#the fact that he's just straight up Not A Good Person anymore by this point of the story

[ochrearia]

ether

I'm normal (lying) and I needed to put this somewhere so bad and it's still not enough but YS I'm sorry. I'm making you suffer even more but you need to understand we're basically the same at this point and you're really the only bitch that I can pretend like feels exactly what I feel. Fuck. RGBFverse prompts aren't just silly fiction anymore

Every damn prompt in the last two or so days has been real. Been me. I feel like that was obvious

BFs in this one-shot: Yourself (YS)

God it was getting rather ridiculous now. Could he even blame it all on the angelic instincts anymore? Sure, they certainly didn’t help, but that wasn’t… it wasn’t quite the same. At least, YS wasn’t really sure if it was or not. The guardian angel thing, that was more of a possessive protectiveness that flared up practically any time he saw or thought about his people he’d attached to. Which, good god, he was understanding why angels didn’t attach to this many people. It was bad enough to have one person taking up all your thoughts on any given day, because you were hard-wired to dedicate yourself to them, but he was at what, fifteen now? Probably more. And he wasn’t stopping his erratic attaching either. He’d probably keep making that number go up. Not like he was known to make good choices.

But this felt a little different. YS was no stranger to working himself up into trances over the sheer amount of sappy, sentimental thoughts he started getting over any given brother. And it wasn’t like those thoughts were specific to one idea. The protectiveness rang true in those trances and made itself known through his half-aware mumbling. And paired with it came thoughts of love, and appreciation, and everything in between he had no idea how to name.

But… were the trances even because of his angelic instincts? Or did he just feel so damn deeply about things in general? Suppose YS couldn’t really recall feeling much of these trances before he started meeting all of his brothers. Maybe he had thoughts pooled together like this about her, and he was sure of that but he probably just never considered it as a “trance”. Because it’s not alien to just love your girlfriend that much that you think every nice thought possible about her, right? And he used to be able to kiss her any time he wanted, show properly his affection and she’d understand it. Maybe feel it too.

So what the fuck was going on here? Every time his brain snagged on a thought about a brother it was like a fucking disaster was set off. YS very much didn’t care in terms of ‘what affection he could express’ compared to what he ‘couldn’t’, because it was all going to slip out at some point eventually. If you asked him, he was technically not allowed to express any type, because he didn’t deserve to, but Beefer would sooner crash straight through his mirror in full dino form and try to like, eat him or something. Because he could tell when YS was being an ass to himself and was sticking very clearly to his ‘job’ of butting in before it kept going.

God his heart. YS was going to die it felt like, because fuck, why did his heart have to ache so bad thinking about his brothers? Tripping himself up over the fact they cared about him, dizzying his own mind over the concept of being loved by anyone, much less this many people. And yeah, okay, sure, they were all technically the same person. And there was probably some merit to his previous idea of reality getting confused when there were two or more of them in the same world. Getting so cuddly for nothing because it felt like they had to become whole again despite not being fractured at all. But this was just… something else.

He loved so hard. Holy fuck, he really did to the point it was debilitating. That’s really what it was. It was debilitating, completely paralyzing him on the spot despite things he needed to be doing. It was so much, almost all the time, it took days sometimes for the ache in his chest to go away for a little, only for it to come back later to torment him again. It was like YS almost couldn’t breathe sometimes, thinking in a spiral of how much love he had for the people in his life now, people loving him back, caring for him, quite literally making him want to wake up to be alive tomorrow so he could keep them in his mind again and maybe even spend time with them. Family like he’d never experienced before, because angels in his world didn’t really care about each other. Couldn’t, when they had others to attach to.

God YS had so much of it to give. That was all he really wanted to do. Give, give it all, drain his heart to empty and still continue giving because he could, and that’s what his brothers deserved and more. Giving the world to the people he loved. For the asshole he believed so much couldn’t want things, he wanted this so badly. Give all of himself away, unhealthy mindset be damned. He would do anything for his people. Because he cared. He cared, so much, and that thought was powerful enough alone to bring slight tears to YS’s eyes. Truth, raw and strong.

But that was the problem. He’d give everything. But he couldn’t give this feeling in his chest, the swirling in his brain, raw emotions that rippled in his body like tsunamis but were confined there. YS had no way to directly broadcast the exact things he felt, and it was like he was dying. Because it was all trapped and it wasn’t fair. Words weren’t enough, actions weren’t enough. None of what he’d been doing so far was enough no matter what he shared. And god, it was so bad, but he’d been describing it all with such negative words when it was literally the opposite.

He’d take being debilitated like this over any other kind of feeling, any day. Wanted this. Wanted.

This was… possessive. Very possessive. His brothers. Every single one of them. His. His to love and hold and appreciate, his to care for and lift up. And not a single damn regret about it. Too possessive? Probably, but this was all so new to him. He’d never done this before, in fact, he doubted that any angel had done this before. Attaching to this many people and feeling just as equally strong about each one. It was so much. And he could never give enough.

So important, all of them. Stuck in YS’s brain and he couldn’t get them out. And it didn’t matter how much he spoke about this to them, telling them point-blank that he loved them, holding them tight and not letting go until told, it was still just… not enough for what he felt in his heart.

YS’s heartbeat was freakishly slow. As were angel’s heartbeats. Probably didn’t help with the whole cold-blooded thing either. But every time he worked himself up into a trance, getting so mind-swirlingly loving, possessive, and almost needy, his heart would speed up. Noticeably speed up, because Beef had pointed it out before. God, he was so disgustingly sweet in his actions and that was mortifying to admit. Biff had a habit of saying it like it was though.

Tear my heart out of my chest, lay bare the ache it holds and feels because I cannot fucking take it anymore. I want you all to know. I wish I could perfectly convey it, I wish you could all feel what I feel, know how powerful my love and care really is, and if it’s too much then I’m so sorry. But it’s exactly what you deserve, and still more. Wonderful to me, kind to me, after all of my mistakes, stains on the world because of my wrong choices. People that aren’t here anymore because I didn’t do enough. But you’re all still here. And I know I have done nothing to deserve any of you.

YS felt like he was dying. But that was okay. If he got to die feeling so positively, then it would be his final victory.

God, I love you all. I promise. For the rest of my time here I will try to convey that as it is. For the rest of my time here I will work to repay and make up for everything I may put you through and you still stay.

For the rest of his time here. However long he’s wanted. And he hoped that would be forever, but that was usually never the case.

So he would love, like it would be over tomorrow.

[crush3dmary]

I'm probably about 80% done the new chapter and might even finish tonight. I sure hope I've done a good job building up Ryou as a likeable narrator so far, because man, does he ever say some unlikeable stuff in the new chapter, lmao.

[tetzoro]

☽◯☾ - ALL TOO EAGER

꒰ synopsis ꒱ : Eren accidentally stumbled upon his newest side gig, pleasuring himself before thousands of viewers. But honestly, it’s all for his favorite creator — you.

꒰ content ꒱ : MDNI. eren jaeger x reader ; virginity loss (eren), unprotected sex, use of nicknames (baby, pretty girl) — WC : 2k

⭑ 𓂃 ꒰ New Moon ! ꒱ ― kinktober masterlist

camboy!eren who started doing solo videos because he was bored. somewhat of a social reject even long after graduating high school, he spent a lot of his nights furiously pumping his cock to whatever videos he’d find online.

camboy!eren who saw other guys do solo videos and make a lot of money, so he thought, why not? after a few clicks, he had an account and was ready to go.

camboy!eren who grew quickly in popularity due to the breathy groans he’d let out that ultimately led to soft whimpers when he was cumming all over his finely tuned abs. not to mention he had a pretty dick.

camboy!eren who finds your page one day and it quickly becomes his favorite. whenever he’s fucking his flesh light, he has your video on in the background just wishing you were really here with him. he has to refrain from moaning your name, trying to keep his words to a minimum as rides his high with your sweet mewls echoing in his head.

camboy!eren who discovers that you make videos with other guys and realizes his daydreams don’t seem so far fetched. that is, until he realizes you only do it with one guy — your boyfriend. he becomes obsessed with these videos regardless, pretending that he was really the one who was fucking you instead of the asshole with the small dick.

camboy!eren who leaves filthy comments under your videos, bragging that he’d fuck you better than your boyfriend (regardless that he’s never actually had sex). overtime, they just grew more relentless and he even went as far as sending you links of his own little videos.

camboy!eren who’s heart falls to his ass when he sees you finally reply to him, sending him a message that practically begs him to test out that theory of his, explaining that you and your boyfriend were no more.

and of course he was all too eager to accept.

the messages between you two only grew in velocity as time went on. as it turns out, planning up a meet up was extremely difficult. he learned you didn’t live so far away but with the way both of your schedules were set up, it would take some time before you had a weekend to meet up. 

so the texts turned raunchier, unable to hold back any longer. eren knew you were getting over your ex but he couldn’t stop his fingers from flying across the screen, ensuring you that he would please you like no one else. afterall, he’s watched your videos for so long, he knows what spots you would always target, what kinds of things would have you coming undone with a sweet cry. it was all achingly committed to his memory.

the fact that you were more than receptive to his bold claims, borderline just as obsessed as he was, turned him on to the point where just his hand and one of your old videos on didn't cut it anymore. both of you still did your shows, but almost every night you’d switch to facetime and get off to each other properly.

the soft whimpers and moans you let out as he watched you finger your cunt, begging for him to come over and help you out had his body growing taut with desire. only a few more days and he’d finally have you all to himself and he was more than ready to prove how good he could be for you.

but in all honesty, if eren had known that those few (hundred) comments he had left on your page would bring him to this moment, he would’ve started flooding your chat a long, long time ago.

the plan was simple: get together, have a practice round, then give your viewers a real show.

never in his life had he been so mesmerized, so in awe of the person before him. or rather, under him. the inescapable truth that he’s never done this before has flown straight below the radar – for now.

the reddened tip of his cock nudges along your clit, pressing into it and watching your body jolt in retaliation. every reaction he pulled from you had him wanting more, craving it more than he craved his own release. to please you has been his main goal but he didn’t realize that in doing so, he was already teetering on the edge of losing control.

“ready for me, pretty girl?” eren asked, trying to keep his voice level but the slight shake in his tone betrayed him. the fact he was going to lose his virginity to the one who took up each and every one of his fantasies seemed surreal.

it was more than he could’ve imagined whenever he’d fist his cock in the dead of night, wishing and manifesting for a moment like this. all too beautifully you were sprawled out under him, preening to his touch.

“please, eren.” as soon as the plea left your plush lips, he had no choice but to start pressing into you. inch by inch, he sunk himself in, his fingers tightly gripping onto your hips. 

every coherent thought he’d ever had disappeared into a haze of pleasure as soon as he bottomed out. slack-jawed and frozen, basking in the warmth of your cunt enveloping him way better than a fleshlight could ever. there was no way he could ever return to it, not with you pulsing around him, silently begging and pleading to milk him right then and there. a part of him almost gave into his urges, letting himself spill into you without another thought but he knew he had to get you there first.

eren slowly came back to his senses, looking down at you and almost instantly regretting it. there’s no way you could be faking any of it, not with how close he is. you, with your watery eyes, pupils dilated as they were lost and swimming in pleasure. it was clear every part of you wanted this as much as him.

plap, plap, plap.

the sounds of him thrusting into you started to fill the otherwise muted room. his hips had a mind of their own, driven by a primal instinct as he took in your beauty. after seeing your expression morph into something more blissful than the heavens, he couldn’t hold himself back from pounding into you. everything felt too good – so tight, so warm. 

“fuck-” his voice betrayed him, cracking under the weight of his bliss. he bares his teeth, doing what he can to block anymore traitorous sounds that escape him and reveal how much he’s at your mercy. but it’s all for nothing as the next words slip out of his mouth, nothing more than a hiss. “you feel so fucking good.”

there was no way he could stop as he thrusted into you, your slick completely coating his cock, allowing him to sink into you faster, deeper. the way you writhe and whine beneath him, nails digging into his shoulders before dragging along his back forced a whimper to slip past his lips. 

his ears felt all too hot, the tips undoubtedly burning up because of the utter vulnerability of it all. thank god his hair was long enough to cover them, the haphazard half bun he had tossed it up in earlier was cascading down, almost annoyingly obscuring the beautiful view before him.

“talk to me, baby.” he grunted, wanting to hear the praise fall from your lips. “tell me how it feels.”

“feels s’good, eren —” the air in your lungs gives away as you gasp out, your hands digging into the duvet as leverage to ground yourself with. eren can’t hold back a grunt as you arch your back so your chest is flush against his, nipples brushing together with each thrust.“touch me more, please!”

without a wasted breath, eren’s hands mindlessly slide along your body, fingers trailing along every curve and dip as he begins to map it, desperately wishing to commit it to his memory. everything about you was so soft, so addicting that he didn’t want to let go. 

“so good to me, such sweet manners f’me.” he coos, the slight condensation dripping from his tone. the fire that was pooling in his abdomen ignites more as he takes in your expression – half lidded eyes that were only focused on him, your heaving chest that only enticed him more. one hand pushes your hips back down into the mattress as his other one cups your chest, thumb brushing over your pert bud. “just makes me want to give you more.”

“please–!” your legs locked around his waist, lulling him in deeper, causing his hips to stutter at the new angle.

“y-yeah? you want more?” all of the muscles in his body tensed up, an impending doom settling in as his release threatened to spill prematurely. halting his motions, he presses his forehead against yours, trying to steady himself and push away the high he could practically taste. after counting down, the urgent need to come simmered away right before your hips started to move against his own. “fuck, o-okay. i’ll give you whatever you want, baby.”

eren can’t help it but need something to steady himself and with the way his body was trembling in overflowing pleasure, he opted out from grabbing onto you — it was much to risky. instead, he reached over, grappling the bed frame as he delivered each thrust with a needy precision, setting a new pace that had you both crying out in a sinful harmony. each time he sunk back into you, cock all snug within your walls, he could feel you clench around him with the sweetest whine of his name parting from your lips.

another groan bubbled up from his throat but by the time it escaped his mouth, it was a full blown whine. from someone who was known for his guttural grunts, the whine was unexpected.

there’s no way to tell where his body ends and yours begins, all he knows is that one of you is trembling, shaking and he has a sneaky suspicion it's him – not that he’d ever admit it though.

his world was brought back down to your center of gravity as soon as you tugged on his long locks, melding your lips against his in a kiss that threatened to take away all of his remaining sanity. there was no more room for air as his lungs filled with the sweet hums you couldn’t contain. 

you pull away from the kiss for a moment, a sheen of passion covering them in a way that looks like gloss – undeniably enticing him for more. his lips involuntarily chase after yours, not letting you get a moment of reprieve from his intensity. how could he? 

he didn’t want to stop as he carved his way into you, trying to erase all semblance of the other men that you had been with — especially the nasty ex he decided he hated. to have fumbled someone like you must’ve meant he was an absolute dumbass. his loss was eren’s gain and he would make sure that you knew that by the end of the night.

“‘m close, ‘ren.” the sweetness of your voice coiled deep within him, on the verge of snapping. 

“me too.” he grunts, gritting his teeth as he tries to stave his release. despite desperately rutting into you, he could barely pull out. your legs lock him in, your thighs trembling all around him as you come undone with a cry of his name. there was no way he could hold back anymore, shoving himself as deep as he could as he shook and whined with his orgasm. “‘m cumming – fuck, ‘m cumming. all for you, take it, baby, please–”

after the last rope of cum spilled into your pulsing cunt, eren let out a shudder, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. the room fell quiet yet again, save for the sounds of your shared breath, your lungs fighting for air. eren falls to your side, careful not to crush you as his arms encircle your waist and pull you closer to him.

“shit-” eren gasped, his pulse still racing. 

“and that was just the warm up.” you laugh softly, hand trailing down his abs. “you ready to turn the camera on now?”

