You jumped on his lap, taunting him. Jungkook wasn't having it, so, he switched your positions; you were laying underneath him, while he trapped you between his arms. "Didn't I say you should stop?" he growled.

All you did was grin like a kid who won a stuffed animal at a carnival. You wrapped your arms around Jungkook's - somewhat sweaty neck. God only knows how much you love this man. If a home was a person, he would be yours. You proclaimed, "I love you so much, Jungkook." Jungkook saw the love swirling in your irises; his heart swarmed with adoration for you. As a response, he said, "I love you, ___. I could never love anybody as much as I love you."

You guys kissed one more time before going back to cuddling. In the middle of basking in each other's presence, you blurted, "Oh god, we have to buy the tickets today. Not only that, but we also hav-" Jungkook placed his rough hand on top of your mouth. “Shhh... It's cuddle time, babe." You pushed his hand away and giggled. You wished there was a word more than love, maybe devotion, but you really love Jungkook.

[itneverendshere]

can't remember anything before you - rafe cameron.

request: "can you write something for rafe, where he's had a crush on topper's older sister for ages and he finally does something about it? it can be fluffy and smutty, honestly I'm just here for the plot."

pairing: rafe cameron x thornton!reader; brother's best friend! trope or best friend's sister! trope; fem!reader.

word count: wrote 11 word pages i apologize;

WARNINGS: p in v; fingering; handjob; smut with plot; a lot of cursing; rafe being a lover boy; mentions of slow burn like the slowest burn of his life but it pays off; mentions of voyeurism;

you drive him insane. 

what the hell are you doing prancing around the house in the tiniest red bikini known to mankind? 

rafe's not a creep, okay? earlier, he tried to redirect his attention, focus on anything else – the tv, the background music, even the patterns on the wallpaper – but his gaze involuntarily gravitated back to you. it's as if the universe conspires against him, pushing him to the edge of his self-control.

it's not just the stupid bikini; it's the way you carry yourself. 

it's not fair. 

it's why he secluded himself from the party an hour ago, slipping away unsuspectedly to the little private lounge you kept in your favorite area to sunbathe. he sank into a reclining chair, running his hands through his buzzed hair in frustration. 

closing his eyes for the millionth time that evening, rafe tries to summon the strength to think about you in anything except the slutty number you're wearing— and it still doesn't help. in the distance, laughter from the party echoes, a stark reminder of the festivities he chose to distance himself from. 

then, the hidden door creaks open, and without looking, he knows it's you. 

it's your spot after all. maybe this was a terrible idea.

the subtle scent of your sunscreen wafts through the air, and the sound of footsteps approaches. rafe's heart quickens, torn between the desire to get the fuck away from you and your scent that urges him to stay. he keeps his eyes closed for a moment longer, clinging to the darkness as if it can shield him from you.

completely fucked. he's so fucked. 

you settle into a nearby chair, and the silence between you is almost comforting. almost. because that sleazy bikini of yours is still very much imprinted into his brain. rafe finally musters the courage to open his eyes, only to meet yours the second he does. 

it takes an unbelievable amount of willpower to fight the groan in his throat when he realizes your arms are crossed and doing absolutely nothing to hide your tits. the world seems to narrow down to the glistening droplets of water on your skin, the curve of your body. his gaze trails down and he almost folds on the spot.

oh, for fuck's sake.

the reclining chair suddenly feels like a throne of thorns. he should've gone home. ogling you is nothing new in his book, it's what he does best, but now that you've spent the entire summer together...having you all to himself after years of barely catching a glimpse of you during the holidays or summer breaks in the outer banks, rafe knows that it's not just a stupid crush on his best friend's older sister.

it's not just a fleeting desire, it's something that has been brewing inside him for years, and the eye of its right here. 

"you, okay?"

rafe almost jumps out of his skin, as your voice breaks the silence. he hesitates, finding it difficult to find the right words when you're looking at him with your pretty eyes. 

he clears his throat, attempting to regain his composure, "yeah, yeah. i'm...i'm good." rafe replies, his voice rougher than he intends.

your pouty lip’s part, perhaps ready to probe further, but he can't let you mess with his head.

"just needed a breather from the party, y'know?" he adds, hoping the casual tone will deflect you from analyzing him like one of your books. you're the only one who always saw through the layers he wrapped around himself. 

too fucking smart for you own good. 

you tilt your head slightly, exposing your pretty neck, "were my cocktails that bad?"

there's an underlying teasing undertone, and he can't help but let out a small, rueful chuckle, "nah, don't think they could be bad even if you tried, peach." he replies, a sheepish grin playing on his lips.

your heart races at the sight of him. he’s gorgeous. no one should be allowed to look this good, especially with a shaved head and a three-day stubble. you'd like to blame the drinks for luring your nasty thoughts out, but you know this, is entirely on you.

weird, right? 

this was rafe cameron. the little rafe cameron who grew up down the street from you, the insufferable kid your brother brought along to every single-family vacation and had the biggest crush on you when you were seventeen. the metamorphosis from the boy to the captivating man seated before you makes you head hurt.

he's a man now, the prettiest you've ever seen, and it only took him one summer to have you under his palm. 

his phone looks so small in his large hands, your gaze follows the veins lining the back of them as his fingers nimbly play with the screen.

"am i boring you?" you ask, leaning your head back into the chair, his perfume, replica jazz club you assume, wafts over you and it takes everything in you not to drop your face into his buff chest and just inhale him, "you haven't spoken a word to me all day."

there's a slight buzz from the alcohol in your veins that allows you to ask the questions you'd never ask if you were sober. 

rafe runs his hand across his jaw, analyzing you slowly. "'course i have."

you scoff, feigning nonchalance. "no, you haven't. it's like you're avoiding me."

rafe's heart skips a beat. "avoiding you? m'not avoiding you."

you raise a perfect eyebrow, challenging him, "really?"

rafe shifts uncomfortably in the chair, his gaze flickering between your eyes and the tempting curves that the tiny red bikini accentuates. 

"is it because raven is here?"

his eyes are busy tracing the lines of your features with an unwavering dedication. he's never been the best at multitasking when in your presence. he sees your lips moving but can't wrap his head around what you asked.

when he catches your eye again, there's a subtle blush gracing your cheeks, but you don't look away, "who?"

"raven. your ex? the girl you were fucking on spring break?"

rafe's eyes widen comically, surprise and discomfort settling on his face. he shifts in his chair again, as you've catch him off guard. how the fuck did he forget you knew about raven? 

"oh, uh, raven. yeah—i mean no! no, no, it's not about her. we're not a thing anymore," he stammers out, fingers scratching his stubble, "that was a spring break thing."

you sit up straighter, the tequila and curiosity-fueling your boldness, "a spring break thing, huh?"

you pray to god he can't pinpoint the jealousy coating your words. 

his jaw slightly slackens, forming an unintentional expression of awe as you move your legs, once again momentarily losing the ability to form coherent thoughts. beads of sweat form on his forehead as he struggles to maintain composure. 

the heat is not helping his situation at all. 

when the silence becomes a little too overbearing for you, you can't shake the growing unease that you might be unintentionally bothering rafe's peace. your words flowed, but you notice a subtle glaze over his blue eyes, a distant look that hints at his mind wandering elsewhere. 

is he thinking about raven?

you adjust your posture, nervously fiddling with the bracelet on your arm, a subtle sign of your growing discomfort, "do you want me to leave?"

rafe's eyes snap back to you, the fleeting moment of distraction replaced by a sudden intensity. he blinks a few times, as if trying to shake off the mental fog that had settled, "'course not," there's a hint of urgency in his voice. he doesn't want you to leave, and that realization tightens the knots in his stomach, "always want your company."

this is unbearable. you've gotten him on a tight leash, and you don't even know.

his tone makes your lips twitch, and you press them together to keep from smiling, "aww, look at you being nice to me, it's like you're sixteen all over again."

an involuntary groan escapes his throat, the sound automatically making you clench your thighs. 

"you remember that?"

"course i do, you're the only guy who's ever gifted me flowers."

that's because you've only dated douchebags, it's what he wants to tell you, but he doesn't because it's none of his business. 

"how much have you had to drink?"

you smirk, "a little. how much have you had to drink?"

he trails his eyes up you higher, gliding up your tummy, over your tits, right up to your throat, "a little."

a subtle awareness tingles at the back of your senses and that's when it hits you. 

rafe is staring at you. 

he's not shy about it; his eyes trail over you, leaving a tangible heat in their wake, practically eating you alive and you have to take another look to confirm you're not being a delusional bitch. so maybe... you did wear this bikini hoping he would finally do something, that he'd finally understand that you want him. 

you've spent the entire summer teasing him. seeing if you could get a rise, hit the right button. 

you quirk a brow at him, amusement curling at the corners of your lips, "bikini's nice, isn't it?"

he clears his throat, a subtle rasp betraying the restraint he's trying to maintain. 

"yeah, it's...it's something," he replies, the words slightly breathless. he crosses his arms across his chest, biceps big enough to make you want to climb him like a tree. 

you lean forward propping yourself on one of your elbows, making sure he gets a fantastic view of your cleavage, "you know, rafe, you've been pretty quiet."

his lips, naturally inviting, become the focal point as he bites down on the lower one, "just...taking in the view, i guess." he mumbles, his gaze momentarily darting away before locking onto you again.

rafe feels like he's fourteen again, unable to hold a conversation with a pretty girl like you. except he's twenty-two and he should know better. you're going to give him a stroke. 

"the view, huh?” your eyes widen in mock-surprise, “and do you like what you see?" you ask.

he swallows hard. uh-oh, is he really about to do this? 

"you know i do." he admits, the admission laced with a raw honesty that takes you by surprise.

got him right where you want him.

you decide to push the boundaries a bit further, your voice dropping to a sultry tone, fingers playfully tracing the edge of the bikini strap.

"wasn't sure about the red, but it's your favorite color."

his head whips back around and he swears he hears a crack. if he wasn't fully hard before, he is now. 

you both know you meant what you said, not just a heat-of-the-moment confession. his gaze is fixed on you and his eyebrows are pushed together in a painful expression and he just keeps shaking his head.

he opens his mouth, takes a slow, shuddering breath that you feel through every inch of your body and leans forward, hands gripping the arms of the chair for dear life, "peach."

there's an underlying warning in his voice, begging you to take a step back and rethink this entire thing, but quite frankly, you're tired of thinking. as matter of fact, you're done making excuses not to fuck rafe.

he exhales a shaky breath, "you're playing with fire, y'know that?" his voice is low, it only spurs the warning and longing lingering inside you.

you're both breathless and you haven't even touched each other.

it's time you deliver the final nail to the coffin.

"you're gonna do something about it or do i have to find someone else?"

the realization eventually sinks in: you want him. you want him as desperately as he wants you. you've pushed him to the edge, and there's no turning back now.

his hands are on you before you can blink again, roaming fingers locking around your wrist to pull you towards him, knocking his phone to the ground in the process, but he doesn't care, everything's background noise when you stumble into his lap, pretty legs dangling to the sides. his hands wrap around your torso, pulling you closer, chest to chest, fingers digging into your hips like he's trying to convince himself you're not an illusion. 

the world narrows down to the heat of his touch, the electrifying sensation of his fingers on your skin. you feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest, mirroring your own anticipation.

rafe's eyes, lock onto yours, a silent agreement passing between you.

"y'sure about this?" he whispers, voice a low growl, but the vulnerability in his eyes makes you want to kiss him stupid.

his hands, which had been restless before, find a purpose as his fingertips brush the skin of your face lightly, caressing your chin between his thumb and forefinger before his eyes sweep up to meet your own.

"please." the words come out like a plea.

“please, what?" he asks, so smug you almost punch him, "gotta tell me what you want, hm?"

“kiss me.”

and then his lips are on yours. it's more than just kissing; it's a fusion of desires, an electric current that drags you under. rafe's touch is confident, yet tender, as if he is unraveling a secret, delicate treasure. your senses heighten, catching the subtle nuances of his warm breath mingling with yours.

rafe's kiss is a slow burn, a deliberate exploration that leaves trails of heat in its wake. there's an artistry to the way he traces the contours of your lips, teasing and coaxing, building a crescendo of anticipation, rendering you breathless.

the lounge chair becomes a battleground of hands and lips, a frenzied exchange of desires unleashed, an intensity that borders on desperate, as if trying to capture and savor every moment. your fingers trace along his arms, and his hands explore every inch of your body, as if mapping out the territory he's yearned for.

his lips leave a trail of fire along your jawline, down to your collarbone, and you suppress a cry, the sensation sending shivers down your spine. the summer nighttime air feels heavy, thick with the scent of sunscreen and the heady aroma of desire.

rafe breaks the kiss for a moment, his breath hot against your skin. 

you’re both panting, breathing so hard that your heaving chests touch with every breath.

"been driving me insane all summer, y'know that?" he admits, a husky edge to his voice, throat bobbing, "so fucking insane." he whispers into your neck.

he can't even think straight with your ass firmly pressed against him.

you attempt to keep an even voice, but nonchalance escapes you for the time being. "that was the plan all along."

rafe chuckles, a low, throaty sound that resonates through you, feeling the warmth of his breath against your ear, "god, gonna be the death of me."

there’s no time to reply because he leans his head and catches your lips faster this time. 

he tilts your head down, applying a little bit of pressure to your mouth. your lips part again, and so do his. he swallows your moan into his mouth, and eases his tongue into you, urgently exploring every crevice of your mouth, hand slipping from your cheek and resting at the column of your neck, fingers kneading the back of it.

you press your body further into his and you can feel every inch of him vibrating, his entire body pulsing with need. his skin feels so hot against yours, he’s unbearably hard and you’re positively dying to get your hands on every single inch of his skin.

your nails scrape against his scalp and you squeak in shock as rafe’s hips surge upwards, forcing his hard cock against you. the unabashed moan he lets slip is sinful and it’s all you want to hear for the rest of your life. you can’t stop the urge building up inside you, you’re not even certain you can stop moving your hips even if you wanted to.

his hands dig into the plush of your thighs and he restrains himself, you deserve better than to get fucked out here. he watches closely, hypnotized by the way you begin rubbing yourself onto him, the outline of his cock grazing back and forth between your covered folds.

“baby, we can—can’t, jesu—not here.”

the new pet name makes you feral for him.

you trace a finger up the column of his throat, sending a shiver down his spine, you don’t stop moving your hips, watching his eyes flutter every time you rub just the right way.

“why not?”

rafe groans, head falling back to the chair, “here?”

it’s almost funny how he’s willing to bend over every decision he’s ever made in his life, just for you. he’s letting you dry hump him right here, when your brother, his best friend and god knows who can walk in at any given moment. 

you nod pathetically, brain turned into mush, “can’t wait any longer.”

“stop saying shit like that.” he warns you through gritted teeth, “fuck.”

the needy sound that rips through your chest when his hands leave your thighs echoes in his mind.

“peach”, he begins, roaming hand brushing up the back of your thigh and squeezing the flesh just below the swell of your rear, “y’have a problem with control."

both your lips are swollen pink and ridden with spit.

“like you’re any better.”

you’re such a brat. 

rafe grabs your chin and tilts your head, so you have to look into his pretty eyes, “let’s not make any noise, yeah?” his lips create a path up your throat, hands on your ass, kneading and pushing so he can grind you all over his growing bulge.

you whimper, rocking harder on him and wrapping your arms around his neck. you just want him to touch you. his hips roll slowly, rubbing his hard-on lazily and mindlessly. he can't help but send a rough smack on your ass, smirking at your surprised yelp.

“just touch me,” you grip his shoulder harder, holding on for dear life as his hands trail back, the bits of his nails scraping along your naked thighs. 

they catch the waistband of your bikini bottoms. he traces your clit over the fabric feeling the warm, wet patch you’re leaving in them and then he teasingly slips his fingers underneath, swiping them along your slit, thumb, and index finger opening your pussy to his gaze. 

this time he swallows hard, seeing your pussy pink and glistening for him. 

“’m touching you, peach,” his touch, and scent, cloud your vision, the soft sounds of his labored breath singing in your ears as he leans down to press wet-mouthed kisses to your neck, “m touching you.”

”more,” you whine, lips barely parted, drawing out another salacious moan from him. “fuck.”

“like this?” he whispers against your lips, words hoarse and murmured, watching your eyes soften and brows twist, features becoming pliant under his enamored gaze, “you’re so fucking wet.” he tsk under his breath, shaking his head in the typical rafe cameron condescending way.

he presses a finger inside of you, slowly stretching out your tight hole. you groan, and his eyes roll back at the way your walls stretch around him. so fucking tight. you rock harder against him, fucking yourself into his finger and wrapping your arms around his neck again. you just want to feel him against you.

his half-lidded eyes look up at you as you contort on top of him, feeling overstimulated, with a single finger. 

he coos, his other hand sweeping over the back of your head sweetly, pushing back stray sweaty hairs. he nudges your nose with his, hand on the back of your neck, and tries to meet your eye. the squelch as his finger fucks into you, fast and deep, is the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

“rafe—“ you hand grips his wrist as your eyes roll back when his fingers find that spot.

“t’s good?”

“so good,” you whine loudly, he’s cocky tone only adding to his allure. 

you can feel the stretch it takes just to take his finger, rutting into you, curling perfectly.  

he thinks it might be the sweetest thing he’s ever witnessed – your voice when you’re being fucked. you’re gushing around his digits, hands now clutching his shoulders. it’s like you can’t stop moving them, needing to feel every ridge of his body. 

rafe adds another finger, pressing the tips of his middle and ring finger against that soft, spongy part deep inside and grins when you cry out his name.

“fuck,” you cry out against his skin dragging your lips up his throat, over his jaw, before finding purchase at his lips in a kiss that devours all air in your lungs. your fingers curl around the band of his bathing shorts, enjoying the slight whine that slips past his lips.

“let me touch you,” you plead, words muffled by the way your tongue can’t seem to leave his skin alone, teeth grazing along where his neck and shoulder meet. you nip at the area, before daring to swipe your tongue along his neck, sucking the tender flesh with your teeth. 

holy fuck, are you marking him?

“oh god."

a third finger, your hips now rutting against him.

“hickeys, baby? that territorial, huh?” his hand slows for a moment, twisting so he can thumb at your clit before he continues, both motions in tandem. you cry out, eyes screwed close, hips shoving forward, “you look so pretty like this," rafe whispers against your skin, his full-blown pupils looking up at you through his long lashes.

