#seriously though English is the worst

[shigussy]

i love technology. google translate isnt the best but when u need to talk to someone that only speaks a language u don't know it's very useful.

[honey-tongued-devil]

[Arcane preference]reacting to their s/o calling them husband/wife for the first time

I’ve finished the first chapter of the long fic about Universe 7 (Anytime it rains). As soon as my second beta reader gives me the okay, I’ll post it. While I wait, I’ve written the first headcanon (out of three I’m definitely planning to write and post in the next few days) and picked up the drawing of Steb I’d left unfinished. I’m slow, as usual, but English isn’t my first language, and I’m juggling a lot of things at once. Enjoy!

socials: | INPRNT | | Tip Jar | | X | | BlueSky | | Ao3 | poster: | Jayce poster | | Silco poster | |Silco +self insert poster 1| | Steb poster | if you want to read the fluff longfic with vander and his happy family + Silco x reader you can find it here! ↠ Masterlist

Jayce:

-This man is planning to put a ring on your finger as soon as possible, okay? -Between the academy, public appearances, and both theoretical and practical studies, there isn’t a single moment when he’s really in the right mindset to bring up the topic -The worst part is that, deep down, he’s terrified of putting pressure on you -That’s why, the first time he hears you refer to him as “my husband” during a gala with noble families, he almost chokes -He has to gather all his strength not to grab the interlocutor by the shoulders and ask if they also heard you say that word -He’ll try to keep his composure, maybe responding to your remark with, “Yes, exactly. Her husband really did say/do/design that.”

Viktor:

-It’s not a thought he’s ever really entertained; it never crossed his mind -Part of it is that science is his priority, and part of it is that marriage doesn’t seem like something meant for people like him, -The first time you call him “your husband”, that thought suddenly becomes real in his head, and he can’t help but lean against a wall and wait for the other person to leave -“So, I’m your husband now, huh? Mmm… I don’t mind, a bit pretentious, though…” he jokes, making you roll your eyes -Now, more than ever, he has no idea what to do. He’ll give you a bronze ring from a machine he’s building -“Until I can get one worthy of you.”

Ekko:

-Yes -That’s it -The end -Okay, seriously. The idea of being certain that something will last forever is probably his greatest wish -The first time you call him your husband, he doesn’t see it coming -“Wait, you’re married?” -“I was talking about you, Ekko.” -The moment you say it, he points to his chest, you see his lip tremble slightly, and his eyes grow shinier -He won’t stop talking about it for a week, and at least once a day, he’ll ask if you still want to marry him, if you’re sure, if you love him -No rings before S2; the promise is made by drawing something for each other on your masks and clothes -After S2, he still can’t afford a ring, but now that life is more stable, he can start thinking about a more traditional gift, like a piece of jewelry

Vander:

-This man is ravenous for any family role you might offer him—fiancé, father, husband. Anything goes -The first time you call him “husband”, he plays it cool but will seize the first opportunity to return the favor by telling a customer you’re married -As soon as he can, he’ll squeeze your hand, even under the counter -The idea of being married and having a complete family is everything he’s ever wanted -He won’t stop calling you “my beautiful wife/husband” from that moment on.

-You said it first; you can’t take it back. Now you have to get married

Silco (old man):

-This man’s only sin is loving too much, but I’ll save that reflection for another post -Having no ties other than his illegitimate daughter doesn’t make him someone who’s particularly keen on formalities -The first time you call him “your husband” is in front of Sevika, and he slowly turns to look at you, while she slowly turns to look at him -“Did I... miss something?” Sevika asks, but he doesn’t reply, still perplexed, before glancing at her and saying, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” -He’s relieved but doesn’t show it. He can’t afford to just yet -As soon as he confirms you were serious, your name will be flamboyantly forgotten—he’ll constantly refer to you as “my wife/husband”

Silco (young):

-The man who survives on love -The first time you call him your husband is in front of Vander, and while Vander bursts out laughing, Silco chokes on his drink -“Are you serious?” He’s so happy that his pale iris are completely swallowed by his dilated pupils -He grabs a pen and draws a ring around your finger -To his credit, he works in a mine, so it’s hard to do better than that, but it becomes the goal that keeps him going -Completely focused on family, the future, and anything that sees the two of you together and happy

Steb:

-The first time you call him your husband is at a dinner among enforcer families, and being mute doesn’t stop him from stealing the spotlight -He whips around, blinking slowly with only his third eyelid in a gesture of confusion -When he’s 100% sure he understood what you said, his eyes widen, the small membranes under his eyes flutter madly, and even the barely visible gills near his jaw gasp for a moment -Someone says, “I didn’t know you were married,” and he immediately nods enthusiastically, not giving you time to take it back -Within 48 hours, he’ll have the ring ready

Jinx:

-The first time you call her “your wife”, she freezes -“What did you just call me?” -She’s used to being a little sister, a big sister, a daughter—she’d never thought she could be a wife. Family ties aren’t chosen, but the idea that someone would want her in their life so much they’d marry her feels incredible -“You want to marry me? Really? Why?” -She bursts into tears, and it’ll take at least 24 hours of cuddling in bed to calm her down -After that, she’ll run to her father to announce that she’s now a married woman

Vi:

-She might not be Silco and/or Vander’s blood daughter, but she’s inherited their deep desire for family -From her family’s tragic fate to Vander’s, she’s always seen family as the ultimate aspiration -When you call her “your wife” for the first time, she doesn’t notice right away, but a full minute later, she whirls around to look at you, as if to ask for confirmation -“Say it again.” -“...You need to buy bread?” -“No, all of it.” -“My wife needs to go buy bread.” -“Again.”

-"My... wife?"

-"Again"

Caitlyn:

-Has she thought about it? Yes -Was she planning to act on it? Not exactly -Caitlyn struggles with emotions and feelings, which is why she hesitates and takes her time -But when you first call her “your wife”, her brain completely shuts off—she just stares at you, unable to hear a single word being said -If you or someone else asks her a question, she’ll snap out of it and respond, -“My wife/husband said everything.” Even if it makes no sense as an answer, making you laugh and leaving the other person baffled

Mel:

-Not a single flicker of surprise—the first time you call her “your wife”, she remains completely composed -“So, I’m your wife?” she asks as soon as you’re in private, approaching you like a feline. You can almost hear the purr in her voice -She’s amused but also intrigued by whatever game you’re playing -The idea of marriage is complicated for her—on one hand, it feels like it would limit her freedom to act, while on the other, unresolved family issues seem to devour her at the mere thought of starting a new cycle -She’ll tell you to go ahead, to get married, but she’ll also ask for time -In the meantime, though, she’ll start using the term “husband/wife” with you—she likes the way it rolls off her tongue

Sevika:

-Between the work she does, the environment she lives in, and all the interesting circumstances of her life, marriage has never been on her radar -Not to mention that in Zaun, it’s not exactly a common practice—people just move in together and build families when they can, without much fuss over formalities or bureaucracy -The first time it happens, she’s playing cards with the other goons, and you casually ask if “your wife is winning” -Her first reaction isn’t even hers—it’s the others’. Dustin, the blond goon with the lazy eye, almost starts crying, embarrassing her -Don’t worry, she’ll make you pay for it at home -She won’t ask to formalize anything, but in true Zaunite fashion, she’ll consider you married, plain and simple

[gothicfied]

Teen reader who is comforted and taken care by the other players because of her young age?? Father and daughter relationship, big sister and lil sister,etc. btw I love your ficss!! ♡

Squid Game (S2/S3) characters with a teen (18) reader

(Read Part 2 here)

Pairing: Various characters x teen!fem!reader, !!platonic!!

Warnings: Mentions of killing, gunshots, death, fights, violence (typical squid game stuff), reader is !!18!! years old, slight swearing, this is set in Season 2, other than that it's just fluff, not proof read (English isn't my first language)

A/N: The req is 6 months old, SORRY. But, I still had fun writing this since it's easier to imagine yourself in that position lololol This is also probably the last squid game fic I'll write, either for now or even for longer, unless I get a request again. It's sad that this era is over now, I still remember how excited I was for Season 2 back in 2021 ):

જ⁀➴ For as long as you could remember your parents struggled with debt and you never questioned it when they would disappear the whole day for work just to put food on the table. So, when you turned 18 and graduated secondary school, you didn't go to University, but started to work jobs here and there to help your parents out. Some of them were sketchy, some of them didn't pay enough for the work you were doing, some of them were exhausting.. but an opportunity came when a man made you a strange proposal: Play ddakji with him — If you win, he'll give you money, if you lose he'll.. slap you?

જ⁀➴ Ultimately, the guy in the suit couldn't bring himself to hurt him (maybe because you were so young) and just handed you a card with a number on it. Yeah, turns out participating in this weird stuff was the worst decision of your life. Waking up in this dormitory, suddenly wearing a green tracksuit instead of your usual clothes and finding out you're stuck here with 455 other people already scared you shitless.

જ⁀➴ When other people started to notice you and how young you looked, you immediately became the focal point of their attention. People left and right were asking you all kinds of questions, if you were okay or not, how old you were, what the hell you werr doing there. You quickly understood that everyone here had a debt problem... but everyone here was also at least in their mid twentys.

જ⁀➴ After the gruesome experience that the first game was, with people getting shot and dying because of a game (or so you thought at the moment) there was one particular group that took you in. Two marines, one pregnant lady, a guy that claims to be the winner of one of the previous games and 001 himself, who seriously freaked you out.

જ⁀➴ Jung-bae and Gi-hun became your biggest protectors — Next to Jun-hee, who was carrying her baby, you basically still were a baby. Whenever the pink guards gave out food, those two split it up between you and the other girl, saying that you guys need it more than they do. Particularly Jung-bae was shocked at hearing your reason for being here: "You shouldn't have done this, financial problems are the worries of the parents!" He scolded you, but never meant it.

જ⁀➴ Dae-ho, the other marine, kept telling you how much you reminded him of his sister. Even though he was the youngest child back home, he was fully blooming in this new big-brother-role that he adapted when it came to you. He spoke up for you whenever someone else decided to be an asshole to you, he laid awake in his bed most of the time to watch over you (ever since Gi-hun told him about ambushes at night he's been paranoid) and would actually sacrifice himself in one of the games if it meant you'd be safe.

જ⁀➴ Jun-hee and you were much closer in age than you were with any others. She became comfortable with you in an almost instant, mostly because you were also a woman. She woke you up to ask you if you'd come to the bathroom with her in the middle of the night, to which you were joined by an older lady, Geum-ja, and another woman, Hyun-ju.

"You are so young.. oh, my heart breaks for you, my child." Geum-ja told you once you were escorted to the bathroom, to which you were only able to nod. What else was there to say? You really just wanted to help your parents out. "I just.. you don't understand, we really need the money." Geum-ja looked at you sympathetically, but she was just really disappointed in the world for making someone like you worry about debt. "Hey," Hyun-ju spoke out, "If you need anything, yell for me, okay? I'll make sure nothing happens to you. You have.. so much ahead of you."

જ⁀➴ You mostly felt cringe and maybe also a bit uncomfortable when hearing people talk to you like you were a child. Then again, these people didn't have the humanity to deny participation to a pregnant woman and a teenager, so you were kind of glad to get special treatment from the other players. Even Young-il, the guy that creeped you out the most, had a pity expression on his face whenever you joyfully talked about things only someone at your age would talk about. Video games, the grades you finished school with, friend group drama... it was obvious you didn't know anything about the world yet and it was even sad for him to hear it so clearly.

જ⁀➴ After another failed round of voting, the two idiots from the 'O' side of the dormitory started approaching your bed. Thanos and Nam-gyu, you quickly learned, were the one's causing most of the trouble and now it seemed like they wanted to manipulate you as well. "Hey there, little Dove," the purple-haired junkie started, to which you told him to fuck off, basically. "Woah, hey? Watch your mouth, kid. I definitely didn't know those words when I was your age." For about five minutes these two tried to talk you into voting 'O' next time, because "It would only benefit you!" and "You wouldn't have to work for a bit with that money!" You called out for Hyun-ju who quickly made them go away.

જ⁀➴ In the end, you understood you were doomed as soon as more players started to die due to fights and lights out. There were plenty of others who were there to protect you, who promised you that you'd get out alive, but now you weren't so sure anymore.. the revolution Gi-hun wanted to go through with seemed like the only option for everyone to get out of here.

[cowboyschumi]

HEARTLESS

Summary: Lando Norris has entered his heartless era with no intention of leaving it anytime soon. Now he’s hunting for prey on Raya, and that’s where he stumbles upon you.

Author’s note: Y'all really thirst over Mister Norris, my god. English is not my first language. Enjoy the reading lovelies, interactions are much appreciated.

Warnings: Slightly suggestive, cheating mention, cursing ig. Tried to be inclusive, reader's gender is not specified.

————————————————————————

COWBOYSCHUMI | 2025 All rights reserved. Do not copy, translate, or upload on other platforms.

————————————————————————

Luisa was the best Lando ever had, everyone knew it including him, but he wouldn’t admit it out loud. The only ones cheering over their breakup were jealous, parasocial thirteen-year-olds.

But that was long ago. He moved on pretty quickly, not exactly beating the cheating allegations. Russian model this, Brazilian actress that… and it was all true. There was no denying. He was really enjoying his singleness, having a blast every heated Sunday. But beyond that? Nothing. He got scared easily by commitment or brushed off any trace of a slight chance of dating someone seriously.

He didn’t know why, this tendency to avoid and escape. Deep down, he knew he was hurt. Not hurt by someone else, though. He did it all by himself, ruining the only real thing he ever had. Fans who cared pointed it out: 'His spark is missing,' 'We miss silly old Lando!'

And after claiming he didn’t want to mature because he was happy where he was, he finally matured. Or at least, he pretended to, showing himself as nonchalant and bold. Expressiveness and cameras were just a performance, because in his daily life, he still acted like a teenage boy, eager to get laid

Anyone with an average experience on dating apps knew they were the worst—a way to boost egos based on looks, only to end up rejected and discarded. Raya seemed different, more polite, you guessed. You weren’t the dating type, but curiosity got the best of you. You wanted to know what the hype was about.

Lando, on the other hand, spent most of his day on that app. Every girl swiped right on him, but he rarely matched with someone he actually liked. He wasn’t too strict about looks, he was more of a 'the bigger, the better' type of guy.

Raya wasn’t Tinder. Access was limited, and confidentiality was a must. That’s why you were really surprised when you got in after an exhausting approval process. Your friends freaked out, screamed, and practically climbed the walls of your apartment—the excitement was real. Maybe even a little more than yours.

"Hand me the phone." I don’t even know all these people you’re swiping left and right on." Your patience was limited, and your friends knew exactly how to test it. They kept using your Raya like it was theirs while you minded your own business, eating ice cream. You had no intention of swiping, and the girls knew it, that’s why they took matters into their own hands.

"Oh. My. God. Shut up."

"That’s Lando Norris!" One of them immediately snatched the phone from your friend’s hands.

"Who’s Lando Norris?"

They looked at you like you had just committed a crime, or like they’d seen a ghost behind you. You weren’t sure if your question was out of place or if it was the fact that you had just spoken with a spoonful of ice cream in your mouth

"You’re kidding, right?" Finally, one of them spoke after a long, awkward silence.

FOMO—a word used by chronically online people to describe the fear of missing out, not knowing what’s going on, feeling excluded. That was exactly how you felt for not knowing who Lando Norris was.

"Formula One driver?" Now the phone was in your hands. You were reading his description with the screen practically glued to your face, like a mom who can’t see a thing unless it’s that close.

"That guy beat Verstappen a few times, right?" That was the only thing you could come up with, just from scrolling through Twitter and catching bits of the news. You didn’t know a single thing about the sport.

And sometimes, famous people liked that: their love interests not knowing anything about them, their jobs, the rumors, or the creepy facts.

Your Raya profile didn’t have anything special, aside from your picture-perfect photos. Celebrities didn’t actually care about you deep down—only if you fit their beauty standards. Being active and checking profiles wasn’t on your to-do list. It was just pure curiosity.

But somehow, you two matched. May the universe know under what circumstances and why.

————————————————————————

"When will I have the chance to meet you?"

His text was blunt, like you already knew each other. Maybe even a little desperate.

"What happened to 'Hello, how are you, my name is…'?"

You answered sarcastically, but truthfully. Not introducing yourselves was kind of rude. But you got the point, Lando didn’t care about who you were or what you had to say. The quicker you ended up in his bed, the better.

He laughed at your text, you had the kind of sense of humor he’d fall for. He wouldn’t lie, he enjoyed how obsessed girls were with him and how quickly the dirty talk escalated with just one message. But to his surprise, you weren’t that easy to win over.

"Haha, sorry. Is dinner fine with you?"

Wow, he was really a bad texter. The driest you’d ever seen, dare you say. Was it a guy thing or just a wannabe mysterious famous person thing? You hoped the conversation would be better in person because, damn, it’d be a shame if his pretty face had nothing to say.

"Send me the addy. I don’t need an F1 driver picking me up, I’d rather pass."

Your fear of speed was a thing.

————————————————————————

Lando was attractive. You weren’t exactly interested, but nervousness ran through your veins. Dates always did this over you—stuttering, sweaty palms, and way too much overthinking. You even considered canceling, but your friends wouldn’t let you.

You were a fashion design student, meaning you had some knowledge of trends and what suited your silhouette. Lately, silky long attires were your go-to for night fits; simple, elegant. You dressed for yourself, for comfort, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the attention and the flattering compliments on your fashion sense.

Monaco was small. Getting anywhere was a short drive, so the Uber didn’t take long. But as you stepped out of the car, your stomach twisted. The restaurant in front of you was huge, glowing with warm lights, yet no people coming in or out. The classic internet trap flashed through your mind—what if there was no Lando Norris waiting for you at all?

“Y/N?”

His voice sounded unsure. He was glued to his phone, shamelessly checking if you actually looked like the pictures he’d been thirsting over on that awful app.

You turned around slowly, mentally cursing yourself, and then your friends. And there he was.

He really screamed Formula One driver. The expensive car gave him away immediately. You had boots on, and he was wearing sneakers, making him not nearly as tall as you expected. You bit your cheek, trying not to laugh at the fact that you were practically the same height.

How were you supposed to act on a date with someone worldwide famous?

Lando leaned in to kiss your cheek, but you instinctively extended your hand for a handshake instead. The night hadn’t even started, and you already wanted the earth to swallow you.

“Shall we?”

He offered his arm, effortlessly charming. Gentleman, innit?

You hesitated before looping your arm through his, still not saying a word. But as you stepped into the restaurant, your stomach dropped.

The place was empty. No other customers. Just you and him.

Your face went pale because there was only one explanation.

He did not…

“Mister Norris!”

A well-dressed waiter greeted him with familiarity. They knew each other. With a simple hand gesture, he led you both to your table. The level of formality made you feel like royalty.

Dim lighting, soft music. A candle flickered in the center of the round table, it had the scent of chocolate, if your nostrils weren’t failing you. The ambiance was undeniably beautiful.

He really outdid himself.

You sat down, eyes narrowing at him. "You did not rent out this whole place just for us."

"Yeah, I did."

Lando chuckled, his smile boyish—like a kid caught red-handed. You playfully shoved his shoulder, you hated surprises and gifts in any format.

Your face burned red, so you instinctively hid behind the menu. Of course, he noticed. He found it adorable.

His foot lightly tapped yours under the table, trying to get your attention. "Are we playing hide and seek now?"

You sighed, setting the menu down just so he could see you roll your eyes. "What are you ordering?" you asked in a hushed tone, like it was some kind of secret, despite the fact that no one else was around.

Your elbows rested on the table as you leaned slightly toward him. He did the same. The tiny candle was the only thing between you.

There was no need for flirtation or innuendos—the tension was already there.

For you two, banter was enough.

————————————————————————

"So, fashion designer, huh?" He asked, cutting his food, trying to throw the conversation toward you.

"So, Formula One driver, huh?" You mocked him, mimicking his tone—because, seriously, that was the most basic question ever. Your background was more than obvious; it was explicitly written on Raya. But you got it—he was just as nervous as you were.

One thing Lando was sure of: you weren’t like his other dates. My god, you were hard to get. An hour in, and there had been no physical contact at all—just chatter, chatter. Not that he was complaining. You were an interesting and undecipherable human being.

"How many girls have you brought here?"

You loved making people uncomfortable with your questions, especially when you already knew the answer—you just wanted to see their reaction. Lando practically choked on his food at your out-of-the-blue assumption.

"W-what?"

It was hilarious how fast he grabbed his water, like he couldn’t believe how unfiltered you were. You repeated the question, and he had no choice but to answer.

"I don’t know… two or three?"

At least he was honest. Or tried to be.

————————————————————————

Dinner happened, to your surprise, quickly—because time moved fast when you were really enjoying yourself, losing track of it completely. Luckily, the Formula One driver caught up with your jokes, knowing exactly how to turn them back on you. Like an Uno reverse card. For you, there was nothing more intimate than teasing each other mutually and just the right amount. Some people couldn’t take a joke, and that was such a turn-off. But Lando simply got you.

Now, you were exiting the glamorous restaurant, shoulders covered by his huge coat. Your laughter was loud, and in just two hours, you had already built inside jokes between the two of you.

"Looking forward to seeing your replacement next Sunday if you catch a cold."

"And I'm looking forward to seeing your pretty face again."

He ended all the joking with a cheeky, flirtatious remark—he knew exactly how to make a girl’s legs weak using nothing but his natural charisma.

"You never shut up, do you?"

And then you did the unthinkable.

Without thinking twice, you pulled him in, your lips merging into one. Your heart was pounding out of your chest, finally releasing all the tension and need that had been weighing on you.

————————————————————————

The car you once eyed as luxurious was now the place where you were making out frenetically. The kissing was obscene, neither of you knew where all that passion came from, but it was addictive.

His firm hands gripped the fabric of your branded clothing, holding your hips in place, not wanting you to make any movement against his lap. It’d be the death of him—he was already suffering a nightmare between his legs.

Your fingers instantly got lost in his curls, tangling and pulling them mid-kiss. Lando’s mouth was practically fighting against yours, turning it into the sloppiest mess. Heaven had never felt this chaotic. You took your time exploring every corner of his mouth with your tongue, while his hands traveled deliberately across your body, wishing there was no fabric separating you two. His fingertips traced you as if you were as fragile as a sculpture, slow and delicate. You melted under his touch, squirming on top of him at the barest touch. It was inoffensive, yet he knew exactly how to caress all the right places.

A shiver ran down your spine as your body suddenly felt colder than seconds ago—a thin breeze brushed against your right thigh. He was sliding up your outfit, eager to go further.

"Easy, driver." A whisper escaped your lips, breathy from all the intense air-exchanging. Your lips brushed against each other, expectant but unmoving. "I know you like adrenaline and fast things, but not tonight."

Fucking on the first date wasn’t your thing, you had at least some dignity. This wasn’t just a hook-up; a few butterflies were already flying around in your stomach, and you despised it.

With half-lidded eyes, he looked up at you, locking gazes. His puppy-blue eyes were now dark with lust. His swollen, glossy lips formed a slight pout. If you kept staring at him—at his pathetic, needy, almost convincing face—you’d be stripping down quicker than lightning.

Trying to put an end to his little show, you placed a hand over his face and shoved him away, cutting off all dangerous eye contact.

"Not tonight gives me a free pass for a second date, according to my understanding." He contradicted you, attempting to sound smart with a cocky grin spread across his face.

"You really are something else, Lando Norris." You did your thing to keep him quiet, preventing any cringey pick-up line from escaping his lips, and restarted the make-out session.