[ki-yomii]

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.4k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; fwb, angst w/ a happy ending, teasing, finger fucking, squirting, praise kink, frottage, dirty talk, pet names, commitment issues, jealous!jk, possessive!jk, dom!jk, idiots in love, misunderstandings ➥ summary | after being stood up one too many times, you realize you're in love with jungkook. and that just won't do. ➥ notes | istg i've re-written this more times than i care to count 💀 enjoy!

🖤 masterlist | inbox | AO3 🖤

cnt make it 2nite

The text is blunt - biting. No explanation offered, and certainly no false platitudes found in the lifeless string of black letters. Rather simple and straight to the point.

As you should have expected from Jungkook. He wasn’t known for his verbosity, and even less so for his love of texting.

But as you chew the fat of your cheek, reading it over and over again in an attempt to glean some hidden meaning that isn’t there, you admit to yourself - at least privately - there’s no more avoiding the truth.

One that’s been hovering over your shoulder for weeks like a shroud; an unwelcome guest you can’t ignore anymore: Jungkook’s been avoiding you.

It shouldn’t be surprising.

Moreover, it shouldn’t hurt.

There shouldn’t be an ache in your chest every time you see his contact or the plummet of your stomach when that inevitable excuse comes through.

In the end, he owes you nothing. The arrangement between you is casual, just a little fun between good friends.

It still fucking sucks though, you think, sucking your teeth.

Night thoroughly ruined before it’s begun, it’s only a matter of deciding how to respond now. In the past you’ve used a plethora of options, but you’re stumped. Unsure how to correlate the level of hurt to the nature of your not-relationship.

Should you be petty, passive-aggressive, indifferent - or worst of all: honest?

Hah, no way. I’d rather die.

Beside you, the bartender politely averts his gaze and busies himself with polishing a stack of pint glasses. It’s a slow night, and that’s saying something as this bar’s a little hole in the wall.

It’s never overly busy, which is one of the reason’s it’s a favorite meeting spot of yours. The floors might be sticky, but the music’s decent, the strobe lights they kick on after 10 PM aren’t offensive enough to induce a migraine, and the drinks are cheap with a heavy pour.

Watching him work is impressive - and almost distracting enough for you to ignore the needle sharp ache taking root beneath your ribs, the churn of your stomach.

Humiliation burns hot, creeps up your neck to settle into the apples of your cheeks as you’re stood up.

Again.

It isn’t the first time - it won’t be the last.

But it cuts deeper than all the rest combined, harder to shake off. You can’t lie to yourself anymore. The growing distance between you throbs like an open wound, as if Jungkook himself plunged a hand into your chest.

Scooped out any tender, soft thing he could find and left you hollowed out. Drained.

Not taking his flakiness personally used to be so easy. And now… well.

Goddamnit. A palm scrubs over your decolletage roughly to soothe the throb of your heart. What the hell did you expect to happen, getting involved with Jeon Jungkook, huh?

Everything from his stupidly pretty eyes to the dangerous curl of his mouth, the thick soles of his boots to the lapels of his leather jacket scream walking red flag.

Never mind the fact his proclivities are an open secret among the group. He’s never tried to hide his distaste for commitment. Finds it too monotonous. Predictable.

An eternally free soul much preferring to flit from one experience to the next, never shackled down for long. The Icarus of myth made flesh.

He runs through women like he runs through shoes, and you witnessed enough of the ensuing heartbreak and tears to be wary.

But knowing and feeling something are two very different things.

The dichotomy throws you off-kilter and finds you abandoned in a bar, once again, to choke on a regret so bitter you swear it’ll burn a hole through your throat.

What’s going on with me, you think, this is nothing new. He does this all the time.

You used to get on so well.

Any initial misgivings faded away in the face of Jungkook’s blinding attention, his unfaltering kindness lurking just beneath that surface of grit and gravel.

Even after you fuck, he never acts any differently, as casual between the sheets as he is lounging on your couch.

It's been great, it's been enough - until now.

Just the thought of going back to your empty apartment, alone, only to wake up and fall back into Jungkook’s orbit tomorrow when he swings by with a half-assed apology on his lips, and your favorite drink in hand is enough to make your skin crawl.

Stomach twisting itself into knots, everything in you rebels against the sudden cold realization: nothing will change - least of all Jungkook.

He’ll continue to take-take-take.

You'll continue to give-give-give.

On and on you'll go; a distant star orbiting a black hole, losing little bits of itself until there's nothing left.

Then he’ll leave your life as quickly as he entered it, a blurry after-image there and gone in the blink of an eye.

Fuck, I - I can’t do this anymore, you think, a shiver rattling down your spine, Because I…

An errant thought gains teeth, sinks them deep. Refuses to budge as an awful truth - one buried so deep you forgot it was there, ever lurking in the shadows - rises to the forefront of your mind.

And then --

Oh.

It’s because I love him - because I’m in love with him.

Suddenly it hurts to breathe, your lungs burning as you drown on the air itself. The steel band cinching around your ribs threatens to crack you open.

Your heart lurches in your chest, despair following swiftly to settle over your shoulders. Moreover, there is no one to blame except yourself.

Even if you want it to, it will never work out because loving Jungkook is to love the ghost of a long-forgotten memory.

And there are too many hurts to soothe, too many disappointments to name.

I can’t believe I actually -- shit. You swipe a shaky hand over your forehead. When you swallow, a sour taste clings to the back of your tongue. Should’ve known better.

You glance at your phone, the cursor blinking back at you mockingly. Should’ve done a lot of things, I guess.

Now, you're in too deep.

Waiting without ever realizing you began to do so in the first place; a life on pause, surviving off scraps of half-measures and maybe's, what-ifs, and if only's.

Now, it's clear the only way out is through.

The time to let go is here.

You need to muster up some semblance of self, and work to untangle the threads of connection binding you together. You need space to rediscover the pieces of your heart you left with him.

How to live without the taste of his kiss, the clench of his muscles, the thrust of his cock.

A new life sans Jungkook which begins with a simple reply in place of everything you really want to say: ok.

Then you wave the bartender over.

He does you a kindness once more, pretending not to notice the tears brimming along your lower lash line. “You ready to order?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah - sorry, I was…”

His mouth twitches. You waver.

Then the screen of your phone lights up with a notification.

Refusing to look lest you cave, emotions too fresh -  scraped raw and tender, you switch on DND and turn it face down where it will remain until you go home.

You're far too fragile (and sober) to think about reading Jungkook’s reply, let alone engage with him in any meaningful way.

“I’ll take a double vodka cranberry.”

Maybe if you get drunk enough, you'll forget about the home he carved in your bones.

Bottoms up, bitch.

w8 nvm guys cnt make it

y/n?

i cn b ovr in 10

???

gn ttyt

hey, sorry. called it early.

wyd?

nothing much. you?

nm running some mtchs

cool, cool. you able to swing by today?

yeh b there in 30 :)

In hindsight, trying to have this conversation with Jungkook face to face isn’t the brightest idea. But if anything, last night showed you every choice you’ve made lately is a disaster waiting to happen.

Your life’s already a mess - and you’re hopelessly in love with a man that’ll never love you back - so what’s another mistake added to a long string of misfortune.

So what if your hands tremble and your stomach churns as you unlock the door to let him in.

So what if he leans in for a kiss and you duck to the side, his lips brushing the slope of your cheek.

So what if he pauses and gives you a long, searching look before toeing off his shoes and offering you the drink he picked up on the way.

It can’t get any worse, right?

Only the hungry, molten mixture of rage and rebellion fueling you thus far fizzles away the minute you see him head towards your bedroom with a wink.

Anguish and despair follows in its wake, nipping at your heels.

This is all you’ll ever be to him, you remind yourself as you step into the room. A fun time. Nothing serious. You have to break it off.

You shoot him a tight smile. “Did you have a good night?”

Jungkook shrugs, glancing around at the decorations littering your dresser. “Nah, not really.” His gaze slides to you, traveling from your head to your bare toes in a slow once over. “I definitely would’ve had a better time with you.”

Swallowing roughly, you rub your hands over your arms and suddenly feel far too naked - exposed in your light summer dress. “Hah,” you intone without humor, awkward and stilted. “Probably not. I was out by 11:30.”

“Mm, that’s not like you.” Jungkook hums, moving forward until he’s right in front of you. His hands reach for you, grabbing your wrists gently. His thumb strokes over your pulse point. “You’re acting weird. Is there something you want to talk about, baby?”

Of course he’d notice.

It would be annoying if it wasn’t so endearing. Jungkook always pays attention to the details, makes leaps of logic based on little more than quiet observations.

You stitch together a chuckle. “Nothing gets past you, huh?”

His eyes crinkle at the corners as he grins, his lip ring dimpling the swell of his bottom lip. Your chests brush with every inhale, sharing space and breath. 

“Nothing,” he agrees.

It’s torture. It’s too intimate.

The glow of your overhead lamp highlights the sweep of his cheekbones, the curl of his lashes as he blinks slow and happy. The barely there impression of his body is too much.

You shrink back, clearing your throat.

“No, don’t do that. Where are you going?”

His eyes, shimmering with warmth, plead with you to stay, his shoulders curving towards you. A large palm settles over your shoulder, sparks igniting wherever he touches.

“Stop hiding. You can talk to me about anything. Come on, I want to know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

Steeling your resolve, you inhale and exhale with a shudder. His expression is open, soft. You know it won’t last, and take a few seconds to commit how he looks in this moment to memory.

For all you know, this will be one of the last times you’ll be this close to him again. At least until you can beat your feelings into submission.

And then you can’t put it off anymore, unable to take the ginger strokes of his fingers. The calming caresses as if he thinks you’re something precious. Quick like ripping off a band-aid, otherwise the words will never get past the bend of your throat.

“I want to stop.”

You catch the way his eyes darken, sharpen in the dim overhead light. He knows exactly what you’re talking about, but his half-smile never falters.

Of course, he refuses to make this easy on you. To acknowledge this is happening. He’s always been a greedy man; wants what he can’t have, and destroys what he does.

“Stop what?” Jungkook says. “You’re gonna have to be more specific than that, baby.”

“Kook,” you sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “You know what I mean. I just - I can’t do,” your voice cracks, a hand motioning to the space between you, “this anymore.”

A vein throbs on the side of his neck, his jaw working in response. Muscles tense and release with every grit of his teeth. He asks, “You gonna tell me why, huh? Or are you just going to ditch me and act like it didn’t mean something?”

“Kook…”

There’s a certain grief that can’t be spoken, gnarled roots burrowing deep in your chest. A sense of loss so keenly felt it almost steals your breath.

You wish this wasn’t happening, you wish you could take it all back but this pantomime of a relationship isn’t fair to you. Not anymore. And you knew this conversation wouldn’t be fun, but Jungkook’s staunch denial still manages to surprise you.

“It didn’t mean anything though,” you say.

At least, not to you, you think. To me, it meant the world.

-- And that’s the problem.

You need to stop whatever this is between you from building. He’s already shown he doesn’t share your desire for more in a multitude of ways. He’s been avoiding you for a reason, whether he was consciously aware of your feelings or not.

Undoubtedly, you trust him with your life but not your heart.

As sweet as he is, has been, he won’t treat it gently. Not through any intentional ill-will but because he can’t contain his own commitment issues let alone make room for yours.

It’s better this way.

Let what you have - had - stay a memory unmarred by the ugliness of your hurt feelings and bitter disappointments.

Jungkook’s shoulders draw up towards his ears, his gaze glacial as his hands slide away from you. “Is there a reason you’re done with me now?”

Shadows lurk in the depths of his eyes, his lips curled into a cruel smirk. Everything about him looks weighted down.

“Well, is there? I mean, shit, I think I’ve earned an answer after all the time we spent together.”

Your heart breaks for him, everything in you calling out to close the gap and offer him comfort. But you can’t. You don’t trust yourself to touch him without wanting more than your heart can bear.

“I’m not done with you,” you say. “I would never do that to you, Kook. I just - I can’t be with you like that anymore, that’s all. I need space but I’ll still be around, I promise.”

The glare he shoots your way freezes the blood in your veins. “Cut the bullshit,” he snarls. “Tell.me.why.”

You avert your gaze, arms wrapping around your chest. “Why does that - I -”

You only had one rule at the very beginning of this mess: if there’s someone you’re serious about, you stop fucking. It comes as a handy lie - a believable excuse that’ll stop any further questioning.

You don’t think you have the fortitude if Jungkook keeps pressing you, cracking under the weight of your grief and the anger in his eyes like fine china.

“I think I - I think I want to start looking for a boyfriend again.”

An expression flashes across his face, there and gone in the blink of an eye. But there’s no doubt he recognizes it for the goodbye it’s supposed to be.

This is it, you think.

You can put what you had to rest and move on, a memory on a shelf you’ll dust off years down the line when the hurt isn’t so prevalent. And hopefully, with time, you can relearn how to be friends.

Though the strange gleam to his eyes sends a prickle of apprehension down your spine, and then you find yourself being manhandled as he snaps forward like a snake coiled to strike.

Air flees your lungs as Jungkook shoves you with a firm palm, your feet stumbling over themselves as you trip backwards into your bed frame.

Wood knocks into the backs of your knees, and you fold like a stack of cards. The sheets puff out around you, the scent of your laundry detergent tickling your nose.

You blink at the textured ceiling, mouth agape as you try to process what happened.

The empty space above you doesn’t stay vacant, Jungkook quickly crowding you into the mattress with his weight as he settles over top of your body.

He molds himself to your front, his firm hips slotting themselves between your thighs. Broad palms, warm and calloused, skim your sides and ruck up the skirt of your dress as he reaches under you to grip the soft globes of your ass.

He yanks you into him, your pelvises slotting together. You whine before you can stop yourself, eyes fluttering shut at the heat of his body.

Teeth scrape along the delicate skin of your neck, the sharp pricks of pleasure-pain coaxing a shiver down your spine.

Lips brush the shell of your ear, his minty breath puffing against the side of your face as he speaks, low and husky, “So that’s it, huh?”

“What--!”

Teeth nip your earlobe, and you wince.

“My girl thinks she’s going to leave me for someone else?” Jungkook snorts. “Like I’d ever let that fucking happen.”

“I’m not your girl.”

You squirm, a bolt of awareness slicing through you as your body responds to his proximity, the weight of him over you electrifying. Liquid desire blooms behind your navel, uncomfortable and unwelcome.

“I never was.”

Blunt nails dig into the fat of your ass, and a cruel mouth latches onto the corner of your jaw. “Ah, is that right?” Jungkook asks, the rumble of his voice vibrating through your torso, your nipples tightening as they drag over the plains of his chest. “You’re not my girl?”

You swallow, and ignore the throb of your clit as the line of his cock ruts into you. “I’m not your girl, Jungkook.”

“If you’re not my girl,” he grinds into the cradle of your hips, teasing - taunting, “then why the fuck are you so wet?”

Keening, you twitch, involuntarily rocking up into the firm pressure of his shaft. The angle’s just right, spreading your folds beneath the thin cotton of your panties and giving your neglected clit the perfect stimulation.

Exposing your soaked core to the chill of your room as your body warms with mortification.

Jungkook hums in approval, giving the side of your neck a sloppy kiss followed by a stinging nip. “You think some nobody can fuck you better than me?”

“That’s not what I - ffuck!”

Heat pools low in your belly, blood pumping fast. You’re steadily losing control, the aborted rolls of your hips increasing in frequency.

“Answer me.”

A sharp burst of copper floods your mouth, your skin splitting open with how hard you’re chewing on it. Blood clings to the swell of your bottom lip, a ruby red bead you lick away with a nervous tongue.

Sweat dappled your brow, and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore the molten desire curdling your stomach.

The softness of your body knows the hardness of his, every curve has a matching divot. The heady, pleasant scent of his cologne floods your lungs with every stuttered inhale.

Your senses are overwhelmed as he surrounds you.

“Shit, Kook, please,” you plead, hands tangling in the sheets by your head.

You’re not sure what you’re asking for but at the same time, you’re not sure how you ended up here. Again.

“I don’t know what you want from me.”

This was supposed to be an amenable end to a dubious affair. It’s anything but.

“I want you to tell me who your cunt belongs to.”

