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utterlyazriel · 11 months ago

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an eternity, my love

eep! this is a bit longer than the last at just over 6k forgive me... but thank so much for all love on the first piece 🥹 and thank u for all your lovely ideas! i hope this does sum justice to the nonnie who asked for further miscommuncation... <3 part one here but u don’t need to read it to read this :)

How does one even begin to decide what to wear to dinner with a person, the person, who matched your soul perfectly?

When your friend had hunted her way through clothing stores of Velaris and stashed away a custom dress — far fancier than anything you owned — for the first date with her mate, you had laughed at her.

Now, staring at your closet in only your undergarments, you were beginning to envy her preparation.

Seriously, how are you supposed to choose?

You pick up your latest addition to your closet, a glossy dress the colour of red wine that reveals the length of your legs and planes of your collarbones— perfect for a night out dancing.

With a grimace, you place it back on the hanger. It was far more scandalous than you would want to be on a first date, even though — well, you’re sure that, being mates, Azriel would like anything you wore.

You heave a sigh. An uneasy prickle beneath your skin has you crossing your arms; it was almost alarming how badly you wanted to impress him. But… mating bonds were rare and powerful.

Almost as if you had summoned it — in fact, maybe you had — there’s a soft shimmer in your chest. Your beautiful glow, the bridge between you and Azriel humming to life. In a way you can’t explain, it’s as though you can feel him soothe across your mind, his soft touch full of assurances.

He’s comforting you. All your emotions must be shooting down the bond without your permission. Gods, that would take some getting used to. You wonder if he can feel your resounding pang of embarrassment as well.

You do your best to push back something less nervous, more of your excitement for the night to come — and you know, without even seeing him, he’s smiling.

After another moment of fussing, you decide on something simpler than your glossy night dress.

Comfortable black slacks with plenty of flow to them and a shirt you thought was one of your nicer ones. With the slightest touch ups to your makeup, you rush yourself out the door before you convince yourself to change all over again.

The Sidra keeps you company, a rush of water beside you as you wind through the streets of Velaris, eyes flicking up to take in the darkening sky. The sun was sinking below the mountain tops, rays tickling across the ridges.

And while you could admit that Velaris was very beautiful in the daytime, you were a true Night court citizen— and believed its true beauty came out at night.

Somehow, despite the lack of concrete plans made as you had ushered the male out of your office, you knew resolutely that you would be able to find him. You weren’t even worried about the timing of it all. It was… what was the word? Absurd. Insane. Utterly, breathtakingly incredible.

Sure enough, as you exit the alley and round the corner, your eyes falling on the sage green building you reside in for work, there he is; waiting for you.

You inhale a sharp breath. A thousand cells in your body fizz, hum, and glow, at the mere sight of him.

It's easy to understand just how he had garnered his dark reputation, the image of him every bit of the Spymaster of the Night Court — a title like Shadowsinger has never been so fitting for him.

He’s blurred at the edges, a thousand tiny wisps that blend him into the shadows of the nighttime. His wings stretch up behind, towering over his already tall frame, black as ink, and beneath his darkened attire, you can spot his tan skin. Your eyes drag up his neck, tracing his adam's apple, along the scruff of his sharp jaw until you reach his hazel eyes.

Your heart burns.

In the depth of it, you know, if he doesn't love you, he will undo you completely.

It's wholly terrifying to come face to face with — the intensity of the mating bond scorching through your mind like a fierce wind, burning embers left in its wake.

It's enough to make you pause, the definitive thought that doing this, offering him your heart and trusting him, could very well lead to your ruin.

Your chest squeezes tightly. You let your eyes drink in the Illyrian, the Male who waited so patiently for all those years and was prepared to wait years more, if you had asked.

Focusing, you pluck up that golden thread in your chest and hold it tightly. It heats and melts, hotter and hotter, and you know that any fear you have, you can conquer to be with him.

Ruination be damned.

—

Azriel notices you the moment your frame exits the alley, notices the moment you pause — has been able to feel you drawing nearer to him this whole time. Your every emotion is transparent to him through the bond between you, whether you’re aware of it or not.

You must not have the tightened mental shields he had come to be so familiar with over all his years. It makes sense; you are no warrior. Mental walls over your mind are not something you have ever had to concern yourself with.

Azriel vows it to be one of the things he teaches you. You deserved the privacy of your emotions, at the very least.

But... for now, Azriel can feel them all. It's why, as you round the corner, Azriel can feel your eyes on him and then, then he feels it.

The wash of fear that spills over your bond like icy water.

An old enemy rises within him. He grits his teeth, even as he feels the fear from you slide away and he tries to ignore the sting from an unhealed wound. But self-deprecation never seems to drown, no matter how much he tries to suffocate it within him.

He shifts his hands, relieved suddenly to have them covered up beneath gloves. His wings tuck in tighter, if possible, and he wills his shadows sternly to contain themselves. Something in the slightest baring of his teeth has them obeying. They shoot to his sides and make themselves scarce.

All this in time to greet you pleasantly as you bounce into view, sidling up before him with a shy grin. It's only been a few hours since he got his proper look at you and yet, you're every bit as breathtaking as you were earlier. More so, in fact.

It feels as though Azriel has never seen the sky before and you before him, are the first sunset of his life. You look so pretty that Azriel could probably gaze at you all evening if you so allowed him to.

And then, he remembers the pang of fear.

He doesn't waste time mulling over which detail of him had made you afraid — only that he would dim or change or hide any part of himself to stop it from happening again.

"Hello, again," You say, your lips pressed together to contain your smile. You have to tilt your head back to look up at his handsome face. His shadows swirl around him and despite his strict instructions, one still slips away to touch you.

You don't notice it circling your ankle, tentative and shy.

"Hello, again." Azriel echoes your words, unable to help his own glimmer of joy.

He wants to offer you his arm, his hand. Can feel it within him, down to the very marrow of his bones, the craving to be closer to you, to touch you, however he can.

Azriel swallows heavily and does what he has done over decades, over centuries; he takes the wanting and pushes it down, down, down.

The two of you begin to walk, side by side, with no destination in mind. Aimless and content at the same time.

Azriel doesn't need the bond to see the flittering of nerves hidden in your expression. The shadow still circulating around your ankle climbs higher, like it wants to comfort you too.

Azriel wills it to still, desperate to not scare you again. He drops his shoulders from his usual warrior posture in hopes of making himself a little smaller.

“You don’t need to be nervous.” He says reassuringly.

You steal a glimpse at him, your smile breaking into a grin. Your nerves are still potent but less so.

“Who says I’m nervous?”

Azriel smiles gently, his eyes dancing across your face as he reads your lie easily. “I do."

There's a scrunch between your eyebrows then, like he had seen during his time in your office earlier. Azriel places a hand on his chest, over the place where the glowing tug is strongest.

"I can feel it.”

Your eyes widen slightly as you stare at his gloved hand, the cogs in your brain spinning and turning at a rapid rate. Still strolling, your hand rises slowly and touches to the same spot on your own chest. Azriel can feel his heart stutter at the sight, you holding the spot that connected you to him undeniably.

"You can?" Your gaze lifts to his face, puzzlement adorning your features. You frown and focus for a moment, staring hard into the distance — and Azriel feels a sudden twinge of disgust through the thread.

"Did you feel that?" You ask, eyes wide and curious.

Azriel nods wordlessly and he can't help but ask. "What is it you were thinking of?"

You look embarrassed for a moment, eyes averting to the ground. You chuckle awkwardly and tuck your hair behind your ears, glancing back up at the Male with a sheepish smile.

"Brussels sprouts."

Azriel blinks once, twice, and then has to turn to hide his smile. He tries to cover his laugh with a cough. It doesn't work, given how you make a small noise of indignation. He turns back, his politest expression on.

"Don't laugh at me!" You whine, reaching out to poke him in the shoulder. Your touch radiates through his body like a drop of golden sun, blazing warm.

"You're right," Azriel hums, his lips twitching as he presses back his smile. "My apologies, my lady. This is important knowledge I should be filing away. I swear on my life I will feed you no brussels sprouts this evening, or any in the future."

He wants to nudge your shoulder with his own, just to touch you, wants to reach out as easily as you had. But his shadows slip before his self-control does, skittering out along onto your shoulder and giving you a small shock and Azriel remembers himself. His fists clench tightly at his sides.

You walk side by side all evening, like two planets in orbit — close, oh so close, but never quite touching.

—

The first date you share is nothing short of… wonderful.

Resolutely and overwhelming good, the entire date you can't help but feel as though your very soul is singing, a thousand particles blithesome at the nearness you get to share with Azriel. He's surprising in a manner of ways.

Firstly, he's terribly quiet.

Next to him, you look quite the blabber-mouth, no matter how much he insists he enjoys it. His dark eyes are intense as they watch you closely, soaking in every word that passes your lips, and yet, beneath it, his dry sense of humour comes out to play. There's the occasional tease, almost as if just to see if he could make you flustered. (He could, easily).

With a Male as beautiful as him, suited to your very being in every way, it's nearly unbearable how much you ache for him. How much his very attention creeps down your neck and makes every nerve along your spine tingle.

You know it will take some time to get used to his unwavering and devoted attention.

There’s… just one small, itty-bitty, tiny problem.

He doesn’t touch you.

Throughout that whole first evening, you had noticed it somewhat— a flex in his gloved hands, a moment where his wing strayed too close only to be pulled back in a flash, even his shadows, darting out to be near you but never quite touching you as they had on that first meeting.

His hands reach out but they do not find you.

At first, you believed it was a first date thing. Azriel was, first and foremost, a gentleman, and you thought perhaps, his skirting touch, like his hand lingering over the small of your back but not touching it, was to be polite. Courteous and gracious.

Then, you had seen him just two days after that date, all bundled up in your giddiness that it had managed to slip your mind.

The two of you had spent the day together, traversing through the market — before you quickly found a quieter space for your mate as it became clear that large bustling areas, such as the Palace of Threads and Jewels, were not so suited to his tastes.

As you had tugged him out of the crowd, laughing over your shoulder at how he fought to keep his broad wings from knocking into anyone else, the thought suddenly snapped back into you.

Though you yearned to link his arm with your own, to interlace your fingers with his, you remembered his hesitance. Remembered the hover of his gloved hand.

And so, you dropped his arm the moment you cleared the crowd.

A hurt warbled deep within you to so do and knowing you were not the deftest at schooling your expressions, you hid your face so you could contain your childish reactions. You huffed at your own upset. What matter is it if your mate has no affinity to touch?

Truly, it was a miracle to have found a mate at all, you tried to scold yourself. You would not take him for granted for a moment, not even if it was not quite the picture of perfection you had envisioned.

Rooted deep in you was a truth; you could abide by this, abstain to his level of comfort for years, for millennia, if it made him happier.

The fabric of the mating bond, connecting the two of you intrinsically, made it so you would not want it any other way.

It's a decidedly Azriel thing.

He always wears the gloves, he never touches you more than he has to, and he's got... this really specific look when you're doing a terrible job of hiding your emotions.

As he had vowed, Azriel had set about teaching you how to build the mental walls up within your mind, brick by brick by brick. While it would help you hold against daemati if that loathsome situation should ever arise, it would also shield you from your mate.

It would protect you from having your emotions ripped out for him to see, no matter how much you held back — if it was in your mind, it would travel down the bond.

So, the wall had to be built. It had been tedious, tricky, and tiring work. Yet every time you would feel yourself ready to throw in the towel, Azriel would lean in closer, his hazel eyes softened, and his hand resting upon your arm, thumb swatching up and down, to encourage you.

"I know it is tiresome," He had mused, that faint smile twitching at his lips as you scowled at the ground. His thumb was still moving, still drawing light circles on your bicep. The skin beneath it blazed with warmth. "But it is worth it, that I can promise. You deserve this privacy, my dear. I would never wish to take it from you."

My dear, my dear, my dear— the words had sunk into your sternum and bloomed, bright and golden.

It's enough to hold onto, his kind affections. The sweet shape of his mouth when it says your name. The way his lashes kiss in the corner when he can't hold back his smile.

It's enough to soothe yourself over. To take the lack of touch on the chin and swallow down your desire for more.

It's why— why you can't help yourself— why you couldn't tear your eyes away from Azriel's hand where it touches Cassian's arm.

You're meeting his family today, which you've quickly realised doesn't mean his mother or father but instead means... the literal Highlord of the Night Court.

There are several warriors crowded around the cramped entrance room to the River House. Each of them is taller than you, and two of them with the very same huge wingspans that you've come to revere on your own mate.

Your usual talkativeness has been dimmed in your shock, though, really, it shouldn't be such a surprise. Azriel is a force to be reckoned with, honed over decades, and the Spymaster of the Night Court. You know these things. The company he keeps makes sense.

Somehow... still, seeing them all together leaves you strikingly speechless. The legion that protects your home — a family.

Rhysand greets you first, dapper in his dark attire, his violet eyes equal parts calculating and welcoming as he steps forward and offers his hand.

Despite the fact you have never bowed to him before, you still have to repress the urge. His power is overwhelming, the very night lapping at his edges and you're suddenly very grateful to be meeting him as a friend and not as a foe.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Rhysand's voice purrs out, soft as silk. When you place your hand in his, he brings it to his lips and presses a polite kiss to the back of your hand.

"Any friend of Azriel's is a friend of mine."

You can feel your own heart thundering in your chest. Azriel hovers behind you, his presence soothing in itself. You can't see it but his wings are outstretched towards you, cocooning around you ever so slightly. A shadow hovers behind your shoulder, just out of sight.

"I— the pleasure is mine, my Highlord." You manage to make yourself speak.

You almost wish you hadn't when your words inspire a burst of laughter from one of the others behind Rhysand, the other Illyrian. He's tall, his hair dark but longer than your mate's own.

As your hand is dropped, Rhysand turns to scowl at the Male laughing, and you only grow further perplexed when he gives a whack against the other's shoulder. They begin to squabble for a moment — and you don't even hear Azriel move until he's speaking, his lips right by your ear.

"You'll have to forgive Cassian." His voice is low, raspy in a way that sends a zing down your spine. You shiver lightly. "He can be well-mannered at the best of times. But I promise he isn't laughing at you."

The two Males seem to tune back into Azriel's words, even though they had been whispered for you specifically.

"It's true!" The Illyrian, Cassian you now know, pipes up. He brandishes a devilishly handsome grin at you, with his hands held up in defense. "I apologise. It just still makes me laugh to see someone address this one so formally."

You blink. "But... he is the Highlord."

Azriel speaks again, bent over still to talk in your ear, but much less of a whisper this time. "Rhys is our Highlord but he does not bother with such formalities."

"And," Cassian interjects, lugging a punch into Rhy's shoulder, much like the other had done to him not a moment before. "Before he was the o'mighty Highlord, he was our friend."

Cassian says the word o'mighty with such an air of sarcasm that you can't help but glance at Rhys, sure he wouldn't take such disrespect. But around you, there are only easy grins.

"Might we move to somewhere more comfortable than the doorway," Azriel speaks up from behind you, his voice dry. "Unless that is, you're all hoping to do one-on-one greetings with her?"

There it is, the dry sense of humour you've come to adore. The group before you seems to grumble, as if they were quite keen on the one-on-one meetings but begin to move through the house.

One of the group dips back to walk beside you and you do your best not to repeat your past mistakes, even as your eyes widen almost comically. Azriel chuckles silently to himself, feeling your polite astonishment down the bond.

"It's so great to finally meet you.” Feyre, your Highlady greets you, her pretty face rife with glee. She seems genuinely very happy to make your acquaintance. "Azriel has told me all about you."

You stumble in surprise, your eyes casting back to Azriel behind the pair of you. His eyes are fixed on Feyre, narrowed at her blatant betrayal, his shadows swirling around him. She sticks her tongue out at him playfully and you smother a laugh.

When his eyes shift over to you, you're positively delighted at how his cheeks have turned the lightest shade of ruby.

"Feyre is very persuasive when she wants to be." He murmurs, almost grumbling. You turn back to the Highlady and she grins at you, devious and captivating all at once.

It’s a whirlwind once you reach one of the many living rooms, each member of Azriel’s family all very eager to shake your hand.

Cassian grips it firm, his grin still on the side of wicked as he tells you he’s been waiting years to find the woman who could contain Azriel. Nesta, his mate as you find out, is a fierce kind of pretty with a grip as strong as Cassian’s. She tells you welcome to the family with the smile of a shark.

Morrigon is next, breathtakingly gorgeous, and every bit as charismatic as Azriel had described. You don't catch the glimpse between Mor and Cassian, not the beat of relief they both feel at your arrival in their lives— in Azriel's life.

It's swallowed up in her words, going a mile a minute. She jumps about, like popcorn in a pan, overly keen to finally speak to the one whom the Mother deemed worthy of Azriel’s heart. Where are you from? What do you do? How did you meet?

“Mor,” Azriel warns, after her twelfth consecutive question about your life. He hasn’t moved from his protective position behind you, close enough you can feel the heat of his body. His wings had brushed your shoulder just once.

“Yeah, Mor,” Rhys jeers. He nudges his cousin in the side playfully and Cassian snickers behind the group. “Give the girl some time to breathe.”

Even with all of Azriel's masterclass on who you would be meeting, it's still terribly overwhelming just trying to keep track of them all. They're each such strong spirits, each with seemingly a thousand battles in their past and far more years with Azriel.

On top of this is the fact you met both your Highlord and Highlady so casually in one single afternoon. It's difficult to not be daunted by the group that is so clearly intertwined with each other on a deeper level altogether— bonded by devastation and choosing each other through love.

Try as you might, you can feel the seed of doubt, of insecurity, make a home between your ribs.

You clamp down the shields you've spent the last few weeks learning, building the wall up and holding it tight. It's silly to feel dismayed because these Fae, these friends, know your mate better than you do.

Azriel had told you he had been waiting for you for five hundred years. For the first time since you've met him, you wonder if he was ever disappointed.

And then— then, you see it.

Azriel's hand on Cassian's arm. Then the half embrace they share, a hand on each other's neck as Cassian grins, wild and fierce, and presses his forehead against Azriel's own; brothers, sharing a moment of euphoria at the other finding his long-deserved happiness.

You should be soaking in the smile Azriel hides from you too often, showing his teeth and crinkling his eyes. But instead, you can't see past it, can't stop the loop in your own mind as it prints a fact over and over and over.

It isn't an Azriel thing; it's a you thing.

He doesn't touch you.

The mental walls in your mind feel paper-thin as a fresh kind of agony ripples through your chest. The soft rejection of a mate stings, a papercut on your very heart. You can feel it warble through you and know, terribly, the exact moment that Azriel feels it too.

His head whips around, his dark shadows that surround him suddenly spinning and flitting faster than before— a couple dive across the room to you.

You stand up and the chair scrapes noisily beneath you.

"I—" You say before you realise you haven't planned an exit or an excuse in the slightest. Azriel's gaze burns into you. You turn to Feyre instead, who had been talking across from you when you rudely stood up.

"I'm so sorry, I just—" Some excuse, any excuse! "I think I— left the stove on."

It's a lie. A complete utter lie that fools no one in the room as you retreat from it hastily. None of them try to stop you though, which you're thankful for. Each of them watches, every expression slightly concerned as you hurry out of the room, your feet walking backward rapidly until you bump into the door frame.

You pass through it with your eyes on the floor, knowing that all of the eyes are on you. You know the ones you can feel searing into your soul are Azriel's.

You leave the River House. You walk along the Sidra, your steps hurried and your chin tucked low. It hurts. It hurts the feeling inside you. A tear streaks down your cheek, unbidden, and collects on your jaw. You wipe it away meanly.

The sight of your apartment door is an overwhelming comfort, one that has you sighing aloud as you rush up to it, your fingers already digging around in your pockets for your key.

And like always, you never hear him coming.

"What happened?" Azriel asks, his voice almost pained.

You give a little yelp of surprise and whip around, remembering half a second later that there's still evidence on your face of your tears. Azriel grows characteristically still, his hazel eyes fixed on yours as you sniffle for a moment, aggravation beginning to creep in.

He could feel everything from you and you got... what? Whatever he deemed fit to offer? How is that fair?

His usually wispy shadows are inkier than usual, almost tornado-ing around his shoulders. They keep leaping out towards you before being caught in an invisible net, a barrier between you and them.

Even as Azriel remains motionless, his eyes are the opposite—they jump around, searching, hunting, begging to find the cause of your pain. Had it been one of his friends?

"Please," He tries his words again.

His heart throbs painfully when you finally find your key and turn your back on him without a word, unlocking your door and pressing your way inside. He follows quickly, wings tucked in tight, unable to keep his shadows at his side this time. They whiz to you, circling your ankles protectively.

"Please," Azriel says, an anguished growl to his words. "What hurt you? I will— my friends, if they said something— if it was someone, I hunt them down and make it right for you."

You inhale sharply and when you speak, your tone is cold in a way you have never used before with Azriel. You say the words without thinking.

"It would be impossible to hunt yourself, Azriel."

Regret howls through you like a hurricane the moment you say the words. You don't mean to be mean, jealous, or whatever unseemly emotion you can't stop from sprouting in your chest, growing in size, tangling into your heartstrings like twisted gnarled vines. It hurts.

You turn back to him, mouth open. No words come out.

Hurt is slashed across his face, his eyebrows furrowed tightly, his shadows tucked in tight. It's as though he's blended into the very air, the wispy edge of him threatening to retreat into his own shadows.

All his emotions on display just for a moment, before they're schooled away. Tucked away, hidden, not for you to see.

Inside, your hurricane howls again, this time in pain.

You can tell he feels it, even as you mentally gather your bricks. It isn't fair. How can he have every bit of you and you get what he pleases to return?

You want to know him completely, want to see every part of his rugged, weathered soul, and love him anyway. It's an untold type of agony to have him deny you.

"My love," His feet finally move, his wings almost dragging on the floor as he steps forward, slowly, as though he was afraid he might spook you.

"Tell me how to fix this pain." He pleads. His gloved hands are held out, palms up and suddenly, he looks nothing like a warrior. Just a Male, afraid of losing what is most dear to him. You shake your head, like a child, and keep building your brick wall.