He was relieved that you’d shut him up quickly, because the longer it went on, the more he felt like verbalizing the flying feelings in his stomach.

[rafedarling]

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐞

pairing: dad!drew starkey x mom!reader

summary: drew returns home from dropping rustyn off, finding you nursing lola. he expresses curiosity about the taste of your milk and asks to try some straight from your breast.

warning(s): english is not my native language. contains a breastfeeding scene with a romantic undertone, it has mild intimacy, minor dni.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. discussion can be send through my ask box, please feel free to send in anything. ⭐️ taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @anamiad00msday @stuffyownswrld @httpsdrewstarkey @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @victwrvale @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxosblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @percysley @littlelamy @winniemoe @emberaurora @issabellec7 @alexxavicry @rafestoothbrush

Curled up in the rocking chair by the window, sweatshirt pulled halfway up, baby Lola nestled against you with one hand balled on your chest, suckling peacefully.

It was one of those rare, quiet mornings. No cereal spilled on the floor. No race to find Rustyn’s missing left shoe. Just you, your baby girl, and a moment of calm.

Then the front door creaked open.

“Babe?”

Drew’s voice echoed gently through the hallway.

“Rusty says he forgot to brush his teeth, but I told him it builds character.”

You laughed softly, careful not to jostle Lola.

“My god, Drew you’re the worst.”

He stepped into the room and paused mid-stride.

You could feel it the moment his eyes landed on you. The warmth in his gaze.

“You know,” he said slowly, hands in his hoodie pockets, “you look so damn good like that.”

You raised a brow.

“Leaking milk and all?”

“Especially leaking milk,”

He grinned, walking over and crouching next to the rocking chair.

“There’s something seriously sexy about you like this.”

“You’re so weird.”

“Am I though?” His tone dropped a bit, teasing.

“I was thinking… maybe I could have a taste.”

Your jaw dropped in mock offense.

“Drew Starkey.”

He raised his hands in defense, eyes twinkling.

“What? I’ve done it before.”

You gave him a look. “You gagged.”

“Okay, I gagged once. But my palate’s matured. I’m a changed man.”

“Oh really?” you smirked.

“A milk connoisseur now?”

“Exactly. Think of it like a wine tasting. ‘Hints of honey, slight almond finish…’” he pretended to swirl a glass and sniff it dramatically.

You laughed, shaking your head.

“You’re out of your mind.”

“But you love it,” he whispered, leaning closer.

You bit your lip, eyeing him playfully.

“Fine. But you’re not getting it directly from the tap.”

“I could use a cup,” he offered, but his grin said otherwise.

“Thought so,”

You teased, reaching for the pump and prepping a small portion into one of Lola’s bottles. You handed it to him, raising an eyebrow.

“Behold, vintage 2025.”

He took the bottle, looked at it… and immediately handed it back.

“Nope. Doesn’t feel right.”

You rolled your eyes.

“What now?”

He shifted closer, voice low and eyes mischievous.

“It just feels… sterile. If I’m gonna do this, I want the real experience, I mean straight from the source.”

“You mean you want to nurse.”

“Not nurse! Just… taste. In a very manly, experimental way.”

You tried to keep a straight face.

“You want a little sip from Mommy?”

Drew groaned.

“Don’t say it like that, now I’m nervous.”

You giggled, setting the bottle aside.

“You sure? You flinch and I swear-”

“Scout’s honor.”

Lola had finished by then, little lips pursed in sleep, her body warm and limp in your arms. You adjusted your sweatshirt, gently laid her down in the bassinet, and turned back to Drew who was already halfway in your lap.

“You’re really committing to this, huh?”

You murmured, brushing your fingers through his hair.

“Anything for love. And science,” he whispered.

You offered yourself to him, half amused, half endeared. He leaned in, kissed your skin first, slow, soft, reverent then took a small sip.

A beat.

Another.

Then he pulled back with wide eyes.

“…Okay,” he whispered.

“That’s actually kind of amazing?”

You blinked. “Really?”

He nodded. “Sweeter than I remembered. Like warm vanilla oat milk.”

You laughed. “Now you’re just flattering me.”

“Maybe,”

He said, climbing onto the chair and pulling you into his lap instead.

“But you’re kinda magic, you know that?”

You nestled into his chest, your head tucked beneath his chin, both of you watching Lola’s tiny chest rise and fall in the bassinet.

“You know,” you whispered,

“If you start crying during a Starbucks order because they’re out of oat milk, I’m cutting you off.”

He chuckled, kissing the top of your head.

“Deal.”

[lionneee]

Cherry Lips

Masterlist

Taglist

English is not my first language, please be kind

BestFriend!Mordern!Aemond x BestFriend!Fem!Reader

•Warnings: smut, taking of sexual themes, loss of virginity, piv, fingering, kissing.•

“You’re kidding!” She laughed as she looked at her best friend.

It was night, and they were sitting on the sand, looking at the ocean with a bowl of cherries between them.

“I’m not kidding! I bring one every time I get out, you never know!” Aemond chuckled as he threw another cherry in his mouth.

“How exactly do you expect to love your virginity that you think about putting a fresh condom in your pocket every time you get out?” She laughed as she watched him raise his shoulders with an amused smirk and throw another cherry in his mouth.

“You’ll choke on it if you keep throwing them in your mouth like that.” She scoffed but was still smiling.

“Sorry, mom.” He smirked as she jokingly pushed her shoulder.

“Seriously though, I can’t wait to have a boyfriend. I want to have sex so much.” She whined as she grabbed a cherry and put it in her mouth. Aemond hummed in agreement.

“Yeah, if I don’t have sex in a while, I’ll suck at it forever. Girls want guys who know what they’re doing. It’s easier for you.” He looked at her with an amused smile, even if he was actually speaking his mind.

“I don’t think it’s about what guys can do.” She said as she leaned back on her hands. “It’s about feeling safe, I guess.” She looked at her feet as she dug under the sand with them.

“It’s frustrating! Every guy I’ve been with wanted to have sex so soon, and… I never felt like it. How am I supposed to have sex with my hypothetical boyfriend if I’m always nervous around them?” She sighed.

“I know.” He laid back, looking at the dark sky and the visible stars. “Maybe we still haven’t found the right person yet.” He hummed. She groaned and let herself fall back to lay beside him.

“It’s shitty.” She commented. Aemond smiled and nodded in agreement. “I just want someone that… I know I’ll be comfortable with, even after the act. That if I mess up because I don’t know anything it will not cringe away but make me feel okay, not embarrassed.”

“I’m sick and tired of being a virgin.” Aemond broke the serious moment with a groan. They both chuckled.

She turned her head to look at him, amusement twinkling in her eyes. “Yeah? You gonna put that condom in your pocket to good use anytime soon?”

Aemond smirked, tilting his head toward her. “You never know. Maybe the opportunity will present itself when I least expect it.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile didn’t fade. “Well, I hope whoever it is makes you feel comfortable too.”

Aemond turned onto his side, propping his head up on his hand as he studied her face. “What if it’s someone you already feel comfortable with?”

She frowned slightly, not immediately understanding what he meant. “Like a friend?”

“Yeah." He said, his voice casual, but there was something beneath it, something hesitant, something testing. “Someone you already trust. No awkwardness, no pressure. Just… figuring it out together.”

She blinked, processing his words. The thought had never crossed her mind before, not really. But as she looked at Aemond, his familiar face, the way he could make her laugh even in frustrating moments, it didn’t seem like the worst idea in the world.

“You mean like… us?" She asked cautiously.

Aemond shrugged, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I mean, we both want to get it over with, right?” He hesitated, watching her reaction. “And we both want to feel safe.”

She bit her lip, looking up at the sky as her heart beat just a little faster. “That’s… not the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

He let out a chuckle, but it was softer this time, almost nervous. “No pressure. Just a thought.”

She turned her head to look at him again, searching his face. “Would it ruin things between us?”

Aemond’s smirk faded, and his expression grew serious. “I don’t think so. You’re my best friend. I’d never want to make you uncomfortable.”

She swallowed, a warmth spreading through her chest at his words as he laid back on the sand.. “Same. And we'll stay friends after we…”

“Of course.” He agreed, looking up at the sky.

For a moment, they just lay there, staring at the stars, the sound of the waves filling the silence. Then she exhaled, shaking her head with a chuckle.

“Well, at least we know one thing for sure." She said, reaching for another cherry.

Aemond arched his brow, turning to look at her. “What’s that?”

She popped the cherry into her mouth and grinned. “You’ll definitely have a condom ready.”

He groaned, rolling onto his back as she laughed beside him.

Once their laughs dissipated, they were left in a strange silence. Despite her agreeing to Aemond’s proposal, none of them made a move.

She chewed on her lip, staring up at the stars, her mind whirling. The idea had seemed so simple when they were joking about it. But now that it was hanging between them like an unanswered question, she wasn’t sure what to do next.

Aemond exhaled sharply, breaking the silence. “This is weird, isn’t it?”

She turned her head to look at him, and when she saw the faint nervousness in his expression, she felt a little relieved. At least she wasn’t the only one feeling this way. “A little." She admitted with a soft laugh.

He hummed, folding his arms behind his head. “I mean, we don’t have to do anything. It was just a thought.”

She hesitated, considering his words. “But… Do you want to?”

His jaw tensed for a second, as if he was debating something internally. Then he turned his head to meet her gaze. “Yeah." He said honestly. “But only if you do too.”

There was something about the way he said it, no teasing, no smirking, just simple sincerity, that made her heart flutter.

She swallowed, suddenly hyper aware of how close they were. The warm night air wrapped around them, the ocean waves whispering in the background. It was just them, alone on the sand, like always. But somehow, it felt different now.

“I don’t want it to be weird after." She murmured.

“It won’t be, I guess." He assured her. “Not unless we make it weird.”

She let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. “That sounds like something someone would say right before it gets weird.”

Aemond chuckled. “I mean it." He said softly. “We’ll still be us.”

She studied him for a long moment, then she turned back to look at the stars. 

“Okay.” She said suddenly.

His eyes flickered to her lips for a brief second before meeting her gaze again. “Okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

Again, no one moved, and they fell right back into their previous silence.

She couldn’t stop thinking, whether she should make a move, or say something, or kiss him.

But her body refused to move.

“Should we start with a kiss?” He asked carefully, stealing a glance at her.

She swallowed, nodding slowly. That seemed… reasonable. A low-risk way to ease into whatever this was.

“Yeah." She agreed as she laid on her side to face him.

He turned towards her, his gaze flickered to her lips before meeting her eyes again. He didn’t move right away, giving her the chance to change her mind. But when she didn’t, he leaned in, slow, deliberate.

The moment his lips brushed against hers, she felt her breath catch. It was soft, barely there, but enough to make her stomach flip.

Aemond pulled back an inch, searching her face. “Still okay?”

She blinked, licking her lips as if trying to process the feeling. “Yeah.”

His lips quirked in the faintest of smiles before he leaned in again, this time pressing a little firmer, letting it last just a second longer.

Her eyes fluttered shut as warmth spread through her chest. It wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t uncomfortable. It was… nice.

When they pulled apart, she exhaled, opening her eyes to meet his, licking her lips.

His lips tasted like cherry.

“Still not weird?" He asked, hesitation in his gaze.

She shook her head. “Not weird.”

Aemond nodded. “Good.”

For a moment, they just lay there, staring at each other, the sound of the ocean filling the space between them. 

Aemond leaned over again, this time when he kissed her, his tongue pushed gently, hesitantly against her lips, as if asking her to part them.

The sensation was strange, having his tongue in her mouth, or pushing hers in his, teeth clashing against teeth, the way he tasted, the exchange of saliva, was something she had never thought it would feel like.

But she liked it.

She put her hand on his cheek as she slowly raised herself on her elbow to deepen the kiss, their noses pressed against each other’s cheeks. Aemond let out a moan, a sound she never heard from him before, but that made her stomach clench in a strange way, and her thighs close tightly.

Aemond’s hand moved to her hip, slowly moving on her back as she pressed her against him. His other hand slipped in her hair, pulling her face closer from the back of her head, his tongue moving restless in her mouth.

Aemond’s fingers tightened slightly against her hip, his body pressing subtly into hers. The heat between them was building, slow but undeniable. She could feel his breath against her skin, the weight of his touch, the way his lips moved against hers like he was savoring the moment.

Her heart pounded as she let herself lean into him more, her own hands hesitantly exploring, fingertips ghosting over his jaw, then trailing down to the fabric of his shirt. He was warm, solid. Familiar and yet suddenly something else entirely.

Aemond pulled back just enough to look at her, his forehead nearly touching hers. His breathing was heavier now, his pupils slightly blown. “Still okay?" He murmured, voice low.

She nodded, her own breath shaky. “Yeah.”

He exhaled sharply, like he had been holding something back. “We can stop whenever, you know that, right?”

She swallowed, nodding again. She did know that. And yet, she didn’t want to stop.

Her fingers curled into his shirt, and she pulled him back down to her. This time, the kiss was different, deeper, more certain.

“You taste like cherry-“ He moaned in her mouth.

“You too…” She answered, slipping her hands in her hair, pulling him closer.

Aemond responded instantly, his hand slipping beneath the hem of her shirt, resting lightly against her bare skin. The contrast of the cool night air and his warm touch sent a shiver up her spine.

His lips moved to her jaw, then down to her neck. She gasped when he lingered there, his tongue tracing lightly against her skin.

Her back arched on its own, her legs spreaded, and Aemond wasted no time.

“Can I touch you?” He asked as he kept kissing the skin of her neck. She bit her lip at his question, nodding almost immediately.

Aemond groaned and slipped his hand under her pants and panties, searching desperately for her clit.

“Tell me where –” He looked up at her, his eye shadowed by a veil of pure desire.

“A bit lower- Ah!” She moaned as he found it, his fingers flicking it roughly. Aemond immediately looked back up at her from his hand.

“Are you okay?” He asked, concerned, stopping his hand for a moment.

“I’m fine…” She panted. “That felt good. P-press there-” She gasped as he applied the right amount of pressure. “Nor rub, not too fast.” 

Aemond nodded, looking back down at his hand as he did as she instructed, rubbing his fingers on her pearl. After he took the pace, he looked up at her, finding her with her head thrown back, silent cries escaping her lips, her back arched and her brows furrowed in pleasure.

He never expected that a sight like that could turn him on that much.

His cock was straining against his pants, begging for attention, so he slowly rubbed it against her tight, to alleviate a bit of lust.

“Can I slip them inside?” He didn’t realize it until he spoke, but he was breathing harder. He watched her closely, and when she nodded, he trailed two of his fingers lower, until he met her entrance. “Are two okay?” He asked, restraining himself to just fuck her with her fingers until she would crate a whole different ocean under them.

“Yes-” She panted, and let out a moan as he slipped his two thick fingers inside her. Aemond groaned at her beautiful sound, leaning his forehead against hers, as he crooked his fingers, rubbing her inner walls, searching desperately for that spot he knew women had.

His head fell on her shoulder as he imagined how her tight walls could feel around his cock, squeezing him from every side, massaging him, warming him.

“Where is it?” He growled to himself, against her ear, making a shiver run through her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers digging on his back as she kept moaning.

Aemond smiled satisfied only when he heard her gasp, and moan louder, knowing he had found that spot. He kept rubbing it continuously, and when he felt her walls clenched around his fingers, his eye nearly rolled back.

He couldn’t wait to feel her, to know what her walls squeezing around him would feel.

“A-Aemond-” She panted, knowing she was close to the edge. She could feel herself tensing, and she knew she was going to experience one of her best orgasms ever.

His fingers moved faster inside her, and she had to cover her mouth to not moan too loud.

“I-I’m gonna- c-come —” She closed her eyes shut, wrapped her arm tighter around him, bringing him closer as her hips started to squirm, her legs trembling, and then, she let go, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through her body, her back arching as Aemond slowed down his fingers and slowly slipped them out.

Once she was relaxed, she slowly let go of Aemond and unwrapped her arm from his neck, slowly opening her eyes and moving her hand away from her mouth.

She could see that Aemond was restraining himself. He kneeled between her legs, looking down at her as he opened his belt.

“I… I need to-” He panted heavily, his brows slightly arched in pain.

“I know.” She nodded and sat up, helping him lower his pants. He lowered them just enough to let his cock spring out, then he grabbed his condom from his pockets, opening the package and rolling it down his hard cock.

She tried not to look too much, but it felt almost impossible. The only dicks she had ever seen were in porns, but she swore that it was the biggest one she had ever seen, and she didn’t know if she should have been more agitated or excited.

Aemond placed his hand under her chin and kissed her gently, in a way that felt more like a promise that he wouldn't have hurt her rather than driven by simple desire.

He leaned back over her, forcing her to lay back on the sand, then he placed one hand beside her head, the other tugging her pants down impatiently. She helped him remove them, the slight breeze of the night making her shiver slightly, when in fact, she was hot all over.

“I’ll be gentle, just-” He fisted his cock a couple of times before rubbing his tip against her clit, finding it again with ease. She moaned softly and looked up at him, even if his eye was concentrated on looking at his cock so close to her cunt.

“Please, can I-” He groaned as he kept rubbing his tip against her. “Just the tip now, but–”

“Yes.” She said before he could even finish his sentence, she had never, ever felt more turned on than in that moment, and she too, couldn’t wait any longer.

Aemond bent his arm and rested on his elbow on top of her and kissed her as he gently pushed against her entrance. The stretch stung, but it wasn’t as painful as she imagined, or as she had been told. There was a strange edge of pleasure along with the pain that made her crave more.

She widened her legs as Aemond lift back just enough to look at her.

“More.” She panted, her hands moving to his hips to gently move him lower, his cock slipping deeper inside her. Her mouth opened and she arched her brows, taking a deep breath, her head falling back and she bent her legs as Aemond bottomed out inside her. 

“Y-you’re so tight—“ He groaned, a hint of surprise in his voice.

Her walls were enveloping everywhere, squeezing him, clenching as they adapted to the intrusion of his cock. He had to close his eye and try hard to not move, or even worse, come, but hell if it was hard when she felt so fucking good.

“It feels so fucking amazing—“ He dipped his head under her face, kissing her neck, trying to distract her from her discomfort.

“You feel good too…” She panted, her arms wrapped around his back, hugging him tightly. Aemond’s hand moved to her thigh, caressing it softly, raising his head to look at her.

They did it.

“Are you okay?” He asked, looking at her in her eyes. She nodded.

“Yeah. Y-you can move…” She blushed as she said that and Aemond never loved an order more than that one.

He started pulling out, until only his tip would be inside her, then gently thrust forward, trying to caress her walls as carefully as possible, hoping she would quickly feel good enough to let him go faster.

She moaned, her face showing still a bit of pain, but it faded away as he kept rolling his hips slowly and gently.

It felt good, foreign, but wonderfully good. She felt extremely full, and she found herself getting addicted to the feeling.

“Aemond-“ She looked up at him. “Move faster…” She asked.

Aemond immediately sat up and complied, grabbing her waist tightly from under her sweater.

“Please tell me you’re okay—“ He growled as he tried to not go too fast for her. “You feel so fucking good-“ He growled, as he looked down at how his cock kept entering her again and again. He moved his hand to her clit, finding it immediately to her surprise, and he started rubbing it again just as she told him before, making her pleasure overpower the pain.

“Does it still hurt?” He panted as he looked up at her. She shook her head as her back arched, her hips rolling along with his thrust.

“Let me move faster—“ He panted. “Please- This feels so fucking good.” He growled. 

“Okay.” She nodded. “Okay, I’m fine-“ She couldn’t finish her sentence as he bent over her, starting to thrust harder as his arm wrapped around her head, his hand moved on top of it, keeping her against his shoulder as he kept rolling his hips, picking up the pace.

“Keep going, Aem-“ She moaned, her hands clenching on his shirt. “I love it—“ She cried out as she felt her orgasm growing.

“Yes. I fucking love it too.” He growled. “I’m not gonna last much longer.” He panted.

“Me neither.” She moaned as her back arched, her cunt clenched tightly as she felt the tension building inside her, ready to snap.

Aemond moaned loudly as he felt her clenching, the pleasure taking his body.

“Y-you’re tighter—“ He gasped and pressed her closer, thrusting faster, harder, more intensely. He was completely out of control of his body, he was letting himself get driven by the pleasure, the ecstasy that he was feeling, that she was making him feel. 

“Fuck!” He tried to keep his pace steady with his fingers on her clit, hoping she would come soon because he didn’t know if he would last much longer.

“Oh, Aemond-“ She moaned as she hid her face in his neck. His cock was brushing repeatedly on the same spot his fingers rubbed before, but along with the stretch, the knowledge that they were having sex, that he was inside her, made it all more intense.

“I-I’m gonna-“ She cried out.

“Me too.” Just as he said that, she exploded around him, clenching tighter around him as she moaned and jerked her hips. “Yes, fuck yes—“ He moaned as he came, his balls releasing the hot cum inside the condom, his cock getting massaged repeatedly by her walls, that were still spasming.

They stayed still for a long time, hugging each other until their breaths returned to normal. Then, he slowly, gently pulled out, noticing her wincing when she did.

“Are you okay?” He asked, stopping his movements and looking at her, worried.

She nodded.

“Yeah, just… a strange feeling.” She said, Aemond nodded and laid back beside her.

They laid in silence, their brains registering what just happened.

“Sex… sex is amazing.” She smiled, happy. Aemond chuckled beside her.

“It really is.” He laughed with her.

They quickly dressed back up and stood up, walking back to his car.

“Your condom really was useful in the end!” She laughed as she walked beside him.

“Told you.” He smiled and looked. He wrapped his arm around his shoulders, and he offered her the last cheery with his other hand. She smiled at it and took it, throwing it in her mouth.

“Careful. You might choke on it if you throw it in your mouth like that.”

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[bweeeb]

Hello! Do you think you could do a bucky barnes x reader enemies to lovers? Like they have worked together a lot but hated each other. Bucky never knew why reader was so distant or something and then the void happens and when they all go in to help yelena, he stumbles across reader's room where she's trapped and sees her trauma in her history and helps her break out of it? Maybe she was in the red room too or something like that?

FEAR OF TOUCH

Heyy, I totally loved this request. I hope I don't disappoint u with what I wrote. Feedback and more requests are always welcome.

BUCKY BARNES X READER

Summary: You've always avoided Bucky and Bucky has always avoided you. It turns out that pretending to hate each other isn't the best option when ur past is so intertwined.

warnings: mild angst. enemies to lovers. english not my first language. Yeah. Enjoy

You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t care so much.

You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t care — even though you said you didn’t.

Bucky was in a bad mood.

And it wasn’t just because of the situation — it was because you were here.

Even after all these years working together, he still didn’t understand why you always avoided him. The sneaky glances, careful steps, crossed arms. You were unreachable. And Bucky hated that you were untouchable to him.

The van shook beneath you all as everyone in the backseat stayed silent.

“Anyone got a plan or...?”

you sighed.Yelena shook her head with a grimace.

“Nope.”

“Great.” you muttered.

Bucky, sitting in the front passenger seat with Alexei driving, scoffed and shot you a sidelong glance.

“Seriously?” he said. “You show up out of nowhere, don’t say a word, and now you’re asking for a plan?”

“I showed up because, like always, you guys would’ve died without me.”

“Oh, sure. The savior of us all. What an honor to have you among us mere mortals.”

“At least I do something besides sulk in silence all the time.”

“And you? Always pretending to be above it all. Untouchable. Unreachable. Come on...”