Fingers inch down to tease along the soft flesh of your inner thighs, and play with the elastic of your panties.

You tremble, gooseflesh dimpling the exposed skin of your arms as knuckles brush over the length of your soaked pussy.

Your clit pulses, the pressure enough to tease.

“Come on, baby,” Jungkook coaxes, working his way beneath the fabric clinging to your core, “tell me you’re my girl.”

His cock nestles into the crook of your hip, hot and heavy through his jeans as a darkened patch blooms across the denim crotch. The sticky wetness of his pre-cum smearing into your skin as arousal swells, crashing over you.

Leaving you a whimpering, trembling mess in the cage of his arms.

“You just have to say it - say you’re my girl and I’ll be so, so good to you.” His breath warms the shell of your ear. “All you have to do is say it, and I’ll make you cum so hard you see stars.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to cobble together a response, sliding a thick finger through your sticky folds and into your needy pussy just as your lips part.

All words leave you, your mind wiped clean as a low, broken cry echoes out into the room. Swallowed up by the sounds of city life outside your apartment as he works to stretch you open.

You clamp down at the sudden fullness, walls tight and fluttering around his finger like they would be around his cock.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans. “You always feel so soft and wet.”

Whining in agreement, you give up any pretense of resistance, letting primal desire chase away the despair, the guilt that threatens to choke you. Wiping your mind clean of any thoughts until the only thing that remains is the thrust of his fingers and the ache in your cunt.

Your hands slip, scrambling for purchase with sweaty palms. “J-Jungkook!”

Your knees tremble where they dig into his sides, air rushing from you in heavy pants as the space between your bodies heats up. You know you won’t last long, already hanging on the edge.

Never in a million years did you expect to be so turned on by Jungkook’s rough behavior. He usually treats you like something delicate.

Though he holds no such compunction now, raw in his desperate desire to make you cum.

Jungkook peppers kisses onto whatever skin he can reach, spreading your thighs wider with his torso. His knuckles strain against the fabric of your panties, stretching out the cotton and ruining them forevermore as he slips another finger into you.

Then his dark head bows, catching your gaze, and he says, “Hold on.”

Barely seconds after you anchor yourself to his shoulders, he starts finger fucking you to within an inch of your life. His forearm ripples with strength, the movements of his fingers pressing and rubbing against all the right spots. Curling up to massage at your g-spot until you’re shaking beneath him with hitched breaths.

“Shit, shit,” you gasp, eyes rolling back as your toes flex against his side, “Kook, baby, please don’t stop.”

He huffs a laugh, dark and amused. “Wouldn’t ever do that to you, baby.”

“S’good - I - I’m close.”

You sob, tears brimming along your lash line. The sloppy sounds of him fucking your pussy ring in your ears, as embarrassing as it is arousing. He’s making you gush, slick wetting your inner thighs, dribbling down your ass to stain the sheets.

“So close, gonna - hnnng - gonna cum.”

“Yeah, that’s it. Just like that, baby. Give me that squirt.”

You shake your head. “I can’t - I can’t!”

If you could, you’d suspend time so this moment never ends. The finality of your arrangement hovering just on the other side of pleasure.

In the back of your mind, you know Jungkook’s only behaving this way because he’s jealous. Angry. He doesn’t mean it, and this is a mistake.

It’ll only hurt you in the long run but you’ll take what you can get.

After all, this is the last time you’ll be together like this.

“No,” he shushes, dropping a kiss to your sweaty brow, “No, don’t lie. I know you can. I’ll make you.”

There’s no escape.

He refuses to let you escape, using his weight to keep you pinned as he spreads his fingers open inside you, twisting and fucking so deep you feel a twinge behind your navel.

And then you’re right there, crashing over the edge as the bubble of pleasure bursts, crackling through your limbs.

You cum harder than you ever have before. Nails sinking into his shoulders with a hiss as a wounded, broken wail scrapes its way out of your throat.

Your pussy throbs, gummy walls sucking him deeper as a rush of cum gushes from you in spurts. Your ears ring with white noise, and you’re vaguely aware of the fact your hands have gone numb.

For several long moments, you float with a head full of cotton, only rejoining the atmosphere when warmth dribbles down your ass in sticky rivulets of squirt.

Jungkook’s arm is curled around your waist, holding you close as his nose nuzzles into the side of your head. Tender lips dust kisses over your crown. His cock is still a heavy weight digging into your hip but he doesn’t seem to be in any rush to relieve himself.

“Jungkook,” you sigh, a wave of fatigue crashing over you. Your eyes sting when you close them, a lump building in your throat. You ache all over pleasantly, satisfaction settling deep into your bones. In spite of that, a rift opens in your heart. “Jungkook, I--”

He kisses your shoulder, shushing you. “Don’t ruin it. Just let me hold you for a little while longer… please.”

The tears are almost impossible to stop. “It’s already hard enough, don’t make me -- I can’t just…”

Jungkook squeezes you gently. “I love you,” he says, “but I swear to god you can be so stupid sometimes.”

You jolt, eyes swinging up to meet his, wide and disbelieving. “What did you just  - I - I  don’t. ..Jungkook?”

“How could I not feel the same?” he asks, tone resigned and wary. “Honestly scared the shit out of me when I realized because, well, y’know I don’t have the best track record.” He averts his gaze, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I almost fucked everything up too, but Namjoonie-hyung helped me get my head on straight.”

Something unfurls in your chest, and you feel as light as air. Ridiculously buoyant with happiness. Hope.

Oh, how stupid.

“We’re kind of idiots, aren’t we?” you ask, sniffling as you shoot him a watery smile. “Like… the biggest.”

Jungkook hums in agreement, a boyish gleam to his eyes. “I mean, you said it. Not me.”

[ohcorny]

i reread all of chobits recently as insp for my next TT book and every time i think about some aspect of it all i want to do is rip it open and tear it apart and go "why?". it brings up so many concepts and scenarios within the premise of "what if computers looked like pretty girls" but it doesn't want to commit to saying anything about it or take its own world seriously.

i have a lot to say about chobits. arguably i have more to say about chobits than even chobits wants to say about chobits.

chobits is about sex except it isn't about sex at all. chi's power switch is in her vagina. we're shown images of chi doing sexy things, she gets tricked into doing a strip tease, and two separate men try to finger her and she does her Do Not Touch Me There magic powers thing, and we eventually learn every time she resets from the power button, her memories are erased, so you can't have sex with her without deleting her.

but we never unpack why her reset button is in her vagina, or why it's so important that nobody can ever touch her, or why people's personal computers were built with vaginas in the first place (we never have it confirmed that all persocoms have them, but that two separate men try to touch her there imply it's expected). why do the personal computers shaped like women have vaginas if not to fuck them. as a product, it is expected that you will fuck them*.

*i assume, because the comic never says so!

the man who invented persocoms is the same person who built chi and her sister, and he built them to be daughters for his wife. he put the reset button in chi's vagina. we never find out why. we never get a HINT of why. he built the chobits so they could feel and fall in love, but also built them so they could never fuck. you can extrapolate a reason why a man might build his daughter-androids that way, but the series itself never touches it, and never makes any sort of point about it. it's just presented as an immutable fact that chi can't fuck without it deleting her, as if it was born of happenstance and not a person's choice.

what does that actually say about anything? what is it trying to say about sex? is it about the commodification of female bodies, how once they're used up sexually they're worthless? that if you can't love somebody without fucking them, what good is your love? that love without sex is okay (but also a huge burden and sacrifice a man must accept for the sake of someone else's happiness?)

what does it want to say! chobits is about sex, but it doesn't want to commit to any specific message about sex.

and that's just ONE issue i have with it. there are so many things chobits wants to be about but won't say anything about. it wants to be about the persocoms replacing human connections, we constantly get told 'gee people hang out with persocoms a lot', chitose publishes a whole inexplicable book series about people preferring persocomes to humans. it's to the degree that a prominent character's husband gets So wrapped up in (presumably) fucking his android that he locks his actual wife out of the house, having just straight up forgotten she exists. we don't have anything to say about it though. she falls in love with a new man. the people who hang out with their persocoms too much are all background characters in crowds. we never look at how the rise in persocoms has affected society as a whole.

it wants to be about grief, in the story about the man who marries a persocom and has to watch her slowly degrade until she can't remember him anymore, or the kid whose older sister died and he tried to replace her with a persocom who he dresses up/treats as a maid and lives alone with despite being omega orphaned and 11 years old. but then it's fine. the man who married a persocom gets in a relationship with a high school girl 20 years younger than him (CLAMP!). it's fine! the boy who tried to replace his older sister just accepts that the persocom replacement won't replace her. still treats/dresses her up like a maid and lives alone. is she his legal guardian. i don't know. don't worry about it.

and it wants to be about women, because everything about the story is about women, all the persocoms are women, all the tragedies are wrapped up in the death of a woman, or a woman's heartbreak, or a woman's feelings. but it has fucking nothing to say about women beside look how pretty they are. my boobs are E cup, sempai :) teehee

it makes me insane.

friend @amphiaria put it best as "Unfortunately the story is uninterested in itself" and i can never forgive it for being so aesthetically good, giving us the best design for an android (the ear things are Perfect) and then being So Fucking Bad.

in conclusion:

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Afterlife, But It's A Bar

[discontinued, feel free to add on]

It was weird. Not wrong, alarming or dangerous type of weird. Not good or comforting either.

Just plain weird.

It all started a few days ago, on Wednesday, to be exact. On a rare occasion, Jason was patrolling outside of his territory ("cover for me, I have a date" my ass, Replacement), and he spotted something out of place. A neon green, almost toxic colored sign that read "Afterlife".

Honestly, who names a place like that? But judging by the placement and design, it was a bar, and Jason could almost appreciate the irony. Maybe it had a slogan along the lines of "our drinks will send you beyond the lines of life and death" or something. But at the same time, it could be interpreted as "alcohol can and will be the death of you," which, technically, is not the best PR campaign for a bar.

Jason decided to visit the place anyway. He was curious about the implied death joke, sue him.

Of course, he didn't visit immediately. He was still on patrol, and he just heard the sound of gunshots to the west. Not to say that the place was quiet.

(Oddly quiet for a bar in Gotham, now that he thinks about it)

Anyway, the next day, he went there not as Red Hood but as Jason Todd, an ordinary civilian who decided to grab a beer in the evening. Only to not find the place.

He couldn't have just miss it - he remembered the street, he knew the building, he was absolutely fucking sure where the "Afterlife" should have been. He searched the whole block nonetheless, and then proceeded to check the whole area, but to no avail.

Damn, it seems like he can't get to the afterlife both literally and- the other literally. Yeah, he might be having too much fun with the oddly chosen name for the nonexistent bar.

It didn't exist on the maps and internet either. At this point, Jason was contemplating the idea of it being a hallucination or a dream. He even checked the recording on his helmet from Wednesday night, but the whole time he was in the area, the video was filled with interference and static.

Weird. Slightly suspicious, but Red Robin, who's been patrolling the same area for weeks before him, never reported any interferences, so it probably had something to do with his helmet and not the area in general.

On Thursday night, he purposefully went there right after patrol. And the nonexistent bar suddenly existed again! The same neon green sign, the same quiet street around it.

Seriously, what is this mysterious fuckery?

Now, if he was a Bat, he would have reported this to others and investigated, lurked around in shadows, and approached with caution. If he was a Robin, he would have still reported and then straight up marched in there and saw how it goes.

Alas, he was Red Hood, so he decided to watch for the bar guests and see just who the hell goes in and out of the place.

And there was the next weird thing.

No one was going in or out. Jason sat there for a whole hour, and not even one person entered or left the building. Despite the muffled sounds of music, voices and laughter coming from the place.

The final kicker was the fact that after some careful questioning and dropping hints, Jason found out that no one except him ever saw the "Afterlife"'s sign. No one's even heard of it, both the Batclan and the Gothamites.

The fuck?

So he did the next logical thing. He brought the smartest member of the Bats with him. Tim owed him anyway. Might as well use it now instead of later.

Friday night proved two things: one, Tim was still his favorite to work with out of all the bats and birds, not questioning anything as to why Jason is asking him to check out a bar, and two, Jason just might be going insane.

Tim couldn't see the "Afterlife" even when Jason pointed at the sign from not further than ten feet. The irony of the stipid name was not even amusing anymore.

Tim didn't ask any questions after this experiment, and Jason didn't want to admit that he is losing the grip of reality, so they ended up simply parting their ways after. Can the Pits cause brain damage? More damage than there was in the first place, that is.

Now that he thinks about it, the color of the sign is really similar to the Lazarus waters. He should have noticed it sooner, but in his defense, who would look at the bubbling pool of toxic waters and think, "Oh, that would make a dope neon sign"? Apparently, the owner of the "Afterlife".

The color might be just a coincidence.

...no, in the world he lives in, coincidences like this just don't happen. Besides, Jason doesn't believe in shit like fate or destiny.

So, here he is, on Saturday night, standing in front of the door to the Afterlife. It would have been funny if it wasn't so weird. What's even more weird is that the closer he gets to the door, the less nervous he feels, like the place is radiating some calming aura. Wait, no, scratch that, Jason is so not calling it a calming aura for God's sake. That sounds just like those homemade witches with their crystals, tarot readings, and whatnot.

He's going to call it... tranquilizer vibes. Yeah, that's better.

He takes a deep breath, getting ready to see whatever it is on the other side, pushes the door open, and walks into the bar.

...

Whatever he's been expecting to see, it's not this.

[lucyrose191]

PROTECTIVE SHIELD| K.RÄIKKÖNEN

Pairing: Protective!Kimi x Sunshine!driver!reader

Summary; You always have a smile on your face, even through the struggles of being the only female driver but when it feels like the entire media is against you it’s hard to keep that smile on your face but Kimi won’t allow it to disappear, he’s always there protecting you.

Warnings; fluff, mistreatment of women

F1 Master List

You had fought to get in the position you were in today and you had done it all with a smile on your face. It was easy back then, when there was less attention on you and less people questioning your every decision or underestimating your talent compared to the other drivers on the grid simply because you weren’t a man.

You were known for your smile, the way it was always present with everyone you spoke to and no matter the question you were asked but people seemed to take it as an invitation to say whatever they wanted as though it had no affect on you.

It didn’t in the beginning.

But as each of the questions piled on top of each other, the strain made it harder to maintain the smile, your struggle was hard to notice because you did such a good job of hiding it but one person did.

Kimi Räikkönen.

Whilst he was quiet, he was observant.

To him only a fool would think your smile was real. There was clearly such a huge difference between you being happy and you pretending to be happy.

There were no more sparkles in your eyes or twitch of your nose and it enraged him.

It was infuriating, knowing that the journalists and media had managed to ruin the pureness in you.

He wasn’t going to allow them to destroy you of everything you were.

You normally didn’t mind the driver’s press conferences but lately they’ve been…. hard.

The questions lately have hardly been about driving, instead about your possible challenges against the other drivers or if you feel as though you’re at a disadvantage.

You don’t. You’ve said countless times that you don’t feel the need to be treated differently in any sense and that you being female added no extra struggles in your opinion.

It seemed the tipping point for Kimi with these questions was when a female journalist asked not only peculiar but disturbing question.

You smiled at the woman as she stood up, thinking you’d get a real question about driving but that smile soon faded as she opened her mouth.

"Hi, this is a question for Y/N. As a woman, I was curious as to whether it’s more difficult for you to finish a race during the time of the month when you’re menstruating?"

You hated it. You hated that just because they’re a woman they think it excuses the questions they’re asking.

Beside you Kimi scoffed loudly, the most noise he’d made during the entire conference. "What sort of fucking question is that?" He stared straight into the woman’s eyes with a face as hard as ice.

The woman seemed taken back by him and started stuttering. "I-well-I was just-"

Kimi shook his head "We’ve been sat in these chairs for half an hour and not a single one of you imbeciles has asked her a real fucking question about the car or the race. All of you have sat there and just questioned her ability to do her job as if any of you know a thing about racing."