"Please don’t keep this from me," He takes another step forward, his shadows sent awry as they dart across to you. You can feel them on your calves, on your arms, feel the tiny kisses they leave. Azriel speaks again, voice low. "My love, I can feel your pain.”

You can't help how you screw your eyes closed, the ache in your chest unbearable— made worse when you know he can feel it too.

"That is my problem." You utter the words quietly, eyes still clenched shut, knowing he can hear you. He takes another step, close enough now that you can feel the heat of his enormous frame, his wings bracketing around you. "I cannot hide anything from you."

Azriel makes a noise, a punched-out wounded sound that reverberates down the bond.

"My love," He murmurs for the third time. Down the bond, you can feel his sweet love, his golden gentle feelings travelling along to assure you. "I would not wish for you to hide anything from me."

“But you hide everything from me." You whine, eyes finally crinkling open. Azriel stares down at you, his eyes softer than they've ever been. You can see the hurt swimming in them, the hurt you've caused. Still, you speak.

"You hide your emotions. You hide your touch, yet you give it willingly to your friends." You share each ugly thought with him, whispered as you gaze into his face to search for your answers.

Lifting your hands, you curl your fingers around his wrists tentatively. Azriel swallows heavily, his eyes dancing down to where you're touching him. You slide your hands forward, dragging the pads of your fingers over his pulse, along his palm, til your hands are holding his gloved ones.

"Is there some test I don't know about?" You ask, your focus on your intertwined hands. "Is there— do I have to earn this?"

"No," Azriel chokes out the word suddenly. You look up at him. He clears his throat and you feel his hands grip yours back, surer and stronger than you had. "No, I'm sorry. There is no test, nothing to prove you deserving of this. I just..."

His words trail off and you watch as he closes his eyes, inhaling deeply, as if gathering his courage. His hands slide from yours, pulled backward and you nearly feel the urge to cry once more— before you realise he's removing his gloves.

The skin of them is warped, you realise acutely with horror. The skin of his hands is swirled and mottled, an injury long healed but scarred for eternity. Azriel is watching your face closely, holding his hands close to his chest as though he was prepared to hide them away at the first flicker of fear.

You're grateful for the link between and all your shoddy attempts at blocking him out. Your love and your unwavering devotion drifts along the bond.

Azriel shudders, his wings giving the tiniest shiver. Slowly, gently, he reaches out towards you. You feel his hands, the unruly scarred feel of his skin sliding along your jaw to hold it tenderly. He has never held you like this before.

He cradles your face gently — like his hands have never held weapons of war, like they aren't twisted and marred with a memory he can't forget, like they're worthy of holding something so precious.

Azriel holds you as if you're holy — and he's come to kneel at your altar.

"I was afraid of what you would think." He admits. His voice is hoarse, gravelly as he fights off the lump in his throat. "I— on the first day we met, I felt your fear along the bond and—"

"It was not of you." You interrupt him, your hands jumping up to cover his own where they hold you. Azriel inhales sharply, eyes darting to watch.

But you pay him no heed, the palm of your hand covering his like a lover would. You let your thumb soothe up at down the ridges of his skin. You let your love ripple along the bond.

"It was not fear of you, Azriel." You repeat, your voice soft. His eyes are still fixed on your joined hands. His wings have begun to pick up, no longer drooping behind his back— you're not sure if he even notices.

"It was fear for how strongly I already felt for you." You lean into his hand and Azriel lets you, lets the length of your nose nuzzle into the touch of his hands — something no one in all his years of living had ever done before.

"It was fear that you already could ruin me," The words are murmured. "And that I would let you."

You whisper his name to pull his wide-eyed gaze from where his hands touch you and his hazel eyes burn into yours. Every whitened scar on his skin, every eyelash, the adorable pinch between his eyebrows; you drink it all in and smile at him. Azriel, your mate.

"Azriel, I chose this despite that fear. I choose you.”

Azriel quivers at the words, at your unflinching tone and suddenly the world seems such a perfect place, time moving around you, untouching, with such a perfect grace.

“I choose you too,” He murmurs, an emotion so strong a fire of possessiveness streaks down the bond. This time, you can feel his wall melt away, allowing you access to all he feels — his mountain of fear and his melting relief.

“Forgive me—” He begins and you laugh without meaning to, cutting him off.

“Stop,” you say, the word light and as pretty as your grin. “We keep doing this to ourselves, tying ourselves in knots over and over.”

Azriel laughs, his lips twitching into a smile as he allows himself to stroke his thumb lovingly over your cheek. The way you melt beneath it, your lashes fluttering and heart burning so brightly he can feel it in his own chest too— Azriel knows this longing will long outlive his body.

“We do,” He agrees. He dips his head a little lower, probably the only apology you’ll let him have, and inhales shakily. His hands shift across your face, down to hold your chin, his fingers pressed together tightly to hide the way they quiver.

“Then let me apologise in another way,” He murmurs, his voice closer to playful. “In a way I’ve been selfishly depriving you of.”

And when he kisses you, it’s with a reverence that softens all your corners.

His lips are plush and sweet, and with the way he dedicates himself to your bottom lip, you can’t help how you sigh into his mouth. He finds home in the curve of your mouth.

It’s delirious the way he kisses once, twice, three times like he’s hungry for something found only in your lips.

Your hands stagger forward, leaving his own to wind over around his neck. Your fingers curl up, raking through the hair on the nape of his neck — feeling the shiver that travels up his spine, his wings giving a little flare out.

He kisses you breathless, one hand abandoning your jaw to wrap snugly around your waist, bringing you closer to him.

When he pulls back, something within you glows molten gold at the panting that leaves his lips. He’s gazing at you, his hazel eyes alight in a way you haven’t quite seen before. His wings shift behind his shoulders, curling forward to wrap the two of you together, not quite touching.

Your heart thrills. You grin, your lips still just an inch apart as Azriel nudges forward, his own twitching in that way when he fights his smile. His lips brush yours, his smile barely held back.

“Have you forgiven me yet?” He says, sweet and low, allowing the smile to finally pull his pretty mouth up at the corners.

“Or should I make it up to you a little more?”

He kisses the corner of your mouth, chaste and gentle.

“Mmm,” your eyes are bright as they peer up at him, full of playful mirth and adoring affection. “You're forgiven but... I think you should make it up to me, just a little more.”

Azriel willingly obliges, his smile as sweet as the moonlight.

—

some people i thought might want to be tagged :)

@strangerstilinski @astoriaviviane @lana08 @florence-end @lportes-22 @torrick17 @florencemtrash @sidthedollface2 @seafrost-fangirl @goldenmagnolias @jeweline16 @meshellexplosionmurder @michellexgriffey @susiekern @toobsessedsstuff @fxckmiup @littlebookbengal @elenapril0502 @glitterypirateduck @hnyclover @technoelfie @itsapunklife @coffeecares

#it got very long... i'm sorry!#we can't talk about bad miscommunication and then me not set up valid reasons for miscommunication tho #i can't DO IT #azriel a big softie in this one...#i mean he always is :)#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel hurt/comfort #miscommunication #idiots in luv <3 #i need a writing tag.....

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capuccinodoll · 25 days ago

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Honey love, dark eyes

♡ Chapter three ♡

Summary: Life seems to smooth out with Travis, but an encounter with another Miller stirs your feelings again. Joel comes home at night, and a box waits for him at the kitchen. Word count: 4.8k A/N: Here is a shorter chapter (compared to the previous ones lol) while we're waiting for part 4… Can't wait for the Hoffman's barbecue. Joel isn't usually enthusiastic about it, but something tells me he's not going to miss it this time. ALSO, I have tried to tag all of you, but for some reason some tags don't work, if anyone knows how to fix it please let me know <3.

October 17th. The first thing you discovered was a black sweatshirt, crumpled and forgotten, stuffed in the back of your closet among old clothes and memories. You tossed it into the washing machine and set off to search your house for more of Joel’s things. It didn’t take long to find remnants of him: an old Pearl Jam T-shirt, a white mug bearing his initial that you’d pilfered a few months prior, a couple of CDs with his eclectic taste in music, a well-worn paperback novel, and a screwdriver—the very tool you had used to assemble the small piece of furniture for your bathroom, a testament to your attempts at domesticity.

You placed the T-shirt beside the sweatshirt in the washing machine, feeling a bittersweet nostalgia wash over you as the machine began to spin, the water swirling like your thoughts. The rest of his belongings you carefully set aside in a wooden box, considering when and if you would return them to him. Maybe it would be a gesture of goodwill, a way to close a chapter, but the thought of confronting him felt daunting, like standing on the edge of a cliff.

Three weeks later, the distance felt like a weight in your chest. You hadn’t spoken since that last conversation, and every accidental encounter with him had turned into a delicate dance of avoidance, your eyes darting away as if to shield yourself from the unspoken pain. You suspected he was doing the same—his awareness of your schedule precise, his movements deliberate. You didn’t blame him for it; there was a strange gratitude in the space he had created between you, a sanctuary that allowed both of you to breathe.

Sarah, on the other hand, was a constant presence in your life, her visits frequent and welcome. You couldn’t decipher what Joel had shared with her, but she was unequivocal in her understanding that something had shifted between you and her father.

“Dad said I can come see you as long as I don’t ask too many questions and I don’t fall asleep,” she announced brightly the first afternoon she bounded into your home, just two days after your last exchange with Joel. “But I want you to know I won’t say anything if you want to tell me everything.”

Her offer was a balm, and despite the lingering pain, you found yourself laughing, the weight lifting slightly as you embraced her. In that moment, you felt relieved to know that Joel had managed to compartmentalize, that his daughter was not to bear the burden of your heartbreak, nor was she responsible for the fallout. You wanted to continue seeing Sarah, and thankfully, she wanted to keep coming over, a small beacon of normalcy in a turbulent time. That connection remained untainted by the rift between you and Joel.

The clock ticked on, and now it was five o’clock on a crisp afternoon. You stood in your front yard, the late autumn sun warming the back of your neck as you surveyed your plants. Closing your eyes, you savored the gentle warmth, the way it wrapped around you like a familiar embrace. Your lawn and those of your neighbors glowed with the fiery hues of orange and yellow, leaves fluttering like confetti in the soft breeze. It was, as always, your favorite season.

Suddenly, a voice broke through your reverie, calling your name. You turned to see Travis crossing the street, his smile brightening the drab fall afternoon. You waved back, unable to suppress a smile of your own as he approached.

“Enjoying the sunshine?” he asked, stopping beside you, his hand settling on your waist as he leaned in to plant a soft kiss on your cheek.

“As much as I can,” you replied, a warmth spreading through you that was both comforting and surprising. Your gaze dropped momentarily to your feet before lifting back to meet his. “Going somewhere?”

“On a quest for dessert,” he said, a playful glint in his eyes. “Care to join?”

You hesitated, considering for a moment. “I’d better stay and get some work done,” you replied, gesturing toward your front door with a tilt of your head. “But let me know when you get back; I’d love to help with dinner.”

He nodded, a flicker of disappointment passing across his face before he masked it with a smile. After a brief goodbye, he left, giving your waist a gentle squeeze that sent a flutter through your stomach, leaving you feeling both elated and unsettled.

Two weeks prior, you had watched him run past your house, clad in sports gear, hair damp with sweat. There was something magnetic about him; he looked so effortlessly good that a rush of something—determination? Recklessness?—had surged through you. You couldn’t let your past with Joel hold you hostage any longer. It was absurd to keep Travis waiting, simply because you hadn’t been sure of what you felt, or how you should feel. So, you had gathered your courage and knocked on his door, your heart racing at the thought of stepping out of the shadows of your previous life.

When Travis opened the door, his surprise morphing into delight had made your resolve solidify. You’d admitted to him that you were navigating a rough patch, and to his credit, he seemed to understand without pressuring you further. That night, he whisked you away for dinner, and in the weeks that followed, the ease of your time together became a welcome reprieve.

He was everything you needed—funny, honest, and refreshingly straightforward. He laid his feelings out without demanding anything from you, giving you space to breathe, to recalibrate. You had shared meals together, enjoying his company, indulging in laughter and sweet treats that he always brought, knowing they were your guilty pleasure.

With him, everything felt uncomplicated, and the more time you spent together, the more you sensed your feelings beginning to shift, like the autumn leaves around you. That night, you resolved to let him make the first move, ready to embrace whatever came next.

“What did you think?” Travis asked, his gaze lingering on you, as if the answer might reveal something bigger.

You let out a laugh, the kind that builds in the chest and escapes before you can decide whether it’s actually funny or just absurd. “That was… utterly ridiculous,” you said, watching the movie credits roll up the screen. “Ridiculous and completely unbelievable.”

He grinned, sinking back into the couch beside you, his eyes meeting yours with a glint of shared amusement. “Right? It’s like... a marvel in chaos. Terrible, but in a way that you can’t look away.”

You raised an eyebrow, feeling a mix of disbelief and fondness for his strange taste in movies. Zombeavers. He’d made you watch Zombeavers—a movie so bizarrely nonsensical that you couldn’t help but laugh half the time, its zombie-beaver puppets meant to be terrifying but only succeeding in being bizarre. He’d assured you beforehand that it was purely for fun, the kind of film that didn’t demand to be taken seriously, and you’d been dubious but willing.

As your laughter softened, you shifted just a little closer to him, that familiar but thrilling nervousness making your heart flutter. Travis had turned his attention to scrolling through movie options, his fingers lightly tapping the remote as he concentrated. For a brief moment, you hesitated, wondering if it was obvious—how close you were, how much you wanted him to notice. Gathering your courage, you rested your head on his shoulder, letting your gaze drift up to his face just as he glanced down, his eyes softening.

“Are you sleepy, pretty girl?” he murmured, and his voice had that gentle, familiar warmth that made you feel like a teenager again. Your cheeks flushed, and you wondered if he could feel your pulse quicken against him.

“No,” you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper as you smiled up at him. Tentatively, you lifted a hand to trace the line of his jaw, your fingers grazing his skin as you tilted his face closer. “I just like being with you.”

Travis’s smile deepened, and he leaned in, his hand cradling your face with such tenderness that it nearly broke something in you. His lips met yours softly, a gentle touch, unhurried and respectful, his thumb brushing lightly across your cheek. You sank into the kiss, letting it ground you, feeling cherished and safe in a way you hadn’t for a long time.

But there, at the edge of your mind, was Joel. Joel with his intense, almost possessive hunger, the way he’d kiss you as if he were afraid he’d never have the chance again. That rawness, the recklessness—it was such a stark contrast to Travis’s gentle control, his restraint. And part of you hated yourself for even thinking about it, for craving something so reckless, for missing what you knew wasn’t good for you.

You pulled back slowly, afraid that your eyes might betray the swirl of conflicting feelings inside you. Travis’s gaze lingered, his hand still on your cheek, and he seemed almost reluctant to let you go, waiting for you to guide him back in. His patience was admirable, though you felt a strange frustration at the lack of urgency, the careful distance he maintained.

“I’m actually a little tired,” you said, giving him a quick peck on the lips, hoping he wouldn’t see through the slight restlessness in your eyes. “But I’d love to see you tomorrow. How about dinner at my place?”

He nodded, his face brightening. “Sounds perfect.” He stood, reaching out a hand to help you up. “I’ll walk you to your door, and that's just an excuse for another goodnight kiss.”

You laughed, reaching for his hand and letting him pull you up, feeling the warmth of his arm around you as you leaned against him. Outside, the air was brisk, the night cool against your skin, and you wished you’d thought to bring a jacket. Not that it mattered much; Travis lived just across the block, a short walk away, but close enough to Joel’s house that the proximity always felt strange.

Crossing the street, you noticed Joel’s truck wasn’t there, and you willed yourself not to dwell on it, tuning back in to Travis’s voice as he asked, “Are you going?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Going where?” you asked, your voice apologetic. “Sorry, I zoned out for a second.”

“To the Hoffmans’ barbecue,” he said easily, unbothered by your momentary distraction.

Ah, the Hoffmans’ annual Halloween gathering, an event known for Brenda’s culinary enthusiasm and Ian’s grill mastery. Last year, Brenda had baked an array of spooky treats—eyeball jellies, spider cupcakes, you name it. Sarah had devoured at least ten jelly eyes, and you’d indulged in an uncountable number of chocolate spiders. The evening had ended with a viewing of Nightmare on Elm Street, and everyone had left buzzing with laughter and sugar.

“Yes, of course,” you replied, nodding with more enthusiasm. “Wouldn’t miss it. Brenda is amazing at baking. Have you tried her red berry cupcakes?”

“They’re dangerous,” Travis agreed, grinning as he walked you up to your doorstep.

A flicker of movement caught your eye, and you glanced over to see Tommy, Joel’s brother, sitting on the front porch of Joel’s house, a cigarette hanging lazily from his fingers. He watched you with a friendly, knowing smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back, though you quickened your pace slightly as you reached your door.

“So, what time tomorrow?” Travis asked, tilting his head.

“Eight?” you suggested, feeling an odd mix of excitement and unease.

“Perfect,” he replied, and once again his hand lifted to your cheek, thumb tracing the curve softly. But as he leaned in to kiss you, you couldn’t shake the feeling of invisible eyes from across the street, watching. Your mind lingered, unbidden, on Tommy’s piercing gaze.

Travis leaned down, and you met his kiss, brief, almost rushed, pulling away with a small, nervous smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you whispered, glancing up at him before stepping back. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, gorgeous,” he murmured.

You stood watching him leave, distractedly thinking about the evening you'd spent. You were annoyed that you hadn't accepted his date earlier, and at the same time, you didn't blame yourself too much.

When Travis walked into his house and closed the door, an involuntary sigh escaped your chest.

"Everything okay over there?" Tommy’s voice jolted you out of your thoughts, sounding like a splash of cold water. He was sitting on the front steps, watching you with a casual curiosity that somehow felt entirely too knowing.

You approached slowly, glancing toward the empty entrance of Joel’s house.

"Hey, Tommy," you greeted, a hint of melancholy coloring your voice. It was strange, seeing him here alone—another Miller, but not the one who lingered in your mind. "How are you?"

Tommy stubbed out his cigarette on the step, shrugging with a small grin. "Well, currently on a break from babysitting duty," he joked. "What about you? It’s been a while—what’d Joel do now?"

A chuckle slipped from your lips, the irony of it all making your stomach tighten. He probably didn’t know anything, yet he’d been part of Joel’s carefully built wall of deception. It made you feel odd, but you brushed the feeling aside.

"I've just been busy," you said, knowing how unconvincing it sounded.

Tommy nodded, understanding the subtext without question. "Right," he said, an amused smile forming, "So, Dunn got the girl?"

You couldn’t help but smile back, though you realized too late that your openness might be ill-placed. "Yeah. He’s a good man. I really like him."

It felt surreal, sharing this with Joel’s brother, but somehow you didn’t mind.

"Sarah’s asleep?" you asked, changing the subject, hoping for some distraction.

He nodded, his smile softening. "Out like a light right after dinner. Poor kid didn’t even try the ice cream she begged me to get for movie night." He chuckled, shaking his head.

You smiled at the image, letting yourself savor the thought of Sarah, the cozy living room, the quiet warmth that had always drawn you to this house. It felt bittersweet, like glimpsing a life you no longer fit into. The last time you’d been there flickered in your mind, and any warmth vanished.

When you glanced back at Tommy, he was watching you, brow furrowed slightly, as if trying to read what you weren’t saying.

"I don’t mean to pry," he began cautiously, his tone gentle. "But Joel’s been… well, intolerable lately. Can I ask what happened?"

You raised an eyebrow, a sardonic smile creeping onto your lips. "Sure, Tommy," you replied, a touch of sarcasm bleeding through. "He hasn’t told you anything?"

"Are you kidding?" He laughed, shaking his head. "I asked him once, a couple of days ago, and he practically bit my head off."

You let out a dry sigh, crossing your arms. "He lied to me, pretty sure you know about that," you said, feeling the weight of it again. "We argued, and… things just happened."

Tommy’s eyes widened slightly, but the look of surprise faded quickly, replaced by a knowing smile. He stood up, crossing his arms as he stepped closer, his gaze amused and unrelenting.

"I knew it," he said, his grin widening. "You two slept together."

Your mouth fell open, and you dropped your arms, an incredulous laugh escaping.

"Shut up," you muttered, taking a step forward, cheeks flushing.

Tommy laughed, as if this moment had been a long time coming. "I always knew it would happen," he said, his tone only half-joking. "Ever since Joel introduced you, I swear, the guy had heart eyes and all. Poor guy looked like he was about to carve your name into every tree from here to the city limits. It was almost embarrassing."

You shook your head, a pang of sadness pressing on your chest. "That’s not it, Tommy. That’s not… it’s not true."

He studied you, unconvinced, his brow furrowing slightly, though the amused glint remained in his eyes.

"Joel doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want… us," you continued, your voice quiet but certain. "And honestly, I don’t think I do either." The words tasted bitter even as you said them, yet you held his gaze, determined to mean it. "I think I might actually like Travis."

"I see." Tommy’s nod was slow, his eyes searching yours as if detecting the truth you weren’t quite hiding.

“Where is he?” The question slipped out before you could stop it, and you almost wished you could take it back. You shouldn’t be concerned about where Joel was spending his nights. But curiosity itched at you, demanding answers.

Tommy hesitated, rubbing his hand over his mouth, glancing off as if debating whether to answer. The pause made you anxious, and you shifted under his gaze, feeling exposed. "He, um, he went to see—"

"Sienna," you finished, the name coming out like a blade you hadn’t prepared for. Tommy’s nod confirmed it, and you felt it cut a little deeper than you’d anticipated.

The thought of Joel being with her after being with you twisted something fierce and raw inside. Yet, a part of you was oddly grateful for the pain; it reminded you just how little he’d been affected by all of this, how seamlessly he’d returned to life as it had been. Why should he have changed anything for one night? That didn’t mean enough to make him reconsider Sienna, his plans, his life without you. It was unbearable and somehow clarifying.