“i want more”

“every little sound you make goes straight down to my cock,” he’s rubbing his cock so perfectly against your clit again, only making you whine more desperately for him. he places a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth, just so he can see you blindly chase after his lips. 

and then, you feel empty. 

he lets his fingers slide all the way out and his throat tightens at the feel of you bearing down, trying to hold on to him as he withdraws completely. he ignores your protests and drags his thick fingers across your wet folds. when he feels satisfied with the coat around his fingers, he moves them toward your face, letting them trail over your lips.

“gon’ open up f’me?”

you gasp, but obey immediately, tongue darting out to lick your slick off his fingers. rafe doesn’t hold back his groan, watching your tongue swirling around his digits. he throws whatever concerns he had over your noises out the window.

he’s too lost in your body to care if someone finds you two or not. 

as a matter of fact, let them see. god knows he’s dying to show those bastards you belong to him anyway. he wants you all to himself, wants the whole world to know you’re his.

“so, so, so good,” he praises, closing the gap, lips molding right into yours again. his hands find home in your throat, adding just right the amount of pressure to make you sigh against his lips.

rafe smirks, brushing a finger along your skin, should’ve guessed his pretty peach had kink for praises. your tummy is in a knot because he’s running his hands along your body, and you just need to have him.

you clumsily slip his shorts and boxers down, just enough to touch him, and he raises his hips automatically helping you slide them down, his cock springing out of his confines to lightly hit against his abdomen.

you break the kiss, needing to look at him. 

and you’re so glad you do, because rafe has the most perfect dick you’ve ever seen. you catch yourself staring at him, devouring every part of his body with your eyes.

he feels his heartbeat faster, face flush when your eyes are back on his face as you softly wrap one of you manicured hands around him, just slightly, slow pumps. but it’s more than enough to make him drop his head back, adam’s apple bobbing, brows pitched together.

“good?” you ask him, keeping the pace so you can feel him throb in your hand.

“everything’s good when it’s you peach,” he grunts out, and the way his abs seem to recoil makes your tongue slide across your bottom lip, “fucking perfect.”

your thumb smears precum across his tip, bending forward to ghost your lips over his, “need you inside me.”

the way rafe’s jaw drops open in a silent moan when you tighten your hold around him is beautiful, searing itself in the back of your mind. 

settling on his lower lip, you draw it into your mouth, sucking softly, moving your hips even closer. he runs his hands along your sides, one stopping just below your breasts—the other one flicking your nipple with his thumb.

you keep your eyes open, needing to memorize every single moment. his breath comes down on your lips in heavy pants, fingers teasing your skin, hums of pleasure circling both of you. 

“want me inside you?” his voice sounds so husky it makes you want to cry, “want me to fil you up?”

your hand leaves his cock, pulling him to you by his shoulders, and he braces himself with one hand on your waist, another on the chair.

he runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, “that bad?”

“don’t tease me,” you struggle to produce words, hands winding through his chest, “waited long enough.”

rafe holds his cock by the base, running it up and down your pussy, “not longer than i have.”

you sink down onto him, biting your lip at the slow pressure, the pleasant stretch that pulls at your middle. you can feel tears brimming your eyes from pure relief and he feels like every single fiber of his being is scorching. 

he can feel just how deep he his, his fingers clutching at the flesh of your hips like his life depends on it, “fuck. that’s it, baby.”

your hands are placed firmly on his stomach, and one of his glides up right up to your throat, pulling you down to his chest. all you can properly let out of your mouth are pleas and whimpers. the stretch is on the edge of painful, but he fits so perfectly inside of you. you huff a short breath when he’s all the way in.

“you okay?” he asks against your ear, softly biting the lobe.

your answer is a desperate roll of your hips, “perfect.”

you begin to move your hips up and down, as the stretch gives way to something delirious, and rafe takes mercy on you, beginning to thrust back up into you, his rhythm building up until your mouth falls open again into a pretty moan, until sweat shines on the high points of his perfectly sculpted face. every time your skin touches his it’s fucking scorching, and the stretch is agonizing, and the heavy air is suffocating but then he’s bottoming out and you feel your brain go fuzzy. 

you’re wrapped around him so tight it makes his moves sloppy, almost mindless but so deep it knocks the air out of your lungs.

“waited so long for you,” one hand on the curve of your hip, the other along your jaw, lips hungrily working over yours, swallowing your gentle whimpers, your soft, sweet pleas vibrating against his tongue, “have no idea what you do to me.”

his confession only makes you drag yourself harder against him, clit brushing against his pubic bone, “rafe!”

“that’s it,” he coos, tone gentle, the friction too overwhelming, “so beautiful.”

the strain in his voice makes you want to stay like this forever.

you tighten around him further, letting your nails rake down his chest. rafe grunts, thrusting harder, shifting you closer to him as humanly possible. you feel his stomach and thighs clench, and his hips sputter, “you’re so deep.”

he presses his hand against your stomach, feeling the bulge, “might fuck a baby into you,” he rasps, thumb catching against your clit, “let them know you’re mine.”

“yours,” he’s trailing kisses along your collarbone until he reaches your tits, leaving a line of soft, wet suckles behind, “only yours.” 

the way he’s stroking you unrushed is absolutely toe-curling, guiding you over his cock with very little maneuvering, gently pushing your hips down onto him.

“gonna keep you here, stuffed, for hours baby.”

you can hear it reverberating through the night air. 

the slap of skin, the grunts. the sound of the chair creaking as he fucks you into it. each delicious slip, every time you feel his veiny shaft twitching for attention against your walls. you’re so lightheaded you might pass out.

rafe feels his balls tighten. you are creaming so fast, squeezing the hell out of his cock. he’s making sure to put your pleasure before his, hitting all the right spots.

“rafe, baby—" his name being moaned out by you is urging him to bust inside you, his eyes narrowing slightly as his grip on your hips tightens, “oh—im gon—fuckk.”

he only pushes you faster up and down his dick as your walls grip around him, a mix of your cream and his pre-cum coating his length. his eyes focus on your face, basking in the pretty expressions you make.

“it’s too much.” you whine, feeling your orgasm about to reach itself. rafe’s eyes glimmer at your words, tracing a thumb against your lips before sneaking a kiss onto your mouth.

“you can take it,” his muscles flex from the constant friction. you’re so full, all you can think about is rafe spilling inside of you, “c’mon.”

his cock thrusts even deeper, a sharp hiss leaving his lips at the way your pussy tightens. his calloused thumb wipes away a stray tear. he loves the sting of your nails practically sinking into his skin. he tangles his hand in your hair, forcing your neck to arch up as he leans in, biting hard enough to leave a mark.

“im—m—gonn—” you feel him right at your womb again and again, any semblance of sanity melted away the moment he set his hands on you, “holy fuck.”

“i know baby, keep your eyes on me,” you with your perfect tits bouncing with each roll and grind of your hips is enough to make a grown man cry, “eyes on me.”

you lean back, supporting yourself with your hands on his thighs, circling your hips and doing your best not to close your eyes. the burning inside you is so strong, it’s taking you everything not to close them.

his hands slide around your back when he sits up suddenly, and you gasp, “oh my god.”

the pace has both of you panting, his balls slapping your ass every single time. a shiver runs down your spine and you throw your head back and almost scream out his name. 

he chuckles breathlessly, “never getting tired of that sound.”

you can feel yourself starting to reach the edge of your climax, grinding harder and harder into him and gasping with each spark of pleasure it gives your throbbing clit. each time he hits your g-spot just right, you feel more and more slick dribbling out of you and down your thighs. 

“so fucking pretty,” he groans, punctuating each word with a deep thrust and you feel that tight coil in your belly snapping.

“fuck—rafe,” you pant heavily, breathy whines falling from your lips, legs starting to give out. “oh mhmf—don’t stop!”

your thighs are shaking and seizing as it finally its you, at full force. you squirm in his hold, feeling an almost overwhelming wave of pleasure wash over your body. the feeling’s so intense it’s almost painful. rafe’s arms hold you tight, keeping you grounded while you shudder in his grasp, his fingers determined to prolong your ecstasy.

his piercing blue eyes stay trained on yours the entire time, “knew you could do it.”

he doesn’t let up his pace, pressing chaste kisses to your lips to soothe you. 

“wonder how many of those i can get out of you.”

long night ahead of you. 

might have some grammar mistakes, frankly im not sure at this point lmao, it's late. english's not my first language, it's my third i think. will edit later bc i spent hours writing this and my old ass needs to sleep, thank you for reading <3 by the time im posting this, over 200 of you voted they wanted smut so y'all won, tried best to deliver the goods. also rafe's not mentally unstable in this one, in case that wasn't obvious, he's just a little too in love and cute. let me know if you enjoy it and if i should start taking requests more frequently!

ps: that picture is how i imagined rafe throughout this whole thing

[loganhowlettsmybf]

logan finally seeing you again after he thinks you died many years ago but you were being held hostage for experiments

Echoes of the past

word count: 1,5k

warnings: deception of grief, mention of abduction and torture

logan gripped the neck of the whiskey bottle tightly, his knuckles white from the pressure. the glass was almost empty, a few swigs left, but enough to blur the edges of his relentless memories. it didn’t help. nothing did. not the liquor, not the fights, not even the passage of time. years had passed since he lost you, and the pain never dulled. you had been taken from him, ripped away by forces darker than anything he'd ever known. they had broken into the place you called home, leaving nothing behind but a trace of your blood.

he had searched everywhere, for years, for a hint, a clue, anything that might lead him to you. but time after time, his efforts met dead ends, and after years of failure, he resigned himself to the cruelest reality: you were gone. dead.

that was supposed to be the end of it. that was supposed to be the closure that allowed him to move on. but he couldn’t. the nightmares never stopped. the ghosts of what you shared together haunted every quiet moment, every breath. and the bottle of whiskey in his hand was just another failed attempt to drown out the echoes of your laughter.

but something had changed. a lead—something tangible—surfaced, out of nowhere, dropped into his lap by a mutant with telepathic powers. "she’s alive," the voice had said in his mind. "she’s still out there."

at first, logan didn’t believe it. he couldn’t let himself believe it. but the mutant had given him coordinates, a remote facility in the mountains where you were supposedly held. logan couldn’t risk ignoring it. and so he went, the last shred of hope dragging him through hell and back.

————————————————————————

the wind howled through the dense trees as logan scaled the side of the mountain. his body moved with a singular purpose, his senses heightened by desperation. he reached the facility, a hulking, abandoned bunker and smashed through the gates without a second thought. inside, the air was stale and cold. the place reeked of rot and death, but logan pushed on, the scent of you pulling him deeper.

he tore through doors and guards alike, the claws in his hands slicing through steel and flesh with ease. he could hear screams in the distance, the final cries of those who had kept you here, and it only fueled his rage. they had taken you from him, stolen years of your life. they were going to pay.

finally, logan reached a door, thicker than the others, with heavy locks that screamed of secrets too dangerous to escape. he tore it down without hesitation, and what he found inside made his heart stop.

you were there, crumpled on the floor, shackled and broken, your body battered and bruised from years of captivity. the sight of you was like a punch to his gut. you looked so fragile, so small compared to the vibrant person you had once been. but the worst part was your eyes, empty and hollow, a shell of the person he had loved.

logan fell to his knees beside you, his breath caught in his throat. "is it really you?" he whispered, voice cracked with disbelief.

you flinched at the sound of his voice, shrinking back against the cold floor as though you expected more pain to come. you didn’t recognize him. not at first. how could you? years of isolation and torment had twisted your reality, left you in a constant state of fear. but then, something in his voice, in the way he said your name, sparked a faint memory.

"logan?" your voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper. you blinked up at him, and for a moment, just a moment, he saw a flicker of recognition in your eyes.

"it’s me, darlin’," he choked out, his hands hovering over your form, unsure of where to touch, how to comfort. "i’m here. i’ve got you. i’ve got you now."

tears welled up in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks as the realization hit you. after all these years, after everything they had done to you, logan was here. he was real. but the pain, the fear, the trauma—it all came crashing down on you at once, and you broke.

"i thought… i thought you were dead," you sobbed, your body shaking with the weight of it all. "i thought i was dead."

logan pulled you into his arms, careful of your injuries but desperate to hold you close. "i thought you were gone too," he whispered into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. "i looked for you… god, i looked for you everywhere. i’m so sorry i couldn’t find you sooner."

you clung to him, your fingers digging into his jacket as though he might disappear at any moment. "they… they did things to me, logan. they…"

"i know," he said softly, his voice trembling. "i know. but you’re safe now. i’m not gonna let anyone hurt you ever again."

you cried into his chest, years of torment pouring out in a flood of tears that wouldn’t stop. and logan held you, his own tears mixing with yours as he tried to soothe you, tried to take away your pain. but he knew he couldn’t. the scars they had left on you ran deeper than anything he could heal. all he could do was be there for you, hold you tight, and promise that you’d never have to face this alone again.

————————————————————————

the journey back was a blur. logan carried you out of that place, away from the horrors that had kept you imprisoned for so long. he didn’t stop until he found a safe house, far away from everything.

days passed in a strange, delicate rhythm. logan stayed by your side through every nightmare, every flashback, every moment when the weight of what you had been through became too much to bear. he was patient, gentle in a way that felt foreign to him.

at first, you barely spoke, still trapped in the silence that had been forced upon you for so long. but logan didn’t push. he stayed close, making sure you knew he was there whenever you needed him, ready to listen when you were ready to speak.

one night, as you sat together by the fire, wrapped in a blanket he had draped around your shoulders, you finally found your voice.

"they took everything from me," you said quietly, your gaze fixed on the flames. "i thought i’d never be whole again."

logan’s heart broke at your words, at the quiet resignation in your tone. he moved closer, his hand reaching for yours. "you’re not broken,“ he said, his voice gentle but firm. "they didn’t take you from me. you’re still here. you’re still you."

you looked at him then, your eyes searching his for something, maybe hope, maybe reassurance. "but what if i’m not?" you whispered. "what if i’m not the same person you loved?"

logan shook his head, his grip on your hand tightening. "you’re the person i love, darlin’. that’s never gonna change."

a small, broken smile tugged at the corner of your lips, and for the first time since he found you, logan saw a glimpse of the person you used to be. it wasn’t much, but it was enough. enough to remind him that healing wasn’t a straight path, it was messy, painful, and sometimes it felt impossible. but it was possible. and he would be there with you every step of the way.

————————————————————————

months passed, and the scars of your captivity began to fade, not completely, not ever completely, but enough that you started to reclaim pieces of yourself. you and logan rebuilt what had been taken from you, brick by brick, moment by moment. the nightmares didn’t stop, and the fear didn’t entirely go away, but you found strength in each other. and slowly, little by little, the cracks in your heart began to heal.

one day, as you stood on the porch of the cabin, watching the sun dip below the horizon, logan came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. you leaned back against him, letting out a soft sigh as you felt the warmth of his presence.

"thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible in the stillness of the evening.

"for what?" logan asked, his breath warm against your ear.

"for not giving up on me," you said, turning in his arms so you could look into his eyes. "for finding me.”

logan’s eyes softened, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I love you.”

tears filled your eyes, but this time, they were tears of something new. not pain, not sorrow, but hope. because even after everything, you had found your way back to each other.

[ohbo-ohno]

somno with Johnny bc I think once he’s home and realizes he’s safe, the man sleeps like a rock.

Starting off simple with blowjobs where he wakes up with a groan and a sleepy smile, to then pushing to see how far you can get, either riding him or prepping him enough to fuck him.

I think he also gets grumpy if he has a deep sleep and doesn’t wake up to you having your way with him. mans a slut and wants to be wanted

johnny coming home for the first time in months and being cranky as hell when he doesn't wake up the next day with his dick in your mouth... you're a genius.............

((i have a little horny johnny just-coming-home fic here :)))

im DYING on the hill of "canon johnny mactavish will damn near fuck you unconscious his first night home". i don't think anyone would fight me on it, but i'm on the hill anyway. that man could jack off to pictures of you three times a day while deployed and still be a man possessed when he sees you for the first time again. you're lucky if he keeps his dick in his pants long enough for you make it out of the airport parking lot

you riding johnny in the morning, thinking that surely with how strict his schedule is in the military & Good Sex he'll wake up before he gets off, but he somehow - somehow - sleeps through his own orgasm. he wakes up like 5 minutes later and pouts all day, even after you let him bend you over the bed

waking johnny up with a blowjob but he only actually fully wakes up when you stick a finger inside of him. he moans before he realizes what you're doing, then nearly fucking yelps. he is very offended when you laugh at him, and your lazy morning blowjob turns very quickly into a thorough throat-fucking

(btw, never put anything of yours near that man's ass if you're not comfortable with rimming him. the second he realizes that he can get pleasure from you touching him there, he's practically begging for you to stick your tongue inside of him)

grinding on johnny's abs before he's awake because you're so horny but don't really want to ride him. you only realize he's awake when out of nowhere he grabs you by the hips and all but throws you onto his face, licking up into your cunt with a sort of sleepy insistence

[juniperskye]

I Can’t Be Your Friend.

Sneak Peek: Eddie and you do something that alters the state of your friendship. You realize that being his friend hurts too much now. **The events of season 4 did NOT happen** Bold are Eddie’s thoughts; Italics are reader’s thoughts.

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

Angst/Fluff/implied Smut

Word count: 2473

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, implied smut, drug use (marijuana), explicit language, idiots in love, Steve’s absent parents, mention of underage drinking. Let me know if I missed any!

That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

Tonight was going to be amazing! Steve had invited everyone over for a summer kickoff party, there would be pizza, swimming, beer, and good company. Robin and you had gotten to Steve’s early to help set things up, pizzas were on the way, and you were just waiting for everyone to show up now.

First to arrive was Nancy, she had driven over with Mike, Lucas, Max, and Dustin. They had come bounding in with arms full of chips and soda, piling them recklessly on the coffee table. The younger kids were arguing about who got the bathroom first to change.

You couldn’t help but laugh and roll your eyes as you made your way to the door, letting in the next group. You had assumed it would be Johnathan, Argyle, and the rest of the kids, but instead, Eddie was standing in the doorway.

“Hey Eds!” You smiled.

“Hey! How’s my best girl?” Eddie pulled you into his arms and lifted you slightly as he spun you around. “I’ve missed you dude.”

“I’m good Eds. I’ve missed you too!” Your heart clenched slightly as he placed you back on your feet.

Your relationship with Eddie had always been like this. You were best friends, but sometimes, things were done or said that seemed a bit more than friendly. You’d stayed more nights with Eddie this last year than you did in your own home. Robin had pestered you about the status of your relationship with him to which you’d always reply; “We’re just friends, he doesn’t see me that way”.