Kimi stood up from his seat and gestured for you to get up as well from where you were sitting in pure shock, lips parted and eyes wide you did and followed him out of the room, ignoring the fact that you weren’t meant to be leaving any time soon.

He was raging, he had sat and watched as your smile dimmed with each question; anger building inside until he just couldn’t keep it to himself anymore.

You had to run to catch up with him, he was walking so fast, fuelled by his anger. Your body was still in shock from the way he had spoken and stood up for you but you caught his arm which caused his footsteps to pause.

You looked up at him in silence for a moment, contemplating what to say as he looked down at you with those piercing blue eyes.

"You didn’t have to do that," you settled on saying.

Kimi huffed, glancing away for a short minute before returning his gaze back to you. "I did, I wasn’t going to sit and let them speak to you like that, you deserve better."

You shrugged and smiled weakly "It’s how it’s always been, they’re not going to change and I’ve accepted that."

"You shouldn’t need to," he argued before grumbling under his breath and reaching out to cup your cheeks, keeping his gaze locked with yours. "They’re taking away your smile and I’m not going to let them. You’re beautiful and your smile is beautiful, I’m not letting them take that away from you."

You blinked up at him in shock whilst trying to process his words, raising your own hands up to wrap around his wrists to keep his in place.

Eventually, you smiled and leaned into his touch. "Thank you."

He gave you that half smile you knew so well before pulling you into his embrace "Don’t listen to anything they say, they don’t know you."

You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t let them knock you down, not when you had Kimi there to stand in front of you like a protective shield or hold your hand as you walked through the media storm.

You could do anything with him beside you, you could even keep your smile.

[merchelsea]

i can take it — logan sargeant

pairing: logan sargeant x girlfriend!vowles!reader

summary: she finds out about what her father (her boyfriend’s team manager) has been doing to him.

author’s note: i know it has all been denied by logan himself but i wanted to do it anyways. DO NOT TAKE IT AS A FACT OR TRUE EVENT.

word count: 1k

warnings: idk if there's any cursing, not proofread, sad logan, kind of daddy issues (?)

masterlist | requests

you were at home, laying down on the couch watching a show while you waited for hunger. everything you had to do was already done and dinner was ready, but you weren’t hungry to eat it.

you were tired, tho. you could easily go to sleep right now, but you knew better than to go to sleep without eating first.

that was when your phone started to ring and your best friend’s name appeared on the screen.

you stopped the show and picked up the call, putting it on speaker.

“hi?” you stretched your body on the couch.

“hey, have you talked to logan recently?” she asked, going straight to the point.

you could notice in her voice some kind of worry.

“hm, yeah… why?”

“and your dad?” she asked again.

“what? no, not really.” you answered, not sure about what was going on.

“open up twitter, babe.” her voice sounded alarmed. “i think you might want to do this on your own, i’ll hang up now.”

you simply hummed a goodbye and started to see the panic on your twitter mentions.

everyone knew about you and logan by now, so you were not surprised with all the tags from his fans, but it seemed like they needed explanations on a certain allegation.

“what the fuck?” you screamed as you saw the caption of a podcast, your mind going red immediately.

it’s like you were only capable of feeling anger.

that’s when you threw the blanket you had over your body away and got up. not caring about your clothing, that was just a pj, you got to your keys and left the house.

getting in your car, you drove as fast as legally possible to get to your father’s office.

while driving, your mind recalled everything you had learned about your boyfriend’s situation in williams.

a friend of a friend of logan told on a podcast that your boyfriend wasn’t even having fun in the team anymore. that was happening because of your father. apparently, the older vowles wasn’t giving logan the feedback he needed anymore and they were not on speaking terms.

you know how you say good morning to everyone? yeah, not even that.

you were more than pissed about all of this. you could understand that your father no longer had faith in logan, you did not agree with him but you could comprehend. but not even speaking to him? this was another level of childishness.

you got to your dad’s office in a matter of minutes and immediately asked to talk to him. you were told to wait, but, impatiently, crossed the building until you reached his room on your own and didn’t even bother to knock before going in and slamming the door behind you.

“what the fuck is this about?” you threw your phone on his table, an article opened.

“what?” vowles asked, a puzzled expression on his face. he started to read and his expression went from confused to worried in mere seconds.

“you are using silence treatment on logan?” you asked, disbelief clear in your voice. he sighed as he supported his head with his hands. “you can not do this to a driver”

another sigh.

you wanted him to say it was all a misunderstanding, that maybe this person was wrong or even lying. but you were just hurt when he spoke again.

“oh… this.” he finally looked up at you. “what do you want me to do? pretend i’m proud of the american like i don’t regret having him in my team?” all you wanted to do in that moment was punch your father in the face. it was so not fair.

“you’re being childish.” you pointed out.

he angrily looked over at you, as if you were in the wrong. as if he was the one who had to explain how you were wrong and why.

“he’s not talented enough for f1, y/n.” you were already angry, but when you heard your own father talk about the man you loved that way you completely lost it.

you could not care less about how loud you were being. maybe it wasn’t the most mature thing to do, but calling your father and imbecile felt pretty damn good.

“how the fuck is he supposed to deliver good results when he doesn’t have a clue about what’s going on?” you asked, honestly waiting for an answer before you started speaking again because the man in front of you was speechless. “the car isn’t good and the team isn’t good. you’re ruining it even more. he is talented and you know that, you just want to blame him for YOUR OWN mistakes.”

everything you had been holding in for some time, just because he was your father, was finally out. it should feel better than it did. you should feel way better than you did.

“that’s not true. and you should be ashamed of your little boyfriend for spreading things like this around.”

you couldn’t comprehend where this attitude came from. i guess you could really see how money changed people.

this was not the man you looked up to. this was not the father you wanted to be like when you were younger. and you had no problem of saying to his face that he had failed as a father.

“if there’s anything i’m ashamed of, is being your daughter.” you heard him start to complain, but you're already out the door when a proper word came out of his mouth. you rushed outside, too tired to fake smiles to people around you.

you needed to find logan. that was the only thing in your head.

tears already filled your eyes when you started the car, and you couldn't see properly, because of them, the whole way.

but you never gave in, none of them fell from your eyes until you were at his door and he looked at you, worry stamped on his eyes.

"hey? baby?" his hands rushed to the side of your face to make you look at him.

you couldn't help but notice how selfless he was. that made your heart sink. the way he always worried about other people first, even when he is in the worst position possible.

"i hate you." you let out, in a cry, and let your arms circle his body, pulling him to yourself.

logan let go of your face to pull you inside, and closer to him. he was as confused as one could be. and the circumstances he was put in during the day did not help him.

"baby, please tell me what's going on." he asked once your grip over him loosened and he could look at your face again.

"my dad..." logan's heart skiped a beat. he knew the older vowles disliked him, but he never thought he could actually put himself between you and logan. he was desperate to know the rest now. "what he's doing to you, that's so not right. so not fair." you finished, and heard your boyfriend let out a relieved sigh.

he was actually happy that it was about the whole williams situation, and not your dad poisoning your mind.

"baby." the driver starts, but his face tells you he doesn't regret not telling you. that doesn't anger you, like you thought it would. it actually makes you fall in love with him a little more.

"you never said anything, you stupid american." he couldn't help a chuckle at the nickname and you punched him in the chest. he realized just how serious you were about this and guilt rose in his chest.

"i didn't want you to worry, y/n."

his blue eyes were a little darker because of the lighting but you could still see the pain in them.

formula one was his dream as a kid, as a teenager and as an adult. he fought like hell to get there, and even when things got tight, he never gave up. you knew all about the financial struggles that would've ended his dream if it wasn't for williams.

they noticed his talent and helped him get to better categories of the sport he loved so dearly. and the boy? he loved that team and was so thankfull for them that it actually hurt you. your father actually helped ruining his path at formula one and still, that boy stood loyal and helped the team and his teammate in everything. standing by their calls and decisions even when they jeopardized his races.

"logan, i should've known about this from the start." you knew you could've done something for him if you knew about the situation sooner. maybe if you had talked to your dad, bringing some sense into that old head of his. anything but let this circus keep going until it reached this point. "what they're doing to you... it's so unfair."

"but i can take it, love." he smiled softly at you and you almost felt the urge to punch him. how could he think so low of himself that he didn't see how much he didn't deserve that treatment.

"i know you can, the thing is you shouldn't have to. let alone go through it on your own." you said in a higher voice, capturing all his attention. "logan do you realize that you're not having fun racing? you said it yourself." tears were no longer falling out of your eyes, and the ones on your face were starting to disappear. "you have loved this sport ever since you were born, and they are ruining it for you."

"i know that." he almost screamed. he was quick to apologize with his eyes, but you couldn't care less about the tone he was using. you wanted him to be angry, you needed him to let everything out. "i hate it all, y/n. but it's my dream to be where i am today."

"i know, logan. and that's what makes me more upset. their ruining your dream and you're smiling through it, letting it happen."

"i'm not 'letting it happen'." he said, hesitating a little. "i'm just... maybe if i did things a little better, i would not be in this situation but i didn't. and i have to deal with it." your expression softened and you let out a sigh.

"it kills me that you think that this is your fault." he started tearing up and you pulled him to yourself. he hid his face in your neck and you gently stroked the back of his head. "it's not your fault, baby. you are doing amazing for someone with so many difficulties."

you took your time in each others arms, calming down while feeling the touch of the person you loved.

"i'm sorry that i never told you. but it's your dad and i needed you by my side." he pushed himself back to look you in the eye. "i don't know if i could do it without you."

you were still not over everything he had told you, and would definitely come back to the topic sooner, but right now what mattered most to you was that logan felt loved and appreciated.

he was already going through a lot, and it killed you to see the man you loved like that.

"you will never have to worry about that because i'm here, logan. and i love you, always."

with his face in your hands, you leaned closer and peck his lips. that's enough for him to remember everything he was fighting for. he had to fight for himself. and with you by his side, he believed it was possible.

"i love you too, always." he leaned his forhead against yours. "thank you."

[tibby-art]

i am straight up on my hands and knees BEGGING for more hitman au

crazy that you mention that actually because i did write another snippet a little while ago.. here’s a doodle i did to accompany it + the writing under the cut

=+=

Grian gazed out the window of the bus, soaking in the quiet evening of the city. It had been some time since he was out in public like this, since he had felt like a normal citizen going about her daily buisness. It was nice to be outside the NHO headquarters for once, free to do what she pleased. Well, sort of.

Grian wasn’t exactly free. He was allowed some free time out when there was no training, lab visits, or missions. However, she was only allowed outside the NHO with a bodyguard. Someone who could both protect him from the overstimulation of the outside world, as well as protect others from her… if he were to ever lose control of his powers, or something.

Yes, riding the bus with a former-criminal-turned-professional-hitman certainly made the whole experience feel less normal for Grian.

“It’s nice to take public transportation once in a while,” Scar mused, stretching his arms over his head. “Us vexes don’t get to do that much anymore, when we can just fly around wherever we need to go.”

“That must be so much better, though,” Grian pointed out. “You can fly wherever you want, and you don’t even have to pay the bus fare.”

“Let me tell you, Grian, flying can be so tiring,” Scar huffed. “Sometimes I’m so tired by the time we show up to a hit, we need to take a breather on the roof for a few minutes. The NHO should just let us have a car for the long missions, for goodness’ sake!”

Grian did a quick check of his surroundings. The bus was pretty empty this time of day, but she got no sense that any of the passengers were paying attention to Scar so casually talking about being a hitman. A brief tap into watcher vision didn’t show any movement from the passengers behind her, either.

“Cub’s in much better shape than me,” Scar rambled on. “Did you know that man was a professional basketball player once? Or was it golf…? Actually, I think it was both.”

The NHO didn’t deem it too urgent to send both their prized hitmen on Grian-watching duty, so Cub had stayed behind at the headquarters. Last time Grian had seen Cub, he was showing off a ring of keys to Scar, saying how he was going to get a lot of ‘research’ done that night.

“What are those keys for?” Grian asked.

“Don’t know yet,” Cub shrugged. “That’s part of the fun”.

“So… those aren’t your keys?”

Cub and Scar just grinned at her.

“….This is our stop,” Grian said.

The pair exited the bus. The Hermit City library stood before them.

“Library, huh?” Scar asked. “Do you have some overdue books from before you became a watcher or something?”

“Not so loud,” Grian scolded, glancing around a mostly empty city street. “But, no. Speaking of… that, I wanted to see if there were any books I could find on the subject.”

Scar raised an eyebrow. “Do you think a public library would have better information than what we have at the NHO?”

Grian shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”

The library was pretty empty at this time of day. In fact, they probably closed in an hour or so. Grian had deliberately chosen a time of day where less people would be around, so that the trip was less overwhelming on his new senses. Scar had complained that he wasn’t a morning person, so they settled on the evening instead. Grian secretly was also glad she could sleep in a little.

“Geez, when’s the last time I’ve been in one of these?” Scar muttered, glancing at the countless shelves of books as they walked past.

“What, are you allergic to reading?” Grian teased.

“Well, I am dyslexic, so… sort of?”

Grian realized that for a trip to the library to do some research, she probably should have gotten Cub to come. The man literally has two science degrees, after all.

The two made their way to the front desk, where the librarian on duty appeared to be preoccupied… knitting a hand puppet of some kind?

“Well howdy there!” The librarian looked up from his work cheerfully. He had long, brown hair that was dyed neon green at the tips, matching perfectly with her pointed green glasses. “What can I help y’all with?”

“Uh, yes, um.” Grian tapped his fingers on the desk. “We were wondering if you had any books on Watchers, and where they might be?”

“Watchers, huh…” The librarian furrowed their brow. “Now that’s an obscure topic.” He swiveled his chair towards his computer to investigate further. Grian began to grow anxious with how obvious he felt they were being.

“I know, right?” Scar sighed, leaning on the desk casually. “It’s for some lame group project that’s like, a fourth of our final grade in the class.”

“Yikes! That sounds rough,” The librarian remarked as she typed on the computer. Grian tapped into his sixth sense and didn’t pick up on any feelings of suspicion from the librarian. Maybe bringing Scar was a good idea.

“Okay, well, most of these books that are coming up seem to be more on the… fantasy side,” The librarian explained after a moment of scrolling. “I know those guys are mythological beings, but you said you’re doing a research project, so I’m guessing you want something more factual…”

“Yeah, anything with information about where they came from, what they do, stuff like that.” Grian nodded. “Y’know, like if they were real.”

“Oh! Here’s something promising.” The librarian turned the monitor so that Grian and Scar could see. “This book right here seems to be a study of the tales of Watchers throughout history. Although… it looks like our only copy is checked out at the moment.”

“Really?” Grian asked. “By who?”

The librarian blinked. “Hm… y’know, I’m actually not sure if I’m supposed to like, give that information to people? Like, legally?”

“There’s another person in our group project, so we just want to know if they beat us to checking out this book,” Scar lied. “Communication in group projects, am I right?”

“Pff, yeah, that makes sense,” The librarian turned the computer back to face him. “It looks like this book is currently being borrowed by a Martyn. With a y! How fancy.”

“Ah, Martyn with a y, of course!” Scar exclaimed. “Well, now we know that Martyn has the book, right Grian?”

“Yup,” Grian agreed, mind racing.

“Hey, actually…” The librarian scrolled down on the computer some more. “You guys sure got the right person for this project. It looks like this Martyn fella has been checking this book out for a few months now?”

Grian’s eyes widened.

“Ohh, that Martyn,” Scar laughed. “Always getting the head start on things! Uh, did we need anything else, Grian?”

“Um…” Grian needed to think fast. Whoever this Martyn person was, he’s been checking the same book on Watchers out for months. Surely he has to know something about them. Grian had to speak to him. But how on earth were they going to find this person?

Grian focused on the back of the librarian’s computer monitor. For a brief moment, in her mind’s eye, he could see the content of computer screen, from the librarian’s eyes. There on the screen was a full name: Martyn Littlewood.

“Nope, that’s all,” Grian replied, blinking rapidly as he returned to his own vision.