With your voice steadier than you expected, you looked back at Tommy. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"Come with me for a second." You spun on your heel, heading toward your house, and you heard Tommy’s footsteps fall into step behind you. Inside, you gestured for him to wait in the foyer, then climbed the stairs, your heart pounding. A rush of resentment, of something close to fury, washed over you. You had to rid yourself of everything that still held you back to him, everything he’d left behind.

When you came back down, you were carrying a box, simple and impersonal. Tommy glanced at it, lifting an eyebrow. "What’s that?"

"A couple of Joel’s things. Be a dear and save me the trip of bringing them back to him." You smiled tightly, the effort to stay composed nearly exhausting you.

Tommy laughed, clearly amused by the defiance in your expression.

"Yes, ma’am," he said with a grin, giving you a small salute as he took the box. You watched him step over the threshold, the box in his hands, feeling a strange mix of relief and something hollow.

"Thank you, Tommy," you said softly, closing the door as he left. Alone in the quiet of your house, your shoulders slumped, and all the strength you’d gathered felt like it was leaking away, leaving behind the ache of realization. Joel wasn’t just far from you; he was unreachable, a memory already fading, three weeks stretching like an eternity between you and the friend he’d once been.

Joel opened the door slowly, shoulders slumped, his gaze dropping to the floor before he even stepped inside. The house was dark and quiet, as if it were waiting for him to finally fill it. He glanced around the empty living room, feeling the stillness of the space, then checked the time on his wristwatch: 11 p.m. It felt later than that, somehow.

“Tommy?” he called, his voice breaking the silence as he moved into the kitchen, where he found his brother, casually leaning against the counter with a bowl of ice cream, looking like he’d been waiting all night.

“How was your night?” Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow, his tone almost amused, as if he were privy to some unspoken secret.

Joel exhaled, the kind of tired sigh that settled deep in his chest, and dropped heavily into one of the wooden chairs at the table. He rubbed a hand across his forehead, dragging it down over his mouth before resting it on the table, the weariness of the day palpable in the lines of his face. His eyes met Tommy’s probing gaze, and he tilted his head, frowning slightly.

“Fine,” he replied, his tone clipped and a little defensive. “How was Sarah?”

“She conked out right after dinner,” Tommy replied, a smirk beginning to play at the corners of his mouth, his eyes narrowing with that look of brotherly mischief. “And how was Sienna?”

Joel rolled his eyes, leaning back in the chair, shaking his head as if he could shake off the whole conversation.

“Are you staying over?” he asked after a few beats, redirecting, his voice carefully casual.

Tommy chuckled. “Only if you, sir, will permit me,” he replied with a mock salute.

“Fine,” Joel muttered, getting up from his seat. “Do what you want, but don’t be a pain in my ass,” he added, half-serious, half-amused, as he walked over to the counter beside his brother.

He pulled open the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water. Tommy watched him, saying nothing, but his gaze lingered, curious, perceptive. Joel poured water into a glass, bringing it to his lips, pausing for a long drink before turning to face his brother. He could feel Tommy’s gaze boring into him, the silence thickening between them.

Joel looked up, his own gaze steady.

“What?” he asked, the word flat, all pretense of patience gone.

“Nothing,” Tommy said, drawing the word out, clearly testing the limits of Joel’s patience. Then, almost too casually, he tilted his chin toward a box resting by the wall across the kitchen.

Joel followed his gaze, his brow furrowing as he walked over. He lifted the box, feeling the weight of it in his hands, then set it down on the counter. With a cautious look at Tommy, he placed his hands on the lid, hesitating.

“What’s this?” he asked, a note of suspicion in his voice.

Tommy leaned back, watching him with a faint smile playing at the edges of his mouth.

“Your girl next door gave it to me,” he replied, each word almost too measured. “Said it was yours.”

For a few moments, Joel just stood there, as if frozen, processing Tommy’s words. He looked down, finally lifting the lid and peering inside. There, neatly folded, was his sweatshirt—the one he’d handed you one chilly evening when he picked you up from work. Beneath that was his old Pearl Jam t-shirt, the one you’d borrowed after a swim in his pool last summer. His favorite coffee mug sat tucked in the corner, along with a few CDs, a dog-eared paperback he’d loaned you weeks ago. Each item seemed to carry its own little echo of the time he’d spent with you.

After a few seconds, Joel placed the lid back on the box, sliding it away from him with a muted thud. He kept his expression steady, but his jaw was set, and his eyes remained fixed on the counter.

“When did she give it to you?” he asked, his voice strained but steady.

“A few moments ago,” Tommy said with a shrug, holding back a smirk as he noticed the tightness in Joel’s expression. “Saw her walking back from Dunn’s house, actually.”

Joel let out a dry, sardonic laugh, a smile twisted in disbelief. "Right. Of course."

"Actually," Tommy said, savoring another spoonful of ice cream, "he walked her to the door, all sweet-like. Gave her the whole mushy goodnight routine—kiss, movie shit." His gaze stayed fixed on the bowl, though Joel could see the glint of mischief there, Tommy barely holding back a grin.

Joel’s fingers drummed on the counter, his gaze hardening. “Good for her,” he muttered.

Tommy didn’t look up, just continued with his ice cream, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Sure she looked that way to me.”

“Like I care,” Joel muttered, his gaze fixed hard on the box beside him, fingers curling against the edge as if steadying himself. “I can bet everything I’ve got she doesn’t even like him that much. That guy isn’t worth it, and she knows it.”

Tommy’s mouth quirked with amusement as he leaned back against the counter.

“Too bad that’s not up to you,” he said, casually pushing Joel’s buttons, almost like he enjoyed watching his brother’s patience fray. “She looked happy. And for what it’s worth, in her own words, she does like him.”

Joel’s frown deepened, his eyes narrowing as he glared at Tommy, as if by sheer force he could undo his brother’s last statement. “Wait—you asked her? Tommy, you better not be going around—”

“Relax,” Tommy cut in, hands raised in mock surrender, though there was still a hint of smugness in his expression. “We just had a small conversation, okay? Didn’t even mention you.”

Joel let out a sharp, bitter laugh, though his face betrayed a flicker of something raw. His fingers tapped the box, restless and resentful, as if it were the box’s fault for bringing up everything he didn’t want to admit. Then, his voice low and clipped, he gestured to the countertop. “Clean this up when you’re done,” he said, his tone rough. “And don’t piss me off.”

Without another word, Joel turned on his heel and headed for the stairs, each step heavy and quick, like he couldn’t get away fast enough. The tension in his back, the way his shoulders held too much weight, said enough. Who did Tommy think he was, coming in here with all that, telling him things he didn’t need to hear? He didn’t care about any of it. As far as he was concerned, you could date Travis, marry him if that’s what you wanted. None of it mattered to him.

But as he climbed the stairs two at a time, his mind raced against his will. You’d been clear, hadn’t you? You didn’t want him in your life. No friendship, no connection, nothing. The words echoed, hollow and yet heavy. And as he reached the top of the stairs, he wondered how many more nights he’d have to wrestle with that idea, struggling to wrap his head around a life where you were nothing more than a memory he had to stop revisiting.

The sooner he accepted it, the easier it would be to see you with Travis, to manage the surge of irritation at the thought of his hands on you, to ignore the image of his arm slung casually around your shoulders. If he could accept it—if he did accept it—it would get easier, right? At least that’s what he told himself. He didn’t care. Obviously, he didn’t care.

He didn’t care that you’d decided to shut him out. Didn’t care that you were so resolute about it, that you barely seemed to miss him. He certainly didn’t care that he’d rearranged his mornings and evenings so he wouldn’t have to see you by accident. It wasn’t as if he still glanced at your door every time he came home, half-hoping he’d see you there, offering a smile and some easy excuse to stay. No, he wasn’t dwelling on how long it had been since he’d heard your voice or felt the comfortable warmth of your hand against his. Nearly a month now. And he was perfectly fine with it, honestly. It didn’t bother him one bit.

So fine, in fact, that he ended things with Sienna over dinner without a moment’s hesitation. Her face had gone blank with surprise, but he’d brushed it off, even throwing in some lie about being “too busy” to make it work, anything to avoid her prying questions. She’d looked at him, confused but oddly resigned, as if she’d sensed his mind had been elsewhere for a while. He didn't care, he was fine with it.

But later that night,Travis Dunn had brought you to your door—walked you up, murmured something as he leaned close, maybe kissed you goodnight. Joel didn’t know the details, but the image of it burned into his mind anyway. He sat in his room alone, a bitter laugh escaping his throat, mocking himself for how easily he’d let the thought take root. You, wrapped up with Dunn. Pf.

In the darkness of his bedroom, Joel sat on the edge of his bed, looking at the empty space beside him, the silence amplifying every unspoken word, every unfulfilled touch. He was fine with it. Of course he was. He repeated it in his mind, willing himself to believe it, even as a hollow ache throbbed in his chest.

And as if the universe were doubling down on the irony, that night he dreamed of you.

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @cosmic006533-blog @doblasftcisco @maiyart @concrete-jungleeee @playboygirlsnextdoor00 @maryfanson @rosebuds-and-moonlight @the-universe-is-complicated @formulafun @chewie-bars @glizzymcguirex @pedroswife69 @ivoryandflame @dixonswingz @sarahhxx03 @mellymbee @dailyobsession @msmorningstaarr @mystickittytaco @xxreginaxx @marellabyr @spacegirl-3 @alrihhty @heheheilovepedro @svrgs-blog @94namkooksworld @puddles221b @cowboymcflurry @medusaandposeidonshead @stylesispunk @sweatpeakarolinaa @puddles221b @deansimpalagirl @jasminedragoon @lover-of-books-and-tea @whimsiwitchy @cuteanimalmama @theherothesavior @ivoryandflame @auteurdelabre

#joel miller #joel miller fanfic #capuccinodoll #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #tlou fic #tlou hbo #dbf!joel #tlou joel #joel x reader #pedro joel #joel the last of us #joel tlou #pedro pascal joel #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #honey love dark eyes

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bookshelf-dust · 4 months ago

Text

the art of dancing in the kitchen

carmy berzatto x fem!hairdresser!reader

gif by @hotch-girl

word count: 3,479

warnings: literally nothing? this is pure fluff with slight swearing and little baby innuendos. i did make reader a hairdresser because i just love the idea and it makes so much sense for this.

synopsis: nothing brings you more joy than spending time with carmen…except maybe having him help you bake.

a/n: i swear to you, i think this might be my favorite fic that i’ve ever written. i love it so much and it made me so happy to write. i found myself smiling at the screen while typing, if that tells you anything. i think i’d definitely like to continue writing things in this universe, too! carmy is so fun for me to write and i love coming up with ways to make him feel tangible. (also shoutout to the first pic because if you know, you know.) i hope you enjoy this one and happy reading!! <33

————

Carmy never sees you run as fast as you do when you’re leaving work. In this case, it’s just so he can eat lunch with you, but you rush out of the salon door just as fast.

Your sundress catches the wind, the hem flying behind you as you jog up to the passenger side door. You catch a glimpse of Carmen through the dirty window. His curls are crushed underneath that worn blue cap, but today it’s turned the wrong way around on his head.

It makes him look boyish. The hand rubbing over his mouth in an effort to hide a grin doesn’t help his case.

If you’re honest, you’ve been giddy since six that morning, when you got up and remembered that Carmy was meeting you for lunch. And when you got to work and found it was much slower than expected, with no show after no show, you were so grateful for the blue eyed man waiting for you outside. In a loading zone, no less.

You hop into the car, pulling the door shut behind you distractedly. You’re too eager to see him, and before you can even say hello, how are you, how’s life—anything—you’re kissing him.

His lips feel a little chapped against yours, the skin slightly dry and cracked, but you don’t mind. It feels like he’s just shaved, his jaw all smooth, and he smells like cinnamon and dish soap and cigarettes, but you’d be a liar if you tried to claim that wasn’t the best smell in the world.

You pull away from his kiss, locking eyes with him, where his pupils are blown wide and his cheeks are flushed like he’s been pinched. “Hi, gorgeous,” you say.

Carmen laughs, that little shy one that’s more of a big puff of air than a chuckle. He shakes his head at you, still not used to someone being so excited about his presence, so…enamored by him.

“Hey, you,” Carmy answers, placing both of his hands on your cheeks. He stares at you for a moment. He’s trying to drink you in. He does this every chance he gets because he literally cannot believe you’re real. He’s not dissociating, he’s not daydreaming. This is his life.

Your already broad smile widens as you take the opportunity to stare back at him. Your eyes wander to his just-too-long sideburns. “I think it’s time for a trim again, Carm. Lookin’ a little grizzly there.” You ruffle his curls, which feel surprisingly clean.

Carmy watches you bite your thumbnail in an effort to conceal the laugh threatening to burst from your throat due to your own horrible joke.

“Ha, ha. So funny.”

He puts the car in drive and listens to you giggle to yourself as you fasten your seatbelt. Neither of you say much on the very short drive to the park across the street, knowing you’ll be able to vent as much as you please while you eat.

“Cross your fingers our bench is free?” you say, raising your hand up towards Carmen. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as if that also counts as a way of manifesting your favorite seat. Carmy lifts his fingers in the air, the middle crossed over the index and gently knocks his hand against yours.

You pull into the parking lot, the sound of gravel crunching beneath tires filling your ears, and your gaze immediately flies to the bench underneath the biggest tree with the most shade and the best view for people watching. “Fuck, yeah!” you shout, a brilliant smile blooming on your face as you unbuckle.

Carmy laughs for real this time, the corners of his eyes going all soft and crinkly at your joy. “Run over there and claim it, yeah? I’ll grab everything.”

You push open the car door and stand quickly, smoothing the sweet ruffles of your dress. You wink, already starting to happily jog away. “Yes, chef!” Carm catches your salute just before he reaches in the backseat for the cooler and bag of food he brought with him from the restaurant.

On your bench, you prop your hand on your chin, tuck your foot under your thigh, and watch as Carmen walks up the short little incline to you. He looks gorgeous.

He’s wearing jeans, Levi’s that hug his ass and thighs just right. He has on an old “I heart New York” t-shirt that he only wears when he hasn’t caught up on laundry (and only bought for that same reason a few years ago).

His curls and necklace bounce almost in sync, and you can’t help but think that he just looks so pure and free.

And he’s got this glint in his eye that’s directed right on you.

“Ebra made your favorite. He heard I was meeting you for lunch and insisted he do it,” Carmy says, snapping you out of your how-could-this-man-get-any-more-sexy daze.

He places the tin foil wrapped sandwich in front of you, pretending not to notice the way you’re gawking at him. “I swear he’s never been so gentle with roast beef.”

You smile, pulling up the strap on your dress where it’s started to slip. Carmy leans over the table to press a kiss to your shoulder. It makes your stomach flip.

“Did he make yours for you?” you ask, mouth watering impatiently as you lift the still-warm bread up so you can take a messy bite.

Carmen hands you a napkin. “Put that over your chest—yeah, like that. So you don’t get your dress dirty.” He rips open a bag of chips for you to share. “But to answer your question, fuck no he didn’t.”

You toss your head back and laugh. “You’ll have to tell him I said thank you for making such a yummy lunch for me.” Your boyfriend watches as you suck a stream of au jus from your thumb.

Carmy scoffs playfully. You wink at him. “I did have the cutest delivery boy though.”

His brow raises, and the corners of his mouth quirk while he chews on the handful of potato chips he’s just shoved in his mouth. “Oh yeah?”

You hum. “Yep. Cute even with roast beef stuck in his teeth.”

Carmy falls for it, quickly taking a sip of his drink like he’s going to wash the beef free. But the twinkle in your eye tips him off. “You’re fuckin’ with me?”

You wipe your grinning mouth. “‘Course I am, Bear.”

Carmen raises up from his side of the picnic table just enough so that he’s leaning across to meet you halfway. He waves you closer with his hands. “Come on now, you owe me a kiss for bein’ a little shit.”

You brace your palms against the worn—and slightly damp from last night's rain shower—wood, quickly connecting your lips with Carmy’s.

You do this thing where you start smiling into the kiss and in turn it makes Carmen smile because your giddiness to have your mouth on his is insanely fucking contagious, and he’d be a damn fool not to join in.

When you pull apart you make sure to quickly kiss both of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. “There’s your tip for being such a pretty delivery boy and bringin’ me lunch.”

The both of you settle into quiet conversation, catching up on whatever as you finish your sandwiches and drinks. Carmy reaches across the table to hold your hand, rubbing the pads of his fingers over your polished nails. He likes the way they feel.

As a surprise to end your lunch hour, he pulls out a little back holding two oversized oatmeal raisin cookies. One for each of you. And he knows those are your favorite. You do a happy little wiggle in your seat when you see them. It makes him laugh, makes his stomach flip.

“Marcus made a batch of these, just tryin’ out cookie recipes? We thought having them out front for people to grab on their way out would be smart.”

You take the cookie from him. “That is smart. And I already know it’s gonna be yummy.”

“Damn straight. I ate like, four of them as my breakfast and lunch yesterday. But that’s not important. How’s work so far?”

You’ll have to berate him about that later. The man cannot eat cookies and wash them down with Pepto Bismol and call it a day.

You demolish your cookie within seconds. “Work has been so fuckin’ slow today, Bear. We’ve had all these no shows, so I got set up and then they don’t come and now I’ll have to send them the files about the fee.”

“You want me to yell at ‘em for you? Tell them how they’re missin’ out on the world’s best haircut and color?”

You smack him playfully on the wrist. “I just love my job, y’know? So it sucks when I sit there playin’ on my phone instead of listening to all the gossip my customers bring me.”

Carmy downs the rest of his Coke and swipes the back of his hand across his mouth. “If it helps, I’ll let you give me that trim after service tonight.”

“At least I know you won’t cancel on me.”

Carmen watches you for a minute, losing himself in now fucking ethereal you are. He’s never imagined himself using the word, but that’s the only proper way to describe you. And he secretly loves you cutting his hair because your hands feel so good, especially when you wash it for him.

“I’ll tip you real good too, baby.” Carmy blushes at his own joke and it makes you laugh. Mid-laugh though, your eyes widen like you’ve just had an idea. It feels a little devious to him.

You pull out your phone. “Oh! When I was doomscrolling this morning, I found this video of blueberry muffins—dammit, of course I can’t find it now—but they had the…the…”

You lift your hand, wiggling your fingers in a sort of sprinkly motion like you’re try to demonstrate what you’d seen. “The crumbly shit, Carm! I don’t know what the fuck it’s called.”

You reach over and take both of his hands. “Point is, they looked really yummy and I wondered if you’d help me make them?”

Carmy starts chuckling. He definitely knew what you were talking about with your hand gesture, since you’re always making them and he’s got them memorized by now, but it’s so fucking fun to see your brain work.

He begins to gather up your trash and put it back in the bag he brought it in.

“Yeah, I think I have enough flour and shit. There’s some frozen blueberries in the back of the freezer. But do you want the crumbly shit, or streusel?”

“Carmen, sweet angel baby, I don’t know what streusel is.”

“It’s usually got cinnamon and nuts and shit, so that’s what we’ll do because I know how you like your nuts, love.”

You take his hand when he offers it to help you stand. You smack a big, wet kiss on his lip. You let your eyes drag up and down his form before you begin to walk back to the car.

“Sure do, Carmy.”

————

“You don’t need a recipe or anything?”

Carm presses a sweet kiss to your lips and passes you a few fresh blueberries to snack on. He’d grabbed some at the store on the way home because was he really going to teach his girlfriend how to make muffins with a questionable bag of frozen blueberries? Fuck no.

“Nah, it’s all pretty simple. I’ll tell you everything to do, and I can write one out for you if you ever wanna make ‘em when I’m not home.”

You pinch his sides, raising up on your tippy toes to express your giddiness. “Really? Holy shit, I love that.”

He lets out a huff of a laugh. “Yeah?” Carmen cups your chin, tilting your mouth up to meet his because he wants a kiss.

You start to talk while his lips are still on yours. “It’s your handwriting. I have a thing for it.”

He bites your bottom lip playfully. “You’re insane,” he says, smiling through each syllable. He pulls back briefly. “That reminds me, I got you somethin’.”

Carmen walks to the living room and pulls something out of his work bag. “Does this have to do with my insanity?” you ask, jokingly.

He shakes his head. “Only with your insanely cute ass.” He holds up an apron. “It’s your honorary chef apron. Ta-da.”

It’s the same blue as his at work, except it has a ruffled hem and the logo for The Bear embroidered on the chest. Your brows shoot up.

“You got this today, Carm?” The alarm in your voice makes him smile.

Carmy walks up to you and starts tying it around your waist. “No, no, not today. I got it awhile back, but you bringing up muffins made me remember I’d ordered it. It came with the chef’s whites and shit.”

“You got it made for me?” Your voice pitches up a notch, causing Carmen to spin you around so you’re facing him.

“‘Course I did. Couldn’t leave my number one out. And yours is cuter than everyone else’s.”

Your eyes water, just slightly, and you start smothering Carmy’s face with kisses until he starts to giggle boyishly. “Okay, okay!” he fusses, “No tears, only muffins.” He grabs your hips and moves you in front of the counter where he’s laid out all the ingredients for you. “Let’s get movin’ now, yeah? This shit is making me hungry.”

————

“Why do they tell you to fold it in? I’m not doing fuckin’ laundry, Bear.”

Carmy is sitting on the counter next to you, watching you intensely. There are floury handprints on your apron and you have your tongue poking out in concentration. He keeps bringing a straw to your lips every few minutes to keep you hydrated, like this is a very important surgical operation.

“Probably ‘cause it looks like folds when you do that?” You smack him on the knee and continue to fold in all the ingredients, pretending like you don’t see exactly what he means.

Once you feel like it’s all combined you let go of the spatula and turn to Carmen.

“What now, Bear?”

“You gotta mix up the sugar and the flour and the cinnamon, and then you can add your little nut mixture and I’ll show you how to do the butter.”

You reach for the collection of small glass bowls Carmy set out for you. “So sassy,” you say, shaking your shoulder just a little.

He smiles at you and extends a socked foot out to lightly kick you on the butt. But you were expecting it, so you reach behind you and grab his ankle, tickling the bottom of his foot, which is where he’s most ticklish. It’s his Achilles heel.