“Shut up, Bucky."

“How about both of you shut up?” Ava grumbled from the backseat.

Silence fell again.

“Man. You guys need to get laid.” Yelena blurted out, out of nowhere.

You and Bucky let out dry, humorless laughs.

Touching him.

It was all you wanted — and all you feared.The fear of hurting him was stronger.

Stronger than your desire.

Stronger than anything in this world.

Bucky might not remember.

But you did.

You remembered every scream of horror, every tear that fell alongside his, every pleading look for mercy.

Every needle pressed into your neck.

Every punch hard enough to break your jaw when you hesitated to hurt him.

“Don’t make me regret coming to help you, Yelena.” you muttered, crossing your arms and sinking into the seat.

“You found us way too fast,” John pointed out, suspicious.You shrugged.

“I heard over the radios what was happening. The place was easy to track with Frank’s locator.”

“Frank Castle?” Bucky asked from the front seat, his tone noticeably grumpy.You rolled your eyes once.

“Yes, Barnes. Frank Castle.”

“What were you doing with that jerk? Thought you hated him.”

“I do. But he’s more approachable than you. Who’s a jerk twenty-four hours a day.”

“I’m the jerk? Says the untouchable who thinks she’s better than everyone else? Please.”

“Enough. Shut up.” Ava cut in, firmly.

Silence settled for the rest of the ride.

But then...After they found Bob — and everything spiraled out of control — fifteen minutes after the Thunderbolts supposedly backed off (as Alexei liked to call them), Bob reappeared.

Like a sentinel.

Hovering over New York, drowning the city in darkness.

Yelena was the first to disappear into that mess.And without hesitation, you followed.Then Bucky, John, Ava, and Alexei.

Bucky walked through his worst memories.

Torture.

Death.

Screams.

Until he landed on a memory clearer than anything he’d known before.

His past self.

Sitting.

Tied to an iron chair.

Blue low lights.

Chest heaving with anguish.

And then you came in.

Small.

Like you were afraid you’d be crushed by the Russians around you. “Make our weapon work, little thing.”

You were crying.

Jaw trembling.

Fists clenched, trying to keep your hands away from anything. “She cries too much. Fix that.”

A punch.

Dry.

Right to your jaw.

You hit the floor. The Russian soldier grabbed you by the collar of your shirt — the only piece of clothing you had — and shoved you toward Bucky, tied up and anguished. “Touch the weapon. Come on, doll. It’s not like you haven’t touched a man before.”

“B-b-but...” you stammered, choking on a sob. A needle was plunged into your neck. Your trembling hands were forced onto Bucky’s temples.He screamed. You screamed too. Because you weren’t just transmitting painful memories.You were absorbing his feelings.

Guilt.

Drowning.

Desperation.

And even on autopilot, your tears fell.

Blank expression.

No strength left.

When the scene reset, Bucky looked around. And in the corner of the room, he saw you.

Curled up.

Covering your ears.

Eyes squeezed shut tight.Your body shaking as you tried to muffle the screams coming from him. Before he could reach you, the scene shattered beneath his feet. And he left that place. Without finding you again.

Over an hour later, with New York safe and Bob rescued, you were quieter than ever.

Quieter than your usual quiet.

Your arms wrapped around yourself like a shield.Nails digging into your palms.You were desperate. New York was safe. The new Avengers standing.

But inside you, only darkness remained.Bucky found you, away from the crowd, curled against a concrete wall.You stared at the floor.Aimless.Broken.

“Hey...” he said softly.

“I’m not in the mood, okay?” you answered without looking at him.

“I saw you.” he insisted.

You shut your eyes tight.

Remembered how he’d looked at you, horrified, while you tortured him with those damn memories stolen from some psychopath. All to make him believe he was still a monster.

“I saw you, doll.” he repeated, softer this time, stepping closer. Tried to reach for your hand.

“Don’t...”

“Look at me.” he pleaded.You raised your eyes cautiously. “I didn’t know...” he said. “I didn’t know you were there.”

“I shouldn’t have been.” you whispered, like saying it louder would break you. “I shouldn’t have hurt you. I didn’t want to...”

He tried to touch you, and you pulled away.

“You’re not afraid of me,” he growled. “You’re afraid of yourself.”

You sniffled quietly.

“Please... don’t touch me. I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“Did you want to?” he asked.You shook your head, tears in your eyes.

“Never.”

“Then you won’t.”

And he touched your arm.

Nothing happened.

Nothing bad.

You sobbed.

And then Bucky pulled you into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry...”

you whimpered into his chest.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

he replied, like a prayer.

Something you needed to hear.

Something he knew would take time for you to believe.

But he’d be there.

For you as long as you need.

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I hope this was satisfactory. Thank you for the request♡ @lonelyghosts-stuff

[godslino]

MIGRATION | bang chan first date series. strangers to lovers.

pairing: bang chan x fem!reader word count: 5.5k genre: fluff, romance, falling in love at first sight summary: you've never been lucky when it comes to dating, but a blind date with chan just might turn that around

chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin · · · ♡ series masterlist · · · ♡ taglist · · · ♡

author’s note: hello and welcome to my first date series!! i seriously had so much fun writing this and i’m so excited to continue with the other members. i hope you all enjoy! if you liked it, please remember that any and all feedback is appreciated!! happy reading <3

“So…I know a guy.”

You groan, throwing your head back against the cushion of the booth you’re currently shoved into. Changbin drops his fork to gesture at you with his hand, a look of exasperation on his face.

“Come on, I haven’t even said anything yet!”

“The problem is that you’ve said anything at all.” You say, glaring at him as you reach for your drink.

Changbin, as much as you love him, is notorious for being the worst wing man in the history of wing men. His most recent pick, Jooyoung, was a friend of his from high school. A freelance writer, the owner of a snazzy apartment in one of the more sophisticated districts of Seoul, and conveniently single. They’d recently reconnected after a mutual friend threw a party that they both went to, and he was ecstatic to try and set the two of you up.

You’d been reluctant, rightfully so, but Changbin is anything but a quitter and you also just so happen to be the world’s biggest pushover (his pout is just too good, okay?), so you’d agreed on the off chance that it just might work out.

Long story short, it didn’t.

Jooyoung was probably the biggest asshole you’d ever been on a date with. Not that you were surprised, though. Changbin’s circle of friends when he was younger mainly consisted of grade-A douchebags who were born with a golden spoon in their mouths. Perks of being born into a wealthy family and attending one of the most elite private schools in the country, apparently. Changbin had attended a university on the outskirts of Seoul for a reason. Lesser known, laid back—to study music of all things—and the sole reason for his father’s headache, as he’d put it. That’s where he met you.

“Okay, but I think this guy might be the one.” He makes air quotes around the two words, and you scoff as you cross your arms.

“And what would you know about that?”

“Um, a lot? You’re my best friend, I know exactly what you’re looking for.”

This is the part where things go south—or so you assume. Changbin puts on the puppy eyes, jutting his bottom lip out to hell as he stares at you from across the table. You glare at him dead on, unwavering. He won’t get you this time. Not over your dead body.

“At least let me tell you about him?”

“No.”

“I met him at the company. He makes music just like me, only slightly better. And you know how I am, I don’t just say that stuff. That means he’s really good.”

Choosing to ignore him, you go back to poking at your noodles.

“He’s from Australia. Born here, moved there when he was young, then moved back to pursue music. Kinda ballsy if you ask me. But he speaks English, so at least communication won’t be as much of an issue as other guys.”

A small crack in your composure. The idea of this guy growing up somewhere other than Korea is…pretty intriguing.

Despite moving here three years ago for school, it’s still kind of hard to communicate when your Korean could be more polished than it is. You’d basically kept to yourself for the first year until you met Changbin. He’d easily integrated you into his group of other music majors, even though you stuck out like a sore thumb as both a foreigner and a stem major. But if it weren’t for him, you think that you might’ve hauled ass back home a long time ago due to the isolation. So to be introduced to someone who can speak english, under the prospect of possibly dating them, sparks a bit more interest.

Changbin notices the slight twitch of your brow and smirks, one side of his mouth pulling downwards. Bastard.

“Hmm, what else? Oh! Dude’s got a killer set of dimples. You’re into that, aren’t you? You used to go on and on about that younger guy in your physics class during senior year. What was his name—Jeongsuk? Jeong—Jinyoung? Jeongin! It was Jeongin.” Changbin snaps his fingers like he’s impressed with his own memory, pointing at you as you fix him with a blank stare. “He has dimplessss.” He sing-songs for emphasis.

And, really, this should not be the breaking point. You’re better than this. You’re not so shallow that you would throw away your pride for a man you’ve never met—let alone never seen before—all because he has dimples.

But, once again, you’re a pushover. A big one. So yeah, fuck it.

“What’s his name?”

Changbin blinks like he wasn’t expecting you to fall for it. “Seriously? That’s what got you?”

“You have five seconds to tell me his name before I change my mind.”

He scoffs, mouth agape. “I went as far as disregarding my own talents to play up this guy and his music making abilities—”

“Five.”

“—tried to give you a little bit of a backstory, too—”

“Four.”

“—and the dimples are the final nail in the coffin?”

“Three.”

“Chan! His name is Chan. God. Just—stop counting. It freaks me out.”

Chan. You throw the name around in your brain for a bit, pointedly ignoring the way Changbin is whining about how you sound like his mother when you do the whole number thing. It’s kind of…cute. Not enough to conjure up an idea of what he might look like, but putting a name to a faceless stranger with dimples in your head is gonna have to do for now.

“You swear this guy is normal?”

Changbin rolls his eyes. “Define normal.”

“Okay, let me rephrase myself,” you push your plate forward, laying your forearms on the table as an indicator that you’re serious, “Is he an asshole?”

“No.”

“Hm. Okay. So that’s a maybe.”

“What the fuck? I just said no.”

“Yeah? You also set me up with Jooyoung, remember? The guy who literally started flirting with the waitress right in front of me five minutes into our date? And then proceeded to yell at her when his fries weren’t salted?”

“How was I supposed to know…” Changbin mumbles, looking off to the side guiltily.

“Nevermind. Just—if this goes bad, I’m blaming you. And then I’m never going on a blind date with one of your friends again. Matter of fact, I’m never going on a date again, period. Deal?”

Changbin grins, the apples of his cheeks shiny under the restaurant lighting. He holds his hand out for you to shake, and you take it hesitantly, grimacing when he uses his strength to jostle your arm like a ragdoll.

“Deal.”

🎥🍿

Any hope you had for the date going smoothly starts to dwindle once Chan texts you the day of.

You’d gotten his number from Changbin, who had so kindly already given Chan your number before he’d even broached the subject with you. The resulting lecture about privacy and consent may or may not have extended the rest of your time at the restaurant, a sheepish Changbin rubbing at the back of his neck while you berated him for his lack of common sense.

When your phone buzzes on your bathroom counter, Chan’s name flashing across the screen, you mistakenly think that he might be messaging because he’s early. Which, given the fact that you were standing in nothing but a towel, hair still wet from your shower and face covered in moisturizer you hadn’t rubbed into your skin yet, would be less than ideal.

Chan [12:32p.m.]

Hey! I’m really sorry to have to do this, but can we push the date back an hour?

Something came up at the studio

I tried to get out of it but I have a deadline to meet, client probably won’t be too happy of their track isn’t done on time

Great. Already off to a rough start.

In his defense though, you appreciate the fact that he’s messaged a whopping two hours in advance. Most people probably wouldn’t be bothered to allow that much of a grace period.

You [2:33p.m.]

no worries!!!

you didn’t buy the tickets yet, did you?

Chan [2:34p.m.]

Nope! So we should be fine

I’ll purchase them for 6 and then be there to scoop you up around 5:30 if that’s cool?

You [2:36p.m.]

sounds perfect

hope stuff goes well at the studio!!

Chan [2:40p.m.]

You’re sweet

Thank you, I’ll see you soon :)

You’re sweet. You stare at the words on the screen, your brain buffering for a moment. A big fat loading circle floating above your head.

Suddenly it’s way too hot in the bathroom. You blame the fact that you shower with the water cranked all the way up to boiling, because really there’s no other explanation for the warmth spreading throughout your cheeks.

To be fair, it’s been almost a year now since you’ve had any sort of positive interaction with another male. On one hand, your last relationship ended in a ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ ordeal that most definitely gave the impression that it was you. On the other hand, most of the dates you’ve been on have ruined themselves within the first five minutes, never really giving you the chance to feel any sort of connection. Cocky attitudes, overly pushy encounters, and even someone who walked into the cafe you were seated at, took one look at you, and walked right back out. That one still hurts.

It’s a little sad that Chan is the only guy out of the mix whose elicited any sort of reaction out of you. Especially since you haven’t even met him yet.

The extra hour that you have to compensate for flies by a lot quicker than you expect, and before you know it Chan is messaging that he’s five minutes away.

You take one last glance in the mirror: a pair of light wash jeans that sit right above your hips, black halter top bodysuit, and a thin cream colored cardigan to tie it all together. Simple and cute. A movie date doesn’t really call for all the dramatics, and you’d hate to overdress for a first impression.

You’re in the middle of reapplying your chapstick when the doorbell rings.

Take it easy, you say to yourself, inhaling deeply as you reach for the door handle. You let the air out with one final huff, swinging the door open only to be met by a bouquet of daisies directly in front of your face.

You blink in surprise. Well that’s a first. Before you get a chance to speak, the bouquet is being lowered, and the moment Chan’s face comes into view causes a small gasp to fall from your lips.

He’s…cute. Beautiful, even. A bright smile, dimples that tuck themselves into his laugh lines as his eyes disappear into crescents much like the moon, and lips that make your head spin when his tongue darts out to wet them nervously. His hair falls messily across his forehead in a faded hue of purple with hints of brown, definitely unconventional and an obvious result of one too many washes, but he makes it work. He makes it work well.

He clears his throat, brings a fist up to his mouth to emphasize it, and then grins. “Hi there.”

It takes a second for your brain to catch up. Even his voice is attractive. He’s using english, which leads you to assume that Changbin has already told him that you’re not from here. His accent is there, not too noticeable but also strong enough to be picked up on.

“Hey.” You smile, rubbing a hand up and down your arm.

“These are for you. I, uh, as an apology for being late. Is it too much?”

You shake your head quickly. “No! No, these are—they’re beautiful. I love them. Thank you…Chan.” His name rolls off your tongue hesitantly, but it all disappears as soon as he flashes that smile again.

“Good, I’m glad,” his voice catches the breathy end of the laugh he lets out, “This is weird, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I don’t really do well with this kind of stuff. But you look really nice, and I’m excited. My car is parked just out front if you’re ready to go.”

Honest. Awkward. A laugh that makes you want to hear it over and over again. You were sold the minute his eyes met yours. Chan offers his elbow for you to take like you’re in some cheesy romance movie from your childhood.

Yeah. This one is definitely gonna go well.

🎥🍿

Chan might not show it, but he’s just as nervous as you are.

You wouldn’t be able to tell at first glance that he spent an entire forty-five minutes deciding on an outfit, only to settle with some jeans and a white shirt, a jacket thrown on top for some color.

When Changbin first proposed the idea of going on a date with you, he was adamant that he wasn’t looking for anything right now. But as soon as you opened the door, eyes wide and looking like the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, he’s glad he said yes.

“So what movie are we seeing?” you ask, frowning when Chan laughs. “What? What’s funny?”

“It’s a surprise.” He smiles, rushing forward to hold the door of the car open for you. When he puts his hand against the top part to block your head, you have to suppress the smattering of butterfly wings that start to clamor against your ribcage.

Chan is sweet. He double checks that you’re buckled in before driving off, he asks if there’s any specific music you want to listen to before foregoing it all entirely to ask about you instead, he listens with an attentiveness that has you feeling seen and heard, and he smiles with such genuinity and warmth that you feel cold once it disappears. You stare at him in awe, like he’s a figment of your imagination.

Chan’s been staring back, too. He spares glances in your direction when you’re not looking, feels the steady thump of his heart gradually increase whenever you lean a little too far to the left when he makes you laugh, and he thinks your voice is prettier than anything that’s ever played on the radio.

You learn more about him as he drives. He moved back from Australia when he was seventeen, he’s got two younger siblings and an adorable puppy named Berry back home (and pictures on his dashboard to prove it), he prefers Australia’s summers over Seoul’s winters but he finds more inspiration here in the city than anywhere else. You resonate with the fact that he doesn’t really have anyone here besides a small circle of friends. No family, no one to fall back on when things get tough.

Chan talks like he’s an old friend, like he’s re-telling a story you’ve heard a thousand times. He makes it easy to fall into step with him as if you’ve been here all along.

By the time the two of you get to the movie theater, the initial awkwardness that had hung in the air is gone, replaced by comfort and ease. Chan throws the car in park and all but books it out of his seat to open your door for you, and you giggle when he makes a dramatic bow as you exit.

The theater is kind of busy for a Thursday night. There are families with their kids lined up to get tickets and groups of teenagers at the concessions, all of which make for a crowded lobby. Chan glances down when you place a hand on his arm, mostly because you want to stay close, but also because it’s hard to ignore the feeling of being magnetized towards him. He smiles, bending at the elbow to allow your arm to slip into his.

There are cardboard cutouts along the sides of the lobby, all of which serve to promote the newest animated release about a family of ducks. You squint at the showtimes once the two of you make it to the front of the counter, letting your eyes scan the movie titles until you finally land on—

“Two tickets for Migration, under Bang Chan.”

The girl behind the counter looks up, her eyes bored. She can’t be any older than sixteen, most likely resentful about the fact that she’s stuck here on a school night. “The kids movie?” She asks, unimpressed.

Chan braves a glance in your direction and—ah, there goes that grin again. Cue the butterflies. You’d agree to a three hour long showing of static and white noise if it meant he’d never stop doing that.

“Yup, that’s the one.”

Tickets in hand, a smiling Chan right next to you, and a massive line for popcorn that honestly might have the two of you late for the previews. “We’re seeing a kids movie?” You ask, moving up a spot in the line.

“Mmhm. I spent so long looking at all the options. The romcoms seemed boring, Bin mentioned that the newest superhero movie was bad, and I figured a scary one was too cliché,” he eyes you sidelong, “Unless you’re into that.”

You huff out a laugh, not really expecting him to be so straightforward, “I definitely am not.”

“Hm, so the old yawn to put my arm around you trick won’t work?” His eyes are playful, but something about the idea of being in even more contact with him has your stomach doing flips.

“Nope. Sorry. Seen that one before.” You say, making him laugh, his earring dangling when he drops his chin towards his chest.

“I guess I’ll have to figure out something else then.”

Another thing you learn about Chan is that he enjoys interesting food combinations.

“You like peanut m&ms?” he asks, throwing a bag of them onto the counter when you nod your head. After he pays, he pockets his wallet and turns to you with a bucket of popcorn tucked under his arm and a large drink with two straws in his hand. “Could you grab the candy?”

First door, theater one. There are a bunch of parents and their kids entering ahead of you, all of them buzzing with excitement. It’s a little funny, the fact that two grown adults—no kid in tow—are walking into the showing of a kids movie.

Chan leads you to the very back row. “For the kids, just in case they can’t see over us.” He quickly clarifies after noticing the way your eyebrows shoot up in silent question, but even in the dim lighting you can still see the tips of his ears turning pink.

“Taking me to a kids movie and then propositioning me in the presence of five year olds? You’ve got some nerve.” You say, timing it perfectly as Chan is leaning forward to take a sip of the drink that’s placed in the cupholder between the two of you. He sputters around the straw in surprise, coughing into his fist.

“That’s not—” You laugh, cutting him off as he stares at you with red eyes from his coughing fit. The mood shifts after that, and Chan visibly relaxes into his seat as he starts throwing jokes out a lot easier than before.

“Learned this from my dad,” he says, opening the bag of m&ms, “It’s my favorite thing to do at the movies. Haven’t been in a while because—well, I don’t really have anyone to go with.”

You watch as he dumps the candy into the popcorn bucket, shaking it to mix everything together. He reaches in to grab a piece of popcorn and an m&m at the same time, popping it into his mouth.

“Oh my god,” he sighs, slumping into his seat, “Forgot how good that is.”

When you don’t respond, he looks over. “You okay?”

Are you? You’re not sure. Every bone in your body is screaming bloody murder because Chan is making it really hard to not want to lean over and kiss the concerned frown off of his stupidly pretty face.

The thing about it is that you don’t do blind dates. And you most especially don’t enjoy them. But Chan is different. Chan holds doors open for you and makes corny jokes. Chan laughs at everything like it’s his last day on earth and he’s making up for lost time. Chan listens when you talk and responds with genuine interest. Chan compliments the little girl in the theater lobby who’s wearing a princess dress to watch the new superhero movie. Chan shares something as special as his dad’s favorite movie snack with you. Chan is just…Chan. And you like him. A lot.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay, I’m just—thank you. For sharing that with me.” You say, the corners of your mouth lifting.

“Stop doing that.” He mumbles, eyes trained ahead.

“Doing what?”

“Smiling. It makes my head spin.”

Your heart slams against your chest. You’ve spent the entire date trying to make sense of the way Chan makes you feel, trying to put it all into words. Yet here he is, right in front of you, saying his thoughts as they come and absolutely ruining your resolve in the process. Like it’s easy for him.

There’s no time to answer when the lights go down, the screen up front widening to signal the start of the movie.

Just like any other kids movie, it’s easy to get caught up in all the surface level jokes while also understanding the themes. You and Chan laugh outwardly at some parts, hold your breath at the suspenseful ones. It’s almost like you’re a kid again, enjoying yourself fully for the first time in a really, really long while.

Chan was right, the popcorn and m&m combination is good. You reach back into the bucket for more, freezing when Chan does the same and his knuckles brush yours in the slightest of touches, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. It happens a few more times, each one leaving his hand lingering for far longer than the last, until eventually he makes a show of digging really hard for an m&m and hooks his pinky with yours in between the popcorn. It’s cheesy and cliché but god does it make your stomach do somersaults.

About three-quarters of the way through the movie, when it’s clear that neither one of you are willing to take it the next step further, you lean into his ear.

“You okay? You look kind of tired.”

Chan turns, confused. He’s certain that he wasn’t dozing off. He did have a late night last night. He was up working on the track that still somehow managed to hold him back today, hoping to have everything polished so that he didn’t run into any obstacles before your date. But that didn’t really work out in the end.

“Huh? No, I’m fine. Honest.”

“You sure?” you ask, a slight lift to your voice, “I don’t know, you looked like you were about to yawn.”

The light from the movie hits the left side of his face, illuminating all of his features in a way that makes your breath hitch. He’s pretty. So, so pretty.

Chan blinks, slow, and then his confusion slowly turns to one of understanding. Cue the grin.

“You know, now that I’m thinking about it…I am kind of tired.” He makes a show of fake yawning, stretches his arms above his head (and not blocking any children since you’re in the back row, thankfully), before bringing his right arm down and around your shoulders.

You spend the rest of the movie like that, tucked into Chan’s side while his fingers move gently against your shoulder. He’s unbelievably warm, and eventually you find your head resting in the spot just between his shoulder and his neck, his cheek pushed up against the side of your head. The position makes it easier to reach up and pat his eyes dry at the end, a single tear slipping out as he sniffled and mumbles a ‘M’not crying’ that has you giggling and doting all over him.

He doesn’t move his arm for the entire walk back to the car, and you momentarily mourn the loss when he opens the door for you (again!) so you can climb in. When he finally gets in on the other side, he says nothing, just reaches over to intertwine his fingers with yours and places your joined hands on the center console like it’s something you’ve done a thousand times.