“Great. Well, you two have a good one!” The librarian said cheerfully, and returned to their knitting.

Grian and Scar briskly made their way outside.

“Wow. So who’s this Martyn guy? I didn’t think anyone else cared about Watchers that much,” Scar began, turning to Grian. “Oh uh, Grian, you’ve got something there…” Scar pointed to his own nose, looking worried all of a sudden.

“Huh?” Grian wiped his nose on his sleeve instinctively, expecting snot. However, when he glanced at his arm he saw red.

“Ah.” At least her sweater was already red.

“What did you do in there?” Scar asked, his green eyes intense with a mix of curiosity and concern.

“I was able to get a better look at that computer, and see the guy’s last name,” Grian explained. “Martyn Littlewood. Whoever he is, he might have a ton of information about Watchers. I’ve got to find him and have a word with him.”

“Grian, you’re amazing!” Scar exclaimed, impressed. “Well, finding someone in this city should be easy enough for a Watcher.”

“Shush,” Grian glanced around the empty bus stop. “Or we could try, y’know, looking the name up online first…” Grian quickly pulled out her phone. “Ah. Found him.”

“What? You’re kidding.”

“Oh my god, Scar.”

“What?”

“Scar.” Grian held the phone out. “Martyn Littlewood is…”

“A youtuber?” Scar’s jaw dropped as he scrolled through the list of videos. “And he makes videos talking about-“

“Watchers.”

Scar stared at Grian, dumbfounded.

“Scar, I think we just found the world’s biggest, and perhaps only, Watcher fanatic,” Grian stated in disbelief. “And he lives right here in Hermit City.”

[ohtobeleah]

I think one of the main reasons why the Worst!Logan loves you so much, without putting too much thought into the question, is simply because you ease the burden of being alive. You don’t ‘give him a reason to live.’ He found that on his own when Wade showed up and snatched his old, drunken ass out of his world and planted him here. But you ease the burden. You ease the pain of being alive on days when everything seems so…distressing. But when you plant something, it often grows roots. And that’s exactly what Logan wanted to do with you. 

“Hope, at its very core, can be the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torment of man,” That one. That was the ‘Hook, Line and Sinker’ moment where Logan knew you had him wrapped around your finger like some perverted puppy. “You aren’t just any man, Logan,” He could vividly picture you sitting on his lap while his back pressed heavily into your headboard. “You’re Wade’s boyfriend.” 

“Oh aren’t you just hilarious,” Logan could remember replying to you as you leaned in to place a gentle kiss against his lips. He loved those moments. The quiet ones. Where nothing else in the world mattered except for the time he got to spend in your undivided attention. “Keep that attitude up, I dare you.” 

“You don’t have to threaten me with a good time.” It was the dynamic the two of you had. The banter-filled friendship that crossed the line into friends with immaculate benefits. And under the glow of your bedside lamps, the ones that sent an orange hume across the floor-length curtains and cottage cream walls, Logan knew that the small amount of time you had been in his life…had been the time most lived. 

“You surround yourself day in and day out with a degenerate crew of antagonists, Logan, of fucking course you’re gonna pick up a few traits after a while!” It wasn’t uncommon to see Logan perched up at the bar while you made coffees for the steady trickle of customers who stopped by for their caffeine fix. After all, it was your cafe. “It doesn’t sound like my issue that you called Althea, Blind Al.” 

“It’s not her fucking name, is it?” Logan’s heated. He kinda hates himself a little for it. Mainly because he recognised straight away who he sounded like. Wade fucking Wilson. Secondly, he had enough respect for the old, aging and decaying to know nicknames like that could put senior citizens into early graves. Well, earlier. “You know what, that’s it, I’m not fucking hanging around that guy anymore.” 

Deep down, Logan knew he didn’t mean it. Wade was a genuinely good person. He saw a lot of parallels of himself in the guy. And if it weren’t for Wade… Logan wouldn’t be sitting here right now. Bickering back and forth with the love of his overextended life. You just made him feel like a guy. Just some dumb guy. Simple. Whenever Logan was with you, he wasn’t The Wolverine. He was just James Howlett. 

“Okay one,” You stopped steaming the milk you had in just been working with so you could reply. You turned with a shit-talking snarl ready to go. “You sound like someone who’s beefing with their childhood bestie,” The frown on Logan’s face warned you not to continue, but you weren’t in the mood to pity someone over four times your age. “Two, you fucking live with the guy man?” You pointed out the incredibly obvious logistics of Logan’s dilemma. “What? you gonna sleep on the street?” It was a genuine question you had. “Please, you’re made of metal dumbass, you’ll catch some sort of genetically fucked mutation of pneumonia and die at the young age of two hundred and twenty-something.” 

“You know exactly who you sound like right now?” Logan countered as he sipped his coffee. The same coffee order you made him every damn day. Black, no cream, sugar or milk. No flavoured syrup or sweeteners in sight. Just black. 

“If you point out the fact I sound like my longest-standing friend, I’ll take great pleasure in knowing you can’t die alone, because you can’t seem to die at all!!” 

“Go fuck yourself!” Logan needed this. He needed you to match his energy. You saw him coming from a mile away when he’d come barrelling into the cafe with a glare of despair and in need of some reprieve. 

“Fuck me yourself, asshole.” It wasn’t exactly what Logan had been expecting you to say, but he did take you up on that offer…The second he knew you were off work and at home later that same evening. 

“Logan–” Your needy little whines were a symphony of desire and love. “Logan–yes, baby you feel so good.” The way Logan made you feel, the way he touched you in all the right ways, made you feel drunk on his ecstasy. 

“Ohhhh just like that huh?” Logan wouldn’t dare change a single thing about what he was doing right now. He had you right where he wanted you. He loved you in his position. The one where he had your arms pinned behind your beck. The one where your chest presses right against his. The one where all he has to do is buck his hips up into yours while his heels dig into your mattress. It’s the one where he can whisper the most degrading things into your ear and knows you’re drooling for it. He knows that much because he can feel it dripping down his other shoulder while you mumble incoherent love songs. 

“I could smell you, you know,” Logan growls particularly low as he keeps his pace going. “When you were giving me that fucking attitude in the cafe today,” You know he’s talking, but the way his perfectly enhanced cock is kissing the tip of your cervix with every thrust it keeping your mind from focusing on anything else but chasing that all important high of yours. “Got nothing to say now, have you?” 

“I–” You tried to tell Logan what you want, you know he already knows when the words won’t come out and you can’t keep your eyes from rolling. “Wanna–” 

“Oh please,” Logan nearly begs while he keeps thrusting up into you. He can feel the mixture of his previous load and your arousal mixing at the base of his shaft. “Give me something pretty to look at gorgeous.” 

Logan thought you were the most gorgeous woman to ever grace his life. Inside and out you were truly one of the most kind-hearted, lovely, compassionate people he’d ever known. But right now, in this very moment, all Logan wanted to do was see your gorgeous face when you came around his slicked-up shaft. All he wanted to feel was you clenched him like a vice grip made just for him. 

“Fuckk–Logan!” At your cries, Logan was quick to grab your face with one of his hands. He wanted to look you in the eyes. Wanted to feel every part of your soul connect with his when you came for him. 

“I’m right here,” He cooed, still bucking into you with force and pace. “I’ve got you, come on me, baby.” 

“Ohhhhh–” The way you dragged your nails down his sides made Logan hiss with pure sexual gratification. Your velvet walls paused around his shaft as he kept up the pace, fucking deeper into you. As deep as he could get just to feel you. “Yessss–” 

“I’m the luckiest guy alive,” Logan rolled his eyes with pure unadulterated lust as you came down from your high. He lets go of your face only to crash his lips against yours in a feverish kiss. “Fucking perfect for me.” He gives you a minute to recover. Logan slowly rocks his hips so that he’s never completely still, always admiring your beauty while yours naked on top of him the way you are. 

“Okay big guy,” You sigh, sitting up to straddle Logan. “Your turn.” 

“Gready thing, one not enough for you?” Logan could still feel how full you were from his last load. He couldn’t contain himself, you just had that effect on him. 

“Well, since you’re either sleeping here or on the street tonight, I figured you didn’t have any plans,” You teased as you rocked your hips the way you knew drove Logan wild. His fingers dug into your hips and for a second he released some pressure. Worried that he might leave a few bruises. Or worse…But when you placed your hands on top of his? Logan knew you were alright. “Gonna finish what you started? Or do you need a second to catch your breath?” 

“Oh I’m gonna ruin you–” Logan smiled as he jumped into action. Capturing your lips with his as he flipped the two of you around. Suddenly you found yourself on your back, pressed into the mattress. “You know how I feel about you, right?” It was a gentle moment laced between the lust and the desire. But when Logan caught your eye, so beautiful and kind, he wanted to make sure that you knew this wasn’t just sex to him. 

This was…You were… Everything he ever wanted. 

“I know,” You nodded, making sure to pull him closer. As close as you could get in missionary. “I’ve got you,” Was all you said back before your lips were taken hostage yet again. “I–” You were about to say it but stopped yourself. The L would be just something that wasn’t said that much. 

You knew it was because Logan was afraid to. He was scared if he said he loved you then he’d wake up from this dream. Back in the pub, he wasn’t welcome in. Back in his reality, where the version of you didn’t know him as the best worst version of himself. 

“You mean everything to me.” You settled with as Logan buried himself inside you. Not knowing that in nine months from now, your greatest love of all would carry your love for Logan in her name: 

Ilya: I.Love. You. Always

Ilya

[marypaol]

Skin To Skin

Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

Summary: The aftermath of Draco knowing who his soulmate is, yet he can’t bear to face her.

Warnings: Teasing, Boggarts, mention of fears, mention of the Hospital Wing, the Weasley twins being themselves, etc.

Note: This is Part 2 of “Copy Of A Copy”, so check it out before you read this! (And I’m sorry if this one is bad)

Copy Of A Copy

Masterlist

Request Reauirements

This person believed in me so here you go! : @theomalfoy

Draco wasn’t the want-everything-to-go-back-to-the-way-it-was-after-complaining-about-it-type.

Well, that’s what he kept telling himself.

But he knew deep down that he did want everything to go back to the way they were, because every time he looked at his hand, that deep red spot of irritated skin was slowly fading away and he wanted to find a reason to create it again.

She’d stopped drawing. And normally Draco would find that a good thing; now he didn’t have to harshly wipe them off and be left an embarrassing red spot on his hand. But he found himself thinking back on how the drawings actually looked good, despite him being annoyed at the fact they repeatedly showed up on his skin, and he wanted them back. Which, of course, sounds ridiculous if you were to look back on how he acted towards the other drawings that previously showed up on his hand.

But he missed it. Missed watching the lines form one by one, letting him know she existed. He even couldn’t get the image of her face out of his mind, ever since he saw her in Care of Magical Creatures. He couldn’t help but think she was decently pretty.

Draco’s hand has unwanted sweat on it so he harshly wiped it on his robes, a disgusted expression lying on his lips. He knew the reason for the sweat though, his quill once again hovering over his skin, the same skin he used to aggressively rub almost everyday as his soulmate drew mindless doodles on her hand.

He dipped the quill tip in the ink, the noises of everyone scattering about being the last thing on his mind, in fact the occasional “SHH!” from Madam Irma Prince was quite helpful to encourage him to focus once the students followed her orders.

He sighed softly, taking a deep breath while staring stupidly at his pale skin he was about to ruin.

He leaned down, the quill tip making contact with his hand two times, forming two dots. Those were eyes, he decided, and drew a straight line below them, making a face that represented him at the moment. His eyes were full yet his lips held uncertainty, hesitant to do this.

Once it was over it didn’t seem so bad anymore, as long as he could manage to hide it from Crabbe and Goyle. The thought of them teasing him about it, teasing him about actually writing back on his skin was unbearable. He could only hope that they don’t stare at his hand.

“Don’t be scared now, it’s just a Boggart.” Professor Lupin explained, his wand held with two hands, a grip on each end.

“Now, Boggarts like tight dark places, and I found this one in the wardrobe yesterday. I asked Dumbledore if we could use it for the lesson and thankfully he said yes. Now, does anyone know what a Boggart looks like?”

The usual hand of Hermione Granger was shot up at the speed of lightning, and once she was called on, she answered not only the right answer but was awarded points for her House.

“No one knows, sir. It takes form of the deepest fear of whomever it faces.”

“Correct, Ms. Granger.” Lupin said, smiling while Granger went slightly pink.

Draco rolled his eyes, irritation seeming to be boiling within them.

“But, everyone, we have an advantage against this creature. And that is?”

“There’s so many of us, it doesn’t know what to turn into?” Potter answered, and Lupin replied with a smile, and awarded more points to Gryiffindor.

“Exactly!” Lupin exclaimed. “Now, though, there is a way to get past a Boggart. And that spell is Riddikulus!” Lupin said, doing the hand movement with the one that possessed his wand. “Say it with me now…”

“Riddikulus!” The class said together.

“This class is ridiculous.” Draco mutters under his breath, Crabbe nodding in agreement beside him while he heard a snuffled laugh somewhere near. His head swerved and he spotted the same girl he saw in Hagrid’s class, trying not to smirk at his joke. He found a smirk coming to his own lips, proud of himself.

“They feed on fear, so think of what you fear the most, and turn it into something funny.” Lupin once again explained, and brought up Neville as a demonstration. “Now, Neville, tell me, what do you fear the most?”

“P-professor Snape.” the boy mumbled, having to repeat the same thing again but a little louder since the Professor didn’t hear him.

“Ahh.” Lupin said amusingly once the name was repeated. “I suppose he does intimidate us all in some way.”

There was a pause before Lupin continued to project to the class, for he was having a quiet conversation with the student before him. “Now Neville, I want you to think of your Grandmother’s clothes very clearly in your mind, can you do that?”

Neville nodded, shaking in his shoes. The door opened and Snape stepped out, looking normal as ever like you’d see him everyday but Neville was scared.

“Wand at the ready!” Lupin reminded, Neville held his wand up and squeaked, “Riddikulus!”

Snape seemed to spin around and he soon found himself in Neville Longbottom’s Grandmother’s clothes, a red handbag on his right arm.

The class laughed, Neville’s face slowly turned into an expression of relief.

Draco scoffed basically the whole time, not ending up actually facing the Boggart but watching as his peers did.

Weasley was practically having a seizure as he faced the spider, helplessly whimpering the spell causing the spider to have roller skates, legs swinging everywhere.

Draco couldn’t help but be curious on what the girl’s fear was, but she didn’t end up facing it just like him.

There was an exited buzz in the air as the students left class, each of them wanting recognition for how brave they were while facing their biggest fears.

“-did you see how I faced that snake-”

“-just said the spell and it went, pop!-”

“-the spider was huge!-”

“-never seen that kind of creature before-”

Draco grumbled angrily, grabbing Crabbe and Goyle’s arms and leading them out to the courtyard in front of the Black Lake.

“That was stupid. Why did he let us do that anyway, and for Dumbledore to give permission…wait til by father hears of this.” He mumbled, looking down and adjusting his arm bandages, thinking back when he insulted the Hippogriff. (He still didn’t regret it, the creature did look kinda ugly to him.)

“Right. We should owl him right away.” Crabbe suggested.

Draco looked up from his arm, eyes flaring. “‘We?!’ I’ll do it. It’s my father after all.”

His friends nodded, Crabbe going pink in the ears.

Goyle’s eyes then shot to Draco’s hand. “Ha! What’s that, Malfoy?”

Draco acted confused, and looking down, acted like he’d seen it for the first time. He pretended to look disgusted. “Gross I tell you, I’ll wash it off later.” He said, looking back at them. Both pair of eyes were still on him.

“Well? What are you looking at?” He snarled, and that seemed to do the trick, both heads bending down as they suddenly found interest in the grass.

“Do this Potion before you leave class, and then a portion of it on my desk with your name on it.”

Snake’s sharp voice echoed through the dark classroom, his gaze seeming to meet all of their eyes before he turned around, adding one last part of his instructions in the black board and heading to his desk, long nose lurking over the surface covered in parchment.