“So, I know the kids are here, but I brought a little something special for us. I figured we could go to the van, take a few hits then come back in.” Eddie said wagging a joint in front of you.

“Eddie!” You hissed, covering the joint. “You can’t just pull that out. But yes, give me fifteen minutes.”

Eddie tucked the joint back into his jacket pocket and watched as you made your way over to Steve, Nancy, and Robin. Robin gave you a knowing look and you brushed her off. You were all catching up for a bit, laughing at the nonsense the kids were getting up to. Eddie was the one to open the door for Jonathan, Argyle, El, and Will. As they all walked in, Eddie came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your head.

“You ready?” Eddie whispered.

You nodded and let him lead you outside to his van. Climbing in the back, you made yourself comfortable amongst the pile of blankets and pillows, all the while, Eddie lit the joint and placed it to his lips. After a few quick puffs and one long drag, Eddie passed it to you. The two of you passed the joint back and forth for a bit before it was nearly gone.

“Do you want the last hit?” Eddie asked.

“Nah it’s cool, you take it.” You leaned your head back.

“We could always share it.” Eddie said with a sly smirk.

“Okay.” You blushed.

Eddie took a long drag, holding it in as he moved towards you. He brought his lips to yours, only separated by a few millimeters. Your lips parted in a gasp, and he blew the smoke into your mouth. You inhaled sharply, allowing the smoke in. Your mind felt hazy, and you were starting to wonder if it was the weed or the lack of space between Eddie and you. Eddie met your eyes and pulled back slightly, clearing his throat.

What the hell was happening?

The two of you made your way back into the house and took turns changing into your bathing suits. You rushed outside and went to sit on the steps of the pool with Robin and Nancy. Each of whom gave you a pointed look.

Eddie made a stop in the kitchen to grab you a coke and an orange soda for himself, he then made his way outside. He sat the two cans in front of where you were sitting with the girls, the next thing you knew he was jumping into the pool, splashing the three of you, eliciting screeches from you three.

He surfaced and swam over to you, settling himself between your legs which were dangling off the step. His chest pressed against yours as he reached behind you to grab his soda. Your breath was caught in your throat.

Had he always been this beautiful?

Who were you kidding. Of course he had.

The night went on like this. The kids swimming, playing a ridiculous game of Marco-Polo, Steve grilling hamburgers and hotdogs, Eddie treating you like far more than a friend.

Now you were all crammed in Steve’s living room, some movie playing in the background. You couldn’t remember the name of it because you were far too distracted. When you had come into the living room, all the good seats had been taken, and instead of letting you sit on the floor, Eddie had pulled you into his lap and wrapped his arms around your middle.

You had been sitting like this for about half an hour before he made the suggestion.

“Do you want to go back to my place?”

This typically wouldn’t have sounded like a line, but given everything that had occurred today, you couldn’t help but feel like his words held deeper meaning.

“Okay.”

He led you into the trailer, just like any other time you’d been here, only this time there was a tension hanging over you.

More like sexual tension.

Jesus, get a hold of yourself.

Entering Eddie’s room brought forth a wave of anticipation, you couldn’t help but feel like something was about to happen. Eddie walked over to you and handed you one of his Iron Maiden shirts and a pair of his boxers.

It’s now or never.

You locked your eyes on Eddie’s as you slowly removed your tank top and shorts, leaving you clad in only your bathing suit. Eddie took a sharp breath and pulled his shirt over his head. Up until now things felt as though they’d been moving in slow motion, then all of a sudden things switched to fast forward.

Eddie lunged towards you and locked his lips onto your own, your hands finding his curls, his finding the ties to your swimsuit. His lips tasted like orange soda and nicotine, he was addicting, and you knew you’d never be able to give this up.

Eddie woke up and glanced over to see your naked form curled up in his bed. He couldn’t believe it, the two of you had taken that leap, this would change everything between you.

This could change everything.

I can’t afford to lose her.

You stirred awake, noticing your lack of clothing, and taking note of the discarded clothing on the floor.

So that really did happen.

This could change everything!

“Hey.” Eddie said quietly.

“Hey.” You blushed.

You sat up holding the sheet to your chest and turning to meet Eddie’s gaze. Something was off about his expression, he seemed somber, and you were terrified to find out why.

“So, uh…” Eddie turned, breaking eye contact. “We should just forget this ever happened; you know. So, it doesn’t fuck up our friendship.”

Please say you don’t want to forget about it.

Of course he doesn’t want me.

“Oh, uh, yeah. I guess you’re right.”

Of course she doesn’t want me.

You stood and quickly began pulling your clothes on and gathering your things. There was this loud ringing in your ears and you’re sure Edie was calling your name, but all you knew was you needed to get out of there.

You were halfway home before the ringing stopped.

How could you be so stupid.

Then the tears started. Not only had your heart been broken by the man you loved, but you also lost the one person you’d want to hold you while you cried.

“Dude what is up with you? You’ve been super weird since Steve’s summer kick-off party.” Robin pestered.

“Yeah she’s right, plus Eddie’s been extra bitchy, which usually only happens when you haven’t seen one another in a while. I thought for sure you guys were gonna hookup that night.” Steve ranted.

Your face turned a bright shade of red and you let your gaze fall to your lap. You knew you weren’t exactly being discreet with your avoidance of Eddie, but you didn’t’ think they’d call you out directly.

“Holy shit! You two had sex!” Robin shouted, smacking you on the arm.

“Ow! Yes, we did. And it ruined everything. The next morning, he suggested we just forget it ever happened.”

“What? No way, Eddie’s head over heels for you. What happened?” Steve asked.

You explained to Steve and Robin the events of the night and they both concluded that it made no sense. They were both convinced Eddie was in love with you.

This was when Steve and Robin came up with their plan. They would get you and Eddie together before summer ended.

“Steve, this isn’t working. She is declining every invite to hangout; she has gone as far as driving over and leaving if she sees the van, and even calling everyone to be sure if Eddie was invited.” Robin said throwing herself on the couch in defeat.

“That’s it! We will invite her over for a movie night, just the three of us. Then after she’s here, you go to the other room and call Eddie and invite him over. That way nobody will be able to tell her that he’s invited because he wasn’t.” Steve explained.

“Hey guys!” You called entering Steve’s house.

“Hey! How have you been? We haven’t seen you in a while.” Robin pulled you into a hug.

“Sorry about that, I just…I can’t bring myself to face him yet. I’ll get over it, I just need time.” You said.

Steve came in, greeting you and pulling you to the living room to help him pick a movie. He threw a wink over his shoulder to Robin. She rolled her eyes and made her way to Steve’s dad’s office ready to make the call. When she came to the living room she played it off as a trip to the bathroom.

Things were going well, they felt like old times, save for the hole in your chest in the shape of one, Eddie Munson.

Speaking of which.

“Hey guys!” Eddie greeted, entering the house.

“Guys, what the hell.” You said threw gritted teeth.

They both looked at you with guilty eyes. You shook your head and told them you needed to go. Grabbing your bag you went for the door. It took everything in you to not look at him.

“Hey, where are you going?” Eddie called after you, following you outside. “I haven’t seen you in weeks. You’re dodging my calls, your canceling plans, you’re literally leaving as I showed up to hang out.”

“Eddie, I can’t do this right now. I need to go.”

“So what? That’s it?” He had never sounded so defeated.

“Eddie, I…”

“Is this because of that night? C’mon you’re my best friend, you’re just gonna throw that all away?” He grasped your hand in his own.

“That’s the problem Eddie, I can’t be your friend anymore. Everything is different now.” You shook your head, pulled your hand from his grasp, and took off walking back home.

Eddie walked back into the house and immediately receive a slap to the back of the head from Robin. She and Steve proceeded to explain to Eddie how he had messed the whole thing up and how him suggesting you just “forget it ever happened” had led you to believe that he didn’t care about you.

Initially he didn’t believe them that you had feelings for him, but after they literally spelled it out for him, he realized what an idiot he had been.

“I’m gonna need your help.”

The plan had been a pretty difficult one, Eddie needed Robin and Steve to convince you to come over again for an end of summer bash and after the last time, he was sure you’d say no.

Robin had explained to you that after your conversation with Eddie, that he definitely wouldn’t be coming. She told you that she asked him, and he had declined. It was then that you agreed, but not without a pang of guilt filling your chest. You couldn’t stand the thought of hurting Eddie. The look on his face when you told him you couldn’t be his friend had been haunting you.

The day came and you drove over to Steve’s, shocked that the only car in the driveway had been his. You parked and let yourself in.

“Steve? Where is everyone?”

“Hey! I’m in my room, and they’re on their way I figured you could come early so I could see how you were doing.” Steve said.

You walked into his room and noticed he was seemingly searching for something, he was scrambling around his room, swiftly moving to his dresser as you made yourself comfortable on his bed. You looked over at him just in time to see a mess of curls enter and Steve pulling the door closed. You heard the lock click and the distinct sound of a chair being pushed against the knob.

“What the hell is this?”

“I needed to find a way to talk to you and you’ve been avoiding me.”

“Eddie, let me out.”

“Not until we talk. Look I fucked up that night, I suggested that we forget about it and that was stupid.” He exclaimed.

“Eds, look, I just need time…these feelings will go away eventually. I don’t want to lose you as a friend, but how am I supposed to be around you when I’ve tasted your kiss and will never get to experience that again?”

“I don’t want your feelings to go away. Truth is, I only suggested it because I thought there was no way you could love me back.” Eddie explained.

“You love me?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Eddie pulled you into a gentle kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist. You let your fingers get tangled in his hair. There were whispered apologies between kisses and you two only broke apart when the two of you needed air.

“How would you like to go get some dinner?” Eddie asked.

“I would love that!” You replied.

With that, Eddie walked over to the bedroom door and began knocking, shouting to Steve that he was safe to let you guys out. His knocks sped up the longer it took for Steve to release you both.

“Harrington, hurry up! I gotta take my girlfriend on our first date!”

[justauthoring]

your reassurance

matches could get a little tense, but never this bad.

a/n: i go back to school in two days and im not ready to deal with the stress of everything once again so i wrote this to comfort me :) i promise i'll write for anime soon lol.

pairing: jamie tartt x f!reader

warnings: you literally get a water bottle thrown at you :)

Basically, it had all gone to hell in a matter of seconds.

What had been nothing more than any regular game you’ve gone to hundreds of times, turned into a full out brawl that left your heart racing in fear. You’d been up in the box with Rebecca, Keeley and Higgins as you always were, happily watching Richmond play while your eyes specifically gravitated towards a certain player with the number nine on his back.

Richmond was winning and you’d been very vocal and very loud about your excitement and support (like you always were) the entire game. Jamie seemed to be especially on fire that day after securing one goal himself and assisting with two other ones, which happily placed Richmond in the lead of three to one.

But it wasn’t an at home match, and it seemed like some of the fans who cheered for their home team didn’t appreciate just how loudly you and your friends were cheering.

After Jamie manages to score another goal himself, you’re jumping up to your feet, decked out in red and blue with Jamie’s number happily adorning your back. You scream so loud even though your throat already feels raw from how loud you’d been cheering the entire match, Keeley’s hands tightly clutching your arms as the both of you jump up and down. Jamie is being tackled by his teammates and you watch the celebration with a fond smile, cheeks flushed, skin slightly warm with sweat as the whole match catches up to you.

Then, suddenly, there’s something smacking you right in the forehead.

It’s a surprise enough, not having expected the hit, but it hurts enough to knock you off balance. You stumble backwards on your feet and feel Keeley’s grip tighten on you as she tries to catch you. Your hand falls to your forehead where you’d been heard, winching when it throbs in response, lowering your gaze only to see a water bottle on the ground next to your feet and when your eyes glance ahead of you, you see a pair of blazing eyes staring back at you.

“Babes,” Keeley calls out in shock, pulling your eyes on her as she glances at your forehead. “Are you–”

“Shut your damn whore mouth!”

You’ve hardly processed what’s happening before you realize that the man is trying to climb his way up to your seats, and Keeley is harshly pulling you back to safety. You distantly hear Rebecca calling out for security as Higgins tries to guide everyone else to safety as well. You know you should snap out of it and help Keeley but your vision is blurring and your heart is racing and everything is suddenly too much that you’re stuck staring at the pair of eyes that seem to wish the absolute worst for you.

The man manages to grab your arm before you can fully pull away, digging his nails into your arm as you let out a small cry before Keeley rips his grasp off of you and fully tugging you away. She pulls you to face her, shoving her in front of you when it was clear that you were the man’s target and you see security rushing past you as second later as you’re pulled away from the stadium and down the hall.

Rebecca is rushing to get medics and Keeley is trying to ask you if you’re okay but you can’t think straight. You keep glancing over your shoulder in fear that somehow the man will be there, but of course he isn’t and before you know it you’re being tucked away into a room and sat on a bench where Rebecca returns with some of Richmond’s medics.

Keeley stays there, holding your hand tightly as the medic checks you over. You squeeze her hand without even realizing it, your heart still pounding madly against your chest as the medic cleans the scratches the man had managed to dig into your arm and place a bandage over them. She confirms that you have a very mild concussion from the plastic water bottle hitting your head and she wants you to rest in the room for a bit before heading home, and only if you have someone to drive you home.

Luckily, Keeley is able to assure that you do when you find yourself unable to speak, and then the medic is leaving with one final goodbye and a nod Rebecca’s way.

“Babe,” Keeley calls softly, “are you–”

“Where is she?” A sudden voice booms and you react to something for the first time since everything had happened, back straightening as your eyes fall towards the door in alert. “Oi, where is Y/N? Y/N–”

Whatever Jamie had been about to say promptly falls shut the second he reaches the door and his eyes catch yours. His face falls when he sees you, the wild panic in his eyes morphing to concern when he takes you in and before you realize it you’re jumping off the bench and he’s wrapping his arms around you before you can even take one step.

You wrap your arms around him tightly, burying your head into the crook of his neck as a small sob leaves your lips. Jamie presses a hand to the back of your head in response, worried eyes flickering over to Keeley who’s offering him a small smile and a hand to your back before she steps out with Rebecca, the two of them giving you some privacy.

“I’m so sorry it took me so long to get ‘ere,” Jamie rambles the second he’s sure you’re alone. He pulls back, moving to cup your cheeks as his eyes traces your injuries, frowning deeply when he sees the bruise that’s welling on your forehead. “We were already leaving the pitch when it happened and when I tried to turn around, I couldn’t get through. I tried to get to you as soon as possible, love. Are… what happened?”

It’s like everything finally catches up to you. The tears welling in your eyes finally fall as you clutch onto him tightly, relying on his presence heavily, shaking your head. “I dunno,” you mumble. “One second I’m cheering for your win and then a water bottle is being thrown at my head. Jamie, he was so angry… the man who hit me and then he was trying to get to me and I froze… I… I was so scared.”

Using his thumb to brush away your tears, Jamie shakes his head, shushing you gently. “I’m so sorry, love. I should’ve been there.”

You just shake your head; “you couldn’t have known. Keeley helped get me away and Rebecca got security as soon as possible.”

“Then I owe them the whole world for keeping you safe for me,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your forehead, careful not to put pressure on your injury. “And I’ll personally make sure that that man is never allowed to a single match ever again. And worse.”

Nodding, you reach up and grab his hands in your hand, leaning against him. “I couldn’t think properly until I saw you,” you explain, registering that you hadn’t really listened to the medic when she was trying to help you. And you hadn’t thanked Rebecca or Keeley yet, which you would need to. “I think I was in shock.”

“Of course ya were,” Jamie agrees. “What ya went through… ya never should have had to. I’m so sorry that it even happened in the first place.”

You just shake your head, pressing a kiss to his palm. “I think the medic said I only had a mild concussion. And that you need to drive me home.”

“Done,” Jamie agrees with ease, “you practically already live with me. Will ya be okay takin’ the bus back home with the boys? I don’t really want ya to be alone.”

You nod with ease. “I want to be with you,” you assure, meeting his gaze. “Rebecca’s private jet is lovely but I need you.”

“Then you’ve got me,” Jamie promises, pulling you in for a hug once more, holding you tightly as if afraid you’d disappear from his fingers. “Always.”

[karasimpno]

haikyuu men reacting to you getting followed on your way home

I had something pretty scary happen to me last night, so what better than fictional volleyball men to seek comfort in! (lmao this was actually a year and a half ago, it’s literally been sitting in my drafts that long. happy 1.5k, friends!)

featuring: iwaizumi, bokuto, daichi, sakusa

contains: mention of being followed, fear, comfort, gn!reader

Iwaizumi starts when you slam the door behind you and fall back against it, letting out a heavy exhale. He looks up from where he’s slicing vegetables for dinner with a concerned expression. “Babe?” he asks, concern lacing his voice, not used to you waiting by the door before kissing him hello. He sets down the knife and walks over to you calmly. “Are you okay?”

The lump that forms in your throat threatens to break as you purse your lips together to keep from crying. “No,” you barely manage to whisper, and before the syllable is even off your lips, one of Hajime’s strong hands is on your waist, pulling you closer. His other hand gently but firmly cups your cheek, drawing your gaze to his, all fiery intensity at seeing his love hurt like this. “What happened?” he whispers.

It comes out in a jumbled, rushed mess - “there was this guy - he was following me, I - whenever I would speed up or - he would walk faster. And I tried to get away, but he crossed the street too and - ” you don’t realize it, but you’re trembling, heart racing again at the memory. It ignites something in your boyfriend.

“I’ll fucking kill him,” Hajime growls, and you don’t doubt him for a second. Your resolve crumples at that very moment, and you fall forward into his sturdy chest, his safe, strong arms instantly wrapping around you. “I was just so scared,” you whisper, and Hajime’s thoughts turn to nothing but you, holding you tight and reassuring you: you’re safe.

~

You don’t actually realize how scared you were until you see the look on Bokuto’s face when you walk in the door. 

Big, warm, owlish eyes find yours and something inside your chest heaves, sending a shudder through your body. Your boyfriend is already whipping around the kitchen table before you reach can an arm out to steady yourself on the wall. Usually so strong and buoyant, Bokuto almost startles you with his softness as he pulls you into his embrace. Big, strong arms wrap around you and you allow yourself to collapse into the safety they provide.

“Baby...” he whispers against your forehead from where you’re nestled into his neck. A hand snakes up to tangle in your hair and press you closer against him. His fingers are strong, tense, and you can practically read his thoughts - if only I’d been there...