“Ready to go home?” He asks, looking over at you.

You glance down at your hands, then back up at him. “Is it weird if I say no?”

“Not at all,” Chan grins, throwing the car into drive, “I was hoping you would say that.”

🎥🍿

“For you.”

Chan plops down on the bench, a hand outstretched with a steaming hot chocolate ready for you to take.

“Thanks,” you smile, cradling the cup between your hands.

After some deliberation, you and Chan had decided to come to the Han River. It’s quiet, the bridge lights reflecting off the water as the sounds of the city fade into the background. The temperature is slightly on the colder side, the tail end of winter just barely there. When he notices the slight shiver of your shoulders after a particularly strong gust of wind, Chan shucks his jacket off in a heartbeat to drape over you.

“Oh, you don’t—”

“You’re cold,” he scolds, pulling at the collar of the jacket to tighten it around you. His hand lingers near the base of your neck, fingers itching to reach out and touch. He doesn’t though, just smiles and settles back into the bench. “Plus I think Changbin might actually kill me if something were to happen to you.”

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, “Ignore him. I’m not a baby.”

Chan takes a sip of his own hot chocolate, licks his lips to catch the excess. Not that you’re staring. “I’m serious. I mean, I get it. He told me that you’re here alone and stuff.”

You hum in understanding, turning your head to stare out at the water. “So are you.”

It’s Chan’s turn to look at you now, his elbows resting against his knees, and you watch out of the corner of your eye as his face turns unreadable.

The silence stretches thin, nothing but the sound of cars passing and a dog barking nearby. It’s kind of comforting in a way. Being on your own in a new place has been one of the hardest transitions you’ve ever had to deal with. There were times where it felt like a mistake, where you wished that you’d never even gotten on the plane. But then there were times where you felt lucky to be experiencing the things you are; to be able to try new things and pursue a life for yourself that you never thought possible.

“How’d you do it?” you ask quietly, turning to meet Chan’s gaze. “I mean, you were young. Seventeen is basically still a kid. Being alone in a place like this is scary as an adult, I can’t even imagine what that was like.”

Chan smiles, but it’s sad. His eyes twinkle with something like resentment, the lights from the bridge making it look like he’s glowing. A flame that’ll never burn out. “Would you believe me if I said I’m still figuring it out?” The end of it comes out as a laugh, but you can tell he means it.

“I don’t know, being a big shot music producer with deadlines and clients seems pretty figured out to me.”

Chan nods and stares at the cup in his hands. “My parents hated it. Still do, I think.” You don’t say anything. Chan is grateful for that; grateful for the space you’re giving him to explain. “They wanted more for me I guess. But I’m not sure that more would’ve necessarily been what I wanted, you know? I’m content with where I am now. I’m doing something I love, even if it took a while to get here. They don’t see it.” He chews his lip nervously, fingers playing with the soggy material of the paper cup’s rim.

Chan doesn’t know why he’s saying any of this. He’s not the type to completely bare himself out to anyone, to scoop away at his insides until there’s nothing left besides the hollowness he feels whenever he thinks about how he traded his life back home for a life of music. But you’re different somehow. Chan knew since the moment he saw you, felt it in the way your eyes lit up whenever he spoke and in the ease of how well the two of you got along. He was doomed from the start.

“I see it.” you say, your eyes still fixed on the water. “I might’ve only just met you today, but I see it. And I get it, too. Maybe not to the same extent, but the feeling of wanting to do something for yourself even if it meant losing something else. There’s purpose in that, in you. It’s okay to be selfish if it means you’re prioritizing your happiness.” You let the words settle for a bit, hoping that you don’t sound too shallow. When you turn to look at him, he’s already looking back.

“You don’t know me enough to say that.”

“I don’t have to know you to believe in you, Chan.”

A beat of silence, and then he’s laughing, short and punctuated as he lets his head fall forward with a small shake.

“You’re…”

“What? Corny?” you supply, smiling over at him.

“No,” he says, meeting your gaze. “Perfect.”

You huff out an incredulous laugh, looking away to hide the blush that’s spreading across your cheeks. “You can’t just—god, now who’s corny? Huh?”

“I never said I wasn’t corny.” Chan argues, sitting up to face you fully.

“Yeah but you can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not? I think you like it.”

Your mouth opens and closes quickly, lost for words. Chan’s closer now, a lot closer than he was before. One arm thrown across the back of the bench, loosely framing you in, he bends it at the elbow to bring a hand up and tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I never said that.” you mumble, your gaze flicking down to his lips and then back up again.

“You want me to stop then?” he asks, voice just above a whisper. You know what he’s implying the minute his fingers trace the shell of your ear, moving down slowly until they start playing with the collar of his jacket.

“Is it bad if I say no?”

Chan’s hand is warm to the touch, ice to fire. You lean into it. A moth to a flame, one that’ll never go out.

“Not at all,” he repeats, just like earlier, “I was hoping you would say that.”

A dog barking in the distance. Cars beeping as they pass by. A plane flying overhead. A group of friends laughing as they ride past on their bikes. The minute Chan’s lips connect with yours, everything fades, the sounds warbling together like static. Unintelligible; nothing besides the feeling of Chan kissing you matters.

It’s slow, nothing more than a press, but you feel it in every fiber of your being. Kissing Chan feels like the poles of the earth are colliding, meeting in the middle and sending its molten core spreading throughout your entire body. Warm, warm, warm. Chan is warm. He’s soft and gentle and his lashes tickle your cheeks when his eyes flutter closed halfway through because he was too busy etching your features into his memory.

You’re the first to pull away, admiring the way Chan’s eyes slowly peel open, lips swollen and pink. Unable to resist, you lean in and peck them once more, giggling when he blinks at you in shock.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been as compelled to kiss someone as I was just now.” You smile.

“Me too,” he sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t normally kiss on the first date.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t normally do dates anyways. At least not ones that don’t immediately go up in flames.”

“What about now?” Chan asks, raising an eyebrow. “Have I changed your mind?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. I kind of told Changbin that if this was a disaster I was never gonna go on a date again.”

Chan laughs and pulls you into his side, tucked right under his arm like the shape of him was molded in a way to make sure that you fit perfectly in his embrace.

“Is it bad if I say I like that idea?” He asks, glancing down at where your head is resting against his chest.

“Nope,” you say before leaning up to kiss him once more. He smiles into it when he feels your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck, humming softly against your lips.

“Worst date ever, then?” he mumbles against your mouth.

“Yeah,” you sigh, pulling back to stare into his eyes, big and brown and brighter than the stars, “Worst date ever.”

[tags: @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny ]

© all rights reserved. godslino 2024. please do not steal, translate, or re-upload.

[lila-lou]

✨All over again - 3/4✨

Summary: After a crash leaves Dean with permanent memory loss, you’re nothing but a stranger to him now. Years of love, gone in an instant. But the hardest part isn’t that he forgot you, it’s that he doesn’t want to remember.

-requested-

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, Angst

Word Count: 7268

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💙

Weeks went by since that night in the motel.

Nothing changed. Not in the way that mattered. Dean still didn’t remember. Still didn’t feel anything. But that didn’t mean nothing happened.

Every now and then, he’d find little pieces of you lingering in his space.

A shirt of yours in his room, tucked into the laundry pile like it had always belonged there. A picture of the two of you on his laptop—your wedding day, him in a suit, you in white, both of you looking so damn happy—staring back at him when he wasn’t expecting it.

And the worst part? The part that really messed him up? He wanted to feel something when he saw those things. But he didn’t. Not the way he was supposed to.

What he did notice, though, was you.

The way you moved. The way your jeans hugged your ass when you walked past him in the bunker, completely unaware of the way his eyes lingered longer than they should. The way your lips curled slightly when you were focused, deep in research.

Attraction? Yeah. That was still there. But love? That stubborn, all-consuming, you’re it for me kind of love? Still nothing. And you had stopped expecting it. By now, you weren’t mad anymore. Hurt? Yeah. Absolutely. But mad? No.

Because this wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t chosen to forget you. Hadn’t decided to lose the feelings he once had. And you knew that.

So, instead of fighting, instead of forcing something that wasn’t there, you just… let go. Not of him. But of the expectation. And somehow, that made things easier.

There were good days—days where you and Dean exchanged little stories, where you’d drop some random fact about something he used to love about you, but wrap it up in a joke, making it seem casual.

“You know, you used to love the way I ate pickles straight from the jar”, you had said once, grinning as you popped one into your mouth. “Said it was weirdly hot”.

Dean had snorted, shaking his head. “Yeah, well. Still weird”.

But then, later that night, Sam caught him eating a damn pickle straight from the jar, brow furrowed like he was trying to figure out why the hell his body still craved it.

Little things like that.

Moments where you got along again.

It wasn’t love. It wasn’t what it used to be. But it was something.

And at this point, it was either this—either learning to be around each other without breaking apart—or you leaving altogether. And neither of you wanted that. Even if you didn’t say it out loud.

Dean barely made it two steps into the bunker before he almost dropped the grocery bag in his hands. Because there you were. In the garage. Bent over in a downward-facing dog, your ass perfectly on display in those tight-ass yoga pants, completely unaware of your audience.

Dean’s dick twitched immediately. Son of a bitch.

His breath hitched, and for a second, he couldn’t even move—just stood there, frozen, his grip tightening around the bag like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

Next to him, Sam sighed heavily. “Dude, seriously?”.

Dean blinked, tearing his eyes away for a brief moment, only to find Sam giving him the most unimpressed look imaginable. Dean didn’t even try to deny it. Instead, he nudged Sam, nodding toward you. “Are you seeing this?”.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I see it. Doesn’t mean I’m staring like a pervy teenager”.

Dean ignored him, still watching as you—completely oblivious, headphones in your ears—shifted effortlessly into another position, slipping down into a full split like it was nothing.

Dean’s breath caught. Oh, fuck. His jeans got even tighter.

“For the love of-”, Sam grumbled, shaking his head. “I still have to live with the fact that you told me very detailed, very visual stories about this exact thing after you two finally got together”.

Dean smirked, even as he struggled not to adjust himself in his jeans. “Well, you didn’t have to listen”.

“Oh, screw you. You wouldn’t shut up about it”.

Dean chuckled, but his eyes did not leave you. Because, shit. How had he ever gotten that. And how the hell had he forgotten?

His body was reacting again, the same way it had that night in the motel. The same way it had every time he got too close to you lately.

His mind? Still blank. But his body? His body knew exactly what it wanted. And right now, it wanted you.

Sam huffed, shifting the grocery bag in his hands before nudging Dean—hard. “Okay, enough, man. Let’s go”, he muttered, glaring at his brother like a fed-up parent.

Dean barely budged. “Dude, just—hang on”, he said, eyes still locked on you like he was hypnotized.

Sam groaned, rolling his eyes so hard they might’ve gotten stuck. “No, not hang on”, he shot back. “Let’s go. To the kitchen. Away from the garage. Away from you being a creepy asshole staring at your wife like a guy who hasn’t seen a woman in ten years”.

Dean finally blinked, turning his head just enough to glare at Sam. “Oh, shut up, dude. It’s not like I—”.

Sam gave him a flat look. “You literally almost dropped a bag of eggs because (Y/N) did a split. So yeah, you are being a perv”.

Dean scoffed, shaking his head. “I was not—”.

“Oh, you were”.

Dean gritted his teeth, his jaw ticking, before turning back toward the garage.

You had moved into another stretch, arching your back just enough to press your ass up in a way that made Dean’s brain short-circuit all over again. His dick gave a very obvious pulse in his jeans, and suddenly, Sam was right. He needed to get the hell out of here.

Sam sighed, already sensing where Dean’s thoughts were going. “Come on, man. I don’t need to hear you bitch about being hard for the next three hours. Get your ass in the kitchen and eat a damn sandwich”.

Dean clenched his jaw, forcing himself to look away. “I hate you”, he muttered, adjusting the bag in his hands.

Dean grumbled something under his breath before finally turning away, following Sam toward the kitchen. But even as he walked away, even as he tried to push it out of his head, his mind wouldn’t stop replaying it.

The way you looked, the way you moved, the way his body fucking reacted like muscle memory. And for the first time since losing his memories, Dean wasn’t just frustrated. He was pissed. Because his body remembered loving you. So why the hell didn’t his mind?

An hour later, you walked into the kitchen, freshly showered, your damp hair pulled into a loose bun, wearing one of your usual oversized shirts and shorts.

Sam was at the stove, stirring something in a pan, the scent of garlic and spices filling the air. Dean was lingering near the counter, nursing a beer, but the second you stepped in, his body tensed—like it knew before his brain did.

His eyes flickered to you for a split second, then back to his bottle.

“Food’s almost ready”, Sam said, glancing over his shoulder, as if sensing the shift in energy the moment you entered.

You nodded, stepping further in. “Smells good”.

Dean took a long sip of his beer, leaning against the counter like he wasn’t totally rattled. He watched as you moved past him, reaching up to grab a glass from the cabinet. His eyes flickered—just for a second—to the curve of your bare legs, the hem of your shorts riding high.

And fuck, his brain went straight to the worst place. His fingers flexed slightly around the neck of his beer bottle. His jaw tightened. Not again. Not now. Not fucking now.

You turned back toward him, your expression unreadable. “You good?”.

Dean blinked, realizing way too late that he’d been staring. “Yeah”, he muttered, forcing himself to look away. He took another swig of beer. “Just… thinking”.

Sam, standing at the stove, let out a short laugh. “Yeah, I bet you are”.

Dean shot him a shut the hell up look, but Sam only smirked, stirring the pan.

You didn’t press the issue. You just moved past him again, sitting at the table, stretching your legs out beneath you like you hadn’t just driven him insane with barely any effort.

Dean swallowed hard, shifting against the counter, still trying to shake the lingering feeling in his gut. This was getting out of hand. Because no matter how much he told himself that there was nothing left, his body kept proving him wrong.

Dean forced himself to focus on his beer, keeping his grip tight around the bottle like it was the only thing anchoring him. But his eyes betrayed him, flickering back to you every few seconds—watching the way you stretched, the way you absentmindedly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, the way your lips curled slightly when you scrolled through your phone.

It was so normal. So casual. Like you weren’t still carrying the weight of everything he had put you through. Like you hadn’t spent weeks hurting over him. And that made something twist uncomfortably in his chest.

Sam, of course, saw everything.

The way Dean kept sneaking glances at you, the way his grip on the beer bottle tightened every time you shifted in your chair.

With an exasperated sigh, Sam plated up the food and turned to the table. “Alright, you two. Dinner”. He set a plate in front of you, then in front of Dean before grabbing his own seat.

Dean pushed off the counter, finally tearing his eyes away from you long enough to sit down. But as soon as he did, his knee bumped against yours beneath the table. It wasn’t much—just a small, accidental touch. But his body reacted instantly. Again.

A sharp jolt of heat shot up his spine, a phantom sensation of something familiar, something his brain should remember but didn’t. His muscles locked up.

You, however, barely seemed to notice.

You just grabbed your fork, picking at your food like nothing had happened, like his whole damn body hadn’t just short-circuited over one little touch.

Dean cleared his throat, shifting slightly, trying to move his leg away—except you stretched yours out again, brushing against him without even realizing it.

And holy fuck—his dick twitched, memories he didn’t have playing tricks on him.

Sam, completely done with this entire situation, gave him a pointed look. “Eat, Dean”, he muttered, clearly tired of watching him mentally combust.

Dean blinked, realizing he was gripping his fork too tight, and forced himself to take a bite—chewing like it was a damn job just to keep from focusing on the fact that his whole body felt like it was at war with itself.

While Sam was already asleep, his soft, steady breaths filling the quiet of the bunker, Dean was wide awake. He couldn’t sleep. He had tried. He had laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, willing himself to pass out, to shut off whatever the hell was happening in his brain. But it didn’t work.

Because his body wouldn’t let him forget. Wouldn’t let him forget the way you looked earlier in the garage, how flexible you were, the way your yoga pants hugged everything. Wouldn’t let him forget the accidental brush of your leg under the table. Wouldn’t let him forget the way his body had reacted instantly.

And now, he was walking around with a hard-on that refused to go away.

He had even tried jerking off to the memory of you stretching earlier, his mind grasping at something—anything—to take the edge off. But it wasn’t enough.

Because every time he closed his eyes, he saw flashes of something more. Felt something more. Things he couldn’t remember. But his body did. And it was driving him fucking insane.

So now, here he was. Standing outside your door, staring at the wood like it was some kind of goddamn enemy, like it held all the answers to the shitstorm inside his head.

He knew he shouldn’t be here. Knew he should turn around, go back to his room, take another cold shower, do anything but this. But before he could talk himself out of it, his hand was already knocking.

It was quiet—hesitant. For a second, nothing happened. Then, soft footsteps.

The door cracked open, and there you were, standing in the dim light of your room, looking just as tired as he felt. But not for the same reason.

Dean knew he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been sleeping lately.

You’d been like this since the hospital—since he forgot you. Waking up in the middle of the night. Crying. Shaking.

Sam had told him, in that concerned-but-not-prying way of his. Said he could hear you sometimes, muffled sobs that you tried to hide.

Dean had never asked about it.

And now, standing here, looking at you, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Because if he did, he might have to deal with it. And right now, the only thing he could deal with was the ache still pulsing between his legs.

You blinked up at him, confusion flickering across your face. “Dean?”.

His jaw clenched. Say something. Don’t be fucking weird.

“I, uh—”. He shifted, rubbing the back of his neck. “You awake?”.

You let out a quiet, almost bitter laugh. “I haven’t really slept in weeks, so yeah”.

That made something twist in his chest, something unfamiliar. But he ignored it. Instead, his eyes flickered—just for a second—to the oversized shirt you were wearing, hanging off your shoulder, just barely covering your legs.

You caught the shift in his gaze, the way his throat bobbed, and your lips parted slightly in realization. “Dean?”. Your voice was softer now, more cautious. “What are you doing here?”.

He exhaled hard. What was he doing here? There was no good answer. Just the wrong one. So instead of speaking, instead of figuring it out, he did the only thing that felt real in that moment. He stepped closer. Just enough for you to feel the heat of his body, for your breath to hitch in your throat, for his fingers to twitch at his sides like they wanted to touch.

You were watching him carefully now, eyes sharp despite the exhaustion that clung to you. Because this? This wasn’t normal. Not anymore. Not since the accident. Not since he stopped looking at you like you were his.

And yet, right now—right fucking now—he was looking at you like he wanted. Like he needed. His jaw worked, like he was trying to form words but couldn’t quite get them out. His throat bobbed, his breath came a little heavier, and his eyes? His eyes were on your bare legs, the way your oversized shirt barely covered you, like he was memorizing every damn inch.

“Dean”, you murmured, voice hesitant. “What do you want?”.

His gaze flicked up to yours, something desperate flashing across his face. His fingers curled into fists, and then—quietly, roughly, like he hated how much he needed to say it— “I want to feel you”.

The words landed. Hard.

Your lips parted slightly, your breath catching. But you didn’t say anything.

And fuck—fuck—Dean’s body reacted to the silence, to the tension, to the way you didn’t immediately say no.

He took another step closer. Then another. Until you could feel the heat of him, the way his body practically radiated with the weight of what he was holding back.

“I don’t—”. He swallowed hard, shaking his head slightly, like he was fighting with himself. “I don’t remember you”.

You went still, something flickering behind your eyes.

“But my body does”, he continued, voice rough, edged with frustration, desperation, want.

His hand lifted—hesitated—then finally, finally settled lightly against your hip. Just the smallest touch, like he was testing something, like he was waiting for you to push him away.

But you didn’t. And that just made it worse.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me”, he admitted, his grip tightening slightly. “But I can’t stop thinking about you. Can’t stop—”. His voice dropped lower, like he was confessing something dark, something wrong. “Can’t stop wanting you”.

Your breath was shaky now, your body frozen between fight and surrender. Because this was new. Dean had pulled away from you for weeks, had looked at you like a stranger. But now he was looking at you like he needed you. Like he couldn’t fucking help it.

And when his hand slid down, fingertips grazing against the bare skin of your thigh, you shivered.

His jaw clenched, his breathing ragged, his body practically vibrating with restraint. “Tell me to stop”, he rasped, his forehead almost pressing against yours now. “Tell me to walk away”.

You should stop this. You knew you should.

This wasn’t love. This wasn’t Dean remembering you, choosing you. This was desperation. This was your husband—your husband—wanting you for nothing more than a release, for the way his body still recognized you, even when his mind didn’t.

It was awful. It was pity. But you were already broken. So what did it even matter?

Your lips parted, a shaky breath escaping as his fingers dug just slightly into the bare skin of your hip. He was so close, heat radiating from him, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. His forehead nearly brushed against yours, his grip tightening, his body tense with restraint.

You opened your mouth and nothing came out. Because you couldn’t say it. Couldn’t force the words past the lump in your throat, past the deep, aching part of you that just wanted something—anything—that still felt real.

So instead, you tilted your head just slightly, your breath ghosting over his lips. A silent answer. Dean inhaled sharply. And then he broke.

His mouth crashed against yours, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him, like he needed to feel you, to prove something to himself.

You gasped into the kiss, his fingers slipping beneath your shirt, gripping your bare skin, rough and needy. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was desperate. And you let him take it.

Because if he wasn’t going to love you, if he wasn’t going to remember, at least he could still want you. At least you could pretend.

Just for tonight.

Dean didn’t hesitate. The second your body melted into his, the second you didn’t push him away, he took.

His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you against him as he walked you backward toward the bed, his mouth never leaving yours. It was messy—needy—desperate.

You barely had time to breathe before your back hit the mattress, his weight settling over you, his hands gripping your waist like he was afraid to let go. But then—he stilled.

His forehead rested against yours, his breaths heavy, his fingers twitching against your skin. Because for all the heat, all the tension, something about this still wasn’t right. He didn’t remember you. Didn’t remember the first time he kissed you, the way he used to worship you, the way he used to look at you like you were his whole damn world.

And for a second, that truth hung between you, thick and suffocating.

Dean swallowed hard, his lips hovering over yours. “I don’t—”. His voice was rough, strained. “I don’t wanna hurt you”.

Your chest ached. But you forced a small, bitter smile, brushing your fingers against his jaw. “You already did”.

Dean’s eyes darkened. His grip on you tightened. And then, he kissed you again. Slower this time. Softer. Like he was trying to feel something, trying to remember, trying to chase whatever part of him still recognized you.

His lips moved down your neck, his hands slipping beneath your shirt, pushing it up, his calloused fingers tracing over familiar skin like muscle memory. Like his body knew, even when his mind didn’t.

He pulled away just enough to strip off his shirt, letting it fall to the floor before his hands found the hem of yours, fingers brushing over your ribs as he pulled it off.

The air in the room felt heavier, charged with something desperate, something aching.

You were left in nothing but your panties, chest rising and falling unevenly as he hovered over you, his eyes dragging over your body like he was trying to memorize it, like he was trying to force himself to feel what he was supposed to.

Your throat burned. Your eyes, too. But you didn’t stop him. Didn’t push him away. Because if this was all you could have, if this was the only way he could be close to you again— You’d take it. Even if it hurt.

Dean exhaled sharply, his hands trailing down your sides, over your hips, his touch familiar and unfamiliar all at once. His body still knew what to do, still reacted the way it always had.

And yet, it wasn’t the same. Because this wasn’t love. Not anymore.

Dean swallowed hard, fingers skimming just beneath the waistband of your panties before his eyes flicked up to yours.