The girl sighed, opening the book to the page instructed and starting to chop the first ingredient. She liked to think of herself good at Potions, but sometimes little things like the reactants would mix up in her mind. But nonetheless if she focused hard enough and followed each step carefully, than she was proud to say that she could do it almost perfectly.

It was only then that she noticed the black markings on the back of her hand, and, looking more closely by bringing up her hand to her face, saw it was a smiley face. It looked smeared a little and the lines were wobbly, but she liked it since she wasn’t the one to draw it.

Scurrying through her bag pretending she was looking for something important, grabbed a quill and dipped it in another student’s ink when they weren’t looking. Then, turning back to her hand and covering it behind her cauldron so the nosy Professor wouldn’t see, drew two eyes next to his, a soft smile beneath it to show her gratitude. He didn’t do much, just too dots and a line, but the reason was all that mattered to her.

She just knew that he missed her somewhat forms of affection, so he acted upon himself to continue it.

“Ridiculous, I tell you, why’d he look at me like that? The audacity of some peop-”

“Sorry.”

Draco didn’t realize he ran into someone else, too busy rambling to himself about an annoying First Year who glared at him out of nowhere to notice his body ran into another. It ended up being a Third Year Hufflepuff, quickly scurrying around the corner to avoid the Slytherin.

Draco rolled his eyes, turning back to the direction he was going and continuing to walk to the Common Room. He muttered the password, climbing into the space full of couches and chairs, all in front of a burning fire, flames high and bright, full of color.

He sat down on one of the chairs, waiting for Crabbe and Goyle to get back from the Hospital Wing; the Weasley twins caught them in the hallway, convinced them to eat some candy, and now their faces were covered in red dots that got bigger by the second. Malfoy simply rolled his eyes at the news when Madame told him before making his way to the room.

He currently sat with a Potions book in his hands, long fingers running across the pages that helped his eyes read it better.

He turned the page, but the page he turned got caught on his robes, and, using his left hand, went to fix it before he froze. On his left wrist, he had another smile face beside the one he drew, this one with an actual smile this time not a straight line like his.

He fought a grin that was threatening to pull the corners of his lips, reaching over to pull his robe sleeve over it so no one could see.

-Like, reblog, and comment to make me happy!

Person I think would like this: @dunningz :)

[coeurify]

I have no idea how this would fit into an storyline but I am a hoe for fake dating. Imagine fake dating with abby and it slowly becoming too real

UGH YOU GET ME FAKE DATING IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE TROPES!!

⋆˚✿˖° now, abby anderson had a problem. specifically a blonde, brown eyed loud mouthed man of a problem. owen fucking moore. she had broken up with him in the summer time, little explanation given to the ass of a boyfriend other than that she needed to “find herself.” (not that she needed to give any.)

⋆˚✿˖° but owen? oh owen didn’t accept that. so from the very moment abby had broken it off, to when the air began to smell like fall.. he pestered abby. asked for a reason, begged for another chance (despite HIM going around with damn near every girl on the WLF compound.)

⋆˚✿˖° things came to a head at a get together in one of abby and owen’s mutual friend’s apartment style quarters. mutual friend who also happened to be your roommate.

⋆˚✿˖° abby and owen fought all night, abby’s cheeks red from embarrassment and anger, eyebrows furrowed together. “why can’t you just take no for an answer owen?“ the cup in her hand crackled a bit under the pressure when the man scoffed. “because you never give me a real answer!” abby’s arms crossed at that, searching around the room. quickly, and maybe a little impulsively, she shrugged. “i’m into someone else now.”

⋆˚✿˖° owen just couldn’t accept that, his arms thrown around dramatically. “so you like another guy? that’s why you wont give me another chance? you know i can treat you better.” that sentence alone reminded abby just why she hated being with him so much, but again that fast moving brain of hers spoke before the thought could finish, finger pointing in the direction of the first person she found.. you. “it’s not a guy. it’s a girl. im not.. into your..” abby made a motion, “species anymore.” sure, it was sort of true. abby recently realized she probably had a thing for girls, but you particularly? she couldn’t count on her fingers the amount of conversations she had with. “i like her.”

⋆˚✿˖° you, who’s head poked up, mouth full of slightly stale chips, having heard the whole conversation. abby anderson, beautiful, funny, madeyouweakintheknees, abby anderson was into you? and not straight? surely not. you swallowed harshly, deciding to play into whatever game abby seemed to have set on the floor. you made your way over, an award winning smile on your face as owen’s mouth dropped open further than a damn infected. “You like her? as in girls?”

⋆˚✿˖° honestly, you probably caused more trouble when you stood near the two, “abs!” you grinned, “you forgot your jacket here.. cmere ill grab it for you.” and then your hand is wrapped around her tensed bicep, the stiffness likely caused by her pure shock you even played along. still, she used it as an out from the devil with blonde locks, shrugging almost apologetically at owen before letting you whisk her away.

⋆˚✿˖° and that night, after everyone but you and abby had stumbled out of the cramped room, which was still humid and heavy, you made the plan. with a pen that had little ink left, scratching against the water damaged pages of the notebook you tucked under your pillow, you wrote the words “project get rid of owen moore.” which ok, in retrospect sounded really bad. but you were a little tipsy.

⋆˚✿˖° the plan was easy. play the role of abby’s first girlfriend, convince owen she was totally not into him or men anymore. what did you get out of it? a spot on the top dog abby anderson’s patrol team. something you had been vying for this year. abby agreed, although a little hesitantly. she promised she had picked you only because its who her pointed finger found first. not any actual attraction. you swallowed down the hit to your ego that brought.

⋆˚✿˖° and honestly? the plan went on pretty steadily. you were a damn good fake girlfriend if you had to admit it, and abby didn’t hate being around you. in fact, she really enjoyed being around you. she enjoyed how easily your fingers reached down, tapping on her palm to fing a way to hold her hand whenever one of owen’s posey was around. she enjoyed how you leaned in whenever owen passed by, your lips on her ear, whispering anything you knew would have her smiling. a fake smile of course.

⋆˚✿˖° you two had some pretty strict rules. no kissing, no extreme touchiness, absolutely no spilling to anyone this was fake, and the most important.. no real feelings. you had come up with a backstory, one you two had studied together. (you two met in the training room after your roommate introduced you two and totally hit it off. abby got you a spot on her team next to her and manny, and feeling bloomed from there.) abby added in a few details she knew would piss owen off.. and you sealed your lips shut to follow the rules.

⋆˚✿˖° the first few weeks were easy. you liked spending time around abby. you enjoyed how she smiled, you laughed at all the jokes she cracked (for the fake dating points of course..), and you loved training with her. you had to ignore the shiver her hands on your shoulders or waist gave, knowing it was just to help your position. “you have to fix your stance if you plan on fighting scars..” abby huffed.

⋆˚✿˖° the problem started in october. a month and a half into your fake dating plan. tens of lunches spent alone together, a handful of new hair styles you begged to try on abby, and around 5 missions out of the base, in. there was a party, one you demanded the two of you go to one day as you lounged on abby’s bunk— watching as she cleaned up manny’s mess across the room. “if we dress up together, owen will totally finally get off your case,” you assured, bringing a loud sigh from the blonde. “oh my god.. fine.”

⋆˚✿˖° you went as a angel and devil, simple enough to easy stitch together some devil horns for yourself and an angel halo you found in an old broken down store in the city for abby. no way did you admit the trouble you went for to find it to abs, especially not as she easily pulled her shirt off in front of you, totally clueing you in to where the nickname came from as she shoved on the white teeshirt.

⋆˚✿˖° see, the no kissing rule was an important one, but vodka made everything seem less important, and owen was awfully loud that night, scoffing any time you smiled and leaned into your angel, head band tilting off your head, which abby fixed with a grin. “you two act more like friends than people fucking each other,” owen scoffed as he pressed by you two, the words pounding in abby’s ears over the loud mingling voices.

⋆˚✿˖° “kiss me,” abby called over the old cd that played on the speakers, her cheeks red with anger— blue eyes flicking around. “what?” you laughed, thinking back to rule number 1. “i know we said no— no kissing but i just.. oh my god just kiss me,” abby muttered, her large hands gripping your cheeks and pulling you in for a kiss, one she was sure owen was watching on to. one you melted into, sucking her lip in between yours.

⋆˚✿˖° that had been a breaking point, ragged breaths and heated necks as you pulled away. it lead to more excuses with less validity being used when the two of you stared at each other’s lips. stepping down the stairs of the base, eyes catching on someone who just looked like owen. “kiss me,” abby muttered quickly, and you wasted no time to turn your head and fill your nose with the scent of pine as you leaned in.

⋆˚✿˖° the no kissing rule crossed off right before the no touchiness one did, that one had been scribbled off completely when abby began pulling you into her lap in group functions, one soft hand rubbing up against your side as she whispered in your ear, “jus’ for show.”

⋆˚✿˖° just for show of course, but you screamed into your pillow for so long that night you almost thought the walls of your room would crumble down along with the barrier you put between you and the blonde.

⋆˚✿˖° kisses and touchiness turned to nights spent in abby’s room, mornings waking up and having abby’s shirt thrown at your face. “wear that, owen got it for me when we were dating.” sure, you probably should be ashamed to be wearing the clothes of a girl who didn’t like you, but the frown on owen’s face made it worth it.

⋆˚✿˖° that last rule, the one that didn’t have pen strokes over the letters, the one locked behind awkward coughs and side glances, well you weren’t sure who broke it first. you dont know why feelings came into play, but you sure do know it happened.

⋆˚✿˖° you felt it first when abby didn’t talk to you for a few days. you saw her across the stadium with nora, her head tilted back lightly in a laugh at something the other girl said. that was the first time you felt the needle sized ache in your heart, one that only ripped further when owen shoulder checked you on his way by, “better get your girl. she slips away easily.”

⋆˚✿˖° maybe that rule had been broken when abby stormed into your room, met with the sight of you on the couch with some other blonde girl, an old tape of a southern movie mid way through when anderson scoffed and demanded the girl get out. she did so in a hurry, scrambling for her sweatshirt as a frown grew on your lips. “abby what the fuck?” you scoff, watching her eyebrows unfurrow lightly. “you can’t have other girls over! it fucks with our plan,” she accused, though she stumbled lightly over the words. “she’s just a friend, abby.”

⋆˚✿˖° however, the night you sat in your bed, breath heavy and eyes stinging as you broke through the paper with the pen, scratching over the words “no real feelings,” that came in the end of november.

⋆˚✿˖° your head was pressed into abby’s shoulder, yawning and closing your eyes as the movie played on a big sheet, a biweekly occurrence in the WLF base. abby had pressed to your cheek, placing a kiss to it that had some sort of butterfly attack take fruition in your stomach. you two didn’t even know if owen or his friends were around, and they for sure were not the reason of abby’s hand linking into yours as you two walked toward her room later that night. you both seemed to realize that when you reached her door and she leaned forward just lightly, as if to kiss you.

⋆˚✿˖° she cleared her throat, licking over the lips you wanted to capture again. “i think-” she said suddenly, squeezing her eyes closed. “i think owen really believes it now.” you could feel your heart sinking to the empty stomach that laid below your chest, knowing what came next. “i think we should break up.” abby finished, quick to add, “fake break up.”

⋆˚✿˖° you nodded along silently to the story she built still standing in her doorway. miscommunication, arguments, differing plans, the whole shebang— anything to make the breakup believable. you agreed, but the moment her door shut, a half smile and thank you sitting on her lips as the door locked, you felt the tears prick your eyes.

⋆˚✿˖° you wiped quickly at the tears, your hand slapped over the aching chest you swore betrayed you. you sucked in shallow breaths, shaky hands finding your own door as your vision went blurry.

⋆˚✿˖° as your pen broke through the white sheet of paper, you cursed your own heart. you cursed it for being so easy to rip from your chest, presented on a platter for a blonde who only saw it as a fake replica. you threw the notebook across the floor, hand slapping over your mouth so your roommate wouldn’t wake as you sobbed into it. surely you had been the only one to break that rule, but that didn’t matter now.

⋆˚✿˖° but you were wrong. not that you could know that. a five minute walk away, abby breathed out slowly as her fingers scraped though the braid she was undoing, an odd stinging pricked at the corner of her lashes. she knew she did the right thing. she knew it as soon as her lips searched for your own at her doorway tonight. so why did it feel so bad? why did her hands tremble as she pulled out her blanket and climbed under it, squeezing her eyes shut.

⋆˚✿˖° if this was all fake, why did the break up feel so real?

[tremendouscreationperson]

Bucky Barnes x Chubby!Reader imagine

It had been really difficult to blow Bucky off each time he asked to hang out. In fact it had been really difficult to ignore the whole friendship group. If you went out with Steve, no doubt Bucky would be there. If you went out with Nat, no doubt Bucky would hear and ask you to meet him the following day. The same goes for Sam, Wanda and, fuck it, even Tony.

So you all but secluded yourself in your room. Which wasn't your choice really but your boyfriend Alex hadn't taken kindly to your close relationship with another man. He wasn't convinced that even though you two grew up together you could be 'just friends'. And to his credit he wasn't really wrong. You had harboured a fat crush on your closest friend for a while but it was unrequited and then Alex came into your life and he was the first guy who actually showed an interest in you. It wasn't something you were used to in the slightest. Being friends with beauties like Natasha and Wanda you were often looked over by those not in the friend group but Alex had sought you out.

So here you were, on a Saturday, missing out whatever fun shenanigans were going on. Scrolling through various apps in your pjs like a party animal.

A knock at your door startled you out of mindlessly scrolling.

You sat yourself up and hoped to god you weren't nose blind and the room smelt okay.

"I'm decent." You joked.

The door opened and the very person you were avoiding ducked his head in. Fuck Bruce. You had told him not to let anyone in.

"Oh my god. You're alive." He joked back shutting the door behind himself. Bucky sauntered into your room, with the same swagger he always had, plonking himself down on your bed.

Not sure what to say in response, you go to the diplomatic, "You okay?"

He gives you a half shrug and leans backwards. "Missing my partner in crime. Thought I'd visit you."

You merely nod in reply.

This is the first ever awkward silence you and Bucky had sat through. It spread out horribly, stretching until you gave a very fake cough. Hoping any noise would solve it. It didn't.

"Right, okay, just go straight to the point." Bucky muttered. "Look, why are you avoiding me, angel? What did I do?"

Bucky's gaze was always piercing but today the intensity winded you. Why were you avoiding him?

There was no use lying anymore. You'd used up all your excuses anyway. You couldn't be sick again or have work again you just needed to tell him. He deserves honesty. "Alex isn't our biggest fan."

"Yeah, I knew that." Bucky chuckled. "I just didn't realise his dick was worth all your friends." You tutted at his crude remark. "He told me off for piggybacking you at the fair. 'she doesn't let me carry her, why are you'." His impression was eerily good.

You chuckled a little at the idea of Alex confronting Bucky. "He was not pleased that evening."

"He doesn'-" Bucky shook his head.

"Doesn't what?"

"Nothing." He ran a hand through his locks. "Where is he anyway?"

"He's at a friend's birthday."

Bucky's eyebrows were in his hairline. "And he hasn't taken you?"

This was a sore topic. But you'd been honest so far... "I didn't fit into the dress."

Now he was frowning. "What dress?"

You motioned to your wardrobe. "He brought me a dress, I've been working to get into it but."

"Been wor-" Bucky's frown somehow got deeper. "Why would he buy you a dress that doesn't fit you?"

Your mouth opened and closed but you didn't have an answer.

Bucky stomped over to the wardrobe and opened it. There was a dress resting against the door, it was enclosed in plastic so he had to unzip it. The dress was tiny. It was a little strappy thing with far too many holes. What were the holes supposed to- oh they were going to expose your sides and back.

"This i-" He turned to you. "You'd never wear this. It's not even your colour."

You couldn't agree more. "I know, it's been a little arguement between us." That was an understatement.

"I still don't understand why he brought you something that didn't fit." You shrugged but before you could respond he continued, "what's this?"