Carmy releases a short bout of laughter before pulling away from you to catch his breath. “Fucker.”

You grin, leaning over the sink to wash your hands for the umpteenth time. “But I’m your fucker, angel boy.”

He hops off the counter, scooching in behind you to press a kiss to your clammy cheek. “Can’t argue with that,” he says.

Carm watches over your shoulder as you add a small mix of crushed almonds, granola, and pecans to your streusel topping. “Good job, baby. Now I need you to cut a few pats of butter and add ‘em in. Just do a few—yeah, just like that—and you can start mixing it up. You can use your hands if you need to since it gets so difficult to stir.”

The warmth of Carmy’s chest against your back should be unnerving, what with him observing your every move.

But it isn’t. Rather, it's comforting. When the butter combines with your little potion mix as much as it can, you use your hands to make sure nothing gets left behind.

“You’re very good at making sure the crumbly shit is crumbly, lovebug.”

You look over your shoulder at Carmen as you finally slide the finished tray into the oven. “I’m givin’ you a run for your money, aren’t I, Bear?”

He smiles at you, reaching around your waist to untie your apron and lift it over your head. He hangs it on the little rack meant for keys. “Might have to tell Marcus about this. Get you in there, helpin’ him decorate donuts and shit.”

You push up on your toes and wrap your arms around Carmy’s neck. His go around the small of your back like that’s the only job they’ve ever had.

“So you can throw them on the floor?” you quip, biting your lip to hold back a laugh. You know you’re being a little shit, but at least it’s a memory you can all laugh at now.

Carmy’s lips quirk up at the corners. His right hand lowers and squeezes at the fat of your ass, a little menacingly, but loving all the same. “Never gonna let me live that down, huh?”

You lower your forehead so that it’s resting on Carm’s chest. He feels your giggle against his skin. Feels the way your fingers play with his necklace where they rest at the back of his neck. It’s giving him goosebumps.

“Nope,” you say, that cute little teasing lilt to your voice.

Carmy tightens his grip around your waist and lifts you up into the air, spinning you around his small kitchen a few times. Just enough that you squeal out of surprise, out of pure, unadulterated joy because of this romantic ass gesture that feels straight out of a story book. You pop your feet up for good measure. You could never let Princess Mia down like that.

When he sets you down, you both stare at each other for a moment, catching your breath with these stupid happy smiles on your faces. And right there, you both feel that little bolt of electricity. The one that tells you this will never go away. This connection is everlasting.

It takes a minute for you to register that you’re both shuffling lightly across the floor, in gentle, sloppy circles.

You look down at Carmy’s socked feet and back up to meet his eyes. “Does this count as dancing?”

He scratches his nose. “Couldn’t tell you.”

You kiss the spot where he was self-consciously rubbing. “Maybe we should practice, you know, in case we need to dance someday.”

Carmen snorts. “Yeah, maybe, sweetheart.”

You play with the curls around his ears, remembering your promise to give him that trim. “Have you ever danced, Mr. Berzatto?”

He kisses you. “Only alone in my room.”

You kiss him. “That what you do when I’m not around?”

He kisses you a second time. “Yep. Busted. But Richie used to try and make us play Just Dance with him when he got drunk.” He grins at the little chuckle you let out. “What about you?” he starts. “Have a past dancing career?”

You shake your head, admiring every little freckle on his face. Every little dry patch of skin, every line.

“In high school, me and my girlfriends would usually just hold hands and spin around in a little dance circle since we were all single. It was very cool of us.”

“I would’ve paid to see that,” Carmy says, cupping your jaw. You grin up at him, eyes twinkling. You imagine you’ve got big ‘ol pink hearts fluttering back and forth at him.

You both melt into each other after that. Slowly shuffling around the kitchen, hips swaying to music that isn’t there. Usually Carmy would be on the verge of shitting his pants in a situation like this, but…it’s you. You’re safe.

Why wouldn’t he dance with you?

Carmen brings his lips to your ear. “Is there music in your head right now?”

“Rick Astley,” you whisper.

Carmy blinks.

And then he tosses his head back, laughing. “Seriously?”

“Nope. I just wanted to hear you laugh,” you say, and kiss the chuckle right off his lips. He kisses you back, pecking your lips three times in quick succession because one is just never enough. You tug on a curl. “We’re stupid in love, aren’t we?”

“We’re dancing, shuffling like old people really, in my shitty kitchen on a weeknight, and waiting on blueberry muffins that I’m pretty sure we’ll finish within the hour.”

“Oh my god, Bear.”

“Yeah, baby. We’re stupid in love.”

You are. And when you sit on the kitchen floor, your socked feet in his lap, eating warm muffins and getting butter all over your fingers and down your wrists, that only confirms it.

Those are the best damn muffins you’ve ever had. And Carmy’s lips taste like blueberries for the rest of the night.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

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lelengerine · 2 months ago

Text

pairing. jeno x reader

synopsis. based on this req <3

genre. friends to lovers au, very much situationship vibes at first, a LOT of overthinking being done >:D, honestly they're a little dumb for not realizing eo's feelings... lmk if anything was missed!

wc. 1.0k words

notes. ahhh i absolutely loved writing this TAT i really feel like jeno would be the type of person you'd be in this kind of situation with,, u are so right for this anon!! likes and feedback are highly appreciated!

m.list

it was one of those things you never gave much thought to in the beginning—a brush of fingers as you passed jeno a drink, the occasional accidental graze of hands when you walked side by side. but lately, it was happening more often, and the frequency was something you noticed more often than not. your pinkies would always linger in each other’s proximity just a beat too long, like they were waiting for permission to stay, yet despite this, neither of you ever said anything to address it. what was there to say? you told yourself not to overthink it. jeno was your best friend, and best friends were allowed to be close. right?

but now, the subtle touches had turned into something else. you’d been holding hands, and not just in fleeting, momentary grasps, but in quiet moments where neither of you dared to pull away. it started with using little things as an excuse—safety while crossing the street, blaming the chill of the weather, sitting close enough that his hand would somehow find yours, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

that also meant it had become impossible to ignore.

today, you sat across from jeno at the café you both loved, the one with the worn, wooden tables and the smell of fresh pastries that made the place feel like home. the late afternoon sun filtered through the large windows, casting a soft golden glow over everything. it should’ve been relaxing, like usual, but today there was an undercurrent of something different in the air. the conversation flowed like usual—random topics, the comfortable back and forth you both were so good at, but you kept getting distracted.

your hand rested next to jeno’s on the table, the space between them feeling charged with unspoken words. you hadn’t noticed it at first, but now every shift, every little movement, felt like a dance—as if you were both painfully aware of how close you were but too afraid to do anything about it.

your gaze eventually flickered to the sight of your hand, coming to realize that your hands were unknowingly inching closer to each other again. jeno had large hands, littered with callouses from countless hours of playing video games at midnight. yours were much smaller and had that delicate look to it, but somehow the contrast seemed just right when they were together.

you shook yourself out of your thoughts, forcing your attention back to what jeno was saying; something about the latest hobby he picked up from his friend, photography, and how he was trying to capture the little details that people often overlooked for the past week. you tried to focus—you really did—but the weight of your own thoughts kept pulling you back.

“hey,” the sound of his voice cut through your reverie, and you blinked, startled to find him watching you. his eyes, which were usually playful, held something deeper, like he was trying to figure something out. “you okay?”

“yeah,” you replied too quickly for your liking, feeling your pulse quicken. “just... spaced out for a second.”

but jeno didn’t seem convinced. his gaze lingered on you a moment longer, then drifted down to where your hands still rested—close, but not quite touching. his lips quirked up into a small, almost nervous smile. “can i ask you something?”

“sure.” if his goal was to rub off his nervousness onto you, then he surely succeeded because you were beginning to sweat buckets on the inside, a painful anticipation bubbling within you.

he rubbed the back of his neck in that way he always did when he was about to say something serious. you’d seen that look before—before exams, before difficult conversations about the future, but this felt different. “what are we?”

“what do you mean?” you asked, your voice betraying the calm you were trying to project. you knew exactly what he meant, but hearing it out loud was something else entirely. it was the question you had been avoiding, the one you thought maybe, just maybe, would never need to be asked.

jeno's eyes searched yours, as if he were looking for the answer that neither of you had dared to say. he hesitated, his hand finally shifting closer, fingers brushing against yours so lightly it sent a shiver down your spine. “i don’t know,” he admitted softly, “but we’ve been—” he stopped, glancing down at your hands again. “we’ve been coming to cafes together, sharing bites of our meals, even holding hands in public and... it doesn’t feel like something best friends normally do anymore.”

“i noticed,” you admitted quietly, your breath catching as your thumb brushed over his without thinking.

he nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “so… what are we doing? are we just—” he paused, searching for the right words, “—pretending this doesn’t mean anything?”

you couldn’t help but laugh softly, though it was tinged with nervousness. “i don’t know,” you whispered. “i don’t know what we are.”

your mind was racing, trying to piece together all the feelings you’d been pushing down. you’d convinced yourself that it was nothing, that you were just overthinking things. but now, looking at him, feeling the way his fingers curled around yours like he was afraid to let go, you couldn’t lie to yourself anymore.

you closed your eyes for a brief second, willing the courage to surface. “but i do know that i like you,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. “probably more than i should if you only see me as a friend.”

the weight of your words hung between you, and for a terrifying moment, you thought you’d made a mistake—that maybe you’d just ruined everything. but when you looked up, jeno wasn’t pulling away. if anything, he was leaning closer, his expression softening in a way you hadn’t expected.

“more than a friend?” he asked, his voice tinged with something between disbelief and hope.

you nodded slowly, your heart in your throat. “yeah. more than a friend.”

jeno was quiet for a long moment, his eyes never leaving yours, and when he finally spoke, his voice was gentle. “good,” he whispered, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “because i feel the same.”

#: ̗̀➛ requested!#nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct angst #nct dream angst #jeno fluff #jeno angst #jeno #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct dream imagines #nct dream drabbles #jeno x reader #nct dream x reader #nct x reader

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ha-rinrin · 1 month ago

Note

bratty sub jinx x dom reader (I'd be sooo thankful if you do this<3)

since you asked so nicely, here it is! idk if I got the bratty part right so if you want me to make it again just let me know.

pairing: bratty sub jinx x dom fem!reader

warning: smut

wordcount: 5.6k

summary: In a chaotic dance of dominance and desire, you find yourself entangled with a bratty Jinx who knows how to push all the right buttons.

masterlist

Taming the Brat

The faint hum of Piltover’s busy streets filters through the window, but inside your apartment, everything is calm, meticulously organized, and in perfect order. The polished wood floors, the neatly stacked books, and the clean, geometric lines of the furniture, everything equally perfect as Piltover.

But then there's Jinx

She’s lounging on your couch like a queen, her boots flung haphazardly onto your spotless floor, one dangerously close to knocking over the stack of magazines on the coffee table. Loose screws and bolts from whatever gadget she dragged in with her are scattered across the table, some of them rolling closer to the edge every time she shifts her legs.

“Piltover.” She drawls your city’s name like it’s a bad joke, glancing around your apartment with exaggerated disdain. “How do you even breathe in this place? It’s like a museum. Or a... hospital.” She wrinkles her nose.

Before you can respond, she grabs one of the neatly arranged throw pillows and tosses it across the room. “Oops. Guess that wasn’t where it’s supposed to go, huh?” She grins, eyes darting to yours, waiting for a reaction.

You stand near the window, arms crossed, trying your hardest to stay calm. “Some of us like things in order, Jinx.”

Jinx lets out a loud, exaggerated sigh. “Order? Bleh. Where’s the fun in that?” She kicks her legs up, smacking her feet against the back of the couch with a thud, as if daring you to tell her off. Then, with a quick motion, she snatches one of your books off the coffee table and starts fanning herself with it, pages bending at odd angles.

“Careful!” you warn, your voice slipping with a bit more urgency than you meant.

Her grin only widens. “What? This old thing? Look at this!” She holds it up like she’s inspecting a relic. “Everything’s in alphabetical order. Do you do that with all your stuff?” She leans back, putting the book on her head like it’s a hat. “Bet you even have a color-coded wardrobe. Am I right?”

She tosses the book behind her, letting it land on the floor with a careless thud. “Oops, again. Man, I’m really bad at this 'order' thing.”

You shoot her a look, but she’s already moved on. Jinx leans over the side of the couch, grabs a bolt, and flicks it across the room with a practiced flick of her wrist, the small piece of metal clinking as it rolls under a piece of furniture.

“Wow, look at that, lost forever,” she says, her voice dripping with mock horror. “Guess I’ll just have to tear apart your perfect little apartment to find it.” She pauses, giving you a wicked grin. “Or maybe... I won’t.” She shrugs and stretches out even more, taking up way more space than necessary, her arm knocking over the perfectly arranged stack of papers onto the floor.

Her eyes gleam with that signature mischief, fully aware she’s getting under your skin. “So, how long before you crack, huh? Gonna start reorganizing while I’m still here?”

Her fingers tap idly on the table, and she reaches for another book. “Bet you even have a label maker around here somewhere, don’t you?” She opens the book, not bothering to read it, just flipping the pages back and forth obnoxiously loud. “You’re like... so Piltover. Do you have a schedule for everything?”

She’s practically bouncing now, pushing every single button she can find with no intention of stopping. Her grin grows wider, and she leans in, eyes sparkling with playful defiance. “What do you do for fun, anyway? Dust the shelves? Or, wait—vacuum in perfectly straight lines?”

Her bratty energy is off the charts now, every word dripping with mockery, her playful grin daring you to do something about it. She’s enjoying every second of testing your patience.

You take a deep breath, trying to maintain your calm as you watch her antics. “Jinx, if you break anything—”

She cuts you off with a laugh, her fingers dangerously close to another delicate trinket. “What? You think I’m gonna break it? Please, I’m a professional at not breaking stuff.” She smirks, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

You can feel your resolve slipping as you try to hold back a smile. “You call this a professional setup?”

Her laughter fills the room, carefree and loud. “Boring! You need to lighten up!”

As she leans back against the couch, you decide it’s time to turn the tables. “You know,” you say slowly, locking eyes with her, “if you keep this up, we might need to head over to your place instead.”

Her grin falters for a brief moment before her eyes widen, a knowing smile spreading across her lips. “Oh? Is that what you want?” she teases, her voice dripping with playful seduction. “You know what happens when we go to my place.”

“Maybe that’s exactly what I’m counting on,” you reply, stepping closer.

She stands up, excitement dancing in her eyes as she leans closer, a spark of mischief in her gaze. “I mean, you know I’m always down for a little fun. Just remember, last time we went to my place, it got really chaotic.”

“Yeah, but that’s part of the thrill, isn’t it?” you say, smirking as you lean in, teasing her with your closeness. “I’ve been ready for all kinds of chaos since the last time I left.”

She bites her lip, that bratty demeanor shining through as she takes a step back, clearly reveling in the flirtation. “So, you wanna play with fire again, huh? That’s brave of you.”

You give her a teasing smirk. “Or maybe I just know how to handle the heat.”

Jinx’s grin widens, her playful bravado flaring as she heads for the door. “Alright, then. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She slides into her boots, her energy crackling with anticipation. “You know this means we’re skipping the boring stuff.”

“Good,” you reply, feeling the thrill build in the air. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

With a cheeky wink, she flings the door open. “Ready for another round?”

“Always,” you say, stepping out into the excitement of the unknown, knowing exactly where the night is headed.

The walk to Jinx's place is electric, her energy infectious as she chats about the chaos she has planned for the night. As you step through her front door, the familiar sights and sounds of her world wrap around you like a warm embrace. The hideout is a whirlwind of color and noise, with mismatched furniture strewn about, bright posters plastered across the walls, and half-finished inventions scattered everywhere. It feels like a sanctuary of delightful chaos, perfectly embodying her spirit.

“Welcome to my lair,” she announces with a grand gesture, her grin widening as she takes in the familiar surroundings. “Buckle up; it’s about to get wild!”

You can’t help but chuckle, stepping deeper into her world. “Wild, huh? You have no idea what you’re in for tonight.”

Her eyes narrow, a playful challenge lighting up her features. “Oh, really? I think I can handle whatever you throw at me.”

You close the door behind you, locking it with a swift click that echoes in the charged atmosphere. The room is lit by flickering neon lights and the glow of odd contraptions whirring to life. “You say that now, but just wait.”

As you take a step closer, the air thickens with anticipation. The playful banter ignites something in you, turning the usual dynamic on its head.

Before she can respond, you grab her by the hair, tilting her head back to meet your gaze. Her eyes widen with surprise, but the bratty grin quickly returns, challenging you. “Oh, getting bold, are we?”

“Just keeping you on your toes,” you reply, leaning in to brush your lips against hers, teasing just long enough to make her squirm.

“Pfft, you think you can handle me?” she shoots back, her tone both defiant and playful. “I’m not that easy to break.”

You can’t help but smile at her bravado. “That’s exactly what I’m counting on.”

With a swift motion, you pin her against the wall, your body pressing into hers, creating a delicious tension between you. “But tonight, you’re going to learn just how much chaos I can bring.”

Jinx's eyes sparkle with mischief, a bratty grin plastered on her face. “Oh, is that a challenge? Because I thrive on havoc!”

“Good, because I’m not going easy on you,” you murmur, pulling back just enough to catch her gaze.

She laughs, the sound playful and defiant. “Prove it!”

With that, she wiggles free from your grasp, darting away with a cheeky smile. “You’ll have to catch me first!”

The playful game ignites a fire within you, and you chase after her, the atmosphere crackling with energy. When you finally catch up, you spin her around again, pinning her back against the wall.

“Nice try,” you say, your breath hot against her skin, enjoying the rush of dominance. “But you’re not getting away that easily.”

“Oh, you’re gonna have to try harder than that!” she challenges, the bratty spark in her eyes igniting further.

You smirk, relishing the challenge. “Oh, I will.”

You crash your lips against hers, kissing her hard, pouring all your pent-up desire.

Jinx gasps against your mouth, and it’s not long before she melts into the kiss, her playful defiance transforming into eager responsiveness. She kisses you back letting you take over, her hands tangling in your hair, but there’s a hint of submission in her energy, eager to follow your lead.

“Not bad,” she breathes between kisses, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “But I’m not going to make this easy for you!”

With a playful smirk, she leans in again, but you capture her lips with a kiss that’s even more fervent, fully taking charge. The way she responds, eagerly following your movements, only fuels the fire between you.

You smile against her lips, enjoying the rush of dominance. “You’re in for a ride, Jinx.”

“Oh, I know,” she replies breathlessly, pressing her body against yours, clearly relishing the thrilling tension as you guide her once more into a kiss, her bratty spirit shining through even as you take the lead

You pull Jinx close, crashing your lips together. The kiss is hard and raw, igniting a fire between you. She gasps against you, her fingers gripping your shoulders as she melts into it.

You tilt her head back, deepening the kiss, while her body arches into yours, hungry and wanting. Pulling her hair, you hear a soft moan escape her lips, a sound that only fuels your desire.

Wrapping your arms around her waist, you lift her easily, and she giggles, the sound thrilling you.

“Okay, now you’re just showing off!” she teases, but the flush on her cheeks tells you she loves it.

You capture her lips again, the kiss deepening, turning frantic. Her hands tangle in your hair, tugging as her breath quickens.

You lead her toward her cluttered workbench, where tools and mechanical parts lay strewn. The air is thick with electricity, and you can see her excitement mirrored in your gaze. As you reach the table, you can’t help but push her back playfully, watching as she stumbles slightly before regaining her balance, laughter spilling from her lips.

“Careful, Jinx!” you mock, and she rolls her eyes, but there’s a glimmer of challenge in her gaze.

With a swift motion, you sweep your arm across the table, sending wrenches and gadgets clattering to the floor. The sound echoes in the small space, but it barely registers as you turn your attention back to her, your heart racing.

“Oops,” you say innocently, your smirk widening. “Looks like we need to make room.”

You guide her to lay back on the now-clear surface, her playful laughter ringing in your ears. She looks up at you, a mix of excitement and mischief in her eyes, as you hover over her.

A thrill runs through you, and you can’t resist leaning down to capture her lips again. The kiss is fiery, full of the hunger that’s been building between you. When you pull back, you look deep into her vibrant eyes, feeling a rush of confidence and desire.

“Let’s get rid of these,” you say, your fingers brushing against the hem of her shirt, a teasing smile playing on your lips.

Jinx arches an eyebrow, a challenge lighting up her expression. “What, you think you can just undress me?” she shoots back, her voice playful yet sultry.

You lean closer, your breath ghosting over her skin. “Oh, I know I can,” you reply, the promise lacing your tone making her shiver with anticipation.

With that, your fingers deftly slip beneath her shirt, pulling it upward and over her head. She lifts her arms willingly, letting you remove the fabric, revealing her bare skin to you. The sight makes your heart race, and you can’t help but lean down to press your lips against her collarbone, trailing kisses down to the swell of her chest.

“See? Easy,” you tease, your voice low and sultry.

Your hands roam over her sides, tracing the curves of her body as you lean back to admire her for a moment. The flush on her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes tell you how much she’s enjoying this.

“Now for the rest,” you say, glancing at the waistband of her shorts.

“Good luck with that,” she retorts, a teasing smile dancing on her lips as she winks at you.

With a swift motion, you tug her shorts down, exposing more of her skin. The thrill of undressing her ignites a fire in your core, and you lean down again, kissing her hard as your hands explore every inch of her body, each caress igniting sparks of pleasure.

Jinx lets out a playful laugh, her body arching up to meet yours. “Is that all you’ve got?” she taunts, her breathless voice laced with challenge.

You can feel the urgency and excitement radiating between you, and you know there’s no turning back now. “Just wait and see,” you whisper, your lips brushing against her ear

You take a moment to admire her bare skin, the soft glow of her body illuminating the dimly lit space. Jinx watches you with a playful challenge in her eyes, her breath quickening as anticipation fills the air.