You lifted your hips slightly, a silent invitation.

Dean hovered over you, both of you completely bare now, skin against skin, bodies hot and flushed. The heavy rise and fall of your breathing filled the quiet space between you, thick with tension, with something unspoken.

And for the first time since this started—since he lost everything—Dean felt awkward.

Not because he didn’t want this. Not because he wasn’t dying to be inside you. But because he didn’t know anymore. Didn’t know if you were already wet enough for him. Didn’t know if you struggled taking his size before, if he used to stretch you out slowly or if you could handle him all at once. Didn’t know if he was supposed to tease you, take his time, make you beg, or if you used to like it rough. He just—didn’t know.

And that was fucking frustrating.

His fingers brushed against your thigh, hesitating just slightly before trailing higher. You shifted beneath him, parting your legs more, but when his fingers slid lower, he exhaled sharply at what he found.

Soaked.

You were already soaked for him.

His jaw clenched, his cock twitching almost painfully because fuck—even without the memories, even with all the pain, your body still responded to him. Still wanted him.

“Fuck”, he muttered under his breath, fingers teasing along your slit, collecting the wetness before dragging it back up, just barely brushing against your clit.

You let out a soft breath, shifting beneath him, eyes dark and unreadable.

Dean swallowed hard, meeting your gaze. “Did I—”. He hesitated, his voice rough, almost embarrassed. “Did I used to—fuck, I don’t even know how to ask this”.

You blinked up at him, something flickering in your expression, something almost sad before you forced a small, breathless laugh.

“You never had to ask”, you murmured, tilting your hips up slightly, pressing against his fingers. “You always just knew”.

Dean’s chest ached. Not just from the words, but from the way you said them. Like you missed him. The real him. The one who knew your body like the back of his hand. The one who never hesitated, never second-guessed, never had to wonder what you needed because he just knew.

And fuck, he wanted to know. Wanted to remember.

Dean cleared his throat, still hovering over you, his body tense, his fingers still teasing between your legs but not pushing yet.

His mind was at war with itself.

He wanted you. Fuck, did he want you. But he still didn’t know. Didn’t know how much to give, how much you could take, how much he had to prepare you.

So, awkwardly, hesitantly, he muttered, “You, uh… you got experience?”. It was a dumb question. He knew that. But he wasn’t thinking straight.

You blinked up at him, confused at first, but then something shifted in your expression. Like you knew exactly what he was asking.

You swallowed hard, your throat bobbing. Then, barely above a whisper—soft, hesitant, truthful—you said: “You were my first. And my only”.

Dean’s breath hitched. His stomach flipped. His cock twitched. Because fuck. That wasn’t what he had asked. That wasn’t what he had meant to find out.

But now? Now that he knew? It turned his whole damn head.

You were his. Only his.

No one else had ever touched you. No one else had ever felt you. He had been your first. Your only. And something primal deep in his gut loved that.

His fingers twitched against your skin, his grip tightening slightly on your thigh. His voice came out rough, almost strained. “Yeah?”.

You nodded, lips parted, breathing uneven beneath him.

Dean exhaled sharply, his head swimming, his body aching. He still didn’t remember. But he felt it now. Felt the weight of what that meant. Felt possessive in a way he didn’t understand. And fuck—if he was your first, your only, then he sure as hell wasn’t about to let you forget why.

Dean exhaled through his nose, trying to think—trying to be careful. He had no memory of this, no memory of you like this, no memory of what you liked, what you needed.

So, to be safe, he gently pushed a finger inside you, just to test, just to feel how tight you were.

And fuck.

You were tight.

Warm, wet, clenching slightly around him as his finger slid deeper, your breath hitching just slightly.

Dean swallowed hard.

Maybe you needed a little foreplay. Maybe he should take his time, work you open, make sure you could take him—because he wasn’t small, wasn’t average, and the last thing he wanted was to hurt you.

But then, you made a soft sound in the back of your throat, shifting your hips, pressing down against his hand. And fuck, he felt it. The way you tightened around him, the way you weren’t just ready, but needy.

His brows furrowed slightly. “You sure you don’t need more?”, he asked, voice rough, almost hesitant.

Your breath was uneven, your fingers curling slightly against his arm. “You always asked that”, you murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Dean stilled, blinking down at you.

“And you always got the same answer”, you continued, shifting slightly, your lips curving in a ghost of a smirk.

Dean swallowed. “Yeah? And what’s that?”.

You met his eyes, something dark and wanting flickering behind yours. “I like the stretch”.

Dean felt that. Felt it everywhere. His cock throbbed almost painfully, his pulse hammering in his ears, his mind foggy with need.

You liked the stretch. You liked feeling him, even if he wasn’t inside you anymore. That did something to him.

His fingers twitched against your thigh, his jaw clenching as he pulled his hand back, dragging his finger out of you slowly, watching the way your body reacted, how you clenched around the absence of him.

His cock pulsed at the sight.

You were already soaked, already ready, and the thought of just pushing inside had his restraint hanging by a thread. Still, he hesitated. Because he wanted this. Wanted you. But he didn’t want to do it wrong. Didn’t want to fuck this up. Didn’t want to fuck you up more than he already had.

Dean exhaled sharply, his forehead briefly pressing against yours as he muttered, “You tell me if it’s too much”.

Your hands slid up his back, fingers curling against his skin, pulling him closer.

“It won’t be”, you whispered, voice breathless. “It never is”.

Dean’s control snapped. He reached down, gripping himself, aligning with your entrance, his tip already soaked with you.

And then, slowly, slowly, he pushed inside.

Your breath hitched, your body arching slightly, legs tightening around his waist as he sank deeper, stretching you just the way you liked.

Dean felt it. The way you took him so perfectly, the way your body pulled him in, wanted him, like you were made just for him.

His jaw clenched, his breath ragged as he buried himself to the hilt, your walls gripping him so damn tight he had to physically stop himself from moving. “Fuck”, he rasped, his head dropping to your shoulder.

You let out a shaky breath, hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging in just slightly.

Dean didn’t need to think anymore. Didn’t need to try. Because the second he started moving, the second he pulled back and thrust forward again, it was there. Familiar. Instinctual.

Like his body had never forgotten the way you felt around him, the way you gripped him perfectly, like you were made for him.

His pace found its rhythm quickly—deep, steady, smooth. He wasn’t rushing. He wasn’t fumbling. It was natural. It was right.

And fuck, it was the best sex he’d ever had.

Dean knew it—felt it in every roll of his hips, in every gasp that left your lips, in the way your legs wrapped around him like they belonged there.

He didn’t remember the first time you had done this. Didn’t remember the late nights, the early mornings, the way he used to take his time with you—teasing, kissing, worshiping.

But his body did.

Because even now, this—this slow, deep, all-consuming connection—felt like something he had done a million times.

Like something he needed.

His forehead pressed against yours, breaths mixing, his hands gripping your thighs, your hips, guiding you into every thrust.

And you were lost in it. Lost in him. Because this wasn’t just sex. This wasn’t just two people fucking. This was something deeper, something that had been missing—something neither of you had allowed yourselves to feel in weeks.

Dean groaned, his rhythm faltering for just a second as you clenched around him, your nails digging into his shoulders, your soft, breathless moans hitting his ears.

Dean was losing it.

He was barely hanging on, every slow thrust pulling him deeper into something he wasn’t ready to name. You were so warm, so tight around him, gripping him in a way that made every muscle in his body tense.

And fuck, he had no idea how he used to do this without embarrassing the shit out of himself.

Because right now, he was dangerously close to blowing his load like some damn rookie.

His forehead dropped to your shoulder, his breathing uneven. “Shit—”.

You let out a breathless laugh, fingers digging into his back. “Already?”.

Dean groaned, shaking his head. “Shut up, I’m trying, okay?”.

You smirked against his skin, shifting your hips just slightly, making him twitch inside you.

Dean whimpered. Actually whimpered.

You giggled.

And that—that—was when he realized he was completely fucking doomed.

“Geez”, he gritted out, pulling back just enough to glare at you, his jaw tight. “You always do this?”.

You tilted your head, amused. “What?”.

Dean clenched his teeth, his grip tightening on your waist. “Try to make me look like an idiot?”.

You laughed again, and fuck, that should not have turned him on more, but it did. “Well”, you teased, brushing your lips against his jaw, “you used to have really good stamina”.

Dean narrowed his eyes. “Used to?”.

You bit your lip, eyes playful. “I don’t know—maybe memory loss killed your endurance”.

Dean growled, gripping your thighs and slamming his hips deeper, making your breath hitch hard.

“Oh”, you gasped, clinging to him.

Dean smirked, his confidence surging back. “What was that? Didn’t hear you”.

You glared at him, even as your legs tightened around his waist. “Asshole”.

Dean grinned.

You snorted, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

And just like that—just like always—it stopped being awkward. Stopped being weird. Because this? This was still you and him. And for the first time in weeks, Dean felt like he knew you.

But still, he was struggling.Like, really fucking struggling.

Your body wrapped around him like a damn vice, squeezing him just right, gripping him in a way that made his brain short-circuit.

While you were so close.

He could feel it—could feel the way your body clenched tighter around him with every thrust, your breath coming out in shaky little gasps, your nails digging into his shoulders like you were trying to anchor yourself.

Dean clenched his jaw, his arms shaking as he gripped the sheets beside your head, desperately trying to hold on.

“Damn it", he gritted out, voice wrecked. “You’re doing that on purpose”.

You blinked up at him, dazed, barely registering his words. “What?”.

Dean groaned, dropping his head into the crook of your neck, his thrusts growing sloppy, because holy shit, he wasn’t going to last. “That—”. He let out a breathless, broken laugh, “That thing—whatever the fuck that is—with your, y’know… muscles—”.

Your brows furrowed. “You mean me being close?”.

Dean whimpered. Again. “Don’t say it”, he warned, squeezing his eyes shut, willing himself not to come like a teenager.

You let out a breathless giggle, which was not helping at all. “Dean, it’s literally what happens during sex—”.

“Stop talking”, he groaned, shaking his head.

You were dying. Genuinely, this was the best thing ever. Your big, strong, cocky husband, always so confident, always so damn good at this, now struggling to keep himself together.

And you loved it.

“You really—”. You gasped as he thrust particularly deep, your body tightening even more. “You really used to last long”.

Dean growled, lifting his head just enough to glare at you. “Oh, fuck you—I’ve got brain damage, okay?”.

You snorted, laughing so hard that you clenched even tighter around him, and—

Dean froze. His entire body locked up.

“Oh, motherfucker”, he groaned, shaking, his hips stuttering as he came so hard he almost blacked out.

You gasped at the sensation, his warmth spilling deep inside you, his arms trembling as he buried his face in your neck, completely and utterly wrecked.

For a solid ten seconds, the only sound in the room was his heavy breathing and your half-amused, half-shocked panting.

Dean barely had time to catch his breath before he felt you shift beneath him. His body was still buzzing, his muscles weak from the earth-shattering orgasm he just had, and all he wanted to do was collapse and pretend that didn’t just happen.

But you pushed against his chest. Firm. Determined.

He blinked down at you, confused, still wrecked, as you shoved harder, making him sit back against the headboard.

“Oh, fuck no”, you hissed, climbing onto his lap.

Dean’s eyes widened slightly, his brain still trying to catch up. “Uh—wait—what?”.

You glared at him, straddling his hips, gripping his jaw as you leaned in. “You always make me come, Dean”.

Dean gulped. His cock—despite just being completely done—twitched in interest. And fuck, if that wasn’t the hottest thing he’d ever heard.

You shifted against him, making him hiss from overstimulation, but the look in your eyes sent a shiver down his spine. Because you weren’t done.

And damn it, now neither was he.

His hands found your hips on instinct, gripping you, steadying you as you rolled your hips against him, desperate, needing more.

He let out a breathless chuckle, shaking his head. “Shit, sweetheart, you’re relentless”.

You shot him a glare. “You used to love it”.

Dean swallowed thickly. “Yeah… I think I still do”.

You didn’t give him time to dwell on that. Or yourself to dwell on that.

Instead, you moved, grinding down against him, using his still-hard cock to chase your own release, every little movement sending sharp pulses of pleasure straight through him.

Dean groaned, his head dropping back against the headboard, his hands gripping your waist tight. “Fuck—okay—yeah, this is happening—”.

“Damn right it is”, you muttered, your pace quickening, your hands bracing against his chest.

His fingers dug into your skin, his hips bucking up to meet your rhythm, his breath ragged. “God, you’re gonna kill me”.

You let out a breathless laugh, leaning down, dragging your lips over his jaw. “You’re still breathing. Fix it”.

Dean let out a rough, wrecked groan. He was fucked. Completely, utterly, helplessly fucked.

Because as soon as you rolled your hips over him again, your warm, wet heat pressing against his rapidly hardening cock, all that overstimulation, all that sensitivity? Gone. Just pure, burning need all over again.

His breath was shaky, his hands gripping your thighs before sliding up to your waist, fingers digging into your skin as he adjusted himself beneath you.

“Fuck”, he muttered, jaw tight as he gripped his cock, lining himself up with your entrance.

Then, with a firm, rough push on your hips, he forced you down onto him. All the way. In one smooth, deep motion.

And if he thought he was losing it before— This? This was a whole different level.

Your body took him so perfectly, stretching around him just the way you had said you liked, the tight, wet heat making his brain short-circuit all over again. His head slammed back against the headboard, his grip bruising on your hips. “Oh, shit—”.

You gasped, nails digging into his chest, your breath coming in short, needy little pants as you adjusted, your walls fluttering around him, squeezing him so fucking tight.

Every slow, sensual roll of your hips made his lungs seize like it was the first breath he had ever taken.

His hands slid up your back, fingers splaying wide as you started to move, slow and steady, setting the pace, taking exactly what you needed from him.

Dean let you. Let you take control, let you wreck him—because, holy shit, this wasn’t just sex. This was something else. Something that made his chest ache, something that sent shivers down his spine, something he should remember but still didn’t.

And that? That scared the hell out of him. Because if this wasn’t love, if this wasn’t his, then why did it feel like it was?

His brain couldn’t keep up with what was happening—the way you moved, the way your body rolled against his like you knew exactly what to do, like you had done this a million times before… Because you had. Just not in a way he could remember.

His fingers dug into your hips, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps as he watched you, his head tilted back against the headboard, eyes locked on you like you were the only thing in existence.

“Damn it (Y/N), fuuck", he muttered, his voice raw, wrecked, shaken.

Your lips curled slightly, amusement flickering in your eyes even as pleasure rolled through you. “That good, huh?”.

Dean let out a breathless, helpless laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s not even the word for it”.

You braced your hands against his chest, shifting slightly, rolling your hips in a way that made his whole body twitch.

Dean groaned. Loud. His hands trembled as they slid up your thighs, over your waist, his grip tight like he was afraid you’d slip away. "Damn it, sweetheart—”. His head tilted forward, his forehead almost resting against yours as he let out a shaky, desperate breath. “You’re unreal”.

You laughed softly, breathless, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Not unreal. Just yours”.

Dean’s stomach flipped. His chest tightened. And fuck, that shouldn’t have hit him so hard, shouldn’t have sent a different kind of ache through him. But it did.

His jaw clenched, his eyes locked onto yours, something dangerous and undeniable flickering in them. His grip tightened, his muscles tensing, his heart hammering in his chest. And before he could stop himself, before he could think, he muttered, voice rough, wrecked, reverent—

“Yeah. Mine”.

And with that? He snapped. Flipped you onto your back, pinned you down, and took you all over again. His hands gripping your thighs, spreading you wide as he drove himself deep.

Your breath hitched, your head tilting back as a sharp, desperate moan escaped your lips.

His jaw clenched, his breath uneven as he rolled his hips, grinding against you just right, hitting spots he didn’t even fucking remember knowing.

His mouth brushed against your ear, his voice low, gravelly, possessive. “That’s it, baby”, he muttered, punctuating each word with a deep, precise thrust. “Fuck—you’re so damn tight”.

You gasped, nails dragging down his back, your thighs trembling against his sides.

Dean grinned against your skin, feeling you fall apart beneath him, feeling the way you reacted to everything he did. “Tell me”, he rasped, his voice wrecked, desperate. “Tell me how you like it”.

Your fingers curled into his shoulders, your breath coming out in shaky, uneven pants. “This—”. Your voice was barely there, edged with pure need, your body arching into his. “Just like this”.

Dean groaned, his grip tightening on your thighs as he angled his hips, hitting that exact spot that had you whimpering, your legs wrapping around his waist like you couldn’t get him deep enough.

He felt the way you clenched around him. Felt the way you were so close. And fuck, he loved it.

“You gonna come for me, sweetheart?”, he murmured, dragging his lips down your jaw, his thrusts deep and steady, perfect.

Your breath hitched, your nails digging into his back. “Dean—”.

He grinned, his breath hot against your skin, his voice gravelly, dark. “C’mon, baby”, he coaxed, relentless now, his pace perfect, determined, like he knew exactly what you needed.

You gasped and then shattered.

Your body clenched around him, waves of pleasure ripping through you, your breath coming in ragged, desperate moans as you broke apart beneath him.

Dean felt everything. Felt the way you tightened, the way your body shook, the way your breathy, helpless cries filled the room.

And that sent him spiraling all over again. His hips stuttered, his jaw clenched, his arms shaking as he buried himself deep, spilling into you with a wrecked, breathless groan.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

-

Part 4

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[yulin-pop]

⤷ ✧ 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬

order 85 | scenarios | Riddle, Leona, Azul | Gender Neutral

❀ NOTE: Can you guess what my inspo is? (In English class my nose randomly started dripping blood)

Small description of blood (nosebleeds specifically)

➺ Riddle Rosehearts

It happened at the worst time, during a small tea party with Riddle. With Trey serving tea and all these little pastries you felt like nothing could go wrong.

You felt something come out of your nose and you sniffle, just dismissing it until it doesn’t stop.

“MC…” Riddle gives you a harsh look.

It was sorta embarrassing when Riddle gives you that look. “Sorry sorry maybe something triggered my allergies!” You cover your nose and then you look down at your hand, you understand why he was staring.

Riddle rushes over to you with a hand towel and presses it against your nose while he leans you forward.

“Does it hurt? Are you okay? What did you do??” He continuously asked questions one after another.

Even after you insist you’re fine and nothing in particular caused it, he’s adamant on keeping an eye on you.

“I think you need first aid…” He says while staring at you from the other side of the table.

“Riddle I’m fine—“

“I can’t let you leave, maybe you need a check up.”

༻ Leona Kingscholar

You were talking to him, you weren’t there to talk to him because you wanted to but you just owed Ruggie a favor and he asked you to get Leona and bring him back at Savannaclaw.

He was laying on the floor looking the other way while you stared down at him. “Look, Ruggie really needs you.”

“He can wait.” He grumbled.

“He said right now. Seriously he sounded really concerned when he sent me.” You tried to reason with him.

You went from politely asking, getting angry, whining, then to just pleading. Throughout the entire time he didn’t look at you once.

In the middle of your sentence you sneezed, you felt something drip out of your nose and you quickly covered your nose with your hand.

“Bless you herbivor…” he trailed off and turned his body towards you.

“Sorry this is kinda gross.” You said while covering your nose more.

“You’re bleeding.”

“It’s alright this will go away.” But it just kept going, with his napkin you had no idea what to do.

He stared at you trying to clean your hand up and also your nose until he had enough. He mumbled under his breath before picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder.

“I’m only doing this because I don’t like the smell of blood. Let’s go to the infirmary.” Though when he said that, you couldn’t see the look of concern on his face.

⊱ Azul Ashengrotto

He was locked up in his office as per usual but you had some business to deal with. You had a temporary deal where to work for Mostro Lounge for money just for a week. Despite being a temporary employee you had the same expectations.

“Azul, please…” You bowed deeply to him. “Just let me go home early.”

“I don’t see why. It’s only been 3 hours and you have 2 more. Why not just finish off your shift for today.” He replied back with a displeased look.

“Because I have homework! I need those hours for studying.” You argued. He simply rolled his eyes and returned back to his paperwork.

“Very well, if you leave though you are terminated and won’t receive any compensation for the hours you’ve worked this week.” He said calmly with a smug look on his face.

You were about to grab him and shake him around. Until you sneezed, you covered your sneeze with your arm and held it there, feeling something was wrong.

“Your sleeve, that’s not sanitary for customers. You should get changed.” He grabbed a tissue and held it out to you. You removed your arm away from your face and stayed silent.

He almost yelled, key word almost, and stood up rushing over to you. “I don’t think this is normal for humans?! There’s so much blood…”

“Sorry I didn’t mean to get the uniform dirty.”

“I don’t care about that.” He abruptly said, “You need first aid.”

Even when you protested and guided you into his seat and pulled out the first aid kit.

[ashkabbom]

Temporary stresses - Mouthwashing

A/n: I disappeared but I'm back. I finished school and I'm officially on vacation 😋. I had another idea initially, but then I gave up writing to Curly with that one.🎀 Tell me if I wrote something wrong, English is not my first language and I use a translator a lot.

I wanted a story with a happy ending, although it wasn't supposed to end 100% like that 😭

Versão em português no wattpad: Livro de One Shots - Mouthwashing (Conta: ashkabbom)

•Captain Curly x Fem!Reader

Summary/Synopsis: You hate being emotionally raw and your husband has been acting strange lately.

Notes: I wrote this with a happy ending, but in situations like this stress can actually be very dangerous, so be careful if you are going to do this to someone or if you are the person to receive this one day.

You were uncomfortable, to say the least.

It had been seconds, minutes, HOURS, since he had answered you, he avoided you whenever he could! The worst part is that you don't know the reason for all this, even though you told him to tell you when something was bothering him.

He's been acting kind of strange since yesterday. It seemed like you were the only one who was out of touch with all that nervousness and discomfort.

You had been a bit paranoid for some time now, because of these attitudes you didn't know if you had done something and it was eating you alive.

Searching through all your memories and finding nothing you realize you did wrong. Maybe he just got tired?

"I did everything like I always did..." You were rambling on to yourself. Maybe you said something wrong? You know very well that words, no matter how simple they are sometimes, can hurt.

This was all giving you a huge headache and leaving you a mess of emotions. You were just too exhausted.

You were out of the house now, on your lunch break from work, messing around on your phone for a few minutes, more specifically texting your husband, hoping he would answer you like he always did.

He didn't answer you properly, the messages were short and seemed more direct than ever, your husband didn't write and talk to you like that. God, you just wanted to go home.

"You've got that look on your face again." You hear your co-worker, Linda, say and let out a sigh. "What happened now?"

"This is the fourth time we've seen you with that sad, sullen puppy face in the space of 15 minutes," her other friend, Charlotte, says..

"Do you think I'm old?" You ask suddenly.

"What happened to 'Hi friend, I missed you too'? It doesn't exist anymore?" The first woman says.

"Exactly, calm down. You're not old, you're perfect for your age. And old age comes to everyone! It's inevitable." The second friend explains with a raised eyebrow.

"But now it's so different... When we met I was different, my hair, my body... My age..."

"Girl, seriously, what happened? You haven't had these low self-esteem spikes in months, you were so happy" Charlotte says with a sad tone, sitting down next to you.

"That's the problem, I don't know what happened... Since yesterday Curly has been acting a bit strange, avoiding me and being vague at times, but at the same time he's been very short and direct." You think about what your morning had been like that day.

"Oh my, don't be like that, men are a mess all by themselves. I'm not going to put ideas in your head, but let us know if you need help with that." Linda says, running her hand over your back.