Bokuto bends down and scoops your legs up, which you eagerly wrap around his waist as you bury your face farther into his neck. He smells like sunscreen and cologne and you could almost cry at how comforting that exact scent is. Supporting you with one hand and using the other to rub comforting patterns up and down your back, he gently carries you back to your shared bedroom, where he holds you for the rest of the evening and lets you know - you’re safe, you’re safe.

~

“Oh my love,” Daichi murmurs, pulling you into his embrace on the couch. His thumb had been gently rubbing over your knuckles as you calmed yourself down enough to tell him what had happened on your way home, but now he can’t keep himself from holding you close. If he had lost you...

“It’s okay, I’m okay,” you say firmly. You’re not sure whether you’re reassuring him or yourself, but feeling his strong arms around you is a hell of a lot better than trying to regulate your own heartbeat. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I wish I could’ve...” but he trails off. He knows right now is not about him.

Instead, he pulls you fully into his lap and tucks your head under his chin, running reassuring fingertips up and down your arm. You feel safe, like he’ll never let you go. You feel your elevated heart rate receding, and you relax into his embrace, feeling better already. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and the two of you sit in silence like that for a long time. 

At one point, after it feels like you two are essentially part of the couch, Daichi puts his hand on your head, his fingers gently scratching your scalp as a low humming begins to resonate from his chest. You always used to catch him singing under his breath when he cooked for you, and the vibrations from his sternum lull you into an even deeper sense of peace now. You forget your worries and for a moment the world is just you and him.

~

“Come here.”

The words are the first thing you hear when you finally make it back into the safety of your home. If you didn’t know the man any better, you would be sure the words were angry, even aggressive. But no, Sakusa’s voice was just urgent. You exhale shakily, feeling numb, and slip into Sakusa’s quickly-approaching arms.

You had texted him what had happened after hiding in a late-night grocery store to call a ride home instead of walking. Sakusa had demanded to come pick you up but you had insisted on just calling a car instead, because you wanted to be home as soon as possible. Now that you were here, locked in his warm embrace, you just wanted to lay down, the fearful adrenaline leaving your body in a rush.

“Can we just...” you slip out of his arms and barely have the strength to lead him to your shared bedroom and flop onto the mattress, feeling his weight dip onto the comforter alongside you. Intertwining your legs, he takes your face in his hands and rests his forehead against yours, knowing you need peace and comfort right now. His thumb brushes gently across your temples.

“Breathe,” he whispers, and you do, your chest rising and falling in time with his. “I’m right here,” he says, pulling you closer. “I’m not going anywhere, you’re safe, right here.” You don’t even notice the tears forming until they’re dripping onto his shirt, but he just holds you even tighter and grounds you with his touch.

[joon4eva]

home — kim namjoon.

summary: in a world of distractions and uncertainty, namjoon's only wish is simple yet profound: to always find his way back home—to you.

genre: established relationship / idol au ✰ fluff ✰ smut (18+ pls)

word count: ~5,804 words

tags/warnings: so much kissing, namjoon is so needy, kitchen sex, oral sex (f. receiving), unprotected sex, doggy-style position, voyeurism, creampie, aftercare, there's slight angst if you squint - oc confronts namjoon about his mental health but just straight up domestic as hell afterwards (pls give me)

masterlist :)

the moment the sun had risen, the day had felt incessantly long for namjoon.

the door to his apartment swings opens and he can't help but let out a tired sigh of relief.

he steps inside and quietly closes the door behind him, leaning against it and closing his eyes for a moment to catch his breath and soak in the warmth of being back home.

slowly lifting his heavy eyelids, he kicks off his shoes and shrugs off his coat before sluggishly making his way towards the inviting kitchen.

every step feels like a struggle as he deals with the splitting headache that's been plaguing him all day. it seems like anything that could have gone wrong this week did.

dance rehearsals had proved to be nothing short of disastrous. hobi had constantly been on namjoon's case about each little misstep; it felt as if there wasn't even a single moment of peace to be found.

things only seemed to get worse when namjoon retreated to his studio, only to endure a painful eight-hour session without managing to stitch together a single line of lyrics. every imaginable obstacle and setback had plagued him.

maybe the worst of all was how much he missed you. it had been more than a week since he last saw you properly – only catching glimpses of you in the mornings when you shared a quick kiss at breakfast or late at night when you were already asleep, and it only compounded the stress he was feeling.

namjoon nears the kitchen, but stops dead in his tracks - suddenly realizing how different his apartment seemed tonight.

his usually dim apartment is lit up with warm light that softly spills into every corner. there's soothing music emanating from the vinyl record player – playing an album that you'd bought together; and perhaps most strikingly, the most enticing smell dances tantalizingly through the air, coming from the kitchen.

a soft smile graces his lips when he takes in the sight of you, humming to yourself as you stir something on the stove.

between stirs, you take small, appreciative sips of wine from a glass resting on the nearby counter. you were also wearing that green floral sundress that he adored so much, the one that never failed to remind him of that first time he saw you in it.

—

he recalled sitting comfortably in the living room, engrossed in a book, when you shyly walked in wearing the new dress you had bought. the soft sound of your voice beckoned his attention, and as he lifted his gaze, his breath caught in his throat.

"what do you think?" you asked, giving a little twirl as you stood in front of him.

his eyes widened as he took in the sight before him: your figure beautifully framed by the mid-thigh length dress, a tempting side slit elongating your legs. the dress hugged your curves perfectly, emphasizing the swell of your breasts that filled the cups just right.

for a moment, he simply stared at you, rendered speechless by how absolutely stunning you looked.

worried that his silence meant he didn't approve, you looked down at floor and asked hesitantly, "do…do you not like it?"

snapping back to reality, namjoon tossed his book on the coffee table and swept you into his embrace, his arms enveloping you as he pulled you onto his lap.

his fingers gently cupped your chin, tilting your face upward to meet his gaze, the heat of your breath mingling as your noses brushed against each other. "i love it," he murmured against your lips.

his tongue darted out, moistening his lips before he pressed a teasingly damp kiss to the corner.

"really?" you asked breathlessly, anchoring yourself by clutching onto his broad shoulders.

"really," he hummed approvingly as his large hands slid beneath the fabric of your dress, cupping and squeezing your ass.

his lips tenderly planted soft kisses along your collarbone, trailing down to the curve of your breasts. guiding your hips forward, you could feel the growing hardness beneath namjoon's shorts brush deliciously against your clothed clit, eliciting a gasp from your lips.

before either of you knew it, your dress was bunched up at your waist, exposing your bare skin to the air as you sank down on his cock, feeling him divinely split you open. and with that same dress still on, he skillfully brought you to climax not once, but three times.

—

in swift, purposeful strides, namjoon closes the distance between you, his presence enveloping you from behind.

startled by his sudden arrival, your body tenses for a moment before recognizing the familiar touch. a soft sigh of relief escapes your lips, and you allow yourself to relax into his strong arms as they encircle you, embracing his solidity and warmth against your back.

his lips graze against the sensitive skin of your earlobe, imparting an enduring trace of warmth as he gently plants a swift yet tender kiss there. his breath, which is warm and welcoming, brushes against your ear as he whispers a soft greeting in a tone that is both low and smooth.

"hi," he murmurs with an almost seductive timbre.

you slowly turn within his hold, facing him directly, feeling his hands shift to find stability on the counter behind you. his fingers curl and tense slightly to accommodate his weight while effectively ensuring you remain close to him, trapped within his proximity.

"hi," you reply softly, feeling an uncontainable smile spread across your face.

namjoon's dark eyes drink in every detail of your appearance, unabashedly checking you out.

his gaze trails lingeringly over your chest for just a moment before finding its way back to meet your own eyes again. unable to contain yourself, you let out a soft giggle as you catch him in the act.

namjoon simply grins at your knowing expression before narrowing the already-minimal gap between you further.

closing that final distance between you both completely with a sweet yet short kiss pressed upon his pouted lips; namjoon offers an exaggerated look of disappointment in response to the briefness of the contact — only making you smile wider and ready to indulge him further.

"you could've lingered a little longer.”

"i didn't realize i was being timed," you retort playfully and press another feathery light kiss on the tip of his nose.

he chuckles softly at your words and leans down to lock his lips with yours again, this time deepening the kiss, as his arms wrap securely around you.

your own hands instinctively find their way to his broad shoulders and upwards to cradle his face.

namjoon breaks the kiss, breathing heavily, but continues to keep you close, his eyes searching yours for a confirmation of some unspoken question.

"i missed you," namjoon confesses, his tone genuine and vulnerable, as he unconsciously resumes pressing delicate kisses on your exposed neck and shoulder.

"i missed you too," you admit, biting your lip to hide a grin.

an appreciative hum escapes namjoon's lips as he pulls back just far enough to see your face again. he gives you a tender smile that manages to be both somber and radiant at once.

in an instant, however, the moment is interrupted by the sudden billowing of steam from a pot on the stove.

you part from his embrace to quickly stride over to the stovetop and move the pot to a different burner, shutting off the burner completely.

with deft movements, you grab a wooden spoon from the countertop and give the contents of the pot a swift stir, ensuring that nothing has scorched during your brief interlude.

namjoon watches you from a distance, a contented and endearing smile slowly spreading across his face as he observes your movements.

unable to resist any longer, namjoon saunters over to where you stand working at the stove. he quietly positions himself behind you once again and lovingly wraps his arms around your waist.

his fingers teasingly wander along your hips and thighs, tracing delicate patterns through the fabric of your dress and eliciting a mix of laughter and mild admonishment from you.

his nimble fingers begin their descent down your abdomen, teasingly grazing lower and lower until they flirt with the hem of your dress.

"namjoon…" you chastise him in a tone laden with feigned exasperation. "i'm trying to cook here," you continue while juggling between suppressing giggles and maintaining focus on the task at hand. he chuckles as his hands persist in their exploration, not deterred by your plea.

the warmth of namjoon's breath cascades onto your neck as he presses tender kisses upon your delicate skin.

as he presses his lips against a particular spot on your neck, he feels satisfaction when he hears a soft moan escape your mouth with pleasure that is undoubtedly amplified by the sensitive reaction your body is having to his touch. it seems as if your will has started to waver, causing namjoon to switch from gentle pecks to a firmer bite that leaves a mark.

"but i want you," he whispers into your ear. "let me have you, please."

the bulge in his pants is almost painfully obvious now, as he presses firmly against you. his longing is tangible in every word he utters.

just then, he deliberately sinks his teeth into a particularly sensitive spot on your neck and sucks on it softly, eliciting a moan that escapes your lips before you even realize it.

namjoon's hands slip under the hem of your dress and graze dangerously close to your panties. his fingers slowly make contact with your clothed heat, and every muscle in your body momentarily seizes up as a small gasp escapes your lips. the unexpected sensation prompts your head to drop back onto his sturdy shoulder, struggling to suppress another moan.

"can i?" he inquires voice barely audible, awaiting your consent.

in that instant, one thing becomes abundantly clear: the dinner simmering on the stove is no longer the priority.

you quickly place a lid on the pot before spinning around within namjoon's arms. your eyes lock onto his for a moment before you press your lips against his in a fervent kiss. your arms wrap around him tightly, pulling him closer to you.

the low groan that emanates from namjoon sends a jolt through your body; with a swiftness borne from urgency, his hands deftly sweep down to find purchase on the backs of your thighs - hoisting you up with ease and enticing your legs to encircle his waist.

namjoon's steady strides carry both of you across the kitchen floor until he gently positions you atop the cool countertop situated on the opposite side of the island.

desperation flares wildly within both of you as you tangle together, hands urgently tugging and pulling, craving more skin-on-skin contact. it feels like forever since you were able to feel namjoon like this. fingers glide along your waist, caress the swell of your breasts, and trace the contours of your hips. your back arches, seeking more of his touch, as he maps every inch of you with his hands and lips.

your hands find their way to the hem of namjoon's shirt, lifting it up and over his head before discarding it onto the kitchen floor. his hands respond in kind, roughly lowering the straps of your dress and helping you shimmy out of it until it too joins the growing pile on the floor.

with heightened anticipation growing within both of you, namjoon guides hot and wet kisses fervently along your body.

his steady hands nudge you gently to lean back against the cold countertop, the stark contrast of temperatures sending a shiver up your spine.

moans of pleasure escape your lips as his passionate kisses trail increasingly closer to your sensitive core, teasingly delivering tender bites here and there as he continues his descent.

your wetness has managed to seep through the delicate fabric of your panties, prompting you to bite your lip in anticipation.

a long, lingering kiss lands on your clothed clit, causing your hips to involuntarily jolt forward, a moan escaping your parted lips. a soft chuckle follows from him at this observation.

"so sensitive," he hums in appreciation.

his lips press against the delicate bundle of nerves again, his nose playfully nudging your clit, eliciting a desperate huff from you.

growing more eager by the moment, you call out his name—your voice thick with longing and desire.

namjoon's fingers delicately dip under the lace waistband, painstakingly drawing down the fabric until finally casting it onto the floor with your dress, leaving you in just a lace bra. the soft glow radiating from the kitchen lights causes your glistening core to shimmer enticingly, drawing him ever closer.

namjoon proceeds to press one more adoring kiss upon the delicate skin lining the inside of your thigh.

gently, he guides his tongue from your entrance up to your clit, fully embracing it with his warm mouth as he expertly sucks and swirls. your moans flow without restraint, your fingers instinctively reaching to tangle themselves in his soft hair, while namjoon holds onto your hips with a steady grip, keeping you in place.

his position between your thighs grants him a front-row seat to the most stunning view of your face — the adorable way your features scrunch up and the parted lips emitting those sweet sounds he adores so much.

he plunges a finger inside of you, watching as your eyes flutter close and a drawn-out moan escapes from your lips.

he lifts his head, with traces of your arousal on his chin and nose. his voice floats up to tease you even more, "feels good, doesn't it?"

it's a question that doesn't really need an answer; it's clear just by looking at you. however, he asks it anyway – perhaps to coax a response from you – or simply to hear you say it.

biting your lip to suppress further cries of delight, you can only nod eagerly in response. a slight frown forms on namjoon's face; he wants to hear you say it.

"say it," he insists softly but firmly. the sensation overwhelms you as he adds another finger, stretching and filling you completely.

you can feel tears well up in your eyes as waves of pure pleasure course through every nerve ending and surge like distant tides toward their unrelenting climax.

clutching onto namjoon's hair and grinding your hips against his mouth, you manage to nod eagerly and stutter out through gasps and moans, "y-yes, baby. oh, god, it feels s-… so good."

namjoon smiles affectionately at your submission; pleased by your response.

"good girl," he murmurs softly before returning to his fervent actions.

his mouth dives between your thighs again — working as if he were a starving man finally eating for the first time in weeks. his fingers move skillfully inside you, delicately curving and thrusting while his lips and tongue work in sync, lapping at your sensitive clit with perfectly timed flicks and gentle suction.

the sensation becomes all-encompassing as your body finally succumbs to the intensity of the orgasm that rips through you, the tremors and shivers rippling through your body and leaving you gasping for breath.

namjoon gradually eases the pace of his movements.

he releases a soft hum of satisfaction as he tenderly cleans you up with feathery licks at your slit, each gentle touch causing you to whimper from the lingering oversensitivity.

slowly raising his head from between your thighs, namjoon peppers tender kisses along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. his lips continue upward until they reach your abdomen, where he plants more sweet kisses. then, with a gentle hold on your arms, he helps you sit up on the countertop.

you eagerly wrap your legs around his waist, simultaneously drawing his face to yours with your hands as you reel him in for a hungry, open-mouthed kiss. your tongue ventures into his welcoming mouth, keen on tasting yourself on his lips.

he wraps his strong arms around you, his hands making their way up to tangle in your hair. with a gentle tug, he pulls your head back slightly, causing a moan to escape your lips as he leaves a trail of soft kisses along your neck. he applies a little pressure, causing your head to tilt back as you sigh in delight.

suddenly and without warning, namjoon firmly grips your thighs and slides you off the counter. he hoists you up, cradling your naked body against his waist and carries you with long strides toward the bedroom.

"wait! wait, my wine!" you exclaim with a giggle.

namjoon pulls back slightly and chuckles in disbelief, "honey, can't it wait?" you pout playfully at him and he lets out a mock sigh of exasperation before turning back towards the kitchen island.

careful not to drop you, he retraces his steps to the other side of the kitchen island so that you can reach for your wine glass.

both of you laugh as namjoon turns back around to his bedroom and nearly sprints down the hallway, narrowly avoiding spilling your drink on the floor or bumping into any furniture.

upon reaching the bedroom door, he gently sets you down on the bed as you lounge back.

you're holding onto your half-full wine glass, and you prop yourself up on your elbow, taking in the sight of namjoon as he eagerly unbuckles his belt.

he slides down his pants and boxers in one smooth motion, his throbbing length slapping against his abdomen.

as you watch him, you hold onto the wine glass in one hand while using the other to unclasp your bra.

you toss the discarded lingerie onto the floor and watch as namjoon's eyes follow its descent before locking onto you once more.

he moves forward on sturdy legs, his knees finally meeting the soft mattress as he positions himself over you. his fingers find the rim of your glass, plucking it from your hand as he chuckles softly, "i've definitely earned some of this."

with that, he drains the remaining liquid in two large gulps before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and setting the glass down on the nearby nightstand.

leaning back towards you, namjoon braces himself with both hands on either side of your body as he inches closer to you, gently trapping you beneath him.

his hand gently brushes over your body before landing on your breast. his mouth follows the path established by his hands; landing on a nipple and taking it between his lips, drawing out a mixture of pleasure and restrained moans from deep within you. your hands entangle in his hair as your hips instinctively press up against him in search of friction, feeling a familiar heat begin to pool between your legs again.

namjoon presses his lips fervently against yours, enveloping you in a passionate kiss full of heat and the intoxicating taste of wine.

your mouths open and close, nibble and devour. the space between your lips and his is briefly empty as namjoon pulls away, only to widen as your gaze shifts downwards.

with hesitation slipping away like sand through fingers, you reach out to take him in your grasp, coating your fingers with the pre-cum already gathering at the tip before you start stroking ever so gently. his forehead comes to rest against yours as he allows a low moan to escape his lips, his hips subtly shifting in response to your touch.

foreheads touching and breath mingling, you suggest, "let me suck you off."

caught off guard by the proposal, he stammers out a refusal.

"n-no," namjoon protests, shaking his head, his breath hot on your skin. "i won't last."