Without breaking eye contact, you lean down, pressing soft kisses along her collarbone, trailing down to the delicate curve of her shoulder. Each kiss ignites a fire in your chest, and you can feel her shiver beneath your touch. You move to one of her tits, sucking her nipple, erupting a moan from her, causing her to grab your hair, pulling you closer to keep herself grounded

“Is this what you had in mind?” you tease, your lips lingering just above her skin.

“Maybe,” she replies coyly, biting her lip, the challenge evident in her voice.

You grin, your fingers dancing along her sides as you move lower, kissing a path down her stomach. As your lips brush against her soft skin, you take the opportunity to leave a mark—your teeth grazing lightly, then sucking gently to create a deep hickey.

“Oops, guess I got carried away,” you say playfully, watching as her eyes widen in surprise and delight.

With every kiss, you take your time, savoring the way she feels under your lips and the way her skin warms beneath your touch. You plant soft, lingering kisses along her sides, relishing the giggles that escape her as you leave another mark.

“Hey! What are you doing?” she gasps, half-laughing, half-mocking. “Trying to make me a walking canvas?”

“Just giving you some art,” you reply cheekily, trailing kisses up her ribs, pausing to nip and suck at the skin, leaving more hickeys that bloom like flowers on her body.

Her fingers never leaving your scalp gripping tightly as she gasps. “If you keep this up, I might lose my mind,” she breathes, the challenge replaced with breathless desire.

You kiss your way back up to her lips, leaving a few final hickeys along her collarbone and neck, capturing her mouth in a passionate embrace. The heat between you intensifies, and Jinx’s playful demeanor only fuels your urgency.

You roll your hips against hers, feeling her respond with a soft moan that vibrates through your entire body. Each movement deepens the connection, and you both find yourselves teetering on the edge of something exhilarating.

With every roll of your hips, the heat between you intensifies, and you can feel the world around you fading into oblivion. Jinx’s body responds instinctively, her legs tightening around your waist, urging you on as her breath quickens.

“God, you feel amazing,” she breathes, her fingers threading through your hair, pulling you closer as if she wants to fuse your bodies together. The sensation of her touch sends shivers down your spine, igniting a fire deep within you.

“More,” Jinx whispers against your lips, her voice thick with need. “I want more of you.”

You smirk against her mouth, the challenge in her words pushing you further. “You got it, brat,” you tease, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. The playful glint in her gaze sends a thrill through you, and you know she’s ready for whatever you have in mind.

Without hesitation, you begin trailing kisses down her jawline, savoring the softness of her skin as you make your way toward her neck. You find a spot just below her ear, kissing and nibbling, making sure to leave your mark—a deep, dark hickey that’s sure to stand out against her vibrant skin.

She gasps, her fingers tightening in your hair as you continue your descent. “Oh, you’re so going to regret that,” she teases breathlessly, but you can hear the eagerness in her voice, the way she arches her back in response to your ministrations.

You pause for a moment, looking up at her, your lips hovering just above her collarbone. “Regret? I don’t think so,” you reply with a smirk, then return to your exploration, peppering kisses across her chest, savoring the taste of her skin.

As you trail down further, you take your time, leaving hickeys along her sides and down to her waist. Each mark is a reminder of the moment, each sound she makes fuels your desire, pushing you to claim her further.

“Don’t stop,” she pleads, her voice a mix of desperation and exhilaration. “I need more”

With a wicked grin, you slide down onto your knees, positioning yourself between her legs, your heart racing with anticipation. The change in perspective only heightens your desire as you take in every inch of her, the way her body quivers under your gaze, the way her pussy is leaking with need. You lean in closer, pressing your lips against the soft skin of her thighs, leaving a trail of hot kisses.

“God, you’re such a tease,” she gasps, fingers digging into the edge of the table, her body arching in response to your touch.

With deliberate slowness, you continue your exploration, your kisses growing more insistent as you trail higher. You leave a path of hickeys along her thighs, each mark a testament to your possession. Her gasps and moans grow louder, filling the space with a symphony of desire that only fuels your hunger.

“Don’t keep me waiting!” she urges, her voice laced with desperation, her hips rolling instinctively toward you.

You meet her gaze, desire reflecting back at her, and without hesitation, you lean in, capturing her waist with your hands as your lips find her clit. You suck and nibble, causing Jinx to cry out in pleasure

“Tell me what you want, Jinx,” you whisper against her pussy, each word dripping with heat.

“I want you—now!” she moans, frustration mixing with need, her body writhing as she fights against the tension building inside her.

“But you already have me,” you tease, a smirk curling on your lips as you feel her shiver beneath your touch.

Jinx bites her lip, her frustration palpable. “Not enough,” she growls, her hips arching upward, seeking more contact. “You know what I want.”

You keep her waiting, savoring every tremble, every soft gasp that escapes her lips as you press wet kisses against her clit—enough to send waves of electricity down her body, but not enough to satisfy her completely.

“You love being right here, don’t you?” you murmur, the words a playful taunt as your hands tighten around her waist.

Her response is instant, a sharp intake of breath that turns into a moan. “Shut up and do something already,” she hisses, her body writhing beneath you, desperate for more.

“Patience,” you tease, your lips brushing against her clit, watching her reaction. “I thought you liked a little chaos.”

Jinx glares down at you, eyes dark with need, but there’s a grin tugging at her lips. “Yeah, well, I didn’t think you’d be such a tease about it.”

You meet her gaze, feeling that spark of defiance in her stare, and smirk as you finally give in to her demand

With a smirk, you finally close the distance, your lips and tongue moving in sync as you flick against her sensitive clit. The moment your mouth makes full contact, Jinx’s head falls back, a low, guttural moan escaping her lips. Her hands fly to your hair, gripping tight as her body arches toward you in desperate need.

“That’s more like it,” she breathes, her voice shaky with satisfaction, though there’s still that underlying bratty tone.

Without missing a beat, you slide your hand up her thigh, teasing her slick entrance with your fingers before slowly thrusting two of them inside her. The sensation makes Jinx gasp, her hips bucking up toward you as her body tightens around your fingers. You curl them inside her, hitting just the right spot while your tongue continues its relentless work against her clit.

Jinx’s moans grow louder, her legs trembling as the pleasure overwhelms her. “Fuck… yes, don’t stop!” Her voice is raw, full of need, her bratty attitude wavering as her body gives in to your control.

You smirk against her skin, pumping your fingers in and out of her in time with the swirling motions of your tongue. The combination drives her wild—her hips start moving of their own accord, riding your hand as the heat between you grows unbearable. You can feel her tightening around your fingers, her walls clenching as you thrust deeper, harder.

“Oh, God…” she gasps, her voice tight, the heat building to a fever pitch. Her back arches off the workbench, her legs tightening around you, pulling you in as if desperate to keep you right there.

But you’re still in control. You slow your pace, just enough to keep her teetering on the edge, never letting her fully fall over. “Not yet, Jinx,” you tease, pulling your lips away just enough to see the frustration on her face.

“Don’t stop!” she practically growls, her fingers digging into your scalp as she tries to grind her hips against your hand, desperate for more.

You meet her eyes, watching the defiance and desire flicker across her face. “Beg for it,” you demand, your voice low and full of authority as your fingers press deeper inside her.

She glares at you, the bratty fire still alive in her eyes. “not a chance.”

You slow your pace even more, torturing her with the deliberate movements of your fingers and the teasing flick of your tongue just out of reach of her clit. “Then I guess you don’t want to come,” you murmur.

Her hips twitch toward you, her frustration palpable. “Fine, please—just don’t stop, pretty please.” The words slip out, soft and desperate, and it sends a thrill through you.

Satisfied with her submission, you dive back in, thrusting your fingers faster and sucking on her clit with renewed intensity. Jinx’s whole body responds instantly—her moans grow louder, her legs quivering as you push her closer and closer to the edge.

“I’m close,” she pants, her voice trembling as she clutches at your hair, holding on as if her life depends on it.

With one final, well-placed thrust of your fingers and a flick of your tongue, you send her spiraling into release. Jinx cries out, her body convulsing as waves of pleasure crash through her. Her hips jerk against your hand as she comes undone, completely lost in the overwhelming sensation.

You ride out her orgasm, continuing to pump your fingers inside her until her body finally relaxes, collapsing back against the workbench in exhausted bliss.

You slowly withdraw your fingers, your lips glistening as you pull back and meet her gaze, a satisfied smirk on your face. “Told you I’d make you beg,” you tease.

Jinx rolls her eyes, a lazy smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, yeah… you win this time,” she breathes, still catching her breath.

Jinx’s body is still trembling from her release, her breath coming in heavy pants as you pull back. But you’re far from done. With a playful glint in your eyes, you slide her off the workbench just enough so that her front presses flat against it, her legs hanging off the edge. She barely has time to catch her breath before you’re behind her again, positioning her just the way you want.

“Oh, you think you’re in control now?” she teases, glancing back over her shoulder with a smirk, though her body betrays her eagerness, pressing back toward you. Her brattiness is still there, but the desperation hasn’t left her voice.

You don’t say a word as you adjust the strap-on you took out of one of her drawer, securing it tightly around your waist. The sight of her sprawled out on the workbench, completely at your mercy, only ignites the fire burning in your chest. You grab her hips firmly, pulling her back slightly so that her legs dangle just off the edge, leaving her completely exposed to you.

Jinx gasps at the sensation, her fingers curling into the wood of the workbench for support. “Fuck… you're not playing around, are you?”

You lean over her, your breath hot against her ear. “You wanted more, didn’t you?” you whisper, your voice laced with dominance. “So that’s exactly what you’re going to get.”

Before she can respond, you tease her entrance with the tip of the strap-on, rubbing it against her slickness. The anticipation is almost too much for her—her body jerks in response, a desperate moan escaping her lips.

“Please,” she whispers, all traces of her defiance starting to slip away as her hips push back toward you.

“Thought you weren’t begging” you taunt, smirking as you press in just enough to make her body tremble with need.

Her response is breathless, a mix of frustration and desire. “Just shut up and fuck me.”

Without any further teasing, you thrust into her, filling her completely in one smooth motion. Jinx cries out, her hands gripping the edge of the workbench as her body adjusts to the sensation. Her legs tremble, barely able to hold her up, but you’re holding her in place, controlling every inch of her.

“Fuck!” she moans, her voice raw with pleasure as you begin to move, your hips rocking into her with a steady rhythm. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, mixing with her gasps and moans as you pick up the pace, each thrust driving her closer to the edge once again.

“You like this, don’t you?” you growl, leaning over her as your hand slides up her back, pressing her further into the workbench. “You love being like this—completely mine.”

Jinx’s only response is a loud moan, her hips grinding back against you with desperate need. She’s losing herself in the sensation, every thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body.

You keep the relentless pace, one hand gripping her waist while the other snakes around to press against her clit. The moment your fingers touch her, Jinx lets out a sharp cry, her whole body trembling.

“I’m gonna—fuck—do it, don’t stop!” she gasps, her words barely coherent as she teeters on the edge of another orgasm.

You don’t slow down, your thrusts growing more powerful as your fingers work her clit in time with your movements. The tension builds in her body, and you can feel her walls tightening around the strap-on as her release approaches.

“Come for me,” you command, your voice firm but full of heat.

With one final thrust, you push her over the edge. Jinx’s body seizes beneath you, her cries echoing through the room as she comes hard, her entire form shaking with the intensity of her orgasm. You hold her steady, guiding her through the waves of pleasure until she’s finally spent, her body limp and trembling in your arms.

You slowly pull out, watching her collapse against the workbench, completely breathless and sated. A satisfied smirk tugs at your lips as you run a hand through her blue hair, brushing it off her sweaty forehead. the strap on already on the floor.

“Still think you’re in charge?” you tease, your voice soft but teasing as you press a kiss to her shoulder.

Jinx laughs weakly, her body still trembling with aftershocks. “You’ll pay for that… later,” she mutters, but there’s no real threat in her voice—just the familiar, playful defiance that you’ve grown to love.

“Looking forward to it,” you reply grinning as you help her up,the two of you basking in the aftermath of the chaos you’ve just created together.

As the haze of pleasure starts to settle, you gently pull Jinx upright from where she had slumped over the workbench, her body still trembling slightly. Her usual wild energy seems softer now, her breaths ragged but slowly calming. You wrap an arm around her waist, guiding her back to her feet, holding her close.

"Easy now," you whisper, brushing your lips against her temple as you help her regain her balance. She leans into you, her body still weak from the intensity of everything.

She’s always so brash, always ready to dive into chaos, but moments like this… they remind you of the softer side she rarely shows anyone else. The part of her that lets her walls down, if only for a few moments.

You guide her carefully toward a small couch nearby, and she flops down with a heavy sigh, her eyes half-lidded in exhaustion. You kneel in front of her, placing soft kisses on her knees before trailing your hands up her thighs, giving her a reassuring squeeze. She gives you a lazy, appreciative smile.

"You okay?" you ask softly, pushing strands of her hair away from her face.

She nods, but there’s a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes. “Yeah… that was just... intense,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

You smile softly, leaning forward to press a tender kiss to her forehead. “You did so good,” you murmur against her skin, your words soft and sincere.

Jinx lets out a small chuckle, her usual bravado creeping back in. “Pfft… you’re the one who can’t get enough of me.”

You laugh, but you don’t argue. Instead, you grab a blanket draped over a nearby chair and wrap it around her shoulders, pulling her close to you again. “Come here,” you say, sitting down next to her, cradling her in your arms.

She curls into you, her head resting against your chest as you gently stroke her hair, fingers combing through the blue strands. The rhythmic motion seems to calm her, her breathing growing steady as she relaxes fully into your embrace.

“I like this part,” she mumbles, her voice sleepy now, but there’s a warmth in her tone.

“Yeah?” you ask, smiling down at her as you continue to run your fingers through her hair. “You like being taken care of?”

She makes a noncommittal sound, but her grip tightens on your shirt as she snuggles closer. “Just... don’t tell anyone, okay? I’ve got a reputation to keep.”

You chuckle, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Your secret’s safe with me, Jinx.”

For a while, you just sit there together, the silence comfortable and filled with a sense of peace. The wildness from earlier has melted away, replaced with this soft, intimate moment. You can feel the rise and fall of her chest against yours, her breath warm against your skin. It’s moments like these that make the chaos worth it—the quiet after the storm, where it’s just you and her.

After a few minutes, you shift slightly, reaching for a nearby water bottle and handing it to her. “Here, drink this,” you say softly.

Jinx takes it with a grateful smile, sipping slowly. “You’re such a softie,” she teases, but there’s no bite in her words.

“Only for you,” you reply with a wink, and she rolls her eyes, though you can see the faint blush on her cheeks.

Once she’s finished the water, you gently wipe the sweat from her forehead with the edge of the blanket, your touch soft and caring. Her eyes flutter shut for a moment, savoring the gentle attention you’re giving her.

“Feeling better?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper as you lean in to kiss her temple again.

She nods, her lips curving into a small smile. “Yeah… thanks,” she says softly, the usual bravado in her voice replaced by something more genuine, more tender.

You both stay like that for a while longer, wrapped up in each other. The world outside can wait. For now, it’s just you and her, sharing this quiet, intimate moment in the aftermath of all the chaos.

#jinx arcane #jinx x reader #jinx x y/n #arcane jinx #jinx/you #jinx x fem!reader #jinx posting #jinx league of legends #jinx smut #bratty jinx #jinx lol

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roseykat · 1 year ago

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KINKTOBER DAY 12

TITLE: Like Throwing Petrol on a Fire

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won't be able to regulate every single interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work and page whatsoever.

SUMMARY: Hyunjin can't get either his or your clothes off in time for him to fuck you. Unfortunately, he has to resort to and put up with another method.

TAGS: pre-established relationship, dry humping, swearing, poor Hyunjin can’t help himself (also both reader and Hyunjin are mentioned to be at the club but there is no alcohol involved with this story)

KINK: Dry humping.

KINKTOBER23 - MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @kbitties @luneskies @mal-lunar-28 @kibs-and-bits @aaasia111 @fairy-lixie @dreamingaboutjisung @queenmea604

🩷🩷🩷

It was meant to be a good night out for you and Hyunjin, which it was to begin with. You, him, and a group of friends all collectively decided to go clubbing together for the first time in a while. However, later in the night, Hyunjin would find himself in a predicament that he never would've been able to climb his way out of.

What started off as innocently taking you to the dance floor, turned out to be the worst decision he had ever made.

Had you not been pressing your ass against his hips for the entirety of the night, Hyunjin wouldn’t be where he is now; sexually frustrated and pissed off because you were teasing him in public. The fact that you knew and felt that he was getting hard, yet continued to grind on him was enough for Hyunjin to take you by the wrist, and pull you with him to the bathroom.

Sneaky, public, bathroom sex would’ve been ideal for you both at the club – had it not already been full to the brim with other occupants already going at each other. It was either that or go home, and Hyunjin is not one to muck around when he’s horny.

He gets desperate, almost borderline agitated when he’s in the mood because he can’t fuck you.

Seeing him like that always makes you want to tease him, but you know better. Teasing him means pure punishment for you and Hyunjin has a very creative mind so you always tread carefully around him when he’s in that state. He could deprive you of his body for an entire week or fuck you every day if he wanted. He’s just full of surprises.

But now and then, Hyunjin becomes so needy that punishments and rewards don’t even cross his mind. That instance just so happened to occur at the club.

Having been so frustrated with not being able to find a decent place to fuck you, the pair of you needed to go home. Alleyways and narrow streets weren’t going to cut it for him, not when there were too many people loitering around.

So Hyunjin led you back to his car, jumping in and nearly racing off. To make matters worse for him, you decide to test him by palming over his already hard cock. He couldn’t bear the strain he felt against his pants regardless of the small easements of pressure you were giving him as he drove you both back home.

His head presses back into his chair, trying with every ounce of strength to keep his eyes on the road, “baby, why can’t you wait until we get home?”

“Because I need you now Jinnie,” you mutter, taking advantage of the state that he’s in.

Hyunjin does his best to ignore your answer as he turns the last corner onto the street of the house. He eventually slows down and pulls into the driveway to park. As he gets out, he’s thankful that it’s pitch black and everyone in the neighbourhood is asleep, otherwise they would’ve easily seen how hard is.

“Keys,” you say to him.

Hyunjin is already on it, barely saying anything as he pulls the house key out of his pocket with a shaky hand and unlocks the front door. The second it’s open, it’s Hyunjin’s game now.

He pulls you in by the wrist, slamming the door, and backs you right against the entryway table with such force that it dents the wall behind it. There’s no making it to the room, let alone the lounge at this rate.

Hyunjin helps lift you onto the surface of the table, hoisting your legs up just to push and spread them for him to slide in between. Even just feeling the heat in between your thighs is enough to give him some relief, but not the kind that he's craving.

“I need you…so bad baby,” he groans, pressing his hard, clothed cock into your pussy.

The friction for you is incredible against your clit, but you do feel for Hyunjin who can’t do much when he’s in formal black slacks. All the while one of Hyunjin’s arms wraps around your lower back so that he can grope the other side of your body while the other hooks around and digs into your thigh.

“Yeah?” You ask, allowing him to continue to fake fuck you while his face is buried in your neck. He can’t even think straight enough to try to take his pants off.

Hyunjin groans, his voice raspy yet hurried, “fuck, I-“

“You know I’m ready for you, so wet for you Jinnie,” you egg him on even further. “Just want you to fuck me.”

His moans are exasperated and breathy, he always sounds beautiful to you when he’s like this, “I can’t – fuck I’m gonna cum…”

You’re not surprised given that you’ve technically been teasing him for the past hour now. So now all you can do is sympathise and let him do what he needs to.

“It’s okay,” you assure him, breathing just as fast as he is. “Just cum for me.”

Hyunjin’s hips stagger out of their pace, continuing to thrust his dick repeatedly until he has to bite down on your shoulder to suppress the loud moans that are straining out of his throat. Not even a few seconds later, Hyunjin is rocked with an orgasm that has him gripping tightly onto your body, nails digging into you.

The pace of his thrusts slows down after his breathing reaches its peak height. Hyunjin has forgotten what it felt like to not cum inside you for once. It reminds him of the time when you first got together and were scared to take each other's virginities so only dry humping really made the cut. It still feels good, but not as nearly as glorious as busting a warm load inside of you.

"Fuck," Hyunjin sighs.

"Feel better?" You ask, carding your hand through the back of his black hair.

He looks down in between your legs, seeing the hairline-like, sticky strings of cum that connect from his clothed dick to your damp underwear. Hyunjin can barely tell if it's from him, or if that's just because you're wet. Maybe it's both. Either way, he finds it hot.

"You drive me crazy you know that?" Hyunjin says to you, leaning back in to snuggle his face into your neck once more. “Now I have to get hard again to fuck you.”

#rosiewritesskz #stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know smut #bang chan smut #han jisung smut #hyunjin smut #changbin smut #felix smut #i.n smut #hyunjin x reader

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kamotecue · 9 months ago

Note

imagine a KCC fic where they are trying to hide their relationship from the media but the fans are catching them doing everything (like walks together, going on holidays Mcfoord type shit) and they’re just debating wether to co form it or tease the fans

secret's out ✮ k. cooney-cross

pairing: kyra cooney-cross x fem!reader

a soft hum escaped your lips as the australian wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you closer to her as she softly chuckled against your skin. she leaned against you, hiding her head in the crook of your neck as you softly smiled at her actions. it wasn't easy being a long distance couple, you both represented the australian team - you as a striker, and her as a midfielder, completing each other perfectly as you both had a few plays. the midfielder plays in the women's super league, playing for arsenal, the team you had supported since childhood while you play in the french league, alongside ellie carpenter, a national and club teammate of yours.

"i missed you" kyra's voice was softer than usual as you chuckled at her, before placing a lovely kiss on the crown of her head. "missed you too, sugar."

"we have a few more hours before the team dinner, is there anything you'd like to do?" you asked, as the midfielder stepped back to properly look at you, her eyebrows furrowed as you patiently waited to know that she was thinking of things to do. you noticed how she grabbed your hand softly swinging it, as she hummed and that's when you knew she had already decided on something.