"You're still as beautiful as the day you met, so don't worry. If he's going blind and can't see it, take the trash out of your house before it starts stinking up the whole house" Charlotte says, making it clear what she originally meant.

"I just don't know if something happened and he didn't tell me, if I did something and he was uncomfortable..." You love your husband with all your heart, otherwise you wouldn't have married him.

"Girl, put your cards on the table and that man against the wall, if something is going on he will tell you, he is not a lying man" Charlotte advises you in a lighter way now.

"She's right, you have to talk to him, but really talk to him. Just starting a conversation with him won't make him tell you anything... Ask what's going on and if everything is okay." Linda hugs you affectionately. Honestly, maybe this stress is just in your head? You don't know.

"Okay okay, but I'll do it after work, there's still a few more hours until it's time to leave." Grumbling you and your friends get up, heading towards the door while talking about anything now.

You don't know what you would do without them.

Hours had passed since that conversation, it was already getting dark and you were driving home almost completely peacefully.

Being with your friends relieved you a lot, but you still had a little bit of a nagging feeling, not to mention that you also knew that life is not a strawberry and anything can happen.

You were together for 11 years, dating for 4 years and married for 7 years. There was no reason for it all to go down the drain. At least you told yourself that.

You had texted him earlier, saying you were going home now... He hadn't even seen the message, but that's okay! Sometimes he's just busy with... Anything, you think.

Parking the car, you sigh, You hated feeling as tired as you had been feeling lately, you wish you could enjoy some of your time at home instead of just passing out in bed. On the bright side, you were on vacation from your job in 2 days. Just two more days.

Today you would confront him! You would know what was going on with him lately and everything would be okay! Everything has to be okay.

You open the door to the living room and notice the loud silence, seeping through your entire house. You didn't have a good feeling about this..

"Curly? Love?" You call out as you walk through the door and into the room, feeling a little anxious.

You turn to the kitchen and then–

"SURPRISE!" Some voices say/scream at the same time, scaring you at first, but then you notice the cake on the table, balloons, birthday hats, coxinha and other things on the table.

A wave of relief washes over you.

It was your birthday today.

"Happy birthday my love, you don't know how much- Wow, hey, hey! What happened? Why are you crying?" Your husband's cheerful tone soon fades, quickly replaced by a tone of concern.

You hadn't even realized that the wave of relief had brought you to tears, you were crying.

Did something happen? Is she okay?" Anya, Curly's work friend and maid of honor at your wedding a few years ago, asks worriedly, approaching.

"Honey, is something hurting?! Do you need anything? Anything at all? Do you need to go to the hospital?" He was quick to come closer, putting his arms around you as he checked your body with his tender and concerned gaze. God, this was all you wanted.

You try to explain, through your tears, that you're okay, that everything is okay now.

"I thought-" You stop to sniff a few times "I thought you were mad at me. Acting different and distant."

"I told you you sounded thick, but it's amazing how your head doesn't work sometimes." You hear Swansea's voice and let out a laugh through your tears.

"I'm so happy that everything is okay and that you're not mad at me." You explain as you wipe away your tears, soon feeling Curly's hand on your cheek while the other rests on your waist.

"I'm sorry my love, I would never be mad or upset with you, a thousand apologies darling" He says as he peppers your face with kisses, apologizing several times. "Please, I'm so sorry"

"We told him to hide it and not tell you or give you any hints about your surprise party and such, since last time he ended up telling you... But I think asking him to disguise himself wasn't... the best idea" Daisuke says as he analyzes the situation with a disappointed face.

You laugh a little and soon they join you, then a small silence arises, but it is quickly broken.

"So?" Swansea begins

""Is everything okay in there?" Anya asks, looking at you calmly and with a little concern. "Are you feeling any pain?"

"How are you and she?" Daisuke asks in the most direct way.

You sniff one last time and look down, running your hand over your belly.

"I will never make you cry like that again." He finishes with a peck on the lips and runs his hand over your belly. "I will never worry the two girls in my life again. I promise"

You look at him fondly. "We're fine, we just went through a hurricane today and yesterday." You laugh lightly. "Now let's eat this cake, I'm hungry for two."

The others laugh at your answer and soon everyone gathers around the table to celebrate your birthday.

You really hope you never have to go through that worry again, not even Curly would do it again.

You have the most caring husband and your daughter would have the best dad.

[gothicfied]

THE DEVIL IN YOUR EYES WON'T DENY THE LIES

(read part 2 here)

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x fem!reader, best friends to ???

Summary: Even though it seems like Jude and you were always destined to be with each other, he wouldn't realize it until someone said it directly to his face. After months on plotting on your best friend, who drops hints here and there even if he didn't want to, he is now suddenly rumored to be mingling with another girl. She can't stand your guts and she'll make sure you know that.

Word Count: ~6.5k

Reading Time: ~26 minutes

Warnings: Mentions of drinking alcohol, Jude is kinda an asshole but not really, girl on girl hate, reader is struggling with her feelings for 99% of the time, Jude's stupid and proves himself to be stupid multiple times, mutual pining (if you squint), no happy ending/it's an open ending, not proof read (English isn't my first language)

A/N: omg seriously, I don't know what possessed me to do this. This is unnecessarily long and tbh I've never written a fanfic this long before. This took like a week and I think you can notice that in the way my quality of writing deteriorates LMAOOO sorry, the ending fell a bit flat, but I just didn't have the motivation anymore, especially after the literal DEVASTATING news of Lukita leaving the club????This calls for a part 2 tho, but only if it's really wanted this time. Title are lyrics from "back to friends" by sombr lolololol

It wasn't always easy being linked to one of the most popular footballers in the world. Even if the public was hit in the face with the fact that you and Jude were just friends, they wouldn't get it. And, it wasn't even like you guys never clarified it. In every interview, the footballer was asked at least once or twice about you and you couldn't even post an instagram story without people flooding your DM's with questions like:

"are you Jude's girlfriend???"

"can you guys just make it public?"

"you know it's legal, right?"

You and Jude. Well, you go way back. Okay, however far 'way back' goes with only 21 years of age. You had transferred schools in 6th grade and while everyone kind of ignored you on your first day, Jude didn't. He sat next to you in class, did group projects with you when no one else seemed to want to partner up with you, ate lunch with you when the only two friends you had were sick or just not in school... there were a lot of things he did out of pure kindness and platonic love that helped you through middle school. It wasn't like you were bullied or purposefully left out, it just seemed like you were to unnoticeable.

The two of you were inseparable by the time highschool started. Jude was doing the most with his talent in football and you were always right there cheering him on. His family loved you, your family loved him, it was almost like a future together was already carved out for you. You'd comfort him after a horrible loss, Jude would stay up hours just to study with you in your worst subject, and the both of you would sometimes sneak out to the park on random summer nights to stargaze. That's where the heavy stuff was shared.

"You have no idea.. I feel so secondary to my sister." You complained after your parents forgot one of your hockey games again, just because your younger sister had this math exam she so desperately needed to study for, with both mom and dad. Bullshit. She knew she was good enough and yet she still threw a fuss, just to annoy you. That's the kind of person she was: an attention seeker. "Shut up," Jude barked back, but there was no actually bite to his words, "you're not secondary to anyone! I'm being serious, your parents and sister are the problem. Not you." He slowly turned his gaze away from the night sky, stars shining as bright as they could in the light pollution of the city. "I'm just... Thank you for being there. Even if we didn't win." You also turned your head in his direction and met his eyes, ones so pretty you thought you were going to choke on your own spit. "You're always there for me, too. I'd be stupid if I missed your games!"

The first very big change came with Jude's transfer to Borussia Dortmund. Really, Germany?

You cried, and cried.. and cried some more when the day finally came where he had to move, to pursue is dreams. Sure, they were mostly tears of sadness and frustration and maybe you were a little mad at him, but you couldn't deny the proud feeling you had when you saw his debut. Jude in this big stadium with an even bigger fanbase cheering him on felt so right. He deserved it all, because you knew how much sweat, blood and tears were already invested into his football career.

But don't think he had forgotten about you! Anytime you could because of school and stuff, Jude would fly you out to his games. Proudly, you wore the last name 'Bellingham' on the back of your jersey, which always fell quite a bit too big on you. The footballer insisted on giving you his shirts after a game.. That just meant you had to wash the god damn thing four or five times to get all the sweat and the smell of grass out of it. Denise, Jude's mom, thought it was the cutest thing ever, always taking pictures of you whenever you attended a game with her.

Truth be told, Denise was more of a mom to you than your own parents. As the oldest, you felt left out and ignored by your parents because of your sister anyway, but when your baby brother was born, it was like you didn't exist for them anymore. Then, it kind of turned into a tradition for you to spend days like New Years at Jude's house. His father, Mark, helped you with your Uni applications and Jobe, his younger brother, had always treated you like family anyway.

It didn't come to a suprise that they'd take you on vacation, too. One time, there was a mix up with the rooms and, no matter how much Mark and Denise begged Jobe to just share the room with his older brother for a few days until things got sorted out, he flat out refused. "No! He's messy, leaves his clothes everywhere and kicks me in his sleep! I'm not doing that again."

Now that you were sharing the hotel room with Jude, you started to wonder how this shit would mess with your feelings about him. Yeah.. you may or may not have developed a slight crush on your best friend in the last couple of months, fueled by the tiktoks people made about the two of you. Jude was obviously not ashamed to post you in his story whenever you were together, apparently giving people the impression that there was something more going on. Oh, you wished it was like that.

You were sharing a bed. It was very late at night and all you could think about was one Insta gossip page posting about yours and Jude friendship... relationship? It was on your feed, it's not like you intentionally searched for it! You were quickly ripped from your thoughts when you felt a large hand slide over your stomach and pull you closer as soon as the half-awake Jude realized it was you that he grabbed and not a pillow. After that, he went right back to snoring. No shot he'd remeber doing this the morning after, but you were just giggling to yourself now. He likes you... he just has to!

The whole sharing-a-room-on-vacation thing became a tradition, too. You obviously didn't mind it, Jude didn't either. Whenever he thought you were sleeping, which you sometimes even were, he'd carefully put his arms around your neck or waist or anything and hold you close until he fell asleep himself. Then, the next morning, he'd act as if he was just as suprised as you at the way you both were tangled up in bed.

It also became your reality when he transferred to Real Madrid. Wow, Spain. This was it. Hopefully his club forever, since you were a big fan, too. Jude's debut there was nothing short of breathtaking, and skipping Uni to come down to Spain was all worth it — Especially for the hug he gave you after he sought you out in the tunnel. He ran to you like a little child to his mother, picked you up and spun you around while all you could do was squeal and laugh. You couldn't even try to pry yourself from his grip, not that you wanted to anyway. The post match interview was surely interesting.

"And, tell us, who's your biggest supporter outside your family? Probably the girl you've been taking with you everywhere you go, huh?" The interviewer of some sport programm you didn't know asked Jude, to which he just laughed and scratched the back of his neck. "Yes, yes! Her, of course.. who else?" He looked nervous when answering that question. And he was, definitely in that moment, because he felt like the whole world was watching him trying to not make it obvious that he had a huge thing for you. "Girlfriend?" The interviewer asked again, to which he shook his head: "Oh, nooo... I love her, you know, but we're best friends. Not.. Not together."

This brings you to now. Laying in the bed of the guestroom in his huge house in Madrid. It's summer and even the nights here have you sweating like no tomorrow. Not only that, but you can't sleep. You stare at your phone with your instagram feed open, a picture of you and Jude plasted right on the screen with the all-too-well-known 'Owkayy' starting the rampage this WAG fan account was always on. It's a picture of the both of you right after Real Madrid won the Champions League just a little over a month ago, with Jude staring down at you like he was dying to kiss you. Next slide was a picture of you comforting him after the loss against Spain in the EUROs just like two weeks ago. You'll never escape the rumors.

Everyone and their mom was convinced you belonged to each other. And, that thought made you so happy, you could even overlook the threats his fan girls sent you in your DMs. Who cares what they think, right? Everybody on the planet thinks you'll be with him!

There was this one other thing, though. Because obviously, you couldn't even have one thing to yourself in your life.

This influencer from the States, Amy or whatever her name was, you didn't really care enough to look, has been linked to Jude more often than you wanted.

Truth is, obviously you cared enough to look. Amy Samuels, 25 years old, beauty influencer, lives in New York, has two brothers and a step-sister, models in her spare time... She was everything you're not.

She was this beautiful blonde girl with the most piercing green eyes you had ever seen, her makeup always looked flawless and worst of all, she seemed down to earth. You thought maybe she was one of those unlikable, snobby instagram models slash influencers slash entrepreneurs, but no. She was a family person, had a cute dog she always posts picrures of and actually did her job pretty well.

You knew better than to let yourself get fooled by the image she puts up on social media, but her smile made it hard to forget that she seemed to be absolutely perfect. How Amy and Jude even got to know each other personally, you don't know. It must've happened over last summer or something, the time where you couldn't come to visit him, but had to stay home because of school stuff. And well, frankly because your life revolves around more than just Jude Bellingham.

There's countless of instagram stories she uploded with the same location tagged at the same time when he was there. One location in particular, you recognized right away: His bathroom. Not the bathroom of the guestroom, or the normal one out on the hallway, no. His. Bathroom. It made your blood boil. But why? In the end, isn't it your own fault for not telling him about your feelings sooner? On the other hand, he's been leading you on. You were so convinced you guys were soulmates, practically made for each other.

The emotional bond between you seemed to never loosen, no matter what you guys were put through. There were times where your friendship was definitely tested: that one toxic ex boyfriend you had in 11th grade, who absolutely refused to let you be friends with any male. When you tried to explain that to Jude, he was ready to go beat that guy up. He'd never tell you how relieved he was when you showed up crying at his doorstep, because you finally gathered the courage to break up with him.

"I feel.. I feel like—" You paused and sniffled hard, tears streaming down your face and there was nothing Jude could do to stop it. "such an idiot." To say he was startled to have you text him so late at night, asking if he was still awake because you really, really, really needed him right now was an understatement. But, thankfully he managed to smuggle you into his room without waking anyone in the house. Now you're just sitting on his bed, pouring your heart out about everything your now-ex had done to you in the last few months. Jude held you close, extremely close that night. After about an hour of violently crying into his chest, you had falled asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. The boy was wide awake, though, and surely didn't get any sleep at all. He cradled your face to his chest, his fingers gently threading through your hair to calm you down whenever you'd slightly stirr awake again. He felt so many emotions in that moment, mostly because he always thought he was the worst at comforting people, but you seemed to feel safe enough to fall asleep in his arms. That's what counted to Jude.

You were there when Dortmund lost in the UCL final to comfort him when he cried on your shoulder after getting in the car. The whole car ride long, you held his hand, telling him how good he played regardless and that the trophy is going to be his next season. Jude didn't reply. He stared out of the window, but you didn't mind. Back in the hotel room, he hugged you for what felt like an eternity, thanked you and kissed you on your forehead. Yeah, you guys have been through the worst.

Jude took you to any award ceremony as his plus one. For the longest time, a picture of the two of you on the night he won The Golden Boy Award was his lockscreen. And now? He's going to throw that away. His obvious feelings for you. He's not going to stop you whenever you kiss him on the cheek, hold his hand, sleep in the same bed as him. He won't correct himself when other people refer to you as his girlfriend and he'll laugh along whenever his parents call you their 'daughter-in-law'.

Oh, what a fucking asshole he is.

You think back to the time where Jude told you about a 'new acquaintance' he made while on a trip in New York. He'd talk about Amy from time to time, naming her a friend of his and sometimes you'd even see her at functions or parties or when going out with his friends. Somehow, she was always there. You never really thought anything of it, until those Instagram stories started to pop up and new rumors about Jude's dating life started to bubble. Suddenly, everyone around you was asking the same thing: 'Aren't you guys together?'

...

You woke up just as cranky as when you fell asleep with your phone in hand, the clock on the wall ticking being the only sound that filled the room. Denise was out of the country, just to visit Jobe for an exchange and to 'leave the house for you and Jude' wink, wink. God, how was it already this warm outside? August in Spain was no joke. You woke up sweating and you went to bed sweating, no matter how much deodorant you put on or if you showered like three times.

It was already 11am when you stepped out of the shower and brushed through your wet hair to let it air dry. You haven't heard a single peep from Jude yet, but maybe he was just letting you sleep in.

Your suspicions were proven to be true, when you made your way downstairs to find him making breakfast. The sound of your bare feet against the glass steps made Jude cock his head in your direction, smiling sweetly when getting a glimpse of you. "Thought you died up there, not gonna lie." He chuckled, but you were really not in the mood for it right now. Instead, you just groaned in slight annoyance and sat down on the couch, which was right in front of the open kitchen.

"Okay.." Jude came up to you, plate in hand. It was an attempt at making you your favorite bagel, which he's been trying to get right ever since you came back from your vacation in the US, craving it.

"Not funny?"

"No?"

"What's up with you today?"

"I just— Didn't sleep well, that's all."

After you took the plate out of his hand, Jude sat down next to you, stretching like he had just worked a 12-hour-shift just to sneakily put his arm around your shoulders. You were wearing one of his jerseys, but he still 'had' to push your hair to the front to check if it was his last name on your back. "It looks really good on you, you know?" Whatever you might've seen last night, no matter how mad you were at him or how frustrated you were with your feelings, that comment made you smile. You really tried not to, you tried looking away and pretend like the pool outside was more interesting than this conversation, but of course, Jude picked up on that. "I mean it."

"Yeah, yeah..." You rolled your eyes, "Thank you."

While you guys were having breakfast, Jude mentioned some party one of his new friends here in Madrid were throwing, even though he said it was more like a hangout with friends than an occasion to get super drunk. He obviously wanted you to come with, to which you first complained about: Those were his friends, not yours. You already knew you were probably going to be left out and it will just turn boring super quickly. Although Jude's spanish wasn't great, he at least knew some. Also, you were so sure she was going to be there too. Especially when he said there won't be just his spanish friends there.

"Look, they really wanna meet you. All of them." You gave him a weird look, sipping on your water. "You're a liar." What on earth could he have told them about you to make them so interested. There was nothing to you, except the occasional rumors about the relationship between the two of you. You led your own private life and you were happy with it. "Come on, it'll be fun. I swear." You really shouldn't. "If you feel uncomfortable, we'll leave."

"Oh my god, fine."

...

It was just as you had predicted. Your best friend of the night was the host's, Rafael's, dog. The golden retriever was resting his head on your lap while you admired his beautifully soft, golden fur. Every now and then you heard your name in a conversation others were having in spanish, followed by a question stringed out in bad english, about your life and football. The ones who also didn't speak the common language in the house were somehow still incorporated into the conversation. Maybe it was you, maybe it was the fact that you didn't really want to be there and others caught up on that. Or maybe it was because all your attention lied on Jude and Amy, who had been having a conversation for at least 20 minutes in the kitchen now.

You knew you shouldn't sit there and feel sorry for yourself, because it was pathetic and stupid. Why get so worked up because of a boy? You're not his girlfriend, not his situationship, not his talking stage. A right to be jealous of some random girl never existed. Weird feelings brewed in you, like you're going to explode if they don't stop. She's giggling at his jokes, touching his arm in a specific way that made your stomach turn, and he was entertaining all of it.

You were staring for too long, apparently. Long enough for Amy to notice. When her eyes locked onto yours, it's like all the life disappeared out of them. Her expression immediately turned sour, filled with condescension and some type of disgust, you were pretty sure. Quickly, you turned your head away from their direction, rather focusing on the dog laying in your lap. Amy, on the other hand, decided she didn't want you to ever lay your eyes on them together again, taking Jude by the arm and dragging him to god knows where. You didn't notice, you didn't even dare to look back after a few minutes. Your face felt hot, like shame had been written on your forehead with a red sharpie.

"Here, I made this for you. You kind of look like you need it." Said a girl who suddenly popped up next to you on the couch. Most other people have started lounging around outside, so it had quieted down significantly. In her hand was a drink and first you thought about taking it twice, since she was a stranger and all. "Take it. It's not poisoned or anything." So you did.

The girl introduced herself as Mirabell, a friend of a friend of someone here you didn't know. But she knew you.

"You're Judes Girlfriend.. right?" Mirabell asked very carefully, like she was dreading the answer to the question already. "What? Oh, no. We're best friends." Your response made her sigh relief and laugh, lightly hitting your shoulder. "Jesus! Thank god you are. I really didn't want to explain how he had taken off with Amy. Like, you know, as if he was cheating. But he isn't! Because you're not a couple!" At this point you were pretty sure she shouldn't drink any more alcohol.

Mirabell turned out to be very nice and funny, and finally someone who was willing to have a normal conversation with you. She was also the one who dragged you outside, after you got tipsy enough to not be so shy anymore, and properly introduced you to her friends. After literal hours, you felt like you at least had a right to be here.

At some point, it was just you again, leaning over the railing of the balcony and watching the small cars drive by on the streets beneath you. The alcohol flowing through your veins made it feel like you were way higher up than you actually were, making you grip the metal under your fingers like you'd fall if you didn't. You let your eyes sheepishly wander over the scenery in front of you, taking in the cold breeze of the night that came like blessing in the usual warm weather. It was so peaceful and quiet, with no one bothering you. It almost made you forget all your worries. Almost.

You were promptly ripped out of your thoughts when you heard the balcony door slide open and someone step out. "You okay?" A familiar voice rang through your ears, and thankfully you weren't quite drunk enough to not recognize who it was. "Yeah, don't worry about me." You replied to Jude's question, turning around to face him. He had a small smile on his face while eyeing you up and down.

"Come on, let's go."

"Wait, why?"

"I didn't get to spend time with you at all. And, I'm sorry for that. Let's go back home and maybe we can get something to eat on the way?"

Your interest was piqued when you realized he must've actually felt bad leaving you all alone to go with this... girl. After a moment of pondering, you agreed and let him drag you through the apartment by your hand, obviously planning to make an irish exit.

"Jude wait! Where are you going?" Oh great. You could've recognized that voice from anywhere. Embarrasingly so. It was just that you had to watch every one of her Reels to check if there was actually nothing wrong with her. And sadly, maybe sadly, her content was actually quite enjoyable. Amy yanked at his arm, the one with which he was still holding you hand, making him let go of you. You quickly whipped your head around, giving her a look like she had just insulted your mother with that gesture, but Amy didn't seem like she even cared enough to look your way.

"We're going home?" Jude replied in a matter-of-factly way, making Amy giggle nervously. "But why? I thought.. you know, I'd come over later. Why are you taking her with you?" Her eyes first dropped down to your shoes, than your shorts and top and finally your face. That short moment alone made you feel so small in her presence alone, especially when she looked at you like you were an alien. You didn't even know women could hate other women this much. She didn't even know you.

Jude, while being a man, didn't let that go as unnoticed as the blonde probably would've liked, and removed his arm from her grip. "She's literally staying with me. Didn't I explain that to you?" Amy tried playing it off again with a laugh and apologized.

After a bit of small talk, where she interrogated you about your friendship with Jude, while he was getting your jackets, you were finally out of there. Amy's words stung more than you liked to admit. Even if you didn't have a crush on Jude, even if you weren't jealous of her, no one wants to hear that. And even if with the confidence given by the couple of drinks you had, you still couldn't stand up for yourself. Reason number one billion why you felt so pathetic.

...

"Sooo, did you still have fun without me? I know, hard to imagine you can, right?"

You didn't say anything.

"That was a joke."

"I know it was. And I did."

He didn't say anything.

"Yes I did too! Thank you for asking!"