"well, that's the point, isn't it?" determined to tease him further, you tighten your grip and intentionally slow down your strokes on his engorged cock. namjoon's breath catches in his throat as his large hand envelops yours to cease your movement.

and in a sudden burst of energy, he skillfully repositions you on the bed. your legs are bent, and your hips are lifted, while your face presses gently into the soft pillow. a delightful gasp escapes your lips as your cheek comes in contact with the plush cushion, and you're intensely aware of the warmth growing between your legs as it begins to trail down your thighs.

namjoon takes a moment to appreciate the sight before him, letting out a contented exhale at the view of your body perfectly positioned. an alluring flush washes over you; fully aware you must look every bit like a porn star, since you had carefully prepared for this moment knowing namjoon would be home early. but you didn't expect to find yourself so eagerly sprawled out on his bed before dinner.

his fingers gently explore the globes of your ass before finding their way to your slick folds below. with the pads of his fingers, he reaches under you to tease your clit with deliberate motions, drawing a moan from deep within you as it's muffled by the pillow.

"god, baby… how can you be this wet already?" he marvels, a surprised chuckle arising from him.

you whimper in response, the pillows clenched tightly within your grip. "please, namjoon," comes the desperate plea from between clenched teeth. "i've been waiting for this all day."

namjoon gently leans over you, planting your bare back with dozens of tiny kisses, traversing a path along your spine. as his lips trail upward towards your earlobe, his warm breath tickles your ear as he whispers, "turn your head to the left."

following his instruction, your eyes meet the reflection of both you and namjoon in a strategically placed mirror.

you take in the ravenous image of yourself: wide-eyed and framed by tousled hair resting on soft pillows, your back curved and breasts firmly pressed against the mattress beneath you.

"keep those beautiful eyes on the mirror."

with bated breath, you watch as he positions himself at your entrance, the head of his throbbing cock teasingly grazing your slick folds.

as he slowly pushes inside you, a sharp gasp escapes your lips, your senses overwhelmed by the exquisite sensation of him stretching you open, filling you inch by inch, causing you to instinctively clench around the delicious intrusion.

"think you can do that for me, baby?" he teases, his voice a velvet rasp, as he buries himself deeper.

you nod eagerly in response, unable—or perhaps unwilling— to look away as his fingers entwine themselves within yours.

"pretty baby," he coos, meeting your eyes in the mirror. "already so fucked she can’t speak."

your breath catches in your throat, and you almost struggle to keep your eyes open – it feels like blissful exhaustion is starting to set in.

you can feel his cock drag out, teasing you with a fleeting emptiness, before he slams back in with a force that leaves you gasping for breath.

stray strands of hair cling to your damp skin as droplets of sweat escape from under you. it's almost shameful how wanton you appear—your lips parting as droplets of saliva threaten to dribble out with each labored breath.

"please," you manage to whisper between breaths, "harder."

without hesitation, his grip on your hands tighten as he quickens his pace and intensity at once.

with every forceful motion back and forth, the headboard rocks vigorously against the wall; probably loud enough for the neighbors to hear at this point.

“o-oh my god,” you let out a shuddering gasp through another moan, beginning to move your hips back to meet namjoon's rhythm. "i'm going to… i'm going to cum again," you stammer breathlessly.

you can feel his control slipping, his movements growing more urgent, more desperate, mirroring the frenzy building within you. his hands clamp onto your hips, holding you tightly - so tight that you're certain there will be marks later.

"inside, namjoon. come inside!" you mewl through muffled sobs into the sheets.

namjoon's movements falter, eyes widening from above at your request. you can tell he's more than willing to give you what you want.

"f-fuck, baby. inside? are… you sure?"

"i need it! please," you beg through gasping breaths, tears now starting to gather at the corners of your eyes.

he curses through gritted teeth under his breath and moans in response, tightening his grip on your hips.

unable to restrain yourself any longer, a sob escapes your lips as the climax rushes through you like a crashing wave of rapture.

this time feels even more intense than before, moaning and gasping uncontrollably as your inner walls clench tightly around namjoon's pulsating cock, coating it with your warm, slick arousal.

it's not long before namjoon's thrusts become erratic; eventually his hips still as he releases himself inside of you, repeating your name like a mantra while feeling his cock pulse deep inside of you.

as his frenzied movements gradually slow and your knees slightly give out, namjoon collapses on top of your back - still buried deep inside you.

you can feel his breath on your skin as it comes in steady gasps trying to catch up with his racing heart. he shifts, letting his hands come to rest on both sides of your body as he supports his exhausted weight.

a satisfied sigh escapes your lips as you feel the warm trickle of his cum escape your core, moistening the sheets beneath you.

your gaze remains fixed on the mirror to your left, allowing you a clear view of your naked body cushioned by plush pillows and namjoon's long, fit frame sprawled protectively across your own.

his hair is adorably disheveled, slightly obscuring his eyes. as your eyes lock with his through the reflection in the mirror, a slow smile stretches across his face.

with a nonchalant flick of his fingers, he brushes his hair out of his eyes before offering you a flirtatious wink, causing giggles to bubble up from both of you. the otherwise quiet room is dimly lit and filled only with the sound of your shared breathing.

raising himself onto one elbow, he tenderly kisses the back of your head before murmuring, "hang on; i'll be back."

he carefully slides out of you, eliciting a slight wince from you at the sudden sensation of emptiness. adjusting your position on the bed, you lean onto your side and wait for him to return.

moments later, namjoon reappears with a damp towel draped over one arm, a water bottle in hand, and an open bag of his favorite snack tucked between his teeth.

naked and unabashed, he sets down the water on the nightstand and sits beside you on the bed.

wordlessly, he offers you the bag; with a smile, you accept it and pop a chip into your mouth.

intently, he watches your enjoyment with an affectionate half-dimpled smile, pressing a tender kiss to your knee while you settle comfortably.

namjoon adjusts his position and gently taps the side of your leg as a signal for you to open them. with the warm damp cloth in hand, his muscles flex as he carefully cleans you up; the warmth of the fabric elicits a sigh of contentment from you.

deciding to break the comfortable silence, you ask with slight hesitation, "so… how was your day today?"

deep down, you already knew the answer..

the truth is: you knew namjoon was having a hard time at work lately.

you meant to bring it up sooner, really. but you didn't know how to do it without coming across as intrusive or nosy.

after all, namjoon gets enough scrutiny in his life as a musician; the last thing you wanted to do was add to that by being a nagging girlfriend.

at first, you noticed he was coming home from work later than usual. this made you somewhat apprehensive at first – you didn't want to jump to any conclusions about what he might be doing instead of working – but he'd never given you any reason to doubt him. you trusted him.

you also noticed a lot of the times he appeared restless during the rare periods he was at home, often times incoherently mumbling in his sleep or tapping his foot nervously at the table as he stared blankly off into space.

one night, at around 3am, you instinctively reached out to namjoon's side of the bed only to find it empty.

sitting up in the dark, your heart raced frantically trying to come up with an idea as to where the hell he was at this hour.

quietly slipping out of the bedroom and into the hallway, you were moments away from imagining the worst when your eyes caught a faint glow emanating from under the door of his home studio.

pressing your ear to the door, you could just make out the gentle hum of music coming from within. he was still working.

despite all of this, you chose to keep your concerns to yourself for a while longer. but after nine days of hardly seeing him, you knew that eventually, the conversation had to happen.

"it was good," namjoon answers softly, not meeting your eyes as he finishes wiping you off.

he stands up, disposing of the used cloth in a nearby laundry hamper.

"okay," you say gently, "now give me the real answer."

you watch him closely from your comfortable position in bed as he opens a nearby closet door with a quiet sigh.

he reaches up to take out a stack of fresh, neatly folded sheets and carefully closes the door behind him.

as namjoon walks back to the bed, his eyes finally meet yours, and he stands at the foot of the bed with the sheets still cradled in his arms.

"i don't know what you mean," he says defensively.

you roll your eyes, feigning annoyance as you huff, "okay. well, i'm not moving until you tell me."

namjoon's brow furrows in concern for a moment before he tries to change the subject. "do you need help going to the bathr—" he begins, but you cut him off with a quick "nope" and a slow shake of your head, crossing your arms firmly over your chest.

he exhales, glancing up at the ceiling before setting the clean sheets down at the foot of the bed. sitting next to you, he gently places a comforting hand on your leg.

you give him a moment as he traces soft circles on your skin, his eyes searching for the right words to say.

"i'm sorry," he finally begins. your body stiffens, caught off guard by his response. you really weren't expecting an apology.

"i haven't been a very good boyfriend lately," he admits, his smile strained and sadness evident in his eyes.

"and none of that is your fault. i'm sorry," he repeats, his gaze lowering in shame.

blinking back a sudden wave of tears, you sit up slightly and cover his large hand with yours, weaving your fingers together.

"namjoon, what on earth are you talking about?"

he looks up at you, mouth open to respond before you interrupt, "you're such a good boyfriend. the best, actually. i've just been worried about you lately. i can tell you've been pushing yourself.”

namjoon looks down at your hands and then back up into your eyes. you can almost see the gears turning in his head.

"i want to be here for you when things get tough. we should be able to talk about anything together."

a silent beat passes before he nods in agreement, squeezing your hand gently.

he then lifts your entwined fingers up to his lips and plants a tender kiss to your knuckle. "yeah," he breathes out, "it's been really hard. and you're…"

he exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair as he searches for the right words once more.

"you're so normal. you make me feel normal, even when my life is anything but. it's so complicated already; i just don't want to burden you with that."

his voice wavers slightly as he swallows, avoiding eye contact.

"joon," you say softly, trying to make him look at you again. "you could never be a burden to me. that's something you should never worry about."

as his eyes finally meet yours, they glisten with an array of emotions—appreciation, love, and relief all present.

he gazes at you adoringly and nods in response, uttering a soft "okay."

unable to resist the urge any longer, you lean forward and cup his face tenderly with your hands, planting a sweet, delicate peck right on his lips. the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips is soothing, even though your heart races within your chest.

you start to pull away but feel namjoon's strong hands dart up to grab your face as he draws you back into a deeper, more passionate kiss, both of you giggling against each other's mouths.

your hands slide up to namjoon's neck and weave themselves into his thick hair, nails softly grazing his scalp with just the right amount of force to elicit a delightful sigh.

sensing an invitation, his tongue tentatively ventures out to glide alongside yours, mingling the warmth between you.

namjoon momentarily adjusts his teeth on your bottom lip, gently sinking down on your bottom lip before releasing it with a subtle pop and eliciting an involuntary moan from deep within your throat.

you sense him shifting his position on the bed, eventually hovering over you as if preparing to dominate you but breaking the kiss instead.

without warning, namjoon wraps one arm around your lower back while grabbing your thighs with his other hand. in a swift upward motion, he lifts and hoists your naked body on his waist, coaxing you to wrap your legs around him for support.

you gasp, instinctively holding on tighter, feeling the thrill mingle with fear as you wrap your arms tightly around his torso.

"namjoon!" you exclaim mid-laughter, feeling both exhilarated and slightly turned on at being tossed around so effortlessly.

his strong hands now shift from the back of your thighs to support you by cupping the curves of your ass.

with bold strides and a gleeful grin, he carries you like this toward the bathroom, depositing you gently onto the cool surface of the countertop.

standing between your parted thighs, he leans in close again— this time offering you a burning, fervent kiss that is so hot and heavy, quickly rendering you dizzy as butterflies wildly flutter within your stomach.

eventually namjoon pulls back to examine your face, bringing his thumb up to gently caress your swollen bottom lip as a cheeky grin threatens to break through his solemn demeanor.

his eyes twinkle mischievously, reflecting the lustful haze that clouds your vision.

"shower?"

[nhlclover]

𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 | 𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

summary: after breaking up with luke, you realize that he wasn’t just another boy.

warnings: drinking, throwing up, cursing, sad girl behaviour

word count: 1.2k

The smooth tequila rolls right down your throat as you slam the shot glass back on the bar top. You recognize that you’ve hit your limit when the alcohol didn’t even burn when going down.

You were a mess. Everyday following your breakup with Luke, you’d been a mess. He’d made a mess of you.

You’d tried to wash your hands of him, going to a bar every other night, but not even the strongest spirits could rid you of his. He seemed to haunt you, with bits of your relationship coming back every time you were out.

“Why does every bar play this damn song?” You groan, dropping your head to the sticky wood.

The sound of French Montana fills the room. Unforgettable initially started as a joke between you and Luke, as it was a song that tended to play in every space the two of you went together. On the radio during drives and in restaurants on date nights.

Eventually, it became your guys' song. Anytime you heard the song, you thought of your boyfriend ex-boyfriend.

“Y/n, love is a lie.” Yasmina said.

You’d heard those words countless times over the past couple of weeks. It was something of a mantra you and your friends lived by.

“I know, I know! I’ve always been able to move on so easily.” You say. “But with him… with Luke it just… hits different.”

You drop your head back to the table, feeling the tears well in your eyes. The tears seemed to come anytime you were reminded of Luke, which was proven to be often. The last few weeks had been hell for you, reeling from a love you never intended to have.

“Y/n please don’t tell me you’re crying again?” Tasha groaned.

“I just…” You heaved. “Miss him.”

A hand rubs across your back, offering sympathy and comfort. “I need another shot.” You declare.

Your friends shoot each other concerned looks but you’ve already flagged down the bartender and ordered another shot of tequila.

The new alcohol that enters your system leads to more rambling about Luke.

“They say that if it’s right, you know, right? If breaking up with Luke was the right thing, I’d know. In my soul.” You mumble. “But it feels so fucking wrong!!”

Your friends let you babble on for a few more minutes before Yasmina decides your night is done. She takes care of your tab while Tasha calls for a cab. She guides you out of the front doors and onto the sidewalk, keeping your stumbling frame steady.

Suddenly your mind is filled with images of Luke, holding another girl in his arms. You pictured him loving another girl the way he loved you; gently, but fearless enough that he’d fight you when you were being stubborn.

You’re not sure if it is the thought of Luke with other girls or simply the copious amount of alcohol you’d consumed so far, but the contents of your stomach spill out and onto the street.

Tasha holds back your hair, another wave of nausea coming over you. You wipe your mouth, straightening up. Your friend gazes at you, a look of pity painted on her face.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You pout.

She sighs. “It’ll get better, hon.” She says. You slump down to the sidewalk, setting yourself on the curb.

You prayed she was right.

Tasha says a silent thank you as the cab pulls up in front of you guys. “Okay missy, go home and sleep this off, okay?”

She guides you into the back of the cab, setting you down on the seat.

“I miss Luke.” You slur. The door slams shut beside you and the driver pulls away from the curb.

The drive back to your apartment was filled with silent tears. You’d ruined yet another evening with your grieving. It probably wasn’t long till they stopped inviting you to the bars, your sadness being too contagious for them.

The cab pulls up outside your apartment. You stumble out of the cab and up the stairs inside. You haphazardly toss your keys to the counter, teetering to the bedroom.

Your bedroom reflected the way you felt. Messy. Clothes were thrown around the floor, your bedding remaining unfolded and rather in a clump on the mattress. Luke’s hoodie was on the corner of the bed. It no longer felt like his hoodie, but rather yours. He’d given it to you early on, before you were even dating. His smell was long gone from it, now replaced with your perfume.

The little pieces of Luke you refused to throw away or give back were scattered around your messy room. Everywhere you looked in your room you were reminded of him.

The hat you knew sat on the top shelf in your closet was like a beacon, calling your name. You opened the closet door, seeing it sitting atop the box that contained mementos from your relationship. The God awful Yankees hat that Luke always wore taunted you. It reminded you of all the little things in your relationship.

You grabbed the box, taking it to your bed and carefully peeling the lid off as if something was going to jump out at you. Right at the top was a photo of you and Luke, still in his game day equipment from his first game as a part of the New Jersey Devils.

Underneath are a series of birthday cards, photos, and various ticket stubs from Devils games that you’d attended. With each artifact you pull out, the tears intensify until your vision is reduced to a blurry mess.

Mentally, you cursed the space that you asked Luke for. There was a lot of uncertainty in your life, with having recently graduated and needing to find a full time job in your chosen field. You felt overwhelmed and confused, leading to you having doubt in your relationship. Luke tried to convince you to stay, but you didn’t listen.

You asked for space and he listened. You hadn’t seen him in just over a month and it has been the hardest month you’d ever been through.

You couldn’t understand why you were still hurting. It wasn’t like you to still be caught up on something you ended.

The sudden sound of keys jingling in the door pulled you out of your daze. There was only one other person who had a copy of your keys. The door clicks open and shut, the sound of shoes shuffling through the apartment. Your bedroom door creaks open, Luke’s head popping in the doorway.

He takes in your sad sight, you with tear filled eyes, bundled up in blankets with mementos of your relationship scattered around the sheets.

He wastes no time in joining your side, curling up next to you. You slide right into your arms like they were built to hold you. The tears don’t stop, if anything they fall harder now that Luke was holding you.

It takes you a minute to calm down, finally speaking after a couple of minutes. “I was wrong.” You croak. “I was so so wrong, Luke.”

He shushes you, placing a soft kiss to your forehead. You look up to him, his hair inviting you to run your hands through it like you once did. His eyes look back into yours, carrying pity undoubtedly for you and the state he left you in.

You chuckle looking away and peeling yourself from his arms. “I’m such a mess.” You say.

Luke reaches back for you, pulling you back in. “Shut up, you're beautiful.” He says.

You slot in between his legs, his arms finding their natural spot.

“You still melt my world, dream girl.” He whispers.

[nsharks]

nightmare | simon “ghost” riley

words: 1.3k

plot: simon has a nightmare and accidentally hurts you. mostly fluff. I like fics about sad!boy simon.

tags: fem!reader, blood tw

_______

It’s not rare for Simon to wake you up with his body thrashing around and low groans leaving his lips.

No matter how many times it’s happened, it never gets less painful for you, waking up to him having a nasty nightmare in the bed beside you.

You had a routine down pat by now. You’d gently touch his shoulders, careful not to surprise him, and then coo sweet things until his eyes fluttered open and his body relaxed under your hands. You hadn’t told Simon “I love you” yet, given the ill-defined nature of your relationship with him, but you often whispered other affectionate words to get him back to sleep.

Tonight is no different.

You’ve blinked your own slumber away, groggily rubbing your eyes before realizing what was happening. He’d been home for nearly a month now, and this was only the second nightmare of his. Your heart sinks as you sit up in the bed and reach over to touch his shoulder.