"how about the arcade, and then let's settle for ice cream." you raised your eyebrows, ice cream before dinner - wouldn't that ruin the appetite. but you gave her a nod, giving her a small grin as she led you away from the hotel and onto the streets. the arcade was only a walk from the hotel, as you had your camera in hand - clearly taking photos of the day, as the two of you had been soft launching your relationship. the fans have noticed it, and certainly your national teammates have too, but they've always thought that the pair of you two were just best friends.

"ha! you lose." kyra shouted, as you chuckled at the loudness of her voice. subtly glancing to see if anyone had heard, and they did - but they had averted their eyes as you softly shook your head at your lover who snickered at your screen. you were always competitive, the both of you were - but if there was a game that you unfortunately suck at would be the car racing games.

"you always choose this game to break the tie" as you walked forwards, kyra instantly grabbing your right hand - interlocking your fingers together as you walked side by side, leaving the arcade and searching for an ice cream shop. you were scrolling through instagram, taking a peak at the photos you both posted on your individual stories, sooner or later there was bound to be a tiktok edit about it.

"thinking about the hard launch soon, love?" kyra asked, as she peaked at your phone - passing it to her as she hummed, stopping on a photo. it was a picture of your silhouette. "i like this one"

"because it's the one you took right? but yeah, i find it amusing - we're pulling a mcfoord move." you joked, making her laugh - but it's true, the irish and your fellow national teammate have been soft launching their relationship.

the two of you continued to talk about life, simply catching up as there were a few stories you never told her - just like there were stories she didn't tell you. as the two of you walked to the resturant where the team dinner was held, you watched as she went through the photos you took, quickly picking a few as she showed you.

"let's hard launch these." kyra said, as you came to a stop, flipping through the photos. the first one she chose was a mirror picture of you two, you were the one in front as kyra was the one in the back - you both made a heart shape with one hand.

the rest were simply photos that you two were being carefree, dancing when the sun was close to setting, or her sticking her hand out in the air as you rode the bide safely making sure that you both wouldn't fall - it would be collateral.

when she jumped you on the bed, as you had finally said yes to be her girlfriend - it was after camp had ended. your mother wanted to meet kyra, a simple dinner and when that dinner was over - you brought her to your room - the pictures you had hanged was something she loved.

and lastly, her personal favorite - her hand on top of yours. it's something she loved, she wore your ring in the picture, like she always does.

safe to say, as the mini collage hit the internet, you did get teased by the veteran players of the team. charli was the one teasing kyra the most, as you softly enjoyed it.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

y/nl/n: i guess it was never a secret, was it?

tagged kyracooneyx

liked by katie_mccabe11, kyraandy/nfan, alessiarusso99, and 572,325 others.

comments disabled.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #arsenal wfc imagine #matildas x reader #auswnt x reader #kyra cooney cross #kyra cooney cross imagine #kyra cooney cross x reader

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shokosmokes · 30 days ago

Text

incubus

sukuna x reader

in which reader decides to play with a ouija board and accidentally summons an incubus sukuna (oopsies)

ヾ(๑╹◡╹)ﾉ" -ive never written for sukuna before but this idea scratched an itch in my brain lol

—————————————————

TAGS: semi monster fucking ig?, kinktober, a little spooky, not proof read, honestly no idea how to tag this lol, smut, mdni (duh)

The house is quiet now. The last of the trick-or-treaters have come and gone, and you’re left alone with the faint smell of candy in the air and the dim flicker of Halloween decorations still glowing outside. You sink into the couch, staring out the window at the dark, empty street. A restless feeling tugs at you. There’s something about Halloween night that always makes you feel like you should be doing something… spooky.

Your eyes wander to the closet. You’ve been holding onto it for a while now—a Ouija board, something you found years ago at a thrift shop, tucked away in the back corner, half forgotten. You’ve always been curious about it. A little thrill dances up your spine as you think about it. Why not? It’s Halloween night, after all.

The floor creaks under your feet as you cross the room. You retrieve the board from its dusty resting place, hesitating for just a moment. The planchette rattles as you set it down on the table, the dim light from the jack-o-lanterns casting eerie shadows across the room. You sit cross-legged on the floor, fingers gently resting on the planchette, feeling the cold, smooth surface beneath your fingertips.

The silence in the room thickens. You take a deep breath, the tension in the air palpable, and whisper the words you’ve only seen in movies.

“Is anyone here?”

For a moment, there’s nothing but stillness. The candles flicker slightly, but maybe it’s just your imagination. Then—just the faintest shift—the planchette begins to move, ever so slowly.

Your breath catches. It’s not you. At least… you don’t think it’s you. Your fingers tremble slightly as the planchette glides to a letter.

It hovers over Y.

A chill washes over you as your heart beats faster. You swallow hard, eyes fixed on the board.

“What do you want?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

The planchette moves again, slow and deliberate, spelling out something you never expected…

The planchette drifts slowly, deliberately, until it stops over the letter Y. You freeze, eyes wide, your pulse thudding in your ears. Your fingers, still trembling, stay glued to the board. You barely breathe as the planchette moves again, sliding to O, and then, with an agonizing pause, it settles on U.

You.

A cold sweat forms on your brow as the weight of the word sinks in. Your heart pounds harder, the air in the room suddenly feeling thick and oppressive. The candles flicker wildly now, casting frantic, dancing shadows across the walls, and for a moment, you swear one of them moves in a way it shouldn’t.

You pull your hands away from the board, almost too afraid to let go, but you have to. Your breathing comes in shallow, rapid bursts as you stare at the word, the letters glaring up at you like a warning. Your brain scrambles for logic, for an explanation, but the eerie stillness of the room has shifted. There’s a presence here now—something watching, something waiting.

You. It feels like a threat. Like a demand.

Suddenly, the soft creaking of a floorboard behind you breaks the silence. Your heart lurches in your chest as you whip your head around, eyes wide, searching the shadows.

There’s nothing there.

But you can’t shake the feeling that something… or someone… is in the room with you. Watching.

Your eyes dart nervously around the room, heart pounding in your chest. The silence has weight now, pressing down on you, and you swear you can feel eyes watching you from the shadows. You glance at the Ouija board, wondering if you should have never touched it. Maybe it was just a prank of the mind, you try to reassure yourself. Maybe…

But before you can finish the thought, the temperature drops. The air around you turns icy cold, and the candles flicker violently, threatening to go out. Your breath hitches, a mist forming as you exhale. You freeze as a soft, mocking chuckle echoes through the room, sending a chill straight down your spine. The voice is deep, dark, and eerily familiar, like a whisper in the back of your mind that you’ve always ignored.

“I see you’ve been calling for me,” the voice teases, low and dangerous.

You turn slowly, dread curling in your stomach, and you see him. His presence is undeniable, taking up the entire space with an overwhelming, predatory energy. His figure materializes out of the shadows, towering over you with ease, broad shoulders relaxed like he’s amused by your fear. His hair is wild, his skin pale, and those unmistakable red markings that trace his body gleam faintly in the dim light. His eyes—piercing and wickedly sharp—lock onto yours, a twisted grin stretching across his face.

The sharp edges of his grin soften slightly, but it only makes him look more sinister. His gaze trails over you, lingering in a way that makes your heart race for reasons you’re not sure you want to understand.

“You didn’t think you could play with something like that,” he nods toward the Ouija board, “without consequences, did you?”

You swallow hard, backing up instinctively as he steps closer, his presence magnetic, inescapable. He’s no ordinary spirit. There’s a sensuality in the way he moves, in the way his voice curls around you like a forbidden promise. It’s as if he can sense every thought you’re trying to hide, every shiver that courses through you.

“Humans,” Sukuna drawls, his voice laced with amusement, “so desperate to dabble in things they don’t understand. But you…” His grin widens, showing the barest hint of fangs. “You caught my attention.”

Your breath hitches as he closes the distance between you, his tall frame towering over yours. His eyes, dark and dangerous, seem to glow in the flickering candlelight, and for a moment, you’re frozen in place. His hand comes up to gently tilt your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. His touch is cool, but there’s a heat to it, too—a tingling, electric sensation that shoots through your body.

“You called,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing your skin, “and now I’m here. What should I do with you, I wonder?”

Your pulse quickens as you try to find your voice, your mind racing, but the words are stuck in your throat. There’s something intoxicating about him, as if he’s drawing you in, coaxing you to let go of the fear and give in to something darker. Something dangerous.

Sukuna’s gaze flickers over your face, and his grin turns feral, the sharpness in his eyes growing more intense. “I can feel it, you know.” His voice drops lower, seductive, almost a purr. “That little thrill of fear. The excitement beneath it.” He leans in closer, his lips near your ear. “Tell me… are you afraid of me?”

Your heart pounds louder, and you can’t tell if the answer is yes… or no.

Your heart races, but it’s not just fear that pulses through your veins—it’s something deeper, something you can’t quite understand. The air between you and Sukuna feels charged, magnetic, pulling you closer despite every instinct screaming that you should run. But your feet stay rooted to the floor, and your body, traitorous as it is, leans into the energy radiating from him.

It’s as if your mind has slipped out of your control, like invisible strings pulling your thoughts toward him. You try to make sense of it, to shake off the strange compulsion, but it clings to you, wraps around your chest, squeezing tighter with each passing second. His voice, that low, dangerous purr, echoes in your mind, clouding your thoughts.

“You’re confused,” he says, his lips curving into a knowing smile as his eyes gleam with dark amusement. “I can see it. Feel it.”

You want to pull away from his touch, but at the same time, something in you craves the warmth of his hand still resting under your chin, the coolness of his fingers brushing against your skin. Your mind screams at you to resist, to think clearly, but it’s like being caught in a riptide, dragged deeper into his influence with every glance, every word he speaks.

“What… what are you doing to me?” you manage to whisper, your voice barely audible, almost a plea.

Sukuna chuckles softly, a low sound that vibrates through the room and straight into your chest. He tilts his head, his expression one of amusement and curiosity, as if watching a mouse realize it’s been caught in a trap. “Doing to you?” He smirks, his thumb brushing the edge of your jaw lightly, sending another shiver down your spine. “This is all you, darling.”

You blink, trying to make sense of his words, but the way he says it makes your thoughts swirl even more. This is me? Your knees feel weak, and there’s a strange heat pooling in your chest, spreading slowly through your limbs like you’re melting under his gaze. But it doesn’t feel like something you can control. It’s as if he’s inside your head, pulling strings you didn’t know existed, coaxing feelings out of you that you can’t suppress.

“I don’t understand,” you breathe, shaking your head slightly, though even that movement feels sluggish, like you’re moving through water.

Sukuna’s grin widens, a dangerous gleam in his eyes as he leans in, his breath warm against your skin. “Oh, you don’t need to understand,” he whispers, his voice dark and soothing, like a lullaby you can’t help but fall into. “You just need to give in. It’s simpler that way, isn’t it?”

There’s a tug in your chest at his words, an uncontrollable urge to surrender, to let go of the confusion, the fear, and let him guide you wherever he wants. You hate that you want it, but you do—something in you aches for it, for him. Your body betrays you, leaning closer, as if seeking his touch without your permission.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear, sending a shudder down your spine. “That pull? It’s what happens when you summon a demon, little one. Your soul already knows its place. You belong to me.”

Your mind reels, but it’s harder and harder to fight the fog that’s wrapped itself around your thoughts. It’s like he’s taking over, seeping into the cracks of your mind, his presence filling every corner, leaving you with nothing but the overwhelming need to be closer to him.

“Why… why can’t I resist?” you whisper, your voice shaking, as your body moves of its own accord, leaning into him.

Sukuna’s grin is all sharp edges, dangerous and wicked, and his hand slides from your chin down to your throat, his fingers curling lightly around your neck. He doesn’t squeeze, but the gesture makes you feel even more helpless, completely at his mercy. “Because,” he says softly, “you don’t want to resist.”

His words sink into you like a slow poison, and the worst part is, some part of you knows he’s right.

ukuna’s hand lingers at your throat, his fingers light but commanding, as if he’s testing how much you’ll allow, how much you’ll bend to his will. His eyes—sharp, predatory—glint with amusement as he watches you struggle with your emotions, torn between resisting him and the unexplainable pull that keeps dragging you closer. He leans in, so close now that you can feel the heat of his breath on your lips, the electricity of his presence crackling in the air.

Your heart is hammering in your chest, a wild mix of fear and something darker, something you can’t name. You feel it before it happens, the moment his lips brush yours—a sudden jolt, like a spark that sets your nerves alight. The kiss is soft at first, deceptively gentle, but beneath it lies a hunger, a dark intensity that pulls you in deeper.

For a heartbeat, you’re lost in the sensation, drowning in it. But then—something changes.

The moment his lips press fully against yours, a wave of weakness crashes through your body. It’s subtle at first, a lightness in your head, a tremble in your limbs. But then it intensifies. Your knees buckle as a cold, draining sensation floods through you, and you feel the warmth—the very life—being pulled from your body. It’s like he’s siphoning your energy, drawing it out of you with every second their lips are connected.

You try to pull back, but your body feels heavy, sluggish, as if all your strength is leaking away into him. His grip tightens slightly around your throat, holding you in place as your breath falters, the weakness spreading like ice through your veins. Panic surges in your chest, but even that feels muted, distant, as if you’re slowly slipping away from yourself.

Sukuna’s lips curve into a smirk against yours, and when he finally pulls back, you collapse against him, gasping for breath. His hand slides down to your waist, holding you upright with ease, his gaze burning into yours with a dark, satisfied glint. “Ah,” he murmurs, his voice silky, teasing, “feeling weak, are we?”

Your legs tremble beneath you, barely able to hold your own weight as the dizziness washes over you, leaving you lightheaded and weak. It’s like he’s drained something vital from you, something you didn’t even realize you had to lose.

“What… did you do?” you manage to whisper, your voice barely audible, breathless. Your body feels like it’s fading, a shadow of its former self.

Sukuna chuckles, a deep, rich sound that vibrates through the room. He brushes a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch almost tender, though his eyes gleam with wicked satisfaction. “You gave me a taste,” he says, his thumb grazing your bottom lip, his voice laced with amusement. “A small part of you… belongs to me now.”

You shudder at his words, feeling the weight of them sink in. Whatever he’s taken from you, it wasn’t just physical. It’s deeper, more profound, as if he’s carved out a piece of your very essence and claimed it for himself. The realization sends a wave of fear through you, but at the same time, you can’t shake the lingering, horrible thrill of being bound to something so dark, so powerful.

“You’ll be fine,” Sukuna says, his tone almost mocking as he watches you struggle to catch your breath. “For now.”

Your knees nearly give out again, but he catches you effortlessly, pulling you close to him. His lips brush your ear as he whispers, “You can handle more can’t you?” His breath sends a shiver down your spine.

All common sense flying from your grasp as your body, your mind are feeding into him. Like you’re absolutely mesmerized by the proximity of him, craving, itching for more.

His eyes take in your dazed look, reveling in your limp form. The sight of his sharp eyes drinking you in forces a breathy involuntary moan past your lips.

“More…”

With that his eyes darken, his long fingers wrapping around the form of your jaw possessively, gripping you against him. His eyes flash a fire of lust, racking your dazed expression. The heat of him alone causes you to whimper.

A low deep rich chuckle vibrates from his chest. “So pliant, practically putty in my hands and I haven’t even had my way with you yet.” His hot breath fans across your sensitive skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. His nose trailing up your neck, almost savoring your scent before you feel the sink of his teeth nipping at the responsive flesh.

Your mind spirals with bewildering desire at the feel of his tongue trailing over the bruised complexion of your neck. His hands find their way beneath the fabric of your top, digging, dragging his sharp nails across the skin of your back causing you to yelp in a mix of pain and pleasure.

His eyes glint with amusement as he watches you squirm. His calloused hands trail down the mounds of your hips, swiftly lifting you, holding you against his form.

His voice a low growl, he murmurs against the shell of your ear. "You wanted a taste, didn't you? Well, here it is..." His arms tighten around you possessively, as he continues to mark you with his touch. "You're so warm... so alive..."

His fingers trail up the soft flesh of your exposed thigh, dipping under your skirt his long nails hook under the fabric of your panties. With a sharp pull the fabric snaps, ripping them.

He lets out a feral chuckle at the feel of your arousal dripping down your thighs, his breath hot against your skin as he looks at the torn fabric. "Such a delicate little thing, aren't you?"

He inhales deeply, smelling your arousal. "You're so ready for me..." He growls possessively, his voice laced with dominance. "Wrap your legs around my waist..." He commands, his voice broking no room for argument. "And hold on tight..."

Your body as if not under your own will instinctively snakes yourself around his form. His grip on you almost painful as in one swift motion one of his hands trail down to pull at the hem of his pants, his length springing free, slapping hard against his toned torso.

He grips your ass with both hands, spreading you open as he lines himself up with your entrance. "Look at me..." He demands, his golden eyes filled with a primal intensity. "I want you to relish in the sight of who's claiming you..."

You look to him with wide eyes sparked with fear but he doesn’t miss the gloss of lust clouding them. He drinks in the sight of your expression, the way your face twists in pain when he plunges into you with a feral pace without warning.

He grunts with each powerful thrust, his hips slamming against yours. "That's it, take it all..." He growls, his claws digging into your soft flesh as he holds you in place. "Your tight little hole feels so good stretched around my cock..."

The stretch of it, the apathetic quilt of his thick length bruising your cervix sends a screech pervading your throat. The sound of it a dulcet melody to his ears.

As painful as it is, as petrifying of the circumstance, as blood curdling screams pass your lips your body seems to further betray you as arousal drips down his thighs.

His pace quickens, his thrusts becoming shallower and faster, bouncing you on his length. "Oh, you like this, don't you?" He grins, his fangs glinting in the dim light.

He leans down and sinks his teeth into your shoulder, muffling his primal growls as he continues to bounce you on his lap. The pain only heightens your pleasure, your fingers clawing at his back as your body convulses with each wave of sensation. “Give it to me, give into me…”

“So close…”

He snarls against your skin, his thrusts becoming erratic as he nears his own peak. "Beg for it then..." He demands, his voice strained with barely contained lust. "Beg me to fill you up with my seed..."

A string of light, airy pleads escape you.

“God… please…”

It’s too much, too fast, and yet, you crave it, letting it consume you, surrendering to the dizzying rush. The edges of your body blur, boundaries dissolving as you feel yourself drifting, weightless, pulled into a space where sensation is everything and nothing all at once.

You feel his thickness twitch, spurting your walls with thick warm load. Each breath is shallow, hitched, and trembling as the warmth digs deeper, until even the air feels thick, charged, laced with this pleasure that saturates every corner of your being. He’s pumping into you deep, like he doesn’t want a single drop to spill.

With his nails digging into the flesh of your hips it only takes a few more languish bounces on his cock for you to gush your essence all onto his toned torso. He eyes you with a shit eating grin. The way your face contorts in pleasure, the sounds of your overstimulated cries, the way your juices shine on his skin, draws a deep velvety chuckle that vibrates through his chest.

Curse marks, ones that match his, bloom from the skin encasing your womb. Your eyes widen with a gasp escaping you, when your high finally dissolves and reality hits you. But it’s all too late as your body drains. It’s as if your life source is being siphoned out of you.

The sensation begins as a slow, velvet tug, like he’s pulling on the very essence of you. It’s dizzying, and a strange tingling warmth spreads through you, sinking low, anchoring you in place. You feel a languid heaviness, limbs sinking, body growing weak. A strange, hollow ache starts in your chest, a deep, insatiable yearning that grows. His touch harsh, possessive, like he’s claiming something more than just your body.

Your breaths grow shallow, each exhale coming out softer, weaker, as though he’s taking pieces of you with every breath. Your heart flutters, then slows, each beat feeling more distant, as though it’s echoing from far away. A shiver rolls down your spine, leaving you both cold and somehow intensely warm at the same time.

The warmth leaves slowly, like a candle fading out, and a chill begins to creep in. Your body feels light, empty, almost weightless, as if parts of you are drifting away. He watches you with a faint smile, a knowing, dark glint in his eyes that promises he won’t take everything. But you can feel the darkness now, slipping in where your strength used to be, filling the space he leaves hollow. And as you slip, deeper and deeper, you can’t help but wonder what he’ll leave behind when he finally lets you go.

—————————————————

(*^▽^*) -oh and happy halloween btw

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somanyratsinthewalls · 5 months ago

Note

congrats on the 700! i love your work 🫶🏼🫶🏼 can i suggest a blue rooster 👀 maybe drunk/nightclub ish themed tyyyy

THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING and man the Sanji girls SHOWED UP for this prompt game! And I am sooo not complaining... I love this man.

Pairing: Sanji x Fem!Reader

Prompt/Trope: Drunk/High Sex

WC: 2700 oops

Warnings: DRINKING AND INTOXICATION if this bothers you please don’t read! I know how consent works but these are two adults having a nice time it’s fine here I promise. Stay safe out there in real life, tho! unprotected sex, creampies, blowjob, spitting, dirty talk, once again they're a lil drunk but it's cool.

Let's Dance (+18)

———

“I’m not going with Usopp, he whines the whole time!” You shout.

“Yeah well I don’t want to go with you OR Robin! I don’t want to go to a stupid book store!” Usopp spits back at you.

“I don’t care who I go with as long as it isn’t the ugly shitty cook. I’d hate to have to save both of us if we get attacked.” Zoro says casually.

“No problems there, asshole. I’d like to not get lost for once.” Sanji quips back as he holds his cigarette between his teeth.

“You guys, stop fighting! Let’s all go together!” Chopper looked distraught.

“We’re wanted criminals, Chopper. I don’t think the whole lot of us together would allow us to keep a low profile.” Robin states as she pats Chopper’s head.

“I don’t care who goes with me, I just want to go to that barbecue place we passed sailing in!” Luffy grins and you could have sworn saliva was pooling in the corners of his mouth.

None of you could decide on who you wanted to be paired up with the explore the island, and unfortunately your crew had a method for solving these kinds of disputes... and everyone hated it.

“ALRIGHT I’M GETTING THE STRAWS!” Nami, frustrated, calls out as she heads to her room to grab the dreaded bag of straws.