Your eyes flicked down to the pile he was caught on. "Oh, those ar- those are your hoodies."

Bucky gave you a confused face. "Bu- these are yours, angel."

You smiled sweetly at him. "Alex wasn'-"

"I don't care about him. He buys you shit that doesn't fit, he goes to parties without you, he isolates you from your friends." Bucky sat back on the bed but much closer, just by your hip. "Why are you with him?"

You didn't know. You liked him. You think you love him. But when you really think of it, you don't know. You're not any happier with him than if you weren't. Sometimes he says things and you feel fat in a bad way. You'd be the first to say you weren't thin but the way he says it makes you feel wrong. "He's the first guy to actually show an interest in me, I suppose at first I enjoyed it but when you say it like that."

"He is not the first guy to show you an interest." Bucky shook his head in disbelief. "You're gorgeous."

You rolled your eyes. "Thanks. But when I'm out with the gang I'm not really being looked at."

"You are." Bucky vowed. "I- people do look at you. I-I sometimes don't like the way they look at you and maybe I dance with you and maybe I take you on the Ferris wheel."

Why wouldn't he like the way they looked at you? Your brows pulled. "The way they look at me?"

"Like you're just a quick fuck." He instantly regretted that. "No, they look at you with lust but I know they would leave. They wouldn't treat you right. They wouldn't care for you." His eyes were bright and honest. He wasn't embarrassed by his confession.

You had nothing. No response. What could you say that wouldn't betray the crush? You didn't still like him, no, well ... When he looked at you like that...

"Come on." He clapped a hand on your knee. "Get changed let's get pizza." The look on your face must've shown your obvious debate. "I don't care if you don't fit into that dress, you look like you haven't eaten anything good in ages."

[kneelingshadowsalome]

this has been on my mind for a while, how would König react to a reader who was around when he was being bullied, not one of the bullies since I doubt he would forgive that even tho the sex would be nasty but like a girl who was on the side lines doing nothing and just hanging out with the bullies coming to him apologetically and wanting to make amends??

Oh what a delicious idea!

I meant to answer this with a quick reply but alas 🙄 this turned into a short drabble almost

She wasn’t one of the bullies, which means she’s not someone who König would want to actively terminate (I hc him in some of my darker fics as someone who may or may not have killed his childhood bullies... and/or his father, which means König can’t go back to Austria bc MEMORIES and also bc he has like a raging criminal record there). But she’s an onlooker, practically an enabler, and used to hang out with his bullies, oh dear. König wouldn’t be all too welcoming with her.

Chances are she was someone who König crushed on during school. Unattainable, he daydreamed about having her as his first girlfriend, but naturally that never happened... Now he’s suspicious to the point of being a little paranoid: he built a tough shell because of his past, so doe eyes and apologies won’t get you very far, even if König is intrigued. To be honest, his interest is piqued, but he won't let you see that in a million years.

Perhaps you reach out after a class meeting, some get together he never attended. You always wondered what happened to the cute, awkward nerd who sat behind you in class, the clumsy boy who talked of Rome, chivalry and knights while other boys wanted to be F1 drivers... Maybe you fantasized about asking him to help you with your history or math test, maybe you even blew him a kiss one time on dare to see if he'd walk straight into a wall (he did).

Maybe you dolled yourself up, just for him, excited to see König after over 10 years. To see if the awkward boy would still blush, to see what kind of man he has become... Chirp your regrets after a few blunts and some booze and see if he still fancied you.

But König never came. And of course he didn’t, that’s hardly a surprise. The regret within you builds until you bite the bullet and send a message to his old number, and after a few months, a reply finally arrives, but it’s not the most genial one.

König wants to meet you though… And the man, the thing he has become, makes it clear that he's not the shy awkward boy anymore.

You spend the whole evening trying to get over the sheer size of him, the lack of shaking hands, the distant cold stare with which he looks down at you. The fact that he works as a mercenary, that the boy who never hit anyone now kills people for money... The fact that he looks like someone who could wipe the floor with the young men you used to think were kinda cool.

König, however, is trying to decide what you want from him. Do you still think he’s a loser who never hit back because he wanted to be the better person? Do you think he’s a good for nothing man, even now, upon seeing that he finally succumbed to his hate?

Why do you even want to apologize after all these years?

Do you want an official pardon so that you can sleep your nights better? Or do you want to gawk at him because he chose to skip that stupid get together, perhaps gossip about him to the others and see if you could still find something to laugh at?

He’s the perfect gentleman during your “date”, offers to pay for the food and wishes you all the best. You can see the hurt in his eyes, of course – he wants to make you feel even worse about yourself by being such a good joe, so you break before him when he tries to leave, apologizing again, even crying in front of him.

“I just wanted to know if you’re happy,” you say. “I just hope that everything’s alright now…”

You lay your whole heart out in front of this man, but he's not the boy you used to know, not anymore.

He doesn’t tell you that he’s not happy; he never was. Neither does he heed the wishes of his darker self, wanting to tell you that he’d be happy for a while if you blew him in the restroom. He’s fucking better than that.

“We were just kids,” he says instead.

And that’s it: that’s the apology. But you can’t let him go, and neither can he, not when you humbly decided to come and rip all his wounds open.

Cue to a few months from the first date, you’re neck deep in love with him while König tells himself he’s only having fun. You could say he’s using you for sex; yes, he’s just dating this chick from high school... You’re just someone he comes to fuck and cuddle during leaves. It's nothing serious, no. He can do without serious for a while.

And he’s not going to fall for your charms, no matter how sweet, authentic and loving you are... You make yourself so fucking easy to love, but he's not going to fall for that. Any other woman he'd worship, but not you.

Not you.

Not you…

[umnitsa]

Dark Room

Summary: There's a dark room somewhere in the QZ, where people desperate for some human contact meet each other for some anonymous sex. The Miller Brothers decide to enjoy it, to your pleasure.

A/N: This is just porn. Absolute, shameless porn, I hope you enjoy it. Well, I enjoyed writing this so much I'll probably write more parts. <3 Banner from @cafekitsune

Written with unholy eagerness and no proofreading!

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader x Tommy Miller

CW: Sex, piv, anal fingering, no condoms (this is a loving fantasy and I didn't want to write them, but hey, please do not do that!)

“I can’t believe I’m letting ya drag me into this.” Joel muttered under his breath, his hands on his pockets.

“It’s a good way to blow up steam, and I know you feel weird about paying for sex.” Tommy shrugged, bumping his shoulder against Joel. “It’s a dark room. People go in and fuck in the dark, that’s it. I prefer that to glory holes, it’s less awkward.”

“I can’t believe ya…”

“Don’t be a prude.” Tommy interrupted, chuckling. “We’re healthy men in the fucking apocalypse. There are girls inside there, and they want sex as much as I do, why shouldn’t I take advantage of the situation? Give them what they want, and have my fill?”

Joel shook his head, chuckling low. Tommy was right, it wasn’t a bad idea. No fuss, no mess, no names. Just an encounter in the dark, and some relief between adults. Joel found himself hoping to at least get a good blowjob from this.

Tommy guided him through the dark streets, and into a building.

The hidden speakeasy had low lights, a soft music coming from a corridor, blocked by a dark fabric. Tommy greeted the bartender, exchanged a few words.

“It’s in there.” Tommy pointed at the fabric. “My friend told me it’s slow today, but there should be someone inside.”

Joel nodded, awkwardly. Tommy placed a glass of some indistinctive alcohol, and Joel downed it quickly. He wanted this to be over.

“What if I don’t want it?” Joel asked, shifting on his feet.

“Just step away and leave the room.” Tommy said, matter of fact, placing a second glass in front of Joel. “Wait me here.”

“Ya so sure ya’ll get some.” Joel chuckled, drinking the second shot, shaking his head.

“I’m just not afraid of admittin’ I’m horny, desperate and I just can’t stand my dear hand anymore.” Tommy shrugged, drinking from his glass. “C’mon.”

The sudden shift of luminosity blinded Joel for a second, making him blink and grab Tommy’s arm. As he adjusted to the darkness, he realized the room wasn’t that big, long benches against two walls. The music was a bit louder inside the room, just enough to discourage conversation. The slick sounds of a blowjob came from somewhere to the left of Tommy, making Joel suddenly interested in the proceedings. Tommy moved straight to the shadow standing alone in the corner, Joel in tow.

You smiled, as they entered; the flash of light as their entered giving you a glimpse of their faces. Your friend caught the first person that came in, with your blessings. You didn’t feel anything when he came in, but now, those two? You want them.

You felt a hand on your hip, and the first one leaned, until his lips were over your ear.

“I’m Tommy, this is Joel.” His voice was soft, gentle. You shivered, as he brushed his lips against your ear. “Just so you know what to scream.” Tommy’s hand slid down your arm, holding your hand gently. He placed your hand on his chest, the flannel soft under your fingertips. He dragged your hand down, until your fingers hooked on his pants.

Joel shifted, awkwardly; you extended your hand in the dark, landing your palm on a large, bulky chest. You moved your fingers, sneaking them between the buttons, just to find an undershirt.

You grabbed their shirts, tugging on them until the men were side by side, twin shadows standing over you. Kneeling, you nuzzled Tommy’s legs, as he opened his pants, fast. Your mouth descended on him, one hand on his thigh.

Tommy’s fingers combed your hair, gently, until he cupped the back of your head. He stayed still, scratching your scalp as you started to suck. You were able to hear his moan under the music, as your tongue slid around the head.

“So good.” Tommy shuddered, grabbing Joel’s shoulder, his knees suddenly weak from your suckling.

Your hand slid over Joel’s thigh in the darkness; he tensed, as you rubbed higher, along his cock, feeling it harden fast under your hand.

The music was loud, but not too loud; the slurping sounds of your eager mouth were audible, if they focused enough. Your free hand insistently rubbed Joel through his pants, your fingertips tracing the head resting on his hip. You grabbed him tightly and moaned, which made Tommy grab your hair and thrust slightly forward.

“Jesus, woman.” Joel muttered under his breath, opening his pants quickly. He wrapped your fingers around his thick cock, squeezing over your hand with his massive one. “Goddamn.”

Tommy chuckled, and pulled from your mouth. He leaned and patted your cheek ever so gently, holding one of your wrists with one hand.

“Go on, babe, give my brother here a little sugar.” He wrapped your fingers around his cock and thrusted gently, your saliva serving as lube.

Joel bucked into your mouth the moment he felt your tongue against his cock.

“Fuck.” Joel exhaled as you moved your lips and tongue around the head, suckling. His big hand cradled your face, his fingertips caressing under your jaw.

You moaned, his hips jolted forward.

Tommy released your hand and crouched beside you.

“Ass up, babe. I wanna taste you. Keep your mouth on him.” His soft voice echoed close to your ear. You whimpered softly, unfolding your legs and trying to stand up. Tommy tugged on your skirt, making a happy sound when he realized you were not wearing panties.

Joel’s hands moved, keeping you steady as you stood up, your lips around his cock. You grabbed his hips; he leaned, cupping one of your breasts, as he cupped the back of your head.

Tommy pushed his face against your pussy, from behind. He grunted softly as he felt your wetness against his face, nuzzling until his lips brushed against your clit.

He mumbled softly, his lips brushing against your folds; you felt yourself getting wetter and wetter, gushing against Tommy’s lips. Joel tugged on your hair, turning your face up. Joel kissed you, intensely, slowly, his hands sliding against you, bringing your hands to hold his cock, while Tommy pressed his face into you, suckling on your clit eagerly.

Tommy’s thick fingers slid into you, making you moan against Joel’s mouth. The fingers, wet, moved to rub circles over your asshole. His fingers pushed into your ass, you could feel Tommy spitting into your hole, two fingers gently splitting you open. You whined, Tommy’s thumb sliding over your clit.

Joel moved to speak into your ear, his soft beard scratching against your cheek. You whimpered softly against his cheek, close to his left ear.

“Tell me, what is he doin’?” Joel asked, nibbling on your ear, both your hands on Joel’s cock.

“His fingers…” You whined, tightening your fingers around Joel’s cock. “He’s fingerfucking my ass.”

“…and you’re enjoyin’ yourself. Dirty little thing.” Joel kissed your cheek, then slid his lips over yours. “Do ya wanna take us both at the same time?”

You whined, Joel’s low voice vibrating through you. Tommy sensed your spasming and suckled on your clit, pulling your orgasm from you, making your whole body shake.

“Shhh, babe.” Tommy muttered against your cunt, feeling your strength melt from your body, your legs weakening, fast. “Look at that.” Tommy pushed his tongue against your pussy, moaning as your muscles spasmed, in the last waves of your orgasm. “She’s gonna need to sit, Joel.”

Joel chuckles, low, hugging your body against his, giving you support as Tommy stands up. For a moment, the three of you stand still considering the next step. You heard Joel’s breathing deeply, his arms around you.

You guided them both to the bench, unwilling to let go just yet. Tommy grunted, as he bumped his knee. You giggled, placing his hand on your hip, so he could feel you bending forward, one knee on the bench. You pushed Joel to sit in front of you, balancing yourself on your forearms, crawling over him, until you felt his cock, warm and moist, against your cheek.

With one swift movement, you sucked him into your mouth, as far as you can, pushing your hips high, against Tommy’s hands. He quickly understood your silent begging, the head of his cock notching into your hole. He pushed in slowly, grabbing your hips, squeezing your flesh, a string of curses coming from his lips. You whimpered, pushing back, as he picked up speed. His fingertips teased your asshole.

“Wish I had some lube, so I could fuck your slutty ass.” Tommy whispered in your ear, making you squeeze him. “Fuck, you’re dirty, babe. I wanna come down your throat.”

You nod, pulling Joel from your mouth and kissing him gently before standing. Joel’s hands caressed your body as you turned your back to him, pushing Tommy to sit.

You felt Joel’s fingers sliding between your folds, slowly, exploring. You felt like he was mapping you with his fingers, and it made you shiver, eyes rolling back. Tommy held your head and thrusted forward, his cock almost too much; it felt as if he was teasing your gag reflex. It felt surprisingly good, you could only whine. Tommy’s cock spasmed between your lips, his hips thrusting unevenly. He was close.

Joel rubbed lazy circles over your clit; your legs were so tense you trembled under his touch. Tommy tugged on your hair, trying to signal he was going to come, giving you space if you wanted to pull back. You were so lost in lust you just wanted to drink him; so you sucked. He spilled into your mouth, with a shuddering moan that vibrated through his body.

“Fuck.” Tommy muttered, breathless, sitting in front of you. He adjusted himself into his pants, quickly, then touched your hands, caressing up your arms, until his hands were back on your hair. He leaned, so you could hear him. “Good girl… So good to me.”

You nuzzled him, moaning softly, until you felt Joel’s arm wrapping around your waist, propping you up. You felt his cock lining up, then pushing steadily into you. Tommy licked your neck, his fingers on your nipples.

“Not gonna last, honey… ‘m sorry.” Joel growled, deep hard thrusts slamming his hips against your ass. He thrusted just right, hammering that spot that made you explode. You felt an exquisite agony, and then fire shot through your body, splashing against his thighs, drenching his jeans. “Jesus, woman…” Joel repeated himself, in awe, then pushed himself from you, his cock pulsing, come falling on the floor between his feet.

You crashed into Tommy, your legs weak. He chuckled, adjusting your skirt, then hugged you tight against his chest. You closed your eyes, sighing.

“Thank you, babe.” Tommy said, against your forehead, caressing your body. His big, large hands rubbed and squeezed, heavy and soothing. “Haven’t felt this good in a while.”

“We should keep her.” Joel said, just loudly enough to be heard, after he sat beside Tommy, his hands caressing your ankles.

“See? He likes you and he doesn’t like anybody.” Tommy chuckled in your ear, as Joel’s hands rubbed and squeezed your legs, massaging you.

“I don’t know.” Reality came crashing over you. Just strangers in a dark room, who shared a moment of anonymous pleasure. Even if they introduced themselves.