Simon was equally as hesitant about taking off his clothes as he was about taking off his mask. But he’s grown more and more comfortable around you, and tonight he’s sleeping with only his grey sweats on. His scarred chest is bare. When you touch his shoulder, the skin feels cool with sweat and the muscles beneath your fingers feel tense and knotted.

You’re about to whisper his name when he suddenly shouts out yours.

“Y/N,” he speaks hoarsely, eyes still closed. He’s moved around so much that his painted balaclava has shifted against face, a piece of his hair poking out from the cut-out for his eyes.

Your eyes widen. He whimpers out your name again.

“Simon, sweetheart,” you are gentle with your words. Somehow you get the feeling this dream is worse than the ones before. Beads of sweat percolate his brow bone and his skin looks ghastly under the moonlight seeping in from the window. You swallow, throat feeling narrowed, and touch his shoulder a little firmer.

“Simon.”

This one wakes him up. His eyes fly open and he shoots straight up, knocking his head against your lip in the process. His hands grip the blanket which has bunched around his hips as he breathes heavily. You hiss an explicative under your breath, pain shooting across the spot he’d just head-butted.

“Ow.”

Touching your lip, it feels hot and damp.

Simon hasn’t even come to his senses yet. His body is still in high-alert, the muscles of his back flexing as he shoots his eyes around the room, as if surveying for any signs of danger. Under his mask, it looks like his nostrils are flaring with each heavy breath he takes.

Then, his eyes land on you.

They are wild at first. Angry and intense and almost scrutinizing. But then the sight of you holding your lip, an unassuming tear rolling down your cheek, seems to bring him back to reality. Simon’s eyes soften drastically, painted with confusion until he starts to put the pieces around him together. His body is covered in sweat. You sitting up beside him. He’s not actually being threatened. He’s in his own room, his bed, and you’re sitting there hurt because of him.

“Christ,” he whispers gruffly, swiping the back of his hand over his bleary eyes. “I did that?”

You don’t give an answer. He did and he didn’t. It was obviously an accident, but that doesn’t seem to change the way his frame turns into a visibly frustrated one. Simon closes his eyes, huffs out a breath, and then reaches for you.

“C’mon, pet, let me fix this.”

You don’t get a chance to protest before he scoops you up in his arms and carries you to the bathroom. He sets you carefully on the sink counter, your butt settling at the edge of it, as you sit there quietly and continue touching the place that he’d accidentally split your skin.

“Let me see it,” he orders lowly. He touches your hand and beckons it away from your mouth. “Fuckin’ hell, I got you good.”

The sight is bloodier than he thought, but he can already tell it’s not very deep. Puffy, a bit of a bruise forming already, but nothing he can’t fix up for you. He is quick to find the first-aid kit he keeps in the medicine cabinet, scrummaging around for a cotton pad and getting it damp under the faucet.

He’s cleaned far worse wounds before. That’s the only thing you can think about as he concentrates on touching the damp pad to your lip, collecting all the blood. How much blood has he seen? You wonder to yourself. How many times has he tended someone’s wounds like this, only for them to lose the life in their eyes moments later?

They are dark thoughts. But they are tough to ignore, even though there is a shirtless, big man standing between your parted legs as he nurses you.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you finally. Throwing the blood-stained pad away, he picks up another one. Simon has never said he loves you, the words a bit tough for him to admit, but his gentle touch seems to say it with each dab to your wounded lip. “I was dreaming, huh?”

“Nightmare,” you correct him quietly. Your eyes meet his and the memory of him calling out your name seems to stare back at you. “You… you said my name.”

“Did I?”

You nod. “Yeah,” the word barely making it out, “I know you don’t like talking about them. But just… I was in it this time, wasn’t I?”

Something flashes across his lidded eyes. Something dark, haunting, and you wish he would let you see whatever it is he is seeing.

Surprisingly, he admits, “Yeah, you were. You’re in a lot of them now days.”

He throws away the cotton pad and returns between your legs. He is observing you intently, grabbing your face in his hands and inspecting the wound he’s cleaned up. There are many thoughts that haunt him, but the thought of you hurt tops the charts. He never imagined being the cause of your pain and it makes his anger flicker dangerously, like a stubborn candle he just can’t blow out.

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

“Stop,” you shake your head. You’ve still got that lone tear on your cheek and he wipes it. “Don’t… don’t do that. Don’t get all angry at yourself for something you couldn’t control.”

Once you started saying the words, they seemed to find a way out on their own terms. Your statement hangs heavy in the cramped space of the bathroom and Simon can’t even begin to reflect on how goddamn true it is. Your words measure beyond this moment, beyond the pathetic cut on your lip, and they take him back to everything he blames himself for. Everything he carries with him, so heavy and burdensome and nightmarish.

“Simon,” you whisper, and your soft voice brings him back to the here and now.

He splays his hands on your thighs.

“Y/N.”

“You good?”

“Peachy,” he tells you, and it’s full of sarcasm, but you rather it be that than something darker.

You touch his masked cheek and whisper out a sleepy request, feeling ready to get back in bed now that the blood has stopped.

“Kiss me?” you ask.

There was a time, in the beginning of your “relationship”, where Simon kissed you sparingly. He was so hesitant, reserved. But now, sighing away the bad thoughts, Simon peels up his mask just enough to lean forward and ever so carefully kiss your injured lips. It’s soft, despite the roughness of his mouth, and it is just what you both needed before heading back to bed.

[melissaeilishortega]

Hold me tighter

A/n: For this one, I did two requests (both being about comfort). I know I've been very inactive but I felt like writing :) BYE I STARTED WRITING THIS LIKE A MONTH OR TWO AGO I FINISHED THIS AT 1 AM SO DONT MIND THE SPELLING AND WRITING. PLEASE.

You're burnt out and need comfort :))

Y/n pov:

It was a Thursday night, I was coming back from work with so many emails to read and answer as a former assistant and so many essays to write as a student. Thursday was always the busiest day. The teachers would give more work so that students work hard even on the weekends and for some reason, customers reach out way more at the end of the week. I just wanted one day where I could be free. One day where I could just lay in bed holding my girlfriend all day. I couldn't even remember the last time we shared a meal. We were both very busy but it shouldn't keep us away like this. But truly, I shouldn't complain because it's simply my job.

Unfortunately, this day is only possible once I get my degree and once I can take days off again. I've always had issues with my stomach. Sometimes it would randomly start hurting. I've always been told "It's just stress" but it's still a pain in the ass to feel like you're being stabbed with every move you do and because of that, it leads to me having no more days off. I dreamt of the day I'd finally have an answer to how I can stop these cramps but it never arrived. So I would just miss an average of one day every week because I had difficulties even getting up. After that, there were also my horrible migraines that happened every two days. It was a living hell.

When I finally arrived home, I broke. I didn't think it would happen but it did. I sat in the corner of the kitchen crying for an hour until Billie arrived. I could see the shock on her face when she opened the door that led towards the kitchen and saw me curled up in a corner. I had never broken down in front of her. My immediate reaction was to try to stop crying but I couldn't. My vision was only getting blurrier from the stress of being this vulnerable with someone I love. I tried to explain myself from fear but nothing other than broken sobs came out of my throat.

"No need to talk sweetheart. I know." She whispered as she was kneeling to be at my height.

3rd pov:

Growing up in a place where you would get screamed after if you cried as someone sensitive had negative consequences on how you act and your trust towards the people you loved the most. One of those consequences being to push away some of your loved ones when they are just trying to help. But Billie knew that. She slowly got closer, with no physical touch at all, waiting for a signal that could indicate that you were comfortable with her getting closer. As time went by, she inched closer and closer, taking your hand in hers at a certain point which helped you calm down until you were calm enough and comfortable enough for her to be holding you. You stayed sitting on the floor in each other's arms for a little while just enjoying the comfort.

"Y/n?" Billie said softly, breaking the silence.

You only nodded, not finding the strength to even talk.

"Let's get you in bed okay? You're overworked baby and it kills me that you don't realize it. Gosh, can't stand seeing you this tired..." She said, this time with a more concerned tone in her voice.

She helped you get up, pulling you towards the bed. Once you got in, she joined spooning you.

"Are you comfortable..?" She whispered making sure you felt as good as possible.

"I'm so fucking sorry." You let out. "I feel like a burden Billie! I'm always the one who's late, the one finishing essays at crazy hours, I'm never there!" You exclaim, tears pricking at your eyes again, threatening to fall down on your cheeks.

"I'm holding you back Billie." You said, quietly this time.

"You know that's not true..." She answered. Her arms wrapped around your waist, holding you closer and tighter. "I love you y/n. More than anything. And if staying with you means waiting for you to finish university and get your degree then I will because I truly do love you. How about we talk about this tomorrow? I know you're tired." All you could do was let out a soft hum before falling asleep in her arms. Your girlfriend's arms. Holding you tighter and tighter than she ever did every single time.

A/n that's fucking crazy it is 12:50 am and I am tired and this ending is probably fucked

[itneverendshere]

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - four

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛"

warnings: gun violence; blood;

word count: 7.1k

You woke up confused staring at the oddly familiar ceiling, filled with posters ripped from the old magazines you’d gotten at a second-hand store. When you were sixteen is sounded like a great edgy idea. 

You were home.

What the—? How? 

Sitting up, the room felt stifling, the air thick with the stale smell of old wood and the faintest hint of your father’s cigarette smoke, a scent you had hoped never to encounter again. The heavy feeling in your chest wasn’t just the dread of being back; it was the memories flooding back, threatening to drown you.

The sound of a muffled argument seeped through the thin walls, pulling you back to the present. Your heart pounded in your ears as you recognized the angry, slurred voice of your father.

He was shouting at someone, probably your brother, just like he used to. The familiar clinking of bottles and the crash of something being thrown sent a shiver down your spine.

No. This wasn't real. This couldn’t be real.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed, feeling the rough crappy carpet under your feet. You stood up shakily. The hallway stretched out before you, longer than it should have been, and the flickering light cast eerie shadows on the peeling wallpaper.

As you approached the living room, the noise grew louder, more distinct. Your father’s voice, filled with venom and rage, scared the living hell out of you.

You reached the doorway and peered in, your breath catching in your throat. There he was, towering over your JJ, his face twisted in anger. Your little brother was cowering, trying to make himself as small as possible, his eyes filled with fear. The scene was a haunting echo of so many nights you’d tried to forget.

“No,” you whispered, fear bubbling up inside you. “This isn’t happening.”

But it was.

Your father, with his disheveled hair and red-rimmed eyes, swung the bottle in his hand dangerously close to JJ’s head. Each wave of the bottle sent droplets of amber liquid flying, dotting the floor like gruesome confetti. JJ flinched with every movement, tears streaming down his cheeks, and the sight made your heart ache.

“Get out of my sight, you worthless—” your father roared, his voice a terrifying growl.

“No!” you screamed, stepping into the room before you even realized you were moving. “Stop it!”

Your father turned, his bloodshot eyes narrowing as they focused on you. For a moment, he only stared, probably to drunk to realize it was his own daughter.

Then, recognition set in, and his scowl deepened.

“You,” he spat, disgusted by your sight, “You think you can just walk back in here and tell me what to do?”

You couldn’t back down, not now. Not ever again.

“Leave him alone,” you said, your voice trembling, “He’s a child!”

Your father took a menacing step toward you, the bottle still clutched in his hand. “You’ve got some nerve, coming back here and talking to me like that. Looking exactly like her!”

Every instinct screamed at you to run, but you stood there. “I’m not afraid of you Luke,” you lied through your teeth.

His eyes flared with rage, and he raised the bottle, ready to hit you. You tensed up, waiting for the blow.

“Dad, please!” JJ’s voice broke through the tension, “Don’t hurt her.”

JJ’s plea just hung there, like this thin, fragile thread barely holding things together. For a second, your dad froze, his hand twitching, eyes darting between you and your brother.

And then, with this pissed-off roar, he chucked the bottle at the wall. It exploded into a million pieces, glass flying everywhere. The sound echoed through the house, loud and final, like it was the last brutal note in this nightmare that felt way too real.

“You’re a coward, you know that? Hitting your own children. You’re trash.” you spat out, the words flying from your mouth before you could stop them.

His face twisted, “What did you say to me?” He lunged at you, his hands going straight for your throat.

Panic hit hard as his grip tightened around your throat, stealing your breath. You clawed at his hands, desperate to break free, but he was way too strong, too determined.

Dark spots started creeping into your vision. You gasped, fighting for air, but he only squeezed harder. The room blurred and started spinning, and just when you thought you were about to pass out, his face began to change, shifting right in front of you. You blinked, trying to clear your head, and when you opened your eyes again, it wasn’t your dad choking you anymore.

It was Rafe.

Rafe's face, with a sickening grin, loomed over you. His eyes, filled with a cold, calculating malice, bore into yours. “You thought I’d be any different?” he sneered. “You signed your death sentence, pogue.”

The fear was paralyzing, like ice-cold dread flooding through your veins.Your heart hammered against your chest, but you couldn’t scream, couldn’t shout for help. His grip was solid, unbreakable, like he had no intention of letting go.

You struggled with everything you had, but it was like fighting through quicksand. Every move felt slow, heavy, like you were trapped in molasses.

As the edges of your vision began to fade, a new sound cut through the suffocating haze – JJ’s voice, calling your name. “Sis! Please, wake up! Wake up!”

With a final, desperate burst of energy, you tore yourself away from Rafe, his grip suddenly gone. You were falling, tumbling through darkness, and then–

You jolted awake, gasping for breath, your body drenched in sweat. The familiar ceiling of the motel room came into focus. The terror of the nightmare clung to you, and it made it hard to breathe.

Your hands went to your throat, feeling for bruises that weren’t there. It was just a dream, you told yourself, trying to calm your racing heart. Just a nightmare.

As your breath began to steady, you turned your head, feeling the sheets rustle against your skin.

The dim light of the room cast long shadows, and your heart sank when you saw Rafe lying next to you, his chest rising and falling in a deep, peaceful slumber. He was naked, his body partially covered by the sheets, a reminder of what you’d done hours ago.

A wave of nausea hit you, your stomach twisting with disgust — at him, at yourself. The nightmare still clung to you, the image of his hands around your throat fresh and terrifying, making it hard to process how he could sleep so soundly. You slipped out of bed as quietly as you could, not wanting to wake him, and hurriedly grabbed your clothes, dressing in silence.

Standing in the cramped bathroom, you splashed cold water on your face, hoping it would wash away the nightmare. The coolness gave you a quick moment of clarity, but the dread still clung to you, heavy and unshakable. You stared at yourself in the mirror — pale, tired, and haunted.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm down. You needed to leave, clear your head, figure out what the hell to do next. Quietly, you slipped out of the bathroom, grabbed your keys from the nightstand, and took one last glance at Rafe. He was still asleep, completely clueless about the fear swirling inside you.

The motel hallway was dark and dead silent, except for the low hum of the vending machine down the hall. You made your way to the exit, and the cool night air hit your skin like a slap of reality. It was like stepping out of one world and into another — the difference so harsh, it almost felt unreal.

You walked a few more steps, but suddenly everything started spinning. Your vision blurred, and you felt lightheaded, your legs giving out as you slumped against the wall, struggling to breathe.

The panic attack hit you full force, your chest tightening, and your mind racing. You couldn't let Rafe see you like this. You couldn't let anyone see you like this. You sank to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest, trying to focus on something, anything, to calm yourself down. You started counting your breaths, focusing on each inhale and exhale, trying to slow your racing heart. You thought of JJ, of how much he needed you to be strong.

You couldn't fall apart now.

You kept counting, kept breathing, the cool air helping to clear your head. Slowly, the tightness in your chest began to ease. The world started to come back into focus, the shadows in the hallway retreating.

You wiped away the tears that had slipped down your cheeks and stood up, feeling a little more in control.

Sleeping around—no, not just sleeping, practically baring your soul to one of the people that had destroyed your life? That had taunted and beaten your brother? Your friends? That killed a cop and got away with it? The thoughts circled in your mind. You were a dirty traitor.

The cold didn't couldn’t wash away the shame eating you alive. How did it come to this? How did you go from hating Rafe to being tangled up with him like this? 

You thought of JJ, of your friends, the people who had been there for you through everything. They’d never understand.

Hell, you didn’t even understand it yourself. You stopped and leaned against a lamppost, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. You had to sort through this mess, had to figure out what was real and what was just the lingering effects of captivity and longing. Maybe you were holding on to the only person who managed to pull you out of Ward’s grasp, fooling yourself into finding some good in someone who had caused so much pain. 

An hour later, you made your way back to the motel, the guilt and self-doubt threatening to consume you entirely. You couldn't ignore the feeling that you'd betrayed everything you stood for by letting Rafe into your life, even if it was just for a moment of weakness.

As you got closer to the entrance, you spotted him at the front desk. He looked a mess — worried, disheveled, like he’d just woken up and thrown on some shorts in a rush. His face was tight with tension as he talked to the front desk guy, hands moving wildly, gesturing around like he was freaking out. 

Your pulse pounded as you walked in, not sure of what to say, what to do, how to approach him. The nightmare was still fresh.

Rafe's voice cut through the air, his tone urgent, "How the fuck did you not see her leave? Did someone take her?”

The front desk guy shook his head, his expression apologetic.

"Sir, I haven't seen anyone come through here."

With a deep breath, you stepped forward, revealing yourself, "I'm here," you said quietly, voice rough from not speaking since you woke up.

Rafe's head snapped up, his blue eyes widening in relief as he caught sight of you. "Thank God," he breathed, his shoulders visibly relaxing, “Fucking hell, Maybank.”

His arms were around you in an instant, his warmth enveloping you. You should feel repulsed.

His hands rested gently on your back; fingers splayed wide. For a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into his embrace for the last time, the tension in your shoulders easing ever so slightly. And then, you pushed him away, your movements sharp. His hands fell away from you. The hurt in his eyes cut through you like a punch, but you couldn’t bring yourself to think much of it. It was you or him.

You took a step back, putting some distance between you and Rafe, needing the space to breathe, to think, to figure out what came next.

Your gaze flickered to the floor, unable to meet his eyes, unable to face the consequences of your stupid actions, "Just needed some air," you muttered, “Sorry for not leaving a note.”

Rafe's expression shifted from relief to concern as he watched you, his brows furrowing.

"You okay?"

You still couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, "I'm fine," you replied, your voice lacking conviction even to your own ears. "Just felt a little nauseous.”