"Sorry."

The whole car ride back to Jude's place felt off and awkward. He wasn't stupid. He knew why. Maybe not to the extend where he could come to the conclusion that you liked him, but he knew it was something about Amy.

Seeing you so slumped in your car seat made him knit his eyebrows together. It was like a war was going on inside of him: Did he like you... or did he like her? He's 21 and can't even figure his love life out. This felt like some highschool bullshit that he really didn't want to to deal with anymore.

In the next couple of days, he tried not to bring Amy up again. He used to, in some conversations at least or he'd even ask you what you think her favorite flowers were, or what kind of jewelry would fit her aesthetic. Jude thought you were just sensitive to the topic because you were jealous she got more attention than you did. Did you really think a man would be smart enough to realize any of his mistakes here?

Two nights later, you were on the phone with your girl best friend back at home, Alicia. You had already cried your heart out to her in the past, complaining about how Jude was giving you such mixed signals and then pretended like nothing happened the next day. "Girl, I'm being serious. You have to set things straight or else it'll tear you apart." She said, sounding tired and concerned. You hated bothering her so much with your stupid problems that actually had an easy fix.

"Oh my fucking god," You mumbled to yourself, half asleep, half still focusing on the chat with Mirabell. It was way too late to function correctly, but when your new friend texted you 20 minutes ago with an invitation to go to the club with her, you woke up a little again. Should you come along? Maybe you'd meet someone to get your mind off if him.

You sighed and texted her back: "Yeah, sounds great!"

...

Carefully, you walked down the stairs in your heels, already regretting your decision to wear them. Jude was waiting for you at the front door, focused on his phone while his fingers tapped away at the screen. He looked good. Too good for your liking. With his shirt buttoned down a bit, shorts hanging low and sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose, you could think he was doing it on purpose. The sound of your heels clicking against the floor made him lift his head in your direction and grin.

"Woah," Jude chuckled, feigning shock at how good you looked. "You look.. amazing tonight. Who are you trying to impress?" That line alone proved to you that he was an idiot. A complete idiot you've been wasting you time on. On the other hand, you would be lying if you said his compliments didn't make your heart flutter. It was so odd: Jude looked at you like you were the light of his life, gave you compliments like you were the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, yet he'll still immediately turn his back on you when he spots Amy at the club. "Thank you."

You tried to pretend like everything was normal, engaging in your usual banter while on the way to the spot y'all had agreed to meet up at. It was hard to ignore your feelings, not only for him but about this situation as a whole. In your mind, you were overreacting or even exaggerating your own problems to justify feeling bad for yourself. These were your last three days in Spain and you also just felt awful treating Jude in a way he didn't deserve, since he didn't really do anything wrong.

The feelings of shame and anger, mixed with a fun group of people, music and alcohol was calling for a disaster. Immediately after getting together with the group, you shifted your focus on Mirabell and other people, just to save yourself from the venomous looks Amy gave you.

You definitely had your fun getting to know new people, drinking and vibing to the music. Rafael, the guy from a few days ago, was very obviously hitting on you and was great at making you feel comfortable around him.

Maybe a little too comfortable.

Seeing Amy basically sit on Jude's lap in the booth next to you made all the feelings you've been bottling up the past week spill over. Right when Rafael took you to the bar to get a new drink, he noticed how your mood had dropped. And after asking if everything's okay, you couldn't hold it in anymore. While you didn't cry, you did complain about the situation quite a bit, very emotionally.

"Yeah, I kinda knew he was an asshole," Rafael said while looking down at you. You were leaning against the wall next to the emergency exit, where things were a little quieter than at your booth. "I know that now, too." You didn't know if the last Lemon Drop you had was making you feel like you were going to throw up or if the situation just upset you this much.

You wished you didn't care for it. You wished you were nonchalant enough to let these last few days pass over and then crash out when you're back home. But you weren't and you won't. Rafael, while only really knowing you for two hours, tried his best to comfort you.

What you didn't see was how Jude eventually approached you guys out of nowhere, seemingly annoyed 'catching' you with one of his good friends. It wasn't for that reason that he came up to you, though: "Hey.." He slightly yelled over the volume of the music. You could feel the bass boost in your whole body. Jude looked at Rafael and then back to you, confused, irritated maybe, but it also seemed like he was in a hurry. "What?" Rafael responded back, doing you a favor of speaking for you when you clearly couldn't. "Is she okay? I just want to talk to her." The Spaniard in front of you gestures Jude to come closer in an annoyed manner, because he couldn't hear him. After repeating himself for like three times, which Rafael was making him do on purpose given his smirk, Jude just gave up and leaned to you.

"I... Me and Amy are gonna leave and walk around in the city for a bit. Do you need me to drive you back?"

"I'll take her back to yours."

Jude shot his friend a glare, but you just agreed with Rafael. The look they gave each other was enough to kill.

"Go. That girl is waiting for you, isn't she?"

Rafael gestured to Amy who was just standing a few meters away. That stupid grin on her face made your blood boil.

...

What was up with you? Jude couldn't make a single thing out. The past week you've been acting so strange and he missed you. Missed the old you. He thought that might be corny, since this is probably something easily fixable, but he couldn't help thinking that way. What had upset you so much? Why did his own friend seem so annoyed with him?

Amy and Jude were strolling alongside a river and she kept pretending she was almost too drunk to walk, purposefully falling over to grip his arm. She was talking about some thing her girl friends did without her — Like a brunch or something. He didn't really care and didn't make the effort to at least look like he was interested. His thoughts lied on you and if Rafael really took you back home. What if he didn't? What if you liked him enough to go back to his place? What would he do if one of his friends would be interested in you? What would he—

"Jude!" Amy snapped her fingers in his face to get him out of his trance. "God, what is up with you? Is your alcohol tolerance that low?" She was clearly joking, but Jude didn't laugh alongside her. He made a comment about how she should never even dare to snap her fingers at him like that again and that he's seen her do it multiple times now. "That's serious not okay." Jude said, "people around you aren't dogs."

Only silence followed that.

Suddenly, after he kind of destroyed the mood, Amy seemed to be able to walk just fine on her own. It made Jude scoff.

"Don't tell me you're seriously thinking about her." Her tone was so foul, it gave Jude goosebumps. "Seriously! Oh my god, you can't be serious!" She raised her voice, "She? Her? That girl? Are you serious?" Up until this point none of the two had even talked about you for one second. That Amy immediately knew what Jude was thinking about made him think.

"Amy," Jude stopped dead in his tracks, pulling her back by her hand as she tries to keep walking. "What the fuck is your problem?" Now his tone was bitter. Ever since the two of them got to know each other, there always seemed to be a certain dislike towards you from Amy and he really didn't understand why. How could anyone hate you? Ever?

"What? In general or with her?" Amy tried making light out of the situation again, laughing like he just made one of his stupid jokes again. Was it insecurity? Did you make her feel insecure? The longer Jude looked at her, the less he understood his own actions. His feelings? his decisions, his past.. they don't lead to her. Nowhere even near her. What the fuck was his problem?

"You are.. you are so selfish. Do you know that? Actually, I think your just mean," Jude took a deep breath, "You're miserable, is that it? I don't have another explanation for your behavior around other women. She's my best friend and you've only ever talked crap about her." Amy's face didn't drop in the slightest. No, it seemed like has been preparing for the conversation.

"What are you yelling at me for? She's the one cockblocking you from every other girl you meet!" The two were lucky no one else was on the same small path as them right now. The river seemed to absorb their yelling with it's sounds. "You take her everywhere you go. I don't get it! She's the definition of mid! Mid tier! Has done nothing successful in her life! Jude, please, she's just using you for fame."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Jude looked at Amy like she just said the most outrageous thing in the world. To him, she did. "You know what?" Without raising his voice any more, Jude did a 180 and walked away from her, the frustration visible in his steps.

"Wait! No, Jude! Where are you going?"

...

With how fast Jude arrived back home, you could've thought someone died or something. Treating Madrid like a Mario Kart Track, he raced home in under five minutes and was now fiddling around in his pockets to find his keys. Jude was cursing himself, because he understood now. He finally understood and he felt so stupid.

He sighed with relief when he saw you had parked your heels right at the door when he stepped inside. The TV in the living room was on, but when he called out your name, it didn't seem like you were there.

Jude assumed you were upstairs in your— The guest room, and his suspicions were confirmed when he saw the lights through the small crack at the bottom of the door. He knocked, gently, and said your name: "I know you're in there.. Please tell me you're in there." Why wouldn't you be? You had no where else to go.

"I'm so sorry."

No reaction.

"Please talk to me".

No reaction.

Jude sighed.

"I'm stupid. And an asshole and a bastard and I know I messed up. Please, yell at me, insult me, do literally anything!"

Inside your room, you were trying to tune him out. You were laying in bed, looking up at the ceiling with your eyebrows knitted together and your arms crossed over your chest. You didn't feel like crying, surprisingly. You thought, when this moment finally comes, you'd fold in a millisecond and pour your heart out to Jude, but no.

After a moment, your feelings did end up betraying you felt the lump in your throat get more painful by the second. You heard a sound from just outside your door — Jude had sat down on the floor, resting his back against the doorframe.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm— That's all I can say."

Why is he making this so damn difficult for you?

"I'll sit here until you want to talk, okay? I'll sit here all night if I have to."

Yeah, safe to say both of you wouldn't be sleeping that night.

[breakindishesinaelevator]

GET HEXED! pt 1

Invincible (Mark Grayson) x Jinx!Reader

————————————————————————————

soooo yeah this’ll be HEAVILY inspired by jinx and her past and her mentality and whatnot

yes things will be different, yes therell be different scenes, yes the characters will have different names

yes this will be in parts cuz i write too much

yes my english is my worst subject so if its sucky please bear with me or just tell me straight up if this is ass i can take it

yes there will be zaun but imagine it is just downtown baltimore or something like where titan is from but everyone will refer to it as zaun bleh bleh bleh

Sounds of laughter is in the air. Children running rampant at the park. It’s a small park but you know how kids are. Their imagination knows no bounds. Hell, they could have a piece of cardboard and make whatever kind of game out of it.

Wait, off track.

Anyways, back to the park.

Some little guy is running around, playing with the other kids. He's a cute little guy. Jet black hair and dark brown eyes. See that little tooth gap? Yeah, this kid is adorable.

Oh- oh! Um, did he just fall?

"Mark! Be careful!"

Presumably, his mother called out. She's currently cuddling up on the bench with her, what looks to be, husband.

"I will Mom!"

The kid, now known as Mark, shouted back, as he ran back to play with some random little girl. She was small, frail like a twig. Does she eat at home? Actually, where are her parents? Is she here alone?

"Anyways, back to what I was saying. I was cleaning up the house and found these weird little rock things." The woman went back to talking about her job to her husband. Sighing, she continued, "I'm guessing the guy who sold the house left them behind, and I tried to contact him using the number he left with me in case there were some things wrong with the house... for some reason though, the number didn't even work."

She shrugged her shoulders, waiting for some kind of input from her husband. Nolan hummed in thought, stroked his mustache, and then said, "Did he leave any other form of contact with you? Email? Emergency contacts?"

She shook her head, "No, none at all. Those rocks also looked super exotic." She giggled and nudged his arm, "Maybe we could sell them for a pretty penny. Or they could be a cute decoration for the house!"

Debbie was enjoying her time in the park with her family. The sky was clear, flowers were blooming, the birds were singing... Unbeknownst to her, there was an extra pair of ears listening to their conversation.

It was a girl. She looked maybe in her early teens, rugged, oh gosh- are her clothes burnt? And what's up with those bandages on her arms?

"[Name] let's go."

She stepped up, calling for the random girl who was playing with Mark.

"Awh, already? I was having fun..."

[Name] was pouting, not making any moves to get up, still building some kind of lodge out of sticks with Mark.

"Come on. Let's go. He's waiting for us."

The older girl got more insistent on leaving. Moving towards [Name], and grabbing onto her arm.

"Awh..."

[Name] getting pulled up by the older girl, she looked back behind her shoulder and waved to Mark.

"Bye Mark! Let's play another time!"

"Oh- Bye! ...I guess..."

Mark stands up and walks back over to his parents.

"I'm ready to go home now..."

He sighs and sulks, sad that his friend left already.

"Already? Why don't you play with the other kids honey?"

Debbie stroked his hair, placing a kiss on his forehead.

"I don't wanna play with the other kids... My friend left already..."

"Oh, Mark..."

Debbie clicked her tongue in thought. Turning to Nolan, who shrugged his shoulders. She sighs, turning back to Mark, outstretching her hand for him to hold as she gets up.

"Alright then, let's go home."

-------------------------------

The two girls meet up with two boys in an alley.

The taller boy, buzzcut hair, steamer goggles, shirts layered on him (seriously how many shirts is he wearing), and way too long pants, steps forward to greet the two, but he’s cut off from the shorter boy who is accompanying him.

The shorter boy, matted hair, shirt that is HUGE a little too big on him, charred pants, and torn up shoes (YOU CAN LITERALLY SEE HIS TOE POKING OUT), pushes past the taller boy and scoffs at the two walking up.

"Jeez. Took you long enough!"

"Shut up Nile.”

The older girl pushes past him, walking to the now open sewer hole.

"I got a tip on the next place we'll hit. I'll give more information when we get home. Now come on."

Nile groans and stands at the entrance of the sewer.

"Can one of you go first this time? I need to smell good at the very least 'cause your boy- Ahhhh!"

Nile gets pushed in face-first, Mokkur goes next, leaving you and Indie outside. You look up at your older sister with an unreadable expression before hopping in and sliding down, followed by your older sister who closes the entrance behind all of you.

—————————————————————

grrrr i hope this was okay

[eccentricallygothic]

| Forbidden Fruit |

Description: Forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest. 

Pairing: Pedri | Naive Rodrygo's Gf!You. 

Disclaimer: This is merely a fanfic which does not represent anyone mentioned in any way. It contains mature content and morally grey themes so browse at your own discretion, please. Minors do not interact.  

Warning: Possible angst, infidelity (you), rough sex, unprotected p-in-v, Pedri is mean, doggy style, dirty talk, hair pulling, cunnilingus, Pedri’s beard, Pedri is morally grey, the Barca/La Masia boys are a bunch of meanies, minor exhibitionism, Daddy kink, minor spanking, hair pulling, deep throating. 

Note: I am an outrageous slut.

. 

It was supposed to be a harmless little term; a gesture of goodwill. 

The rivalry had gone on between the two clubs for too long. 

After careful deliberations and many dialogues, you were handpicked as the answer. 

The very private girlfriend of Rodrygo Goes who just happened to be one of the best English instructors available in the country as you had found employment in Spain since you didn't like to depend on others -like your dear boyfriend- too much. 

You.

Plain old little you; 

Gullible, naive, sweet, kind, helpful and passionate towards your profession. 

An attempt at peace, for good. 

Although your boyfriend and his club mates were dubious to let you go into the ‘enemy's’ den, you had innocently assured them that it was your duty as an instructor and that you would be fine since you were a big girl. 

… Until you walked through the doors of the room that had been made into a classroom for you and the relentless younger line like the La Masia boys had you teary-eyed under 10 minutes. 

And so you learnt the hard way that you weren't that big a girl after all.  

Hushed whispers, chuckles, taunts, snickers, anonymous yells and the like were thrown at you one after another. 

“You telling me this little girl will teach us English?” You looked around the many faces to see who it was but Gavi was so quick with his words that his mouth was motionless before you could locate him. 

“Go back to your pretty little white palace Princess!” Your bottom lip quivered as you looked at Fermin and felt betrayed since he had seemed nice enough when you had first entered. 

The laughing was the worst part.

They were loud, fast, cruel and overwhelming. 

Though every cell of your body made you want to rush out of the room, you tightened your laces and raised your chin up high before somehow managing through the rest of the session. 

That, and some kind interventions by the older players and Xavi, of course. 

It was only when you had jumped upon being approached by Pedri while waiting for your ride to arrive had you realized just how badly you still trembled even though the class had ended some long minutes ago. 

“You okay?” He was the only one who had remained completely silent during the entirety of the session, contributing to neither side and remaining aloof in a corner with his dark hawk-like gaze set on you. 

Though you had naively thought it the innocent stare of a student, you lived to learn it had been anything but. 

“Y- Yeah” as if on cue, your bottom lip sensitively wobbled again and Pedri's gaze didn't spare a minute flickering down to the movement. 

His Adam's apple bobbed as he silently gulped, wetting his mouth with his pink tongue as he let out a little sigh. “They're… Just… You… It's not…” One of his hands escaped the pockets of his sweatshirt to run over the back of his head. You quietly stared back with your brows raised curiously. “Don’t take them too seriously. They like to play around and sometimes they get real rough real fast” a small smile made its way onto your face. He felt responsible for them and was considerate of your feelings. “But it's not coming from a bad place, honest. They're just stupid kids is all” what a sweet guy, you thought. 

If only. 

You didn't know how it escaped your notice.

It wasn't like he didn't make it obvious. 

Always making it a point to visit you after sessions, staying with you until your driver arrived, seeing you off, sometimes leaning a bit too close or letting his friendly touch on your arm linger for a bit too long. 

But it was still all fun and games until one day he declared that he wanted to return the favor by teaching you some useful things in return. 

He had realized from the way you spoke of your relationship that you weren't much experienced and so you were sweetly content with whatever your tender lover gave you.

Of course, you panicked at first when you found yourself being backed against a table in a dark little storage room after you had skeptically agreed to the offer, whimpering next to the intimidating guy who always stared at you like a predator despite your friendship 

“Don't you want to learn how to make him feel good too? Or are you a selfish little girl who only wants to take and take but never give back?” Your bottom lip jutted out at his mean words. 

“O- Of course not!” You huffed, feeling the blood boil under your cheeks. “I am n- not like that! Who doesn't want to make their partner feel good?!” 

You weren't that stupid. 

You knew exactly what he was doing. 

And though you pretended to be outraged by the proposition at first, you were equally -if not more- excited to have his body on yours. 

So you let him teach you.

And boy, did the guy know how to fuck. 

His thick, hard and veiny cock felt hot and arousing in your fist that day as he nearly devoured your face with his mouth. 

Pedri took his sweet time with you by going one step at a time.

Carefully molding and shaping you according to his tastes to make of you the perfect little fucktoy. 

“Yeah, baby. Just like that, such a good girl” his voice would always deepen so dangerously low as he would often dip his head down so his warm lips would move against your ear. “Such a fast little learner, aren't you? So enthusiastic to learn how she can be good for her Daddy” that was the name he had chosen for himself since he couldn't be called your man.

You weren't sure if he even wanted to.

It was wrong. 

So, so fucking wrong. 

Unfair.

But it felt good. 

He felt good. 

Great. 

Immaculate.

Pedri taught you how to give, same as he taught you how to take.

“That’s a proper little girl right there” he grunted when he taught you how to ‘properly’ suck cock for the first time. “Just like that baby, tip that pretty little head back for Daddy” his manly hands that had gathered all your hair in a makeshift ponytail gently tugged you back to grant himself better access to your throat. “That's it,” though he was good at remaining calm and composed, you could hear the breathlessness in his voice. Your insides burnt hotter and you felt yourself clench, hollowing your cheeks as you curled your fingers around his muscular thighs while your other hand fondled his heavy ball sack. “You're a natural, aren't you, baby?” Your eyes filled with tears when you finally moved northwards and let the whole length of his cock disappear between your flushed, swollen lips.  

Your nostrils flared and your lungs churned for air, the lack of it causing your head to spin when Pedri didn't let up and instead began to give short and powerful thrusts to the fleshy channel of your slippery throat. Your head began to cloud and your thoughts started to float around just like his seed did everywhere in your oral cavity when he came. 

The internet people could say whatever they wanted. 

His beard and stubble eras were your personal favorite.

Because the coarse facial hairs felt so good against your tender skin. 

Like when Pedri once had you twisted outwards as your body writhed on the table of the storage room you had become well acquainted with at this point, legs trapped in his arms that he had looped around them to hold you firmly in place. 

The length of his devious tongue swiped across your worked up folds to lap at the mess you had made, beard digging into the soft skin of your inner thighs as the coarse hairs dragged against the junctions of your hips and legs every time his jaw flexed to eat you better. A loud moan forced its way past your reluctant lips when you felt a nerve twitch in one of your sides. 

“That's it, sweet girl. Just like that” your toes curled at the huskiness of his voice while your fingers tightened around his thick dark locks. “Let me hear those pretty moans” as if on cue, your body complied and your back arched even more when the pointy tip of his tongue prodded against your entrance. “That's it, baby. Tell me who is making you feel this good?” Your ears burnt hot as sweat trickled down one of your temples, heart heavily thumping in your chest. 

Though you were barely coherent, you knew better than to ignore his command. 

“Y- You are, Da– AH!” Your eyes widened and your palm slapped against your mouth in an attempt to stifle your delirious moans when he released one of your thighs only to intrude your tight little pussy with his fingers, the grainy muscle of his tongue toying with your clit all the while. 

“That's fucking right” he let out between slurps and sucks, occasionally making you jump and whine whenever you would get too quiet by landing a cruel spank directly onto your sensitive folds. 

Forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest. 

You had always thought it no more than a harmless little proverb. 

Until you learnt its accuracy firsthand.

When you were pressed face down against the same table that had witnessed the entire affair of your infidelity to your lover one dark evening. Your arms were spread out wide besides you as one of your cheeks rubbed against the smooth wooden surface with each powerful thrust that was pounding its way into your leaking pussy. Your lips were parted and a small puddle of drool lay next to them as you lazily whined each time a spank was delivered onto one of your ass cheeks, your body violently shaking due to the speed at which his cock was pistoning in and out of you. 

Pedri had made you feel things no one ever had, there was no doubt about that. 

But the intensity with which your orgasm ripped itself out of you and you were nearly deprived of all your senses due to the immense pleasure when the door suddenly opened and Pedri wrapped his hand around your hair to pull your head upwards to make you face the person who nonchalantly stared at you with glossy eyes had your limbs trembling in what you could only describe as the best way you had ever known. 

You lost track of time as you mindlessly let yourself get fucked while staring directly at Rodrygo who had decided to receive you himself that day only to find you bent over for Pedri in a storage room. Sensuous groans and gasps were all you could let out as the faint realization -due to your dimmed faculties- of how this looked only made you clench harder. 

The visitor eventually left you two alone all to your nefarious activities with no words exchanged and the door closer allowed you privacy again until the man in charge decided he was done with you for the day. 

When upon finally coming to your senses you began to panic, your head was patted condescendingly in that peculiar manner of his. “That's not for you to worry your pretty little head about.” And then he fixed your disheveled outfit before taking you for himself. 

.

Man, I am so out of practice. 

[taliaaurora]

I loved you, you used me - Kelly Severide x Paramedic!Reader

Summary: As a floater, you're sent to the worst firehouse you could think of - the one where your ex is a lieutenant.

Pairing: Kelly Severide x Paramedic!Reader

Warning: mentions of addiction.

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Sooo, after a few years without updating this page, here I am as if nothing happened. Sorry guys, life has been crazy. Just finished my degree in Physics and started my master's degree in Education. English is not my first language, so I’m sorry for any mistakes. I hope you have a nice day/night and enjoy this! 💕

------------------------

"I'm telling you, man. I swear to God I've seen her before." Cruz tells Capp as they sit by the squad table. "I just don't know where, you know?"

"Yeah, I see what you're talking about." Capp agreed, resting his feet on the table. "Maybe she was an actress and we've seen her on television. I don't know."