Groans echoed across the deck of the Sunny.

Nami returned and every one lined up, waiting to pick from the bag. Pairs would be assigned by who drew the same length straws.

“If I get paired with moss head I’m drowning myself before we even dock.” Sanji, lined up next to you, rolls his eyes and takes a drag of his cigarette.

“And if I have to go with Franky to the boring-ass lumber yard I’m going to hang myself from the top sail.” You sigh.

All the straws had been distributed and you look down at the one in your hand.

You hear an excited gasp from directly to your left.

Sanji was holding his straw up to yours, they matched.

“UGGGGHHHHH!!!” You groan and huff. You even make a show of stomping your feet and pouting. “I’m stuck with the pervert?!”

“Ha ha!” Zoro points at you across the circle and laughs.

“Shut up, moss balls!” You scowl.

“Y/n mon amour! How wonderful we get to spend the evening together!” Sanji’s eyes sparkled as he smiled down at you. You roll your eyes dramatically.

This was going to be a long night.

— — —

You had your arms crossed in annoyances as Sanji followed at your heels obediently while you walked through the town. The sun had gone down and it seemed like this village had quite the active nightlife.

“I know you aren’t keen on being paired up with me, my sweet, but I promise we can do anything you want, any shop, any restaurant, it’s on me!” Sanji gushed at you.

You see a seedy looking club with bright neon signs up ahead. You stop walking.

“Anything I want, huh?” You say without turning around.

“Of course, darling!”

“Let’s get drunk.” You smile a bit and cross the street towards the club.

“O-oh? Um… I mean, yes! Whatever you desire!” Sanji jogs after you.

Sanji ducks past you as you approach the club so he could hold the door open for you. You’re immediately met with thumping music and the smell of cigarettes and alcohol.

“See, you can smoke inside!” You say as you pass Sanji to enter the establishment.

“T-that’s nice… OH-“

Once the two of you entered and your eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, you realize that the cocktail waitresses were scantily dressed in mini skirts and bras. You sense that Sanji wasn’t by your side anymore. He was frozen in place. You storm up to him in a huff.

“If you ruin my night of partying because you need a fucking blood transfusion, I’ll make sure you never see another boob again! Not one!” You seethe up at him, poking a stern finger into his chest.

“Right! Okay! I’ll be fine, I promise!” Sanji straightens his tie after snapping out of his breast-induced stupor.

“Now shut up and buy me a drink.” You grab Sanji’s hand and pull him towards two seats at the bar.

Sanji pulls out the barstool for you and allows you to hop up whilst still holding his hand. You pull your hand back once comfortably seated and you feel a bit of a reluctant pull before Sanji releases you from his grasp. You shoot him a “don’t even think about it” kind of glare… one he had received from you many times before.

Sanji clears his throat before beckoning over the barkeep.

“A glass of cabernet, and a-?” Sanji looks at you and cocks a curly brow in question.

“Gin martini. Filthy.” You smile wickedly.

A few moments go by waiting for your drinks so you scope out the place. The club was so dark you had a hard time examining your surroundings. There was a dance floor, heavily packed with gyrating, sweaty people in a mess of hands and limbs. There were also booths scattered around the floor and almost each one was filled with a couple making out or at least engaged in some heavy petting.

“Wow this place is certainly something.” You whistle and turn your stool around to face the bar again. “I think those people at your 8 clock are actually humping.” You shake your head.

Sanji whips his head back to look and immediately turns back to the bar, eyes wide.

“God, I feel like I’m interrupting something.” Sanji’s cheeks blush pink.

The barkeep arrives with your drinks and Sanji pays him, with a hefty tip of course.

Sanji picks up his glass of wine and holds it out to you.

“Cheers to a lovely evening, with an even lovelier lady.”

You find yourself rolling your eyes again. You clink your martini against his drink.

You take several swigs of your drink and set it back down on the bar top. Sanji notices that it’s already over halfway finished.

“You’re not going to be a cheap date, are you?” You gives you a playful smirk.

“Not a chance.” You grin up at him before turning to flag down the bartender again.

— — —

“Okay okay okay, but like, if you HAD to cook a person.. what part are you cooking and how?” You say with a giggle with your umpteenth martini close to your lips.

“That’s absolutely vile, y/n! I would never do such a thing!” Sanji looks at you with wide eyes, a tipsy smile forming at the corners of his mouth.

“Okay but you HAVE to.” You press further.

There was a long pause.

“Well human flesh is the most similar to pork… so I guess I’d slow roast the rump with seasonal vegetables and red wine.” He eventually remarks.

You make eye contact and both immediately burst out laughing.

“Wow it’s incredible to know that the first thing you’d do after I die is eat my ass!” You laugh loudly.

“Sweetheart I’d eat your ass right now at this bar!” Sanji says with a grin.

You choke on your drink and push his shoulder playfully, calling him a pervert in the process. You finish your martini and set the empty glass back down on the bar top. You lift your pointer and middle fingers towards Sanji’s face and snip them together like scissors.

“You are drunk.” Sanji says as he passes you his cigarette.

“Na uh.” You tease as you take a long drag of the cigarette.

“You only ever ask me for a smoke when you’re drunk.” He smirks at you before taking the cigarette back from your slender, delicate fingers.

“How about asking you for a dance then?” You say as you hop down from your bar stool. You grab Sanji’s tie and gentle pull him along as you walk backwards towards the dance floor. Sanji snuffs out his cigarette and follows you with his mouth slightly agape. You lead him through the crowd of sweaty bodies and once you found enough space you pulled him close to you and put your hands around his neck. One of your hands threaded up through his blonde locks as he wrapped his hands around your waist.

The bass-heavy club music was thumping through your ears and the alcohol was flowing through your bloodstream. You couldn’t help but notice how nice it felt to be held by such strong hands as you gyrated your hips against Sanji’s slender ones.

Sanji leans his head down and presses his forehead against yours, you smile drunkenly.

“You look so fucking hot right now…” Sanji says at a volume just loud enough for you to hear him over the thrum of the music.

With your inhibitions completely gone, you kissed him.

You felt Sanji freeze briefly as you pressed your lips against his before he continued his movements against you. The grip on your hips tightens and pulls you even closer against his crotch as he presses his tongue into your mouth.

You gladly accept the intrusion and return the kiss with similar fervor. You make out on the dance floor for what seems like ages before you finally pull back.

“Y/n..” Sanji gazes at you, pupils blown wide from lust and intoxication.

“Come on.” You grab Sanji’s hand and pull him towards a darkened hallway that you could only assume housed the club’s restrooms. You burst through one of the restroom doors, thankfully finding it empty. Sanji locks the door behind you and immediately he attacks your lips again, hands gripping the sides of your face tightly. He kisses you hungrily, like he’ll never taste you again and he needs to get as much of you as he can.

“Slow down, baby boy, I’m not going anywhere…” You purr as you pull back to press Sanji’s back against the locked bathroom door. You drop to your knees. If you had been sober, there would be no way you'd let your bare lets touch the floor of a public bathroom, but here you were anyway.

“M-my love I-I-“ Sanji stutters.

“Just shut up…” You whisper as you nuzzle your nose into Sanji’s clothed erection straining against his suit pants. You unbuckle his belt and pull down his trousers and boxers in one go. It was a bit clumsy but you eventually got to what you were after… Sanji’s thick cock sprang from his waist band and nearly knocked you in the face with how hard he was.

You waste no time and grip Sanji by the base and engulf the head of his cock in your warm, eager mouth.

“Fuck!” Sanji exclaims and threads both his hands into your hair. You were thankful the club’s music was so loud, because you could already tell that this man didn’t know how to be discrete.

You bob your head back and forth down his shaft a few times before loosening your throat and taking him all the way down to the base. You gag and nestle your nose in his neatly trimmed, honey blond hair. You pull back off his cock and spit the remaining saliva back onto his member before catching your breath.

“You’re fucking perfect, y/n..” Sanji says lovingly as he strokes your reddened cheek with his soft thumb. You smile stupidly up at him and shove his cock back into your mouth. “Oh my god, just like that baby… so good…” Sanji continues to coo down at you as you service him with your lips and tongue. You were glad he was a bit drunk or else he would have no doubt shot his load down your throat by now, and you wanted it elsewhere.

You pull off his cock with a lewd pop and a string of saliva still connected it to your lips.

“Fuck me.” You smirk up at him.

“As you wish, love.” Sanji picks you up off the floor and sets you gently yet hurriedly on the sink counter. Sanji pulls your dress down your torso and your breasts spill out. He immediately dips his head to capture one of your tits in his plush lips. You whine at the feeling of his tongue against your sensitive nipple. Sanji notices you bucking your hips in need and pulls off of you to hike your dress above your hips, exposing your wet panties. He spreads your legs with his strong hands as you were seated on the counter. He roughly grips your panties and rips them into pieces so he could have immediate access.

“So beautiful, mon amour…” Sanji whispers to you breathlessly as he slides his cock head up and down through your wetness, not taking his eyes off your glistening sex.

“Please, need you…” You whimper as you wiggle your hips, trying to entice him to finally enter you.

Sanji answers your plea by stuffing you slowly making you loll your head back and moan. His girth stretched you so perfectly, his curve hitting you in your favorite spot.

“Shit…” Sanji is almost speechless as your cunt sucks him in so deeply.

“Fuck me hard, Sanji… please…” You white knuckle grip the edge of the bathroom counter, trying to stay balanced in your inebriated state.

Sanji responds by pulling out and plowing his hips into yours rapidly creating a lewd wet slapping sound that reverberated around the tile walls of the bathroom.

“Fuck! Yes! Like that!” You cry out, your sweet spot being hammered with every thrust. Sanji gripped your hip with one hand and brought one hand to your chin, sticking his thumb in your mouth. You immediately wrap your lips around his digit and suck.

“Sweet little slut… so pretty…” Sanji cooed at you as your pussy greedily accepted his cock over and over and over again.

You moan around Sanji’s thumb and drool drips from your lips.

“My dirty girl… going to cum?” Sanji asks you, teasingly.

You nod furiously.

“Give it to me, my love…”

You oblige and let the tightening band in your lower half snap, gushing your release all over Sanji’s abdomen and thighs. You moan loudly and your eyes roll in the back of your head.

��W-where should I-“

“Inside! Please!” You yelp through overstimulation.

“Shit-“ Sanji grunts and pants as he humps you through his orgasm, spurting hot cum to coat your insides. He rests his forehead against yours for a moment, trying to catch his breath before pulling out. A true gentlemen, he fixes your dress by pulling the skirt back down and pushing your breasts back in gently before pulling up his own trousers.

He picks your shaking form up gently from the counter and sets you down on the tile floor.

“W-we should probably get back…” You say softly.

“You’re right, come, love.” Sanji grabs your hand and walks you out of the bathroom and out of the club entirely.

Sanji doesn’t release your hand the whole walk back to the ship and you don’t try to pull it away. Several times on the trip back you look at each other and break into fits of giggles. No words needed to be said. Eventually, you make it back to the Sunny and cross the gangplank, hoping to slip to your bedroom unnoticed by any of your crew members.

“Geez, you guys look like shit. You get into a fight?” You turn after taking only just two steps onto the ship. Zoro was sitting up against the mast on night watch. You groan.

“Don’t you need to go be stupid somewhere else, moss head?” Sanji angrily retorts.

“And what the fuck happened to your dress, y/n? You piss yourself or something? You really are a lightweight.”

You look down and notice the stain on your dress and the wetness on the inside of your legs.

“Um! Maybe I should shower! Goodnight Zoro! Care to join me, Sanji It was a long night after all…” You rush towards the ship’s bathroom.

Sanji was hot at your heels, his green haired rival quickly forgotten.

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece anime #one piece fanart #one piece live action #one piece netflix #one piece fandom #one piece smut #sanji #sanji x reader #one piece sanji #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji

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badalivie · 1 year ago

Text

body language [l.dh]

pairing: reader x lee donghyuck ft.hyunjin

genre: romance, friends to lovers

word count: 3.1k

warnings: mentions of injuries, a small tiny pinch of violence, jealous haechan and suggestive(ish)

about: You and Donghyuck have been dance partners for the past 6 years. When he gets into an accident that costs him a competition and substitutes himself with another dancer, he realizes he’s not so open at all to having you dance with someone else, especially having their hands in the places he considered his.

“twirl. come to me, and... pose!”

Donghyuck had one of his hands tight around your waist with the other on your back, pressing your chest flush against his own while you leaned backward in his hold. You felt his warm breath on your neck, his hand just above your ass, and his heartbeat against your chest all while your arms were wrapped around his neck. Every time Donghyuck found himself in a close position like this with you, he felt as if time slowed. He studied every breath, movement, and even experimentally moved his hands around to see which spots you seemed to like being touched in. He found that rubbing his thumbs lightly on your waist would relax you and mold your body closer to his, sometimes even earning a whimper from you, and it would make him melt each time.

“good job.” Donghyuck supported your back to help you stand up straight and pulled away.

“You think we can win with this routine?”

“Absolutely. Don’t you have confidence in my choreographing skills?” He frowned and crossed his arms

“I didn’t say I doubted you, you moron.” You flicked his forehead, making him whine and cover his face with his hands.

Donghyuck has been your best friend and dance partner for 6 years. You’ve won countless competitions with him and spent most of your days training with him or just talking to him. How could you not when he’d obsessively — and quite annoyingly— text you every hour when you were apart? With the intimacy that comes with dancing alongside him for years, he knew you and your body better than anyone else. Your mannerisms, where you liked to be held and where you didn’t, he knew everything about you. Often it felt like he knew you better than you knew yourself.

“Hey wait wanna grab a bite? I think we deserve it.”

“Fine. You’re paying though!”

“I always do” He grinned, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, and walking outside with you. Your favorite restaurant was only 3 blocks away. You and Donghyuck often went there to reward yourselves after a competition or intense training. Eating at that restaurant always involved one of you getting black-out drunk and sleeping over at the other’s house, but today was different. While crossing the street, he noticed a motorcycle speeding in your direction without any indication of stopping. Without a second thought, almost on instinct, he pushed you to the sidewalk and took the hit.

“Hyuck!” You rushed to his side as he lay on the concrete. His arms were a bit swollen but he didn’t appear to have any major injuries that were evident except for his ankle which was very clearly dislocated. The ambulances arrived a couple minutes later and rushed you two to the hospital. You didn’t let go of his hand once throughout the ride. Luckily, the doctors were able to pop Donghyuck’s ankle back into place (but he didn’t take the pain of it well at all). As soon as you both thought the worst was over, they found that he also broke a rib from the impact. The doctor said he would fully heal in about 2 months, which didn’t leave him enough time to rehearse before the competition took place.

“We have to withdraw.”

“What?! No! You can’t withdraw from the competition!” Donghyuck argued

“I’m not dancing without you!” There were tears in your eyes at this point. His expression softened when he saw the first few tears streak down your cheeks.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry.” He cupped your cheeks and wiped away your tears with his thumbs. “Listen, you worked too hard for this competition. I don’t want you to withdraw because of me. Hear me out, I’ll look for a substitute to take my place. Hm? How’s that sound?”

“That sounds awful. I’ve never danced with anyone else but you and I’m not willing to.” You lowered your head

“Just give it a try okay? If you really don’t want to compete without me, then you withdraw. But you need to give it a chance first. Okay?”

After a couple minutes of careful consideration, you reluctantly agreed “Fine.”

“Don’t look so down. You’ll get wrinkles.”

You chuckled under your breath, earning a smile from Donghyuck. “There she is. There’s that smile.” You talked a few more things with him until a nurse told you that you had to leave. You waved goodbye and said you’d visit him again tomorrow.

By the time you came back for another visit, Donghyuck had already found a substitute. He found him through a friend and heard he was an extremely talented junior dancer. It still took some convincing to get you fully on board but by the end of your second visit, you were ready to meet his substitute.

His name was Hyunjin. He was taller than Donghyuck by a little bit. He was attractive, had long hair, a slim figure, and he was really hardworking. Hyunjin really devoted his time to learning the choreography beforehand with the short amount of time he had. After your first practice together you realized that maybe things weren’t as bad as you thought they would be.

“Hey we match pretty well” Hyunjin commented, placing his hand on your shoulder.

“You think so?”

“Yeah. I think you’re great” he smiled.

“You’re not too bad yourself.”

You and Hyunjin teased each other back and forth for a while, growing closer with each passing hour. To your surprise, you got along well with him. You became more comfortable spending your time with him practicing every day until your hospital visits to Donghyuck became less frequent.

When Donghyuck was discharged the first thing he did was go to your practice studio. He accepted the fact that you weren’t visiting as often probably because you were busy practicing. Still, wanted to see how things were going without him. He was obviously rooting for your victory, but a small part of him hoped to see that his absence would be affecting you somehow.

“You okay?” You asked

“Im fine. Just a little tired.” Hyunjin huffed, resting his hands on his waist while facing away from you.

“I told you that you should have slept more.” You walked towards him and placed your hand on his back in an attempt to comfort him. “We can take a break if you-“

Hyunjin spun around and leaned down to rest his head on your shoulder. You felt his arms slowly wrap around your waist as he sighed. “I just need a minute… give me 1 minute…” You were a bit surprised by his actions but didn’t push him away, you only kept your hands on his chest.

“Hyunjin? You can rest on the couch-“

“I’m okay. This is all I need… you’re all I need…”

His voice faded towards the end of his sentence, making you unsure of what he really said when suddenly you heard a cough from the far end of the room. When you turned your head around you saw Donghyuck standing there.

“Hyuckie!” You beamed. Hyunjin raised his head from your shoulder and gazed at the man who interrupted your moment. He gave Donghyuck a blank stare but didn’t let go of his hold on your waist at all. That didn’t go unnoticed by Donghyuck. He felt his eye twitch at the green feeling that was beginning to simmer in his chest.

“Was I interrupting something?”

“No you came at the right time” You broke free from Hyunjin’s hold and walked towards Donghyuck, enveloping him in a big hug. “Happy to see you walking again”

“My rib is still in rough shape but I’m good enough to visit.” He smiled, glancing over your shoulder to glare at the other male in the room. “How’s practice?” ‘Horrible. Not so good. Wish you were my partner instead’ were some of the responses He was hoping to receive.

“Great, actually! Hyunjin and I have great chemistry and everything is going smoothly. I think we’ll win next week”

“Oh yeah? Well um… that’s good then…”

“Hey y/n! I need your advice on something” Hyunjin called from the other side of the room.

“I need to get going… see you again soon okay?”

You ran back to Hyunjin and started talking about the dance again. Donghyuck didn’t miss the way Hyunjin smiled at you and the way he leaned closer to your direction whenever you spoke. What irked him most was the way Hyunjin looked at you. Probably because it was the exact same way he looked at you. Who could he blame though? He was the one who pushed you to substitute him with someone else. He started this.

He came around to your practice every day since then. He hated how well you were doing without him. He hated how perfect everything was. The way you were in perfect sync with Hyunjin, the way you seemed to fit so perfectly in his arms, the way it seemed like the two of you were just made for each other. He felt so replaceable. He felt like maybe you were better off dancing with Hyunjin instead of him. Like what you had with him wasn’t special at all.

Over the days before the competition he just watched helplessly as Hyunjin did the things he was supposed to do with you. It was supposed to be you and him. And with each passing day, his blood seemed to boil more and more. Still, no matter how jealous, he knew you deserved that medal more than anyone else. So when the competition day came, he didn’t care who you were dancing with. What mattered was that you were on that stage, and you were going to win.

“Y/N!!! WOOOOOOO” Donghyuck cheered, jumping out of his seat when you walked onto stage. Hyunjin held your hand in his, leading you out to the stage with long, confident strides. Your eyes met Donghyuck’s in the crowd, and you smiled at him the way you always did. He felt his heart flutter. Was this what it was like to watch you perform? If it was, maybe he’d play sick to see you perform from the audience more often. But preferably without Hyunjin by your side.

Everything went just perfectly. Down to every beat and every sway of the rhythm. Donghyuck always found you pretty, but today, you were especially beautiful. The way you styled your hair, the way your costume revealed just enough of your skin, the way you smiled whenever you faced the audience, and especially the way you’d occasionally steal glances at him, knowing he was already staring back at you.

Your performance came to an end. The crowd roared, bursting into cheers and applause. So did Donghyuck. He smiled proudly as you held the ending pose. You stood on stage, breathless after giving it your all with your chest pressed against Hyunjin’s. Donghyuck noticed the ending pose was different. When you were with him, your arms were always wrapped securely around his neck, but this time, one of your hands grasped Hyunjin’s arm while the other held onto his shoulder. A wave of pride shot through him. Of course. She’d only do that with me. That’s our thing.

The applause continued as you and Hyunjin held the pose, trying to catch your breaths. “I think we won” you chuckled

“yeah…” He smiled, gazing into your eyes. You smiled at his response, not noticing the way his eyes flickered down to your lips and back up to your eyes repeatedly. His silence confused you and made you match your gaze with him. Hyunjin had an unreadable expression on his face before he leaned in and captured your lips in a kiss. Your eyes widened. The crowd’s cheers grew in volume as the lights on the stage went out. Once it registered in your brain that Hyunjin actually kissed you, your immediate response was to turn your head away, using the hand on his shoulder to push him away and create space. What was that? Why did he kiss me? He likes me? A whirlwind of thoughts swirled in your head, but one seemed to scream louder than the rest. Did Donghyuck see?

“What the fuck Hyunjin?!”

“I-I’m sorry.” He muttered “I just- I really like you, y/n… these past 2 months have just been so wonderful for me and I couldn’t hold back my feelings anymore… I just had to let you know.”

“Hyunjin, I don’t feel the same way… I’m sorry… you’re a really great guy its just that I already have someone I like” You fiddled with your fingers, nervously watching his reaction. A smile tugged on the corners of Hyunjin’s lips.

“I figured… Its Donghyuck, isn’t it?”

“Was it that obvious?” You covered your mouth

“To me it was. Still knowing that, I wouldn’t back down without trying.” Hyunjin shrugged his shoulders

“Thanks for being cool about this whole thing” You smiled, linking your arm with his, feeling comfortable again.