His hand reached out tentatively as if he wanted to comfort you, but he hesitated, letting it fall back to his side. “I just woke up and you were gone, and I...I panicked."

You hated the fact you could pinpoint the sincerity in his voice so easily. It nearly killed you. 

“We should go back.”

"Will you... will you be okay?" he asked, his voice hesitant.

You nodded, trying to muster up a reassuring smile, but it felt hollow and insincere. "I'll be fine," you lied, the words tasted bitter on your tongue, “Just need some rest.”

“Okay. Okay, yeah, let’s go back.”

As you stepped inside the room, he watched you carefully, as if he was afraid you would’ve disappeared again at any given moment. He tried to reach out and grab your arm, but you moved too quickly, and he was left grasping air.

You offered him a weak smile, ignoring the look on his face.

"I'm sorry for leaving like that," you said, your voice tinged with genuine regret. "I’m fine.”

You didn’t think he believed you. He was watching you so closely. He took in how disheveled you looked. The mess of your hair, and barely laced-up shoes so you could get out the door faster. He was smart enough to read your bullshit, but he only took a deep breath to calm himself.

“Is this about last night?”

Your body froze instantly. What were you supposed to tell him? Lie? Tell him the truth and make him hate himself even more? Keep your pain down to hold his?

“It was a mistake.”

You went straight to the chase.

He stalked closer to you, and you took a step back reflexively, “A mistake?” he echoed between labored breaths, “A mistake?”

“Yeah," you stammered, trying to articulate your thoughts, "It's not right. We, we're just lonely."

You despised yourself for even hinting at it, but the tumultuous month spent with him had been bewildering, to say the least. You questioned whether you were truly good for each other. You couldn't be.

"I thought..." he began, his voice trailing off. The vulnerability in his voice pierced your skin, a consequence of your actions. But you needed to put yourself first.

“I’m sorry.”

Rafe's face contorted, his features tightening into a mask of disbelief. And you couldn’t blame him for whatever he was about to unleash on you. You probably deserved it.

“So, what? You're just gonna walk away?" He tried to bark, but his voice quivered from grief, “Stop looking at me?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” He scoffed, lips twisting into a sneer, as he started to pace around the room, his movements restless and agitated. “That’s funny.”

Rafe could act cold and stoic all he wanted; you could hear the hurt in his voice and sense the sadness in the words. He sounded broken.

"You're angry,” Your mouth ran dry, your heart lurching into your throat. "I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” he seethed, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine, “Angry? You think you mean enough to me to make me angry?”

His words struck you like a physical blow, a slap to the face. You recoiled instinctively, even though you knew he didn't mean it.

"I don't know what I mean to you," you admitted quietly as you struggled to maintain your composure. "I just know that I can't keep doing this."

Rafe's laughter was bitter and mocking, "Can't keep doing this?" he repeated, his voice laced with derision. "And what, exactly, is 'this'? Fucking? You can’t even say it.”

“You’re being an asshole.”

"An asshole?" he spat, "Is that what you think of me?"

You held his gaze, refusing to back down despite the hurting coursing through your veins. "You're acting like one.”

“Maybank,” His voice was still harsh as he lowered his head to try and meet your eyes. He was close enough that you were able to smell him, "You don't know anything about me, remember? Maybe the fucking really did confuse you.”

“Stop it,” Your voice broke a little, fighting the waterworks that were threatening to run down your cheeks, “Stop making it sound like it meant nothing to you.”

His eyes shut tightly, “Why are you doing this?”

“Because it’s wrong! Rafe—don’t you see it? I can’t do this, not with you of all fucking people, okay?”

He looked down at the carpet, a look of shame falling over his features as he ran a hand over his face, “You knew who I was since the beginning.”

You felt so much frustration rising within you, "Yeah, and every time I look at you now, I see everything that's wrong with me."

“And whose fault is that? Hmm? You said you didn’t want to stop. You wanted it, you wanted me.”

You staggered back, feeling as if the ground beneath your feet was unsteady.

"I wanted it," Rafe repeated, fingers digging into his chest, "I wanted you."

You wanted to reach out to him, hug him as you had just hours ago, but you knew you couldn’t.

“We can’t.”

His eyes were slightly dewy, a somewhat defeated look to his gaze as he walked towards the door.

“Well, congrats Maybank. You won.”

The sound of the door slamming echoed through the room, the finality of it hitting you like a punch to the gut. You stood there, motionless, as the silence enveloped you. Why did it feel like this was going to crush you?

You sank to the floor, your back against the wall, and the tears came in a torrent, for the second time that morning. Sobs wracked your body, each one more painful than the last, as the reality of your situation became clear as day. You had pushed him away, and hurt him, but what other choice did you have? 

The quiet without him was almost eerie. You weren't used to being alone anymore. You couldn't deny that you had felt something for Rafe, something more than just anger and resentment.

But it was twisted, born out of shared trauma and desperation, wasn’t it? It had to be. It was the only explanation that made sense.

Wiping your tear-streaked face with trembling hands, you tried to gather yourself. You still needed to get home. In five days. How the fuck were you going to live in the same room with Rafe for five days after what went down?

You sat on the motel room floor for what felt like hours, the silence driving you up the walls. Eventually, exhaustion won out, and you crawled into bed, your mind too restless to allow for more than fitful dozing.

It was around 4 a.m. when the door to the motel room creaked open, startling you awake. You sat up, your heart pounding, straining to see in the dark. The figure that stumbled through the door was unmistakable: Rafe. His movements were unsteady, his clothes disheveled, and the sharp scent of alcohol hit you even from across the room.

“Rafe?”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned heavily against the doorframe, his eyes unfocused. He looked lost.

The anger that had driven him was gone, replaced by a hollow, almost haunted look. You had done that to him.

You got out of bed, approaching him cautiously, “What are you doing?”

He finally looked at you, his eyes bloodshot, “I... I couldn’t stay away,” he slurred, his words thick with the effects of too much alcohol. “I tried, but...”

You sighed, “Rafe, you’re drunk. You need to sit down.”

He let you guide him to the bed, his body heavy and uncooperative. Once he was seated, you grabbed a bottle of water from the small table and handed it to him.

“Drink this,” you instructed.

He took a sip, his hands shaking slightly. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, staring down at the floor. “For everything.”

It was the first time he ever apologized to you.

You didn’t know what to say. Part of you wanted to comfort him, to tell him it was okay, but another part of you was still reeling from earlier.

“You need to sleep this off."

He nodded but didn’t move.

Instead, he reached out, his hand brushing against yours. “I don’t want to be like him,” he confessed, “I can't."

If you allowed him to keep sputtering out his drunken thoughts you would’ve ended up crying your eyes out again, so instead you squeezed his hand, “Let’s just sleep, okay?”

He nodded again, his eyes drifting shut as the exhaustion and alcohol finally took their toll. You helped him lie down, covering him with the sheets. As you laid back down, you watched Rafe’s breathing even out, his face softening in sleep. 

That night? It never happened. It felt like everything was happening all over again.

Rafe didn’t spare you a glance from the moment he woke up, choosing to care for his hangover by himself. You and he moved around each other like ghosts, the motel room becoming a prison. You barely slept, the nightmares coming back, leaving you exhausted and on edge.

Every time you closed your eyes, you saw your father, Rafe, or the hauntings of your past, blending into a tiring cycle of fear. You knew he’d been having nightmares as well, but you pretended to be asleep every time he woke up, chest heaving. He never asked for you help.

He seemed so caught in his torment. You could see it in the way he clenched his jaw, the way his hands would flex into fists and then relax as if he was battling some inner demon. He avoided you, constantly, and when he did speak, his words were clipped and distant.

Your shared meals were silent, the clinking of cutlery the only sound breaking the oppressive quiet. Even the TV stayed off.

On the fifth night, you lay awake in the dark, listening to the rhythm of Rafe's breathing from the other bed. It was uneven, indicating he was also awake. Maybe you should've kept quiet, but his druken monologue was still very much killing you inside.

“You’re not gonna end up like him.”

Rafe's breathing hitched, and you could almost feel his eyes on you through the darkness.

"I mean it," you continued, turning slightly to face his silhouette. "You're not your father."

He didn't respond immediately, but you sensed a subtle change in his posture. Finally, he sighed, "How can you be so sure?" he murmured.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "Because I've seen you. I've seen the parts of you that fight against becoming him. The parts that want to be better. And that matters."

He let out a bitter laugh. "I'm not sure it’s enough.”

“It is.”

“It’s not, Maybank. I’ve done enough damage for a lifetime. It’s the reason why you’re sleeping on the other side of the bed instead of right next to me.”

You wanted to reach out, to reassure him that he wasn’t alone, but you knew it wasn’t that simple. 

“I’m still here,” you said softly, “I’m not leaving.”

“You already did.”

Ouch.

Before you could utter a single word, he turned his back to you.

“We’re leaving tomorrow. Sleep.”

“Rafe—”

“Goodnight.”

It took you hours to fall asleep. You lay in bed the events of the past weeks replaying in your mind. You thought of Rafe, of the hurt in his eyes, the way he had looked at you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. That didn't matter anymore to him.

The next morning, you didn’t bother much with packing, only shoving the pieces of clothing you’d collected in a backpack. It felt torturous, to be so close to Rafe yet so far away. He didn’t speak a word as he packed his things, his movements stiff and mechanical. You wanted to break the silence, but every time you opened your mouth, the words seemed to stick in your throat.

The taxi drive to the port was just as unbearable. You stared out the window, watching the landscape blur past, your mind racing with thoughts of what could have been, what should have been. 

Once you arrived, you and Rafe stepped out, the silence between you as impenetrable as ever. It was over. He took the lead, heading towards the ticket booth with his shoulders hunched, and you followed.

You were still scared shitless of those men. They were only helping you because at some point Rafe had helped them smuggle drugs into the States, and that did not leave you the least bit reassured over their intentions. 

Finding a spot on the deck, you both settled into a tense silence, the hum of the boat’s engine and the cries of seagulls filling the void between you. The beauty of the scene did little to ease the anxiety tightening in your chest.

He leaned against the railing, his gaze fixed on the horizon, his face still void of any emotion.

You watched him for a moment, torn between wanting to reach out to him and the fear that doing so would only make things worse.

Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, you cleared your throat.

“Rafe,” you began hesitantly, “I—”

Before you could finish, he turned to you, his expression weary. “We don’t have to talk about it,” he said, his voice flat. “Not now.”

Not ever, that's what he meant.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Okay.”

“Just stay low, stay quiet. My dad got eyes everywhere.”

From the corner of your eye you spotted one of the men. Tall, burly, with a scar running down his cheek. He simply nodded towards the cargo boat and for a minute you’re taken back to your first day stuck with the Cameron’s, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong.

Rafe walked in front of you again, entering the ship, rounding his way through the halls behind the sketchy guy, only stopping when he knocked on a door, after a moment, it swung open to reveal a bald shot man, eyes way too big for his face, which flicked over you and Rafe, a predatory smile curling his lips.

“Well, well, look who decided to show up,” he drawled, his voice laced with mockery. “You’re late.”

“Had some complications,” Rafe replied curtly, his posture tense.

You didn't like it one bit.

“Complications, huh? Well, come on in”

You followed Rafe inside, heart racing. The interior of the room was pretty dark, the air thick with the smell of smoke and something you couldn’t quite identify. Nor did you want to. 

“Rafe,” the older man announced, his voice cold and commanding. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten about our arrangement.”

“Never,” Rafe replied, his tone clipped. “I brought the money.”

He handed over a thick envelope, and the man behind the desk took it, flipping through the bills with a practiced eye. After a moment, he nodded, satisfied.

“Good,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Now, let’s discuss the other part of our deal.”

Rafe stiffened. “I told you, I’m out. I’m not running anything for you anymore.”

The man’s eyes narrowed, his smile turning dangerous. “I don’t think you understand. You don’t get to just walk away.”

You felt a chill run down your spine. This wasn't the plan. Right? The man behind the desk stood up, his gaze shifting to you.

“And who’s this?” he asked, his tone menacing.

“No one,” Rafe said quickly. “She has nothing to do with this.”

The man chuckled, a low, sinister sound. “Oh, I think she has everything to do with this.”

He took a step towards you, and instinctively, you backed away, Rafe moving to place himself between you and the older man, “Leave her out of this.”

“You see, your daddy dearest called in last night. Told me about a loose piece he had to get rid off…a pretty one. Guess this is her?”

"That's none of your business," Rafe growled, his voice filled with a warning, body still shielding yours.

The older man laughed, the sound grating against your nerves.

"Oh, but it is my business, Rafe. You see, your daddy and I, we go way back. And when he asks for a favor, I don't say no."

You knew this had to be a trap.

"Rafe, we need to go," you whispered urgently, tugging on his arm.

He didn't move, his eyes locked on the man before him. "We're leaving."

The man smirked, his gaze shifting between you and Rafe. "You think you can just walk out of here? You're in deep, Cameron. And now, so is she."

Rafe's jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists. "We're not doing this.”

The older man took a step closer, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent. 

"You have two choices, Rafe. You either do as I say, or she pays the price like Ward asked.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, fear coursing through your veins. You couldn't let Rafe get pulled back into this world, but you couldn't think about what might happen to both of you if you stayed.

"Rafe, please," you pleaded, your voice trembling at that point.

Rafe’s gaze flicked to you as if he was memorizing your features, from your eyes down to your lips. Oh hell no. You could see the gears turning inside his brain and it made you sick to your stomach when he took a deep breath, his eyes hardening with resolve.

“Run.”

Before you could protest, Rafe launched himself at the older man, tackling him to the ground. The suddenness of the movement caught everyone off guard, but you knew you had to act quickly.

Heart pounding, you turned and bolted out of the room, dropping your backpack in the process, your footsteps echoing down the dimly lit corridor.

Behind you, you could hear the sounds of struggle—grunts, crashes, and the thud of bodies hitting the floor. You didn’t dare look back, knowing that every second counted. Rafe had told you to run.

The ship's layout was confusing, with identical-looking hallways and doors leading to who-knew-where. You sprinted through the maze of metal and dim lights, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The distant sound of shouting and commotion indicated that the fight wasn't over. You turned a corner and collided with one of the burly men from earlier.

He grabbed your arm like you were some kind of animal, “Where do you think you’re going?” he snarled.

You stomped on his foot and jabbed your elbow into his ribs, wrenching your arm free as he grunted in pain. Without wasting a second, you continued running, your legs burning.

You burst onto the deck, the cold, salty air hitting you like a slap. The early morning light was just beginning to brighten the horizon, casting long shadows across the deck. You looked around frantically, searching for any means of escape. Your eyes landed on a lifeboat secured to the side of the ship. Without hesitation, you made your way towards it, fumbling with the ropes that held it in place. Your fingers were shaking, but you managed to free the boat. As you were about to lower it into the water, a rough hand grabbed your shoulder and spun you around. It was the man with the scar, his face twisted in anger.

“Going somewhere?” he sneered.

You tried to fight him off, but he was too strong.

Just when you thought all hope was lost, a loud bang echoed across the deck. The man with the scar froze, his grip loosening. You took the opportunity to break free, scrambling away from him.

Rafe stood at the entrance to the deck, a gun in his hand and determination in his eyes. The man with the scar raised his hands slowly, backing away.

“You okay?” Rafe asked.

“I think so.”

“Come here.”

Without thinking, you ran to him, your heart pounding with relief. He was okay. You were okay.

His arms wrapped around your lower back tightly, and gently pulled you back, his eyes searching your face to make sure you were okay, but before you could assure him you were fine, he kissed you.

It felt so…real, it nearly brought you to your knees. As cheesy as it sounded, it felt like time stood still for you, the rest of the world ceasing to exist. 

Until reality broke you again.

Rafe's body tensed suddenly. You heard a muffled sound, like a distant pop, but it took a moment for your mind to register what had happened. His grip on you loosened, and he staggered, his breath hitching in pain. No, no, no, no.

"Rafe?” You caught him as he fell to his knees, eyes darting around, searching for the source of the shot. Your eyes nearly popped out of your head as you watched a showdown between the so-called human traffickers and the fucking police. This had to be a fucking nightmare, no way, were you getting caught in a crossfire. 

Rafe clutched his side, blood seeping through his fingers, staining his white shirt. His face was scarily pale, and he struggled to stay upright.

"You need to...get out of here," he managed to say, his voice strained, “Right now.”

“I’m not leaving you, you fuckin—Shit, Rafe. Fuck!” You looked around frantically, your heart pounding in your chest. "Can you walk?" you asked, trying to keep the panic from your voice, you didn't want to scare him.

“Does it look like I can walk, pretty Maybank?”

A sob broke through you, “Don’t try to be fucking funny, you got shot!”

“Baby, you—“ he coughed, blood seeping through his teeth, "You gotta go home.”

"Stop talking!" you repeated, your voice trembling with desperation.

You looked around again, trying to find a way out, a way to save him, anything. But the chaos around you was too much. The police and the traffickers were in a fierce shootout, bullets whizzing through the air, ricocheting off metal, and splintering wood. There was nowhere to run.

Rafe's hand tightened weakly around yours.

"Listen to me," he said, his voice just a whisper. "You have to...Go gome."

Tears streamed down your face as you shook your head. "I can't leave you here."

You knew you had to move, had to find help, but leaving him there felt like tearing your heart out. As you turned to peek around one final time, you heard a shout from behind you.

"Freeze!" a police officer yelled, his gun trained on you.

You stopped, your hands raised, your mind racing. "Please, help him," you begged, pointing to Rafe. "He's been shot."

The officer's eyes flicked to Rafe, then back to you. "We need to secure the area first," he said, his tone firm but not unkind.

"Please," you repeated, your voice breaking. "He's dying."

The officer hesitated, then spoke into his radio. "Officer down, need medical assistance immediately."

Another officer approached, his gun drawn, and you saw his gaze soften as he took in Rafe's condition. "We'll get him help," he assured you, "but we need to get you out of here safely."

“I’m not leaving without him,” You made the mistake to glance back one last time, your heart breaking as you saw Rafe's eyes close, his body slumping against the ground, “No, no, no! Keep your eyes open, I swear to god—” Your hands trembled as you tried to staunch the flow of blood with your already stained clothing, "Stay with me," you pleaded, your voice cracking. 

His eyes fluttered open briefly, a weak smile touching his lips, "Go."

Before you could tell him off, you felt hands grip your shoulders, pulling you back. "We need to get you to safety," one of the officers said firmly, trying to drag you away from Rafe.