The conversation caught Severide's attention, his eyes moved from the newspaper in his hands to the two firefighters. "Who are you talking about?"

"The girl in Chief's office," Cruz stated. "We've seen her before, but we don't know where."

"And here is the app floor!" Brett walked out of the firehouse with a smile on her face, showing you the rest of Firehouse 51. "Oh, and these boys right here are on Squad 3." She pointed at the men and flashed them a smile, not noticing the look on Severide's face.

The sight in front of Severide's eyes caught him by surprise. It's been years since he last saw you. He had so many questions. Where have you been? What were you doing here? Why was the girl he once used to date standing right behind Brett?

"Cruz, Capp, Tony, and Severide, this is Y/L/N. She's the new floater on Ambo 61." Brett introduced you to them as you flashed a shy smile, avoiding Severide's eyes the whole time. You knew one day you would have to face him again. But if you had a choice, you would never choose to work by his side. Not after everything you went through. But since you were sent here, all you wanted to do was leave the past behind you and do your job.

"Hi, it's a pleasure to meet you!" You walked to the table and shook their hands, one by one. At Severide's turn, you swallowed hard and looked down, not meeting his confused yet curious eyes as he firmly shook your hand. You'd be lying if you said you didn't miss his touch, the warmth of his skin.

"So, Y/L/N," Cruz spoke, making you turn around to face him. "Haven't we met already? Cause I'm pretty sure I've seen you before."

You frowned at his question, tilting your head to the side as you tried to think about it. "Huh...I don't think so..." You answered, knowing you two had met while you dated Severide, but since you wanted to forget that part of your life you didn't touch the subject.

-/-/-

After coming back from another call, you made your way through the app floor and went straight to the kitchen. You still didn't know where all the food and the utensils were, so it was taking quite a long time to make just a simple sandwich. 

"For God's sake-" You mumbled, standing on a chair while you looked for a plate inside the kitchen cabinet.

"Need some help?" Severide's voice echoed through the room, making you lose your balance and almost fall from the chair. He rushed to help you but you quickly managed to steady yourself.

"No, I'm good." You shot back, not looking at him. Once those words came out of your mouth you noticed how rude you sounded, so you tried to repair it. "Thanks though." You quietly said, finally meeting his eyes.

"Anytime." He smiled, watching you go back to the counter to make your sandwich. "Can I ask you something?" He made his way to your side and leaned on the counter.

"Depends..." You answered, keeping your attention on the food in your hands. "If you wanna ask something about my past, go for it. But I won't answer it." You confessed, making Severide laugh.

"Seriously, Y/N. Why did you leave?" He asked either way. The way he sounded hurt almost made you feel sorry for him. "You always push people away. I just thought you'd never do it to me."

That, right there, was enough to make a switch flip in your head. "And why is that? Huh? Why do you think I pushed you away?" You shot back, putting your sandwich back on the plate as you stared at him in shock. 

"What the hell's going on with you?" He frowned. "Seriously. What's going on? You've been treating me like shit since the minute you stepped inside this firehouse."

"You're unbelievable." You whispered. Looking back at the plate, you pushed it away and shook your head. "I lost my appetite." Before you could step away, Severide grabbed your arm.

"Come on, Y/N. What have I done to you?" His voice sounded genuine as if he didn't know all the hell he made you go through.

You let go of his hand on your arm, incredulously. "What have you done to me!?" You whispered-yelled, holding back the tears. "You used me, Kelly! I loved you, you used me. All you wanted was someone who could provide you with those fucking pills. I never meant anything to you."

"What!? No!" He quickly shook his head. "Y/N, I didn't use you. I was dating you because I liked you." He confessed.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn't reach out to me because you needed those pills." You whispered, knowing your voice would fail if you tried to speak louder. The few seconds of silence coming from Severide said it all. He used you.

"I don't have the energy to fight you anymore." You confessed, stepping away. "I'll tell Boden I wanna be transferred to another house." Severide watched your back as you walked out of the room.

-/-/-

Walking inside the locker room, Severide greeted the firefighters from the last shift as they grabbed their bags to leave. As he got ready for his shift, he could hear the men chatting by his side, but didn't pay any attention - that’s until he heard your name being thrown in the conversation.

“Is that Y/L/N?” One of them asked, looking over the bunk room as you walked by. “I didn’t know she was working at 51 now.”

“I didn’t know they were accepting junkies.” The other one scoffed.

Severide turned around and grabbed the man’s arm before the group exited the room. “What did you say?”

“Hey, take it easy…it was a joke!” He laughed, freeing his arm from Severide’s hold. “We’re all friends here, there’s no need to get angry over this.”

Seeing Severide’s confusion, another man stepped in. “Rumors says she got caught stealing some pills from the ambo once, back at Firehouse 36.” He confessed. “...has been jumping from one station to another ever since.”

“When was that?” The lieutenant asked.

“Man, I don’t know…a few years ago.” He replied before leaving the room.

The new information took Severide off guard. He didn’t have to do the math, it was obvious that you got caught getting those pills for him. Of course you despised him, you have every reason to do so.

-/-/-

“Did something happen between you two?” Brett curiously asked as her eyes darted between you and Severide while you cleaned the ambo.

You looked over at the lieutenant sitting at the squad table and took a heavy sight. “Well, there’s no use in hiding anything from you, so…” you turned your back to Severide and faced Brett. “We…dated - if that’s even the right word - a few years ago.”

Brett gasped, then let out a short laugh. “Of course! I should have realised that! It was obvious by the way he’s always looking at you…”

“Oh, shut up!” You rolled your eyes. “It was a long time ago…a lot of things happened back then. We’re not on good terms.” You confessed, earning back a “spill the tea” look from your new friend. “He used me to get something he needed. He was desperate and I was stupid.” You glanced at the lieutenant, “...I got caught doing something for him and he wasn’t there to have my back.”

“Oh…” Brett sighed. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know he was an asshole.” She confessed, making you laugh. “And the asshole is walking over here, so let’s change the subject..”

You took a deep breath before turning around and facing the lieutenant. “Hey, can we talk?” He asked you with a strange look on his face.

“Humm…sure.” was all you could answer. You followed him inside the firehouse and waited for him to speak.

“You never told me you got caught getting me those pills.” He confronted you, catching off guard. “You never said anything. Why?”

All you could do was laugh. “Are you being serious right now?” You frowned, trying your best to keep your tone down. “Shit went down for me because of your fucking addiction! I almost lost my job! What did you want me to do? To come over here and say what??”

“I don’t know…” He confessed. “I just wish I knew what you were going through. I can’t help but feel responsible.”

“Well, maybe because you are responsible, Kelly!” You hissed back at him.

“I never forced you to do anything-”

“Ohhh, really…you’re pulling that card, hum?”

“I- I didn’t mean that…I’m sorry.” He sighed, rubbing his face as the conversation got out of control. “I’m sorry…for everything, Y/N.”

“Yeah, well, there’s not much you can do now…” You answered, tired of the conversation that just started. “I’m gonna be honest with you, Kelly. I have no intention of sticking around this firehouse. I’m a floater and I’m at peace with that. I just wanna do my job.”

The look on Severide’s face as you said those words made you frown. “What if there was something I could do about that? What- What if you could stay here?”

“Here? At 51? With you??” You asked incredulously. You couldn’t believe he was really saying this. “Kelly, I’m sorry, but this is the last place I wanna be.”

“Why? It’s not that bad…and I can see you’re already making friends.” He looked out the window and glanced at the blonde PIC.

You flashed a short smile at Brett. You, in fact, were making a new friend. Something you hadn’t done in a while, since you never stay in one place for too long. “I don’t know, Kelly…”

“Please, let me try…I can talk to Boden about it.” He sent you a soft smile. “That’s the least I can do.”

You rubbed your face and sighed. Maybe this was his chance of doing something right after all these years. Maybe this was your chance to plant your roots somewhere, make friends…make peace with your past.

Severide’s smile brought your attention back to him. “So…what do you say?” The lieutenant asked.

“Well, screw it. Let’s do this.” You smiled, forgetting the fight you had just a few minutes ago.

Severide extended his hand out, and you shook it. “So…we’re good now?”

“Hell no, don’t push it…” You pushed him back and walked out of the house with a soft grin on your face.

Severide watched you walk away with a smile on his face, his eyes darting to your ass just as you turned around and caught him red handed.

Tag list: @mrspeacem1nusone  @masset-fotia  @dedlund82  @drakelover78  @graniairish  @junevoidzombie @unknowntoyou2205 @sunflowergurl98 @alexxavicry @chicago-fire-pd-med @aaliyahsinger @werewolfbanshee-love @kellykidd @wifey-halsteadd @silverose365 @ogallery21 @smoothdogsgirl @district447 @wanniiieeee @thxtmarvelchick @luckyladycreator2 @sesamepancakes @cfparamedics @bestkaistes @thatcrimeshowchick @katie007123 @lxna-mikaelsxn @gwendoline @imcalled-florenceence @xmjthewitchx

[fleurdeserre]

Artist Turned Muse

Fandom: 恋与深空 | Love and Deepspace (Video Game) Category: F/M Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Main Character/Qi Yu | Rafayel; Qi Yu | Rafayel/You Tags: One Shot, Crack Fic, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV Third Person, POV Rafayel, POV Second Person, Light Angst

Summary: Rafayel knows you're lying to him but he doesn't know what the reason behind it is. So the best logical conclusion he comes to is that you are seeing someone else.

A/N: disclaimers: - english isn't my first language, so sorry for any potential mistakes - this is a crack fic written purely for funsies with a pinch of angst (cause it's Rafayel), don't take it too seriously - the fic begins with Rafayel's POV and then it changes to reader's POV

you can read the fic here or go to ao3 (hyperlink in the title)

Rafayel knows his girlfriend has been up to something as of late. He just couldn’t figure out what exactly it was. 

At first, he ignored it. Well, no, he didn’t actually ignore it, more like he just pretended it didn’t bother him—a tactic he was very well-accustomed to.

How did he know something was off, you might ask. Well, first of all Rafayel knows his beloved, thank you very much, so it’s no surprise that the first thing to tip him off was her lying to him. He knows she couldn’t lie to save her life—unlike himself, of course.

So, naturally when he asked her what plans she had for the weekend and she pulled out a half-assed excuse about some kind of reading she needed to catch up to, he knew immediately it wasn’t actually the case. This girl is so bad at lying, Rafayel has no idea why she still even tries. The birthday preparations she tried to make in secret should’ve been proof enough to discourage her from ever trying to lie to him again.

Rafayel, guided by that logic, has tried jogging his memory to remember if there were any anniversaries or other special occasions worthy of celebration and came to the conclusion that there were none. That realization frustrated him to no end because that meant he had no clue what was actually happening with his girl.

Days, then weeks kept going in that same manner with her always making excuses and disappearing for several hours, not answering her phone and keeping her text messages short. He thought he did something wrong and she was just pissed at him but that also wasn’t the case because there were no indications of that apart from her disappearing all the time.

Then it finally hit him. 

She must be seeing someone else. The betrayal he felt the moment that thought settled in his head was like no other. It was way worse than her forgetting him back when they first met because, here she is now clearly remembering him, being with him and yet still disappearing on him several times a week. Oh, this is unbearable. 

What will he do if that’s truly the case? What can he do, really?

It’s not like Rafayel isn’t giving his all to this relationship. What more could she possibly want and why wouldn’t she simply ask it of him? 

If we’re being completely honest, Rafayel is having a full-blown breakdown over this. 

Like, if she wanted someone else to spice things up a bit, she could’ve just told him. Sure, Rafayel would’ve probably cried over it but at the end of the day he’d suck it up and do whatever she wanted hoping it was just a phase. If, on the other hand, it was the worst-case scenario and she fell in love with someone else…

Well, that’s not something Rafayel wants to consider. If push comes to shove, he’ll just improvise like he always does praying for the sea to have mercy on him.

He tries not to overthink all of this but it is getting more and more difficult with each passing day with each excuse and lie even though when she’s with him, she’s no different than she’s always been. She’s loving, teasing, and caring. She cuddles with him like she used to, makes sure he doesn’t starve to death while working on a new piece, and makes love with him like it’s their last day on Earth.

Rafayel loses sleep over the predicament he’s found himself in. And worst of all, he can’t even paint—he can’t put his emotions into art, the one thing he’s always praised himself for being good at. Every time he tries, he just stands there for a while with the paintbrush held mid-air, unable to make the first stroke. Then when he finally makes himself move, do something—anything—he is left with a bitter sense of disappointment. 

It’s all just…not right. He truly feels like a fish out of water (pun intended). 

Not only is she blatantly lying to him, she also hides stuff from him now. She never used to do that before and Rafayel is oh so ready to start ripping off his hair if she continues whatever it is she’s doing now. He’ll go bald at the ripe age of twenty-four. It’d be plastered all over all sorts of billboards too… “An artist gone bald: the downfall of the infamous Rafayel’s hairstyle” or something like that.

Okay, dramatics aside, it is weird. A few days ago, she was on her phone and he dropped onto the sofa right next to her. The moment his head touched her shoulder she locked her phone and put it aside. She thought she was being so nonchalant about it too, but Rafayel isn’t crazy, it wasn’t his imagination playing tricks on him. When he asked her what she was doing she said she was making a list of groceries. Rafayel obviously wasn’t dumb enough to buy that because she wasn’t even typing.

Maybe she was reading someone’s messages? was all Rafayel could think of that sleepless night.

There was that other time, a week ago, when he went to visit her unannounced just because he felt like it and was around the area (not really). He had to wait for her to open the door for two minutes! He knew she was home—the lights were on—but she still made him wait outside the door to her apartment. When she finally let him in, she said, “Oh, sorry, I was making a smoothie when the blender’s lid malfunctioned and the contents were all over my shirt, so I had to change into something else.” 

Sounds valid but here’s the catch. When he went to the kitchen it was perfectly clean and the blender was full. It didn’t look like even a drop of its contents was spilled. Weird.

Also, she didn’t let him go anywhere near her bedroom. It’s not like they usually have a habit of hanging around there when her living room is way cozier and much more spacious. It was still weird…

Today is the day he puts an end to all of this. He can no longer live like this. If there’s something she doesn’t want him to know about so as not to hurt him, he needs to know what it is because staying in the dark hurts him even more. He’s starting to second-guess every single interaction they are having these days.

~~~

It wouldn’t be a lie to say that these past few weeks have been a lot: with all the wanderer fighting you had to combine with spending time with Rafayel as well as working on your secret project. Still, you’re proud of yourself for putting your mind to doing this. And it’s going pretty well if anyone asks you; you were expecting it to turn out way worse.

It’s been a while since the thought first came to your head. It happened when you were finally able to convince Rafayel to show you his true form: tail, scales, and all. He was absolutely mesmerizing, it felt as if you were witnessing the eighth wonder of the world. Quite frankly, you were stunned and unable to find words for a good minute. His tail was such a beautiful rich shade of blue and sparkling with droplets of water that it felt downright criminal he was keeping it a secret for so long. Still unable to voice anything coherent you ran your hand down the scales in wonder.

“Do you think I’m a monster now?” he asked when the silence stretched for too long, with a level of uncertainty that broke your heart.

A monster? You couldn’t believe your ears weren’t deceiving you.

“Rafayel, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” you said with no hesitation.

This silly man, you thought to yourself. He has no idea how truly amazing he is inside and out in any and all his forms.

You had to show him just how stunning and gorgeous he was. And just like that your mission under the code name “Artist Turned Muse” began.

Then came his drawing lessons…

You asked Rafayel to teach you because of an assignment for a work-related event that you totally didn’t make up. It was all a lie, of course. However, you soon found those lessons to be counterproductive and your teacher quite distracting. So, you had to find some other way to make it work.

A friend of yours who frequents all kinds of workshops has been recommending to you quite a few of them for a while now. When she started listing them all, one of them hit close to home. 

“That’s it!” you exclaimed, then hummed to yourself. Paper mache was something you could work with; you were pretty good when it came to working with your hands. Though, it’s been a while since the last time you did anything of the sorts, so you were probably really rusty. That’s why you decided to go to that workshop your friend suggested.

Fast-forward four weeks later, you’re very close to finish and the mini merman Rafayel seems quite close to how the real one looked. You’ve spent quite some time on research, buying materials, and crafting and painting, of course. Additionally, you somehow managed to keep it all a secret from Rafayel, which, truth be told, was the most difficult part of this but you really wanted to make it a surprise.

One day he even showed up at your place uninvited; your hands and clothes were all covered in glue and you had to change and wash up as fast as you could. When he dramatically asked why it took you forever to let him in, you made up an excuse—the first thing that came to your mind—Rafayel seemed to believe it though, because no additional questions came.

Now you’re looking at your creation, it’s almost done, only some finishing touches left. You trace the prominent fleshed out scales of the tail with your fingers. It probably needs some glitter, though using the glue gun to make beads reminiscent of water droplets was a great idea. The goofy little smile you drew on mini Raf’s face makes you huff out a laugh.

That’s when you hear the door to your apartment open. Right away you jump off the chair you were sitting on. There are only two options here: either someone’s breaking in to rob you, or it’s Rafayel who has keys to your apartment, and at this moment you’re not sure which one is worse.

In case it’s really a robbery—which is highly unlikely given that it’s still daytime—you pick up your gun before stepping out of your bedroom. Seeing Rafayel with his hands crossed across his chest in the middle of your living room, you exhale closing the door behind you and putting your gun aside.

“Hello? What happened to knocking?” you try to lighten up the mood with a joke but Rafayel is still frowning for some reason.

Rafayel heaves a deep sigh and says, “I know you’ve been lying to me for weeks. And I know what you’ve been doing behind my back.”

Oh-oh. How did he even find out? That doesn’t matter right now. What matters is he’s upset, like, really, really upset. You weren’t expecting him to take it this badly, though.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t really mean to lie to you…” you say looking at your feet guiltily. Man, surprises are truly exhausting, you’ve spent so much time and effort to keep it a secret and now you’re being reprimanded like a kid for it.

“But you did. I hate it when you lie to me, I’d take a knife in the heart over a lie to my face any day,” Rafayel sounds serious, like never before. 

He’s being a bit too dramatic considering the circumstances, in your opinion, however it is true that he’s very sensitive, so it hurts to hear him this vulnerable. “I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone behind your back.”

Somehow, Rafayel looks even more hurt after those words leave your mouth. “So, you weren’t even considering the option of not doing it in the first place?” He looks like a puppy that’s been repeatedly kicked in the gut and you’re starting to regret every life choice that has led you to this point. This little project of yours was supposed to empower him and make him feel accepted and loved by you but he just looks like he’s witnessed the biggest betrayal of all.

“I—I didn’t think you’d be so against it, to be honest.” The guilt is swallowing you whole at this point; you just want to hide your head in the sand.

“Why—how could you think I wouldn’t be against such a thing? I mean, I probably could deal with it but at the very least you should’ve said something to me beforehand!” And he’s angry again, huffing and puffing. His cheeks are flushed and you’d say he looks cute if not for the hurt etched into every inch of his face.

“Can we at least talk about it honestly now?” he sounds resigned. “Can you tell me the whole thing from the start?”

“Okay,” you nod and finally get closer to him sitting on the sofa beside him, so that you’re face to face. “I first thought about doing this when you showed me your tail,” you start and hear Rafayel’s breath hitch. He looks teary-eyed—though not a single tear falls—and more vulnerable than ever. Oh God, you knew he was very self-conscious and insecure about his lemurian form, you should’ve never tried anything like making a replica of it. “I’m sorry, Rafayel, I should’ve asked you if you were comfortable with me doing anything like this, it was stupid.” Considering how much of a touchy subject Lemuria is for him and how for centuries humans have been using lemurians for all sorts of purposes.

“So, you decided to find someone else because I’m not human?”

What?

No, that’s not right. 

“WHAT?” That’s more like it. You sound absolutely appalled at the idea. How—where did this even come from—

Oh.

Oh.

Oh no, this is a disaster. A complete disaster.

“Rafayel, please tell me what exactly you thought I was lying to you about?”

He still looks distraught as he tries to say, “That you were…” inhale, pause, exhale, “seeing someone else?” his voice uncertain now.

Oh hell no.

“Of course, I wasn’t,” you say as you cup Rafayel’s cheeks. He looks into your eyes and your heart breaks all over again. This silly man thought you were cheating on him and still didn’t say a word until today? And he said he could “deal with it” if you warned him about it? Oh, you need to put an end to this right now.

You don’t even care that the figurine isn’t quite finished yet, you take Rafayel’s hand and lead him into your room. “Ta-da,” you jokingly half whisper, motioning your hand towards the mess that is your desk and workspace in general. The mini Rafayel proudly laying in the middle of it all.

“What’s this…” Rafayel looks around the room, probably still expecting another man to jump out of the closet.

“I was making a paper mache figurine of you, you silly man! There was no other man I was seeing,” you say reassuringly and then add a little sly remark, “Well, if you don’t count this little fishie as one.”

And finally, there’s a glimmer of life in Rafayel’s eyes. “So, you’re not having an affair?”

“Of course, I’m not,” you say one more time, squeezing his hand tighter.

“Thank goodness!” Rafayel exclaims, scoops you up and spins you around, a yelp of surprise escaping your mouth.

“How could you even think I’d be interested in anyone else when I have you?” Your head spins a bit and you can’t stop a little giggle from coming out because, honestly, this whole interaction and misunderstanding is ridiculous. “I don’t need nor do I want any other man when I already have the one I love,” is what you choose to say instead of mocking him. (Though you absolutely will tease him relentlessly and will never let him live this down)

“Yeah, I know…” he says, avoiding your gaze. But does he really?

“I love you, Rafayel.”

“I know,” he repeats.

“No, you don’t. I love you. I am in love with every version of you, in every way, shape, and form you come,” you say because he needs to hear this. “I love you yet I feel like that word can’t even come close to what I feel towards you. It’s so, so much bigger than what words could convey. Please don’t ever doubt that.” You peck his lips to emphasize your point.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” he says but he doesn’t look guilty, in fact, he finally looks like himself, grinning from ear to ear and pecking you in return.

“Don’t be,” you reply. “But…”

“But?” Rafayel lifts one of his brows up.

“Don’t you wanna say something in return?” you teasingly drawl the last word.

Rafayel smirks and clears his throat before saying, “Oh? What could that possibly be?”

“I don’t know, maybe something that would correspond with what I said to you earlier?” Your fingers creep up his arm to his shoulder and then flick his nose.

“Ooooh, you mean that,” he articulates exaggeratedly. “Yeah, sure, cutie. I love me, too.”

You playfully slap his arm and pinch it hard. 

“Ouch! That hurt!” he exclaims but that doesn’t deter you. You keep pinching him, then start tickling him all over his body, as he falls onto your bed and wheezes. “Okay, fine, I yield!” A pause. “I love you, too.” He’s holding both your hands by the wrists, so you can’t keep tickling him. Then his breathy laughs stop, his eyes growing softer, more sincere. “I have loved you my whole life. And not just this one. I’ve loved you in every lifetime before this one and I will keep doing so in every following one.”

Now it’s your turn to hold your breath. Sometimes he just says the corniest, cheesiest, most romantic things in the world out of the blue and you’re just left there to pick up the million pieces it shatters you into.

You’re fiercely blushing, so you clear your throat and try to joke your way out of this. “Can you maybe pretend to forget about the mini fishie over there until I finish working on it?”

Rafayel laughs out loud and kisses your forehead. “No problem, cutie. Sorry I ruined your surprise,” he says. “But you should probably stop ever trying to lie again, you really suck at it.”