“It’s just how things are I guess… sorry for kissing you earlier. It was out of line. I should’ve asked and not made you uncomfortable...”

“Eh, it wasn’t too bad” You nudged his rib and made him laugh, moving past that whole incident completely unaware of the storm brewing outside.

You and Hyunjin accepted your medals hand in hand and gave brief appreciation speeches before walking backstage and deciding to call it a night. You and Hyunjin had packed up and were casually having a conversation in the parking lot when Hyunjin took a harsh punch to the jaw and fell hard on his back.

“WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!”

It was Donghyuck.

“Hyuck!” You called out in surprise

“Kissing her like that? You have a lot of fucking nerve.” Donghyuck grabbed Hyunjin’s collar and raised him off the ground “What do you have to say now, pretty boy?”

“I’m sorry” Hyunjin coughed

“Damn right you are.” Haechan seethed before throwing another punch until red spilled from Hyunjin’s mouth.

“hold it right there!” You yelled grabbing one of Donghyuck’s arms and pulling him away from Hyunjin. “Hyuck, stop.” He turned his attention away for a second to cup your cheeks and scan your face. You don’t know what he was looking for, but there was an expression you’d never seen on his face before. “Let’s just go. Okay?” You rubbed your hand up and down his arm to calm him down, and it seemed to work a little.

Donghyuck gave one last glare to the other man before wrapping his hand around your wrist tightly and pulling you to his car. “Hyuck… Hyuckie you’re hurting me…” He didn’t say anything in reply but his grip on you loosened. Donnghyuck opened the door for you and let you in before closing the door rather harshly.

The drive was silent. If you were being honest, you didn’t even really know where he was taking you. “What’s going on with you..?”

“Me? What’s going on with me? What’s up with you kissing that pretty boy on stage?!” Donghyuck retorted

“I didn’t kiss him. He kissed me!”

“What so you like him now?!” He was raising his voice at you for the first time, it was unfamiliar and surprising, it was making you emotional.

“Why are you yelling at me?” You asked with a weak voice. Haechan swerved his car to the side of the road and slammed the brakes.

“Because I like you, idiot!” Donghyuck yelled, removing his seatbelt and turning to face you. “You know how hard it was for me to watch him touch you?! He was all over you y/n! He even kissed you for fucks sake!” He ruffled his hair in frustration. He was unloading too much information at once that you could only stare at him with widened eyes. You were overwhelmed. Donghyuck kept rambling on about his frustrations but all you could think about was his confession. This whole time you liked him, he liked you back.

Everything made sense. All the teasing, the way his hands would trail when he held you, the way he’d keep you close when in public spaces. He was telling you he liked you this whole time through his actions. How did you not notice? You laughed.

“Whats funny? You think this is funny?” Donghyuck stared at you with confusion, but nothing could prepare him for when you grabbed his cheeks and pulled him in for a kiss. His eyes widened with shock at first, but then he leaned closer to deepen the kiss. Pulling back for just a second, you whispered lowly “I like you too, dummy”. With one hand, you unbuckled your seatbelt and moved to straddle his lap on the driver’s seat without breaking the kiss. Donghyuck reclined his seat in order to give you more space. He had his hands on your waist, and you pushed your lap down on his own, earning a low groan from him.

“You’re an eager one aren’t you” Haechan smirked, bringing his hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear. “I want to take my time with you, sweetie. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to have you like this” He sighed, taking a deep breath of your scent and kissing your cheek, all the way down to your collarbone. “See this?” Haechan pressed his finger against a spot he’d kissed just a few seconds ago, a dark blue mark beginning bloom. “This is mine.” He kissed the bottom of your jaw. “Every curve” your neck. “Every crevice.” your collarbone. “All mine.” Your shoulder.

You buried your face into his neck, resting all your weight against him. “We can’t do this here.” You whispered.

You heard Donghyuck chuckle lowly. “Oh?” He moved his hand on your waist lower to knead your ass. “You say that, but you’re grinding onto my waist right now. I can feel the heat of your cheeks on my neck. The way you’re clutching on my shirt right now… honey, you’re not fooling anyone.”

“Hyuck...” You whimpered into his ear, sending a shiver up his spine. He groaned in response and slipped his hands under the skirt you were wearing. His rough hands kneaded your thighs and pushed you lower onto his waist- well, dick.

“Only I can touch you like this. Only I can get this close. Only I know what you like.” Donghyuck kissed the sensitive spot just below your ear and made you gasp. “See?”

“Hyuck~” you begged.

He smiled, bringing a hand up to gently hold your cheek. “be patient, baby. I’ll do everything I want with you when we get home”

#haechan #haechan fic #haechan x reader #haechan x you #haechan au #nct dream au #haechan jealous #nct jealous #nct dream jealous #haechan angst #nct fic #nct fanfic #haechan fanfic #donghyuck x reader #donghyuck au #donghyuck angst #haechan imagines #nct imagines #nct au

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slut4evanpeters · 28 days ago

Text

Totally Trippn'

peter maximoff x reader

song i recommend listening to: strange by galaxies 500

warnings: fluff fluff fluff! acid, got super sappy corny at the end.... and not proof read ya girl is way too tired for that

word count: 1.7k

notes: im sorry if this is not completely accurate to an acid trip, im just speaking from the little experience i have with psychedelics😞 im really not sure if i like this one. i might delete it

You and the famous speedster, Peter Maximoff, sit cross legged facing each other on the worn, threadbare rug in his dimly lit basement. The room is cluttered but uniquely his, with a mix of stolen street signs propped against the walls and posters of rock legends layered into collages. The faint glow from a neon sign stolen from a roadside diner casts shadows that gaze along the cracked walls.

“Alright, babe, three…” Peter’s voice, usually so quick and teasing, carries a slight tremor of anticipation. His silver hair gleams dully in the low light, catching the glint of an old string of fairy lights that dangle from the ceiling. He licks his lips, hesitating slightly, eyes darting to meet yours with a knowing smile before he continues. “Two…”

A hush falls over the room, a heartbeat of suspense that seems to echo in the narrow space between you.

“One.”

On one, you both squeeze your eyes shut tightly. Your hands tremble slightly as you bring the small, bitter squared tab to your tongue, feeling the smooth surface dissolve almost immediately.

You open your eyes hesitantly, blinking as the dim light of the basement seems sharper, almost electric. The scattered glow from the neon sign throws soft, jagged reflections across Peter’s face, highlighting the nervous curve of his lips. The room feels like it’s holding its breath.

“Do you feel anything?” you ask, the skepticism in your voice cutting through the silence. Your pulse quickens as you glance around, waiting for something, anything, to change.

Peter shifts, running a hand through his silver hair, which falls messily over his forehead. His eyes dart from the stolen street signs to the peeling posters, as if searching for a sign of the drug’s effect. A muscle in his jaw tightens, and he chuckles dryly.

“No, Babe. Psshhhh image if we got scammed.” His voice carries a playful edge, but you can sense the underlying disappointment in his tone. He leans back, one hand drumming an impatient beat on the floor, while the other toys with a loose thread on his dark jeans.

“Hey, listen, in my defense, I told you not to buy it from that sketchy guy. I mean, who knows where he even got it? For all we know, it could be paper,” you say, half joking and raising your eyebrows for emphasis. The words hang in the musty air, mingling with the faint buzz of "wave of mutilation" by The Pixies coming from the radio crackling in the corner from the local station.

Peter’s head snaps up from where he’s been staring at his lap. His eyes, sharp and narrow with playful accusation. “Oh, and whose bright idea was it in the first place to try it?” He grins, that crooked, mischievous smile that always means trouble.

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress a grin of your own. “Everyone’s doing acid, Peter! It’s like… totes all the rage,” you say, emphasizing your words with an exaggerated wave of your hands. The neon sign behind Peter flickers, casting a glow once again on his silver hair and making the room feel like a scene straight out of an underground music video you would see on MTV.

He scoffs, shifting his weight as he leans back onto his hands. “Yeah, well, next time we’re buying from someone who doesn’t look like they crawled out of a dumpster behind the arcade,” he mutters, a laugh bubbling up between the two of you.

It’s been about 20 minutes, the room now filled with a palpable energy as the two of you drifted into your own rhythms. The time had been filled with you spinning around in worn socks on soft carpet, dancing to some retro tune blasting from Peter’s most likely stolen record player. The vinyl spun smoothly. The needle crackling every so often with the imperfections that made it sound warmer, more alive.

Meanwhile, Peter stood hunched over his.....also stolen....... arcade machine, fingers flying over the joystick and buttons with practiced ease. The glow from the Pac-Man screen bathed his face in blues and yellows, making his silver hair shimmer like quicksilver. The chiming 8-bit sound effects mixed with the thumping beat of the record, creating an oddly perfect symphony of chaos.

Peter let out a triumphant whoop as the little pixelated Pac-Man devoured another ghost, his laughter adding to the cacophony of the room.

You come up behind him, your arms sliding around his waist as you press your cheek against the back of his t shirt, the fabric rough but comforting. “Winning, Mr. Maximoff?” you ask, your voice slurring slightly as a lazy smile spreads across your face. The room pulses to the beat of the song still blaring from the record player rattles the dusty trinkets on the shelves.

“As always, babe,” he replies, the cocky lilt in his voice unmistakable. With a quick, fluid movement, he spins around to face you, his hands finding their place on your hips, fingers gripping just enough to steady you. His grin is wide and playful, eyes glinting with that signature spark that made him seem larger than life.

The neon light in the corner casts a pinkish glow over his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw. But as you stare into those eyes, eyes that seem to dance with adrenaline you realize the world behind him is beginning to tilt and swirl, the edges of your vision rippling like water.

“Peter… I don’t think we got scammed,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, laced with awe and the first shiver of realization. The room shimmers around you, the posters on the wall seeming to shift and breathe, their colors deepening to a surreal vibrancy.

Peter’s grin widens as he registers your words, a flash of excitement lighting up his face. The world around you is no longer static the posters and neon signs seem to pulse in time with the music, their colours bleeding and shifting in a mesmerizing display.

“Then let’s make it count,” he says, eyes gleaming as he pulls you closer. Without waiting for a response, he spins you into the open space of his basement. Your heart races, the beat syncing with the song as you twirl. The colors in the room seem to merge into streaks of electric blue, hot pink, and bright yellow, trailing behind you both..

Peter’s silver hair glows like liquid metal under the shifting light, and his laughter echoes, rich and contagious. He moves with an easy, confident rhythm, stepping side to side and dipping you back with dramatic flair, only to pull you upright again. You can’t help but laugh, a sound that bubbles up and escapes your lips like it’s been caught in a loop.

The walls appear to ripple, the posters of rock legends winking at you as if they, too, are in on the joke. The stolen street signs seem to sway, letters twisting into words that make no sense but make you giggle nonetheless. Peter’s hands grip yours as he spins you out, and when he pulls you back, your eyes meet his. The room seems to blur at the edges, but his eyes are sharp and focused, grounding you even as everything else drifts away.

“You’re totally trippin’ now, aren’t ya?” Peter teases, his voice a blend of cockiness and joy, eyes bright and wild.

“Yeah,” you reply, breathless and beaming. The room feels endless, like you’re spinning in a neon-lit galaxy, and Peter’s laughter is the only sound that keeps you tethered to this moment. The song builds, crescendoing in a flurry of synthesized chords, and you both move in a synchronized, reckless dance, your bodies swaying and weaving through the rainbow blur that’s become the room.

Each step feels weightless and each spin eternal. The world outside fades to nothing, leaving only you, Peter, and the music.

You and Peter tumble over to his bed, laughter bursting from you both as you land in a playful heap. The mattress dips under your weight, enveloping you in its warmth as you lie back, arms stretched out in a starfish position, fingers intertwined. As you look up at the ceiling, you’re surrounded by a kaleidoscope of colours. Posters of bands, movie icons, and neon signs all looking for your attention, illuminated by twinkling fairy lights that dance like stars.

At the peak of your trip, the room feels alive, everything around you swirling in a vibrant, twirly motion. “Whoa, this is, like, totally rad!” you exclaim, your voice laced with exhilaration. “It’s like we’re floating through space or something!”

Peter turns his head, his silver hair catching the light in a halo. “For real, babe! It’s like we’re in a dream, and all this is just for us,” he replies, his grin infectious, eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re like my ultimate cosmic companion!”

You chuckle, your heart swelling with affection. “And you’re the best thing since cassette tapes, Peter! I can’t even fathom how lucky I am to be here with you. You make everything feel, like, way more alive!” The warmth of his hand in yours anchors you, grounding you in this moment.

Peter’s playful demeanor shifts, his gaze softening as he leans a little closer. “You have no idea how much you mean to me. You’re my ride-or-die, my partner in this life,” he says, his voice earnest. “With you, I feel like I can take on the whole world, like I’m unstoppable.”

You gaze into his eyes, feeling the sincerity behind his words wash over you like a wave. “Promise me we’ll always stick together, no matter what craziness life throws at us,” you say, vulnerability creeping into your tone. “You’re my heart, Peter.”

“Always, babe,” he replies, his voice steady, the connection between you palpable. “We’re a team, like the best duo ever. I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.”

As he inches closer, the vibrant colors of the room seem to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you suspended in this moment. Your heart races as the air between you thickens with anticipation. In a heartbeat, you lean in, and your lips meet in a soft kiss.

The kiss deepens, igniting a spark that flows throughout your entire being. Time stands still, and the world around you disappears, leaving only the warmth of his lips and the bond of love that binds you together.

#evan peters #evan peters x reader #peter maximoff #evan peters fluff #evan peters oneshot #peter maximoff fluff #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff x y/n #x men days of future past #x men dark phoenix #x men apocalypse #x men #evan peters x y/n

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happy74827 · 8 months ago

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Can you do a Marty McFly x Reader, where the reader and him traveled back to 1955 together. Marty and the reader aren’t exactly together but they two idiots in love. But basically Lorraine doesn’t get the hint that these two are interested in each other so the reader is jealous but then some boy in 1955 flirts with the reader and Marty ends up jealous 😭. THANK YOU!!!!

Dance With Me

[Marty Mcfly x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Despite how rare it seems, don’t forget that jealously is often a two-way street.

WC: 1758

Category: Fluff

Oh my god… i’m so sorry this took so long. I’ve been so caught up. But, I finally finished it so hopefully you like it!! (this is probably my favorite Marty fic I’ve written so far tbh).

『••✎••』

It was stupid. You knew it was. The entire scenario was ridiculous, and you felt stupid for letting it bother you so much.

Yet, the entire day, you couldn’t get the thought out of your head. Even now, as the dance played on around you, you couldn’t keep the thought of how Lorraine Baines could be so oblivious.

Sure, she was with George… now. But before Marty fixed up the past, she was all over her son as if he were the best thing since sliced bread. It wasn’t even the fact that it was her son that was bothering you, although that certainly did play a part in it, no. It was the fact that it was Marty.

It wasn’t like the two of you were together or anything, but you knew there was something. A spark, if you would, and it was a spark that made you want to pull him away from her and just tell him what was on your mind.

You weren't really sure when the infatuation had begun. It was as though a light had just flickered on one day, and suddenly, everything was different. Everything was Marty, your lazy lab partner.

Your eyes flickered to the man across the room. He was standing alone (for once) by the punch bowl, watching the dancers with a soft smile. Even now, Lorraine was still obvious to your connection. Though, it didn’t really matter since everything was fixed now. Her obsession moved on, and so should yours.

Still, your eyes drifted down to your shoes as your mind flashed back to the night before. You remembered the feeling of her fingers wrapped around his wrist and the way she pulled him closer to her, practically begging him to ask her to the dance. And he had, though only because it was the plan to begin with.

Your lips twisted down into a scowl, and you had half a mind to take her to the side and give her a piece of your mind. But why should you? What did it matter? It was over now, and there was nothing left to do but wait until the past was the past.

God, you couldn’t wait to leave.

You sighed and leaned against the wall, arms crossed over your chest.

You wanted to go home. You wanted to see Doc alive, Doc, and not worry about this crap anymore. You just wanted to be home.

You closed your eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. The music seemed to swell around you, and you could hear the shuffle of feet as people danced around. It was almost overwhelming, and you wished you had a place to escape to.

When you opened your eyes, however, a face greeted yours, and a hand reached out toward you.

You blinked, looking up at the boy who was grinning brightly down at you.

"May I have this dance?" he asked, his smile bright.

It shocked you. In 1985, you were never asked to dance unless it was by a friend in an attempt to make you feel better. And while the boy standing in front of you wasn’t exactly the definition of tall, dark, and handsome, he was trying.

Your gaze shifted across the room, looking at the others. George and Lorraine were dancing, his hand low on her waist. Your parents were also dancing, as well as most of the students. And then there was Marty, standing alone, watching his parents dance.

It really was just you caring, wasn't it?

Your gaze shifted back to the boy, who was still watching you expectantly.

A sigh fell from your lips, and a small smile curled on your lips. "I would love to."

His smile brightened as he took your hand, pulling you into the middle of the dance floor. You glanced at the people around you, seeing their confused expressions and the whispers.

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, but the boy was quick to spin you around.

His hands found your hips, and yours settled on his shoulders.

The music slowed, but the song wasn’t as familiar. Your feet followed the rhythm, and the boy led the way.

"So," he started, a smile curling on his lips, "you don’t seem like the rest of the girls."

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "I get that a lot."

"Are you new to school?" he asked, his smile never wavering. “I’m sort of new too, just moved in the last year. I haven't seen you around."

"Oh, uh, yeah," you nodded, not wanting to explain the details of your situation. "I’m just visiting, though. Leaving tonight, actually."

"Tonight?" He looked surprised and maybe even a little disappointed.

"Yeah," you said. "But I think I'll be back soon."

"I hope you do," he smiled, and his voice sounded genuine. Now you wished that you could stay longer, but you knew that it wasn’t possible. "What was your name, by the way?"

“Can I bud in for the next dance?" a voice asked a familiar voice, a voice you would know anywhere.

Your body froze, the boy stopped, and the music halted.

Both of your gazes shifted over to see Marty standing in front of you with a small smile. One that held something more than just a friendly offer.

The boy glanced at you, his gaze questioning. Boldness was not his strong suit, and it wasn’t yours either, but you were a little less timid than he was.

"Yeah," you nodded, "of course."

Marty's grin brightened, and he quickly grabbed your hand, disregarding the “next dance” statement completely, forcing you to ditch the poor boy.

You felt a bit bad about the abrupt switch, but the feeling vanished when he pulled you against his chest, his hands on your hips, and yours around his neck.

"What was that about?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at him. “I was kind of in the middle of something."

"Yeah," he nodded, "But remember what Doc said to us? He said that we shouldn't change anything. We don't know how this could affect our future."

"Or affect his," you pointed out, but he shook his head.

"He’ll forget about it," Marty waved it off. “Trust me, the guy's got enough on his mind right now; what's one more thing?"

“Would you?” Your words were quiet, and you didn’t really think that he would hear them. But he did, and his gaze met yours.

"Would I what?"

"Would you forget about it? It seemed as though you couldn’t handle the fact that I wasn’t dancing with you," you explained, a smirk tugging on the corners of your lips.

"No, I-" he sighed, shaking his head. "Doc said that we shouldn’t change anything. I’m just following the rules."

You rolled your eyes, a scoff falling from your lips. "Since when have you ever listened to rules?"

"Hey, I listen to rules!" he defended, but his tone was playful, and the smile on his face betrayed his words. “And you're changing the subject."

"Am I?" you smirked, quirking an eyebrow. "What subject would that be, McFly?"

His hands were on your waist, pulling you closer. Your eyes widened, and you could feel your heart beating rapidly.

"How quick you were to dance with me," he grinned, his voice quiet, but you could hear the teasing undertone. “instead of the boy you were with."

"I don’t know what you're talking about," you scoffed, looking away from him, but the grin was still playing on your lips.

"No? Is my mother still on your mind, then?" he asked, his voice teasing.

"That makes me sound creepy," you said, scrunching up your nose in distaste. “Do you always have to word things so weird?"

"Do you always have to avoid the question?"

You were silent for a moment, trying to find a good response. "Yes."

His eyes brightened, a smile lighting up his face. "You are, aren’t you? You're still jealous of my mother."

"No," you groaned, shaking your head. "No, I'm not. I'm sorry, Marty, but I'm not obsessed with you like she is. Or was, or whatever. She isn't obsessed anymore, is she?"

"Not really," he shrugged, but his grip was still firm around your waist. "She sees me like a brother now, I think.”

“How’d that happen?" you asked, thinking about the dramatic change of direction, but you noticed how his smile faltered for a moment, a distant look clouding his features.

"Let’s… not talk about it," he shook his head, the smile returning to his lips. Something about that ordeal told you it was better left unsaid, so you didn't push it any further.

"Okay," you nodded, smiling. "I'm sorry, though, I guess. For being weird and all."

"No," he shook his head, pulling you in so close that your nose nearly brushed against his. Your eyes widened, and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. You were suddenly aware of his every movement and his closeness. His hands were warm against your skin, his thumb rubbing against the fabric of your dress.

"Save the apologies for when we get out of this nightmare," he didn’t elaborate on his words, but the thought of seeing Doc alive again, as if nothing had ever happened, made the smile grow on your lips.

You leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. Your hands moved from his shoulders, and your arms wrapped around his neck. He tightened his grip on your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.

You could feel his breath fanning against your lips, and yours ghosted across his. Your heart was beating rapidly, and your palms began to sweat, but the feeling wasn’t uncomfortable. It was nice. It was a reminder that you were there, dancing with the boy you loved.

And even though it was the 1950s, and neither of you would admit your feelings for one another, there was that awkward truth that lingered in the air. That spark, the one that pulled you together and ignited something that you were too afraid to admit.

You both were jealous of someone, a simple fact that would make the two of you laugh if only you both had the guts to admit it. But it was okay because this was the start.

You didn’t have to say anything. The music, the moment, was saying everything for you.

So you didn't say a word. Instead, you moved closer and let the jealousy fade along with the song.

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