"No! Let me go! I can't leave him!" you screamed, fighting against their hold.

"Ma'am, we need to get you out of the line of fire," the officer insisted, his grip tightening as he pulled you to your feet.

Through your tears, you saw more officers surrounding Rafe, their voices urgent as they called for medical assistance. You watched helplessly as they began to administer first aid, their movements efficient and hurried.

As the officers dragged you away against your will, your eyes never left Rafe. "Please, don't let him die," you sobbed, your voice breaking with despair.

"We're doing everything we can," one of the officers reassured you, guiding you towards the edge of the deck where a police boat was waiting.

You stumbled, your legs weak with fear and exhaustion, but the officers held you steady. As you were helped onto the police boat, you turned back one last time, your heart breaking at the sight of Rafe lying on the deck, surrounded by officers and paramedics. You clutched the railing, your knuckles white, as the boat pulled away from the ship, the distance between you and Rafe growing with each passing second.

The journey back to shore was nothing but a blur of sirens, flashing lights, and the distant sound of helicopter blades cutting through the air. The police officers tried to reassure you, but you wouldn't rest until you saw him again. Alive.

When the boat finally docked, paramedics rushed forward, checking you for injuries, while police officers asked you questions about what had happened. You answered them mechanically, your mind still focused on Rafe, praying that he would survive. Hours seemed to pass in a haze of questions, medical checks, and statements. You told them everything. Finally, you were allowed to sit down and a police officer approached you.

"Rafe Cameron is being taken to the hospital," he said gently. "He's in critical condition, but the paramedics are doing everything they can."

You nodded numbly, "Can I see him?"

“’No visitors will be allowed, kid. We checked your backgrounds. If he survives, he’ll be taken into custody, his father is Ward Cameron, the feds are going to need him.”

You nearly threw up at how easily he said, “if he survives”. There couldn’t be no fucking ifs, he wasn’t dying. Not like this. Not after everything. 

Your knees buckled, and you had to sit down again. The officer helped you to a bench, his face sympathetic, “I understand this is hard, but we need to follow protocol. He’s a key witness and suspect in multiple ongoing investigations.”

You nodded. The world felt distant, and surreal. “Can I at least know which hospital?”

The officer hesitated for a moment, then relented. “St. Michael’s. But you won’t be allowed to call until we clear things with the authorities.”

“Call? I want to visit.”

He sighed, taking a seat next to you, “Kid. I’m really sorry, but you won’t be here. You’re a kidnapping victim and there’s a direct order to take you back home, you’ve been reported missing for over a month now.”

Your mind reeled, struggling to process the officer's words.

Missing? For over a month? It felt like a lifetime and no time at all had passed since you'd been caught up in this nightmare.

"I can't leave him. Not like this."

The officer's expression softened. "I understand, but this is out of my hands. We need to get you back to your family. They'll be worried sick."

What family?

You wanted to shout in his face. JJ was still missing for all you knew and Luke hadn't stepped foot home in months. You felt so helpless.

“I can't just leave him."

"We're going to get you home safely. You'll be able to follow up on Rafe's condition, but right now, you need to come with us."

The officer stood up, motioning for you to follow. Reluctantly, you got to your feet, without another option, every step feeling like a betrayal to Rafe.

As you were led out of the station and into a waiting car, you could only imagine him lying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life, by himself. You couldn't bear the thought of him waking up alone, without knowing that you were there for him.

If he ever woke up.

[seungfl0wer]

*I’ll do anything* PT. 4

Part Title: Numb

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader (fem)

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Violence, Minho being a dick, animal death, mentions of being shot, lots of yelling, panic attack, not so good thoughts, big warning for Minho putting hands on Reader. This one is very much hurt, with little comfort. Sorry :(

This is part of a series find other parts here:

Series Master List

-🩵

The next morning Minho woke up frantically, you weren’t laying In bed anymore. His heart raced he didn’t know why but he was scared. Scared you left or he’d find you somewhere in the house dead. He sprung to his feet as he opened the door he went to run out only to be greeted with the smell of food. “She- there’s no way” he said bolting it to the kitchen. His eyes locked on your body standing there. Making breakfast. Why the hell were you making breakfast? Why the hell were you even out of bed? He asked himself.

You turned your body to place something on the table only to be met with his gaze. “Oh you’re awake already?” You hummed. Minho stared at you in disbelief “y/n you shouldn’t be- you need to go rest.” He said his voice filled with worry. “I’m fine” you said with a small shrug. But you weren’t. The sting in your side felt like someone had just jabbed you with a hot knife. And well half of that was true it really hurt. It made your body feel weak like you were gonna topple over.

You had this thought that had been eating away at you all night. “I need to be better.” It just kept replaying in your mind. “Be better. Do everything he asks. Stop being so difficult. This is why you don’t have anyone left in your life. You’re just-“ you snapped out of it as you realized you accidentally grabbed the hot pan. Your brain had been on autopilot and you didn’t even register it. You winced at the pain Minho rushing to your side. He took your hand running it under cold water as you whined at the pain.

“Seriously, you need to be careful” he said his voice soft but the hint of annoyance in it made a knot in your throat. “I’m sorry” you said in almost a whisper. Pulling your hand back down after Minho had soothed it. He looked at you sternly “listen y/n you need to go rest don’t worry about this stuff today ok?” He said softly. He took your other hand dragging you to your room “go rest. Got it?” He said with a soft kiss to your cheek. You nodded. He gave you a smile as he walked away shutting your door.

——————🩵——————

Minhos phone rang “yeah hello?” He said fumbling to answer it. “Hey, need you. Here’s the address.” Changbin said quickly before hanging up his voice a bit frantic. Minho sighed walking to your room. You had fallen asleep already he hoped you’d stay asleep till he was back before he walked out the door.

A few hours had passed before you woke up. You stretched looking around eyes still fuzzy. You waddled out of your room looking around for Minho but only finding a note. “Got a call be back soon.” It read. You rubbed your eyes a bit looking around. You shrugged your shoulder a bit before going to clean like normal.

After a bit of cleaning your body started to ache, the throbbing pain in your side growing. You laid down on the couch exhausted feeling your body drained. You let out a sigh, you were going to head to your room when you heard the front door open. Minho was home. He made his way down the hall “are you fucking serious!” You heard him almost yell. Your heart jumped at his loud words. Why was he mad? Was it the job he just came back from or?

Your questions were soon to be answered as Minho peered around the corner. You greeted him with a half smile feeling the anger radiating off of him. “You don’t ever fucking listen do you?” He growls. You feel like a deer in headlights staring at him. Heart pounding, body trembling. “I thought I told you not to do shit? Huh. But you still cleaned the house. Are you fucking serous y/n?” His voice becoming ever so louder as he talked.

“Minho I’m sorry I just-“ his eyes widen coming full force towards you. He pushed you against the wall grabbing your face harshly as he stared daggers at you “excuse me?” He spat out. “Sir-“ you said looking up at his dark eyes. He wanted to say something to you but he bit his lip. He let go of you with a small push heading to his room. You stood there where he left you, body still shaking.

So many thoughts rushed through your head as you walked back to your room hearing Minho yell loudly in his room. Was last night about to repeat itself You thought. You laid in your room for a bit eyes slowly closing before you drifted off you heard Minho leave his room. Door slamming behind him as he did.

You were fast asleep only to be woken up by the sweet smell of food. You made your way to the kitchen finding Minho there. “Sir do you want help?” You asked from the doorway. He looked back at you quickly “no” he said sternly. You walked a bit closer “are you sure I can-“ you started to say before you were cut off. “Y/n I said no for fuck sakes can’t you just fucking listen?!” His hissed his words like daggers. “I- I’m sorry I-“ you stuttered out. “And that too. Stop fucking apologizing for every little thing, it’s annoying” his words flew out.

You nod backing away trying to give him some space. You sat on the chair in the kitchen while he cooked. When he was done he started to move the stuff to the table. You quickly got up to grab plates for him. When you turned to place them down you were met with a bowl of hot food to your body. You had ran into him when he was sitting down the veggies he had just fried. “No no no Minho I’m sorry I-“

“Get out.” He said voice full of anger. You could see his fists bawled up at his sides. “I can fix-“ you started to say. “Y/n if you don’t get out of my sight in the next few seconds” you gulped at his words. You quickly moved back looking up at him slowly “do. Not. Bother me. The rest of the night. Got it.” He said his voice scary calm. You nod before heading back to your room. You curled up into a ball on your bed sobbing uncontrollably.

After about an hour you rubbed your eyes looking around. Searching for your cat to cuddle up too. You realize you hadn’t seen him all day. You searched high and low for him around your room, the kitchen even the garden. Your heart sank when you saw the door to the pool slightly open. No. NO.

You ran towards the door searching everywhere for your beloved cat. When you found him, he was floating in the pool. Your heart braking into millions of pieces. You pulled him out holding him close and you realized he was still breathing. You needed to get him to the hospital as fast as you could. You laid him down on the couch rapped in a towel, running to Minhos room. You knocked thinking to yourself ‘surly even if he’s mad he’d help right?’

He flung the door open “I told you to fucking leave me alone you stupid fucking bitch” he spat out before slamming it in your face. Your face went hot tears starting to prick at your face even more. “Minho please it’s important.” You said knocking again. “If you don’t go away right fucking now. You’ll regret it!” He screamed. You started to bawl going to the living room to grab your precious cat. You rocked him back and forth in your arms as you bawled your eyes out not knowing what to do.

You remembered Jisung had given you his number. You quickly rang him up calling him to come get you. You stood by the door waiting for him. You ran to the car so fast as jisung sped off as you tried settling your cries. “It’s gonna be ok” jisung tried reassuring you. He got to the vet and before the car was even stopped you bolted out. The vet took your cat back, jisung coming in for support. “Is Minho alright? Why didn’t he call me?” He asked softly looking over at you. You raised an eyebrow looking at him. “He.. he was busy…” you stuttered out not wanting to get into everything right now.

“He was really out of it today, and someone ended up getting hurt.” Said looking at the ground. “I’ve never seen him like that.. and after it happened.. the rage he had.. it was kinda scary honestly.” His voice trailed off. “Did something happen before he left?” Looking up at you slowly.

Before you could respond the doctor had come out his face somber. “Y/n I’m sorry. If we had him here just a bit sooner” the doctor said sadness in his voice. You just nodded your head taking your beautiful cat now all cold and stiff. He was all wrapped up in his favorite blanket as you held him close you felt almost numb. “Thank you for trying” you said softly before getting up. Jisung walked after you giving you a hug “I’m sorry y/n..” he said rubbing your back.

You nodded “can.. you just take me home?” You said softly choking back your tears. He nodded heading to the car. Driving back was a whirl wind of emotions, the thought of going back to angry Minho. Having to go burry your cat now.. So many thought made you just numb but not. As he got to your house he gave you a hug telling you to contact him if you needed him. You just nodded walking back up to the house. You took a deep breath in before opening the door. Walking down to head to your room you saw Minho waiting for you.

Minho was sitting on the couch “where the hell did you go?” He yelled at you as you passed the room. You didn’t even acknowledge him as you walked to your room. Honestly was more like you couldn’t hear him over the static that was playing in your head. He got up in a huff gripping your wrist hard. “Y/n answer me! Where the hell were you?” He spat. Something in you just snapped “if you weren’t being such a fucking asshole you’d know!” You Yelled back at him. You pulled your arm away from him and kept walking to your room. You only made it a few steps before minho had grabbed you again. He brought his hands up to your throat squeezing around it. ”You think you can talk to me like that?” He growled.

In the commotion neither of you had noticed Jisung come in. You had forgotten your jacket with the little prints the vet gave you of your cat’s paws. “Minho you fucking asshole!” He said pushing the man off of you. You fell to the floor clutching on your cat’s body, gasping for air. “Jisung” Minho said looking at the man almost confused. “You’re such a fucking dick you know that? Y/n was With me you fucking dumbass.” Jisung spirt out.

“What- why the hell was she” Minho said but was cut off “because you were too busy with your own selfishness to stop being a jerk for 5 fucking seconds. Y/ns fucking cat died.” He screamed at the man. In the mist of all of this you were curled up in the corner holding on to your cat’s body. Your body shook, eyes streaming with water. You were having a massive panic attack. Everything felt slow, you felt like you were gonna die. Your mind raced at thoughts of what was gonna happen as your breath almost stoped.

“Y/n?” Minho said his voice softer “why didn’t you come tell me?” He said moving towards you. “Tried- you- you yelled” you stuttered out. You couldn’t catch your breath. As he started towards you, you flinched away scared of what was gonna happen. His body froze at the sight, heart shattering. “I-“ his voice stuck. “Don’t say sorry. It’s not gonna fix how you’re treating her you asshole!” Jisung spat. He picked you up carrying you to your bed. He helped you calm down enough before heading over to Minho. “You’re honestly lucky dude” he said before heading to the door. “I’ll be back in the morning to check on her and if you do anything.. You’ll be sorry.” And with that he was gone. For now.

Jisung was never one to confront the boss really, but his opinion mattered a good deal to Minho. Minho has never seen him like this. So willing to put himself out there for someone else, and against him. He knew he really fucked up.

You laid in your room for a bit trying to calm yourself fully. Minho had run off to do something before making his way to your room. “I know sorry’s not gonna fix anything I’ve done today but.. I’m sorry” he said voice ghostly. “Will.. will you come with me?” He said reaching out his hand. You nod, but you didn’t take his hand. You walked past him waiting for him to show you whatever it was. He felt a lump in his throat when you didn’t take his hand. It hurt of course but he deserved it.

He led you to the garden to a small spot he had just made “I should have been there for you. And I’m truly sorry about that.” His voice horse. “I made a nice spot for him, and we can plant pretty flowers on top so it’s like him regrowing” Minho spoke. He looked over at you, your neck slightly bruised from where he had grabbed you. “Listen.. if you hate me after today I get it. I don’t blame you at all. I just- I was so out of it today and..” his voice trailed off. “Changbin got really hurt because of me”

Your head flung over looking at him “Changbin got hurt?” You asked softly. He nodded “yeah.. he got shot and the one was really close to a major organ. He could have died and it would have been my fault.” He said. You could tell he was choking back his tears. “I’m not telling you this all for you to feel bad for me.. I’m just.. i don’t know..” he mumbled. You leaned your head against him “Min.. I’m not gonna say everything’s gonna be ok but I get it.”

He looked at you a bit confused “what I’m saying is it’s ok, I’m not mad. I mean I am but I’ll get over it. Just know things might be different” you said placing your cat down into the perfectly sized hole. “I’m honestly scared of you” you admitted. “What you did today brought back so much trauma and I’m not gonna be able to get past it quickly.” You continued as he listened. He nodded “I get it. But I’ll show you I’m sorry.” He said his voice cracking. You both kept talking as you buried your cat.

After you were done you headed to your room, Minho to his. “Y/n” he said softly “I love you” he said Making eye contact. “I love you too Min” you said softly. Closing your doors. Minho broke down right away putting his back to the door crying hard. It was gonna take a lot for him to fix his mistake but he was willing to do it for you. Anything for you.

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Tagglist: @linoxii, @scuzmunkie @minh0scat @chuuyaobsessed @gloriajovicc @itscallypygekritagenis

[aziraphales-library]

Hello! I have returned to my favorite page for fanfics to request some suggestions! (I really appreciate your guys work, thanks so much!) But I need some badass Aziraphale in my life, don't get me wrong I love Aziraphale's character as a whole but I am BEGGING for some badass Aziraphale action!

Hey, I am BEGGING you to check our pinned masterpost where you can find a link to our #bamf aziraphale tag with loads of fics already recommended! Here are even more to add...

Heaven Is A Place On Earth by Mizmak (G)

The countdown to the start of the Second Coming is nearly to zero...but Aziraphale is fiercely determined not to lose what he loves most.

A Kind of Hope by EdosianOrchids901 (M)

When Crowley is captured by humans, Aziraphale sets off to save him at once. Will the rescue and tender care afterwards give the two of them a much-needed push to discuss their mutual feelings?

A Strange Feeling With Regard to You by KannaOphelia (G)

Aziraphale and Crowley have drifted into congenial retirement in the South Downs together. They're closer than they have ever been—until Crowley is violently taken from Aziraphale. They say you don't know what you've got until it's gone.

screaming birds sound an awful lot like singing by midnightdragons (T)

Aziraphale sighed exasperatedly, crossing his arms over his chest and casting a disapproving eye down to the clearly-in-a-lot-of-pain demon. Crowley groaned half-heartedly, and then, without Aziraphale even having to speak a word of chastisement or scolding, he gave in — which was concerning in and of itself, Aziraphale thought worriedly, for him to so quickly admit that something was in fact wrong. “Ffffine,” he mumbled exhaustedly, and then, stubbornly ignoring Aziraphale’s attempts to move forward and help him, he sat up the best he could, hunching over slightly and wrapping trembling arms around himself for a moment as if in minute comfort. Crowley hissed through his teeth as he began to peel up his black shirt with shaking hands, digging a fang into his upper lip so hard it looked painful and snarling in the back of his throat, an almost chillingly animalistic sound. 

Aziraphale comes to Crowley's aid when the latter is attacked and left beaten by demons, and the angel takes care of him while he's too weak to do it himself. Very unapologetic whump and BAMF Aziraphale.

The Language of Forgiveness by graywings (M)

After the events of S2E6, Aziraphale and Crowley are reunited and finally given the chance to form their own side between Heaven and Hell, to restore balance among the planes of existence. But forces in Heaven still want to exploit their unique ability for big miracles. Their quest to confront the Metatron will lead them on a journey through Heaven, dealing with old and new allies and enemies. Are they powerful enough to defeat the Voice of God?More importantly, can the pair ever learn to talk honestly about their feelings? Can a demon who views himself as unforgiveable ever learn to forgive?

The Exit to Our Old Street by asparkofgoodness (M)

“Welcome home, Aziraphale,” the Metatron said warmly. White light, pure and brilliant, cleansing, flooded his vision as the elevator doors opened. Should home feel like a battlefield? — — — Aziraphale dives right into the work associated with being Heaven’s new Supreme Archangel, ignoring his fragile emotional state and hoping to make change that will benefit everyone: the humans, the other angels, and, most importantly, Crowley. When the Metatron begins to share plans for the Second Coming with him, he realizes it may take more than kindly-worded notes to protect all that he loves. Meanwhile, Crowley tries to find solace in whiskey, pain, and destruction. They both have a lot to learn, and, if Heaven has their way, not much time left in which to learn it.

- Mod D