“Imagine what we can do with some more time, some privacy and more comfort.” Tommy tempted you, his voice sweet. He kissed your lips, holding your chin, a lazy, sensual, slow kiss.

“I will.” You started to stand up, trying to distance yourself from the attraction you already felt for them both; good orgasms tended to do that to people, and you just had a couple of great ones. Of course you wanted more. You wanted to see them, and hear them clearly. But you couldn’t deal with the complications. You just wanted the relief.

Joel seemed to be accustomed to the dark; he stood up with you, his hands moving up your body, until he wrapped his arm around your waist. He kissed you too, deeply, his dominance making you whimper.

“Can we meet here again?” Joel asked directly, his grave voice making you tremble. “I would come back for you. We would.”

“Same day next week.” You said into his ear, unsure if you are even going to come back. Something deep inside you wanted the chance to find them again, though, and you just couldn’t help yourself.

“Lookin’ forward to it.” Joel kissed your neck and released you. You could see your friend was still busy, so you just ran out of the room, towards the bathroom, to wait for her.

Part of you hoped they were too disoriented with afterglow to see you through the flash of light as you pulled the fabric, deep down, you wanted them to find you somehow.

You decided it would be worse if you waited in the bathroom, you could find a dark corner. Your paranoia was spoiling your afterglow and you really deserved some pleasure in this fucked up life.

You cleaned yourself quickly, going back to the bar. You were lucky to get the perfect table. Your curiosity kept your eyes at the entrance of the dark room, in hopes they hadn’t already left. You couldn’t deny your curiosity.

It didn’t take long for them to emerge together. Joel was the bearded one, older, rugged. He had an impressive profile and a perpetual scowl, that made his lips look pouty. His hair, salt and pepper, sticked everywhere. Tommy was younger, his hair darker, slicked back. He looked like an angel, brown, expressive eyes and thick lips. They really looked like brothers.

Both gorgeous.

You felt an irresistible pull towards them, consequences be damned.

They moved slowly, wide steps, relaxed only in the way someone well fucked can look.

You knew right there you would come back for them.

[writingwithciara]

Love Or Something Like It ~Quinn Hughes~

summary: quinn's girlfriend sucks but y/n's boyfriend is the best

word count: 3.2k

pairing: quinn hughes x roommate!reader, brief elias pettersson x reader

notes: another quinn x roommate fic. not set in the same universe as the last one. italics are the past. was supposed to post this on valentines day but did not have access to my laptop

masterlist

quinn and y/n were best friends. had been since they were younger. after she finished her schooling at the university of michigan, she followed quinn to vancouver, per his request.

he needed her nearby and somehow, knowing his best friend was there, made him play so much better.

although they hadn't seen each other in person for months, everything easily went back to normal. it was as if the distance was never a problem.

things were easy, until they weren't.

quinn had gotten himself a girlfriend the third month y/n had been living with him. rebecca was only nice to y/n when they were with other people but when they were alone, she would get angry and threaten y/n with anything she could think of.

it was very clear she was jealous. but why did she have to be? y/n wasn't as pretty as rebecca, a fact that she pointed out whenever they were alone, and she didn't want to be with quinn. she had her own boyfriend back in michigan. one she loved with her whole heart, despite all the red flags he gave off.

it hurt quinn to think that y/n wasn't being treated the way she deserved. he knew he had to do something to fix it. and since valentines day was coming up, he thought it'd be perfect to set y/n up on a blind date & rebecca agreed, offering up tons of suggestions. but quinn already had the perfect person in mind.

so, on valentine's day of 2023, y/n was sitting in a fancy restaurant with quinn and rebecca while they waited for the mystery man to show up.

"hey. sorry i'm late."

y/n looked up when she heard the voice. she had heard it many times before at canucks events. elias pettersson stood before her. his bright blue eyes staring back at her with a smile that didn't seem to want to leave his face.

"no worries." y/n smiled up at him as he took the seat across from her. she may have had a boyfriend but in the moment, her only though was how good elias looked tonight.

as they ate, y/n & elias got lost in their own little world. quinn tried not to notice it but the more she laughed, the more distracted quinn got. he didn't think he was jealous until later that night when rebecca brought it up.

"if you're so into her, why did you set her up with your teammate? better yet, why are you dating me?"

"becca, please can we not do this right now?"

"why not, quinn? it's the perfect time to address these feelings. i've been holding mine in since we met. every time you brought her up in conversations, it made me feel small. you're my boyfriend. you're supposed to love me, not her."

"my love for you is completely different than my love for her."

"so you admit that you love her?"

"of course i do. she's been my best friend since we were 8 years old. i've got nothing but love for her." quinn took a step closer to his girlfriend. "but i'm not in love with her. that's the difference here."

"are you trying to convince me or yourself?" rebecca grabbed her bag and walked to the door. "call me when you get it right, hughes."

and just like that, rebecca was gone.

quinn had tried multiple times to call her and tell her he only wanted to be with her, but only received her voicemail each time.

over the next few weeks, y/n spent more and more time with elias. she was almost never home anymore and quinn was alone 90% of the time. he would drive to practice alone and he would watch as y/n slowly transitioned herself from a hughes fan to a pettersson fan.

she started wearing elias' jersey instead of quinn's and it created an unfamiliar pain in his chest the more it became evident.

when y/n found out her boyfriend had cheated on her, she didn't run to quinn. she ran straight to elias instead, breaking quinn's heart.

he realized that the unfamiliar sting in his chest was jealousy. quinn didn't want to see y/n with anyone but himself but unfortunately for him, he was a little late to the realization.

one night while quinn was at home, y/n was over at elias' place. she came home with a big smile on her face that night & quinn knew why, but he asked anyway.

"what's got you so smiley tonight?"

"elias made me dinner and asked me to be his girlfriend."

and there was that stinging feeling right where it didn't need to be. only it was 10 times worse this time. he was hopelessly in love with her & had no idea how to deal with it.

it wasn't until the beginning of february 2024 that quinn had hope again.

he and y/n were washing the dishes together when she rubbed her eye with her forearm. some of the suds came off on her cheek and as quinn went to wipe them away, her breath hitched and her cheeks were turning red.

"here, let me get that for you." he wiped the suds away and smiled. "there, all gone."

"gee, thanks quinn." y/n flicked some water at him, causing the soap suds to go everywhere. the look in quinn's eyes was enough of a warning for her. she took off out of the kitchen and into the hallway.

"you've got nowhere to run now, y/n." quinn smirked evilly, moving closer to y/n until her back was pressed against the wall. y/n swallowed the lump in her throat before looking at his lips. this only caused quinn to lean down and whisper in her ear. "gotcha." he wiped the suds on her face and smiled. when he looked down at her, she was staring at his lips. "what's on your mind?" he teased.

"n-nothing." she quickly looked away and moved away from the wall. she headed back into the kitchen to finish the dishes. quinn took a moment by himself before joining her.

"so, valentines day is coming up in a few days. you and elias have anything huge planned?"

"he won't tell me." y/n washed the last plate and handed it to quinn. he dried it and put it in it's place before turning back to y/n.

"does he know you hate surprises?"

"i don't hate them, quinn." y/n shook her head.

"you don't like secrets and those are practically the same thing."

"i guess so." y/n turned to quinn. "but elias has been off lately. did anything happen at practice?"

"no. why?"

"i don't know why he's acting this way."

"what way?"

"dodgy? i think that's the word to describe it." y/n sighed. "he's not seeing someone else...is he?" the sadness in y/n's voice made quinn's heart break.

"no. of course not. elias is a good guy. you just gotta talk to him and see what's going on."

"i'll try." y/n walked to her bedroom but before she entered, she turned to quinn. "hey. are you still dating rebecca?"

"no. she, um, broke up with me. almost a year ago."

"good." she looked up at him and backtracked her comment. "i mean, not good as in it's good she broke up with you. i meant good as in it's good that she's gone. she was terrible."

"yeah she really was. and i'm sorry again for what she did and said to you."

"it's not your fault, quinn."

"it kind of is. if i hadn't been dating her to cover up the fact that i was jealous- nevermind." he caught himself before he revealed too much.

"jealous of what? you can't just leave the comment there. who were you jealous of?"

"nobody. just forget i said anything." quinn smiled at his roommate. "good night."

y/n stood in her doorway with a puzzled look on her face. why did every guy in her life have to keep a secret from her.

y/n shook her head and went into her own room. she called jack because he was the only she knew who wouldn't keep a secret from her.

"hey. what's up y/n?"

"jack, i need some information and i know you'll give it to me because you are the only one i know who never hides things from me."

"well, i can definitely give you information. but it also depends on what it is. i might not know what you're asking about."

"fair point. but it's about quinn and i know you know all about your brother."

"yeah i do. what's the information you need?"

"5 minutes ago, he said he was only dating rebecca because he was jealous but he wouldn't tell me why he was jealous or what he was jealous of."

"he's jealous of you and elias." jack responded with no hesitation, causing y/n to gasp a little louder than expected.

"but he was dating rebecca before i started dating elias. how could he be jealous?"

"maybe jealous wasn't the word he meant to use. he probably was trying to say he was only dating her because he was trying to get over how he felt about you." jack thought for a second. "or maybe he was jealous of you and that michigan douchebag you were dating when you moved to vancouver."

"that's a little more logical. but he doesn't love me, jack. and even if he did, it wouldn't matter. i'm dating elias and i love him. not quinn."

unbeknownst to y/n, quinn had come out of his room and had heard her say she didn't love him. the last few pieces of his heart shattered and he suddenly couldn't breath.

before he made any noise, he made his way back to his room, collapsing against the door. why did he have to love his best friend? his very not single best friend.

for the next 2 days, quinn would avoid y/n at all costs. he would wake up super early and leave the apartment before he saw her & he wouldn't even acknowledge her at practice or at games.

it was breaking her heart but it wasn't known why it was affecting her so badly.

on valentines day, elias had set up a romantic picnic for her in his backyard. she appreciated it but her mind was stuck on the way quinn was treating her lately. and elias wasn't blind or stupid. he could tell she was hurting.

"hey, love. are you alright?"

"i'm fine." y/n smiled and sipped her champagne. "why do you ask?"

"because i know you're not fine. i can see the far away look you have in your eye. you're deep in thought about something and i can tell it's hurting you. and i love you so please tell me what's going on with you. i just want to make you feel better."

"quinn has been my best friend forever but this past year alone, i've been feeling him pulling away and i don't know why." she sighed. "do you think he's tired of having me in his life?"

"what? no that's impossible. who could get tired of having you in their life? and quinn is the very last person who would want to do that to you. he cares about you, a lot."

"i know that's how it's supposed to feel but lately, things have been different. if he cared about me at all, he wouldn't be avoiding me whenever he had the opportunity to do it."

it was elias' turn to sigh. "it's because he's finally realizing he's in love with you. he has been for a while."

"no he hasn't. why does everyone keep saying that?"

"because it's true." elias took his girlfriends hand and smiled. "and i don't blame him. you make everyone fall in love with you like it's the easiest thing to do. and you don't even know the effect you have on us. you should've heard the way quinn talked about you the night he asked me to take you out on that date for valentines day. i already knew you and i had already said yes but he kept saying all these really nice things about you. things a best friend wouldn't say. i'm telling you, y/n. quinn is in love with you." elias sighed. "and i think you love him too."

"well, of course i do. he's my best friend." y/n smiled. "but that doesn't matter. i love you, elias. and that should be what matters here."

"i love you enough to know that being with quinn is what you need." by now, it was obvious they both had tears in their eyes.

"why do you have to be the sweetest human being on this planet?"

"well, i am swedish." he smiled and held her close. "you're always going to be the best girlfriend i've ever had. and not just because you're the only one i've had. you're always going to hold the crown."

"so does this mean we're breaking up?"

"yes. but i still love you. always will." he held her hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. "now, let's get you home so you can tell quinn."

back at the apartment, quinn was trying to put something together to express every emotion he was feeling. after he had everything put together, there was a knock on the door.

he opened it and rebecca walked in. she looked around the apartment then back at quinn.

"well this isn't what i was expecting when i came here." she smiled. "but it's thoughtful, quinn. can't believe you went through all of this for me."

"actually, i-" he didn't have time to tell her it was for y/n before rebecca was pulling him in for a kiss.

"seriously?" y/n was standing in the doorway, watching the whole thing unfold. rebecca pulled away from quinn rather harshly at the sound of y/n's voice.

"y/n, this isn't-"

"i'm ruining a romantic moment. i'm sorry. i'll leave."

"you're right. you are and you should. bye." rebecca waved and y/n turned to walk back out.

"no, y/n wait!" quinn called out to her then turned to rebecca. "you need to go."

"what are you talking about?"

"this wasn't for you, rebecca. it would've been if you hadn't broken up with me a year ago. but it's not now."

"then who's it for?" rebecca searched quinn's face for a sign before her eyes landed on y/n, who was halfway out the door. "seriously? for her? thought you said you weren't in love with her."

"yeah well maybe i am now!"

y/n stopped in her tracks and turned back around.

"what?" y/n and rebecca responded.

"yeah. and maybe i always have been. it may have been a subconscious act and maybe that's why i always needed her to be close by. we can't help who we love and you can't be mad at y/n for the way that i feel. she did nothing wrong."

"she's done nothing but come between us since the moment we started dating, quinn."

"just leave, rebecca."

"no. i think i'll go. elias is waiting for me downstairs anyway." y/n turned around and walked out of he building. she got halfway down the street before it started raining.

a car sped past her and she knew it was rebecca just by the way the car aggressively sped through a puddle and nearly splashed her.

"oh tonight could not get any worse!" she shouted in frustration, kicking at a rock in her path.

"y/n, wait!" quinn shouted as he ran up to her.

"quinn, i'm not really in the mood to talk right now."

"then just listen to me. i'll do all the talking."

"fine. but can we go home? i'm freezing."

"of course." they both stayed silent as they headed back to their apartment. quinn wanted to say everything he was feeling but he wanted to wait until y/n was in a better mood. he knew she hated wet clothes so as soon as they walked through the door, he was rushing to his room to get her a tshirt and a pair of sweatpants. she accepted them without a word and went to the bathroom to change.

when she came out, the smell of hot chocolate filled her nostrils and it brought her a sense of joy. only quinn would be this thoughtful when she was mad at him.

she walked into the living room and sat down, silently taking the mug quinn offered her. she took a sip and smiled. that's when quinn knew he was doing good.

"okay. i'm ready to listen." y/n held the mug close and looked at him. his hair was still wet from the rain and she suddenly found herself wanting to run her fingers through the mess.

"okay. um, first off, rebecca and i are most definitely not together. just want to clarify that. and all of this," he glanced up at y/n & gestured around the apartment. "i set it all up for you. i know you're dating elias and you probably got something super romantic for valentines day but i wanted to do something for you too, even if it's only platonic between us. and im fine with that because you're my best friend and im sorry for rebecca and im sorry for ignoring you. it was a bad move on my part. but i heard you talking to jack the other night and you told him you didn't love me so i figured you'd want some space."

"elias and i broke up." y/n set her mug on the coffee table and stared down at her hands. "but it's okay. he's still a really good friend and that makes me happy."

"why'd you guys break up?"

"he could tell i was hurting and he kinda figured out how i feel about you."

"and how's that?"

"i didn't think i loved you until he pointed it out. but now it all makes sense. i was so eager to leave my life in michigan just to move out here to be closer to you & now i know why. i also know why it was weird seeing you with rebecca. it felt unnatural because deep down, i knew you and i were supposed to be together. we've been together our whole lives but never in a million years did i think there was a reason we were so attached to each other." y/n glanced over to find quinn staring at her already. "i do love you, quinn. and i know you love me too."

"i do. i definitely do." he smiled and moved closer. "i always will. and i'm willing to wait for you, however long it takes."

"you're perfect, quinn. i love you so much." she moved forward and threw her arms around him. he held her close and pulled her sideways onto his lap to make her more comfortable. "how about we go on a real date next saturday?"

"that sounds perfect." he looked at her and it took all of his willpower to not kiss her. she didn't care. her hands went to his cheeks and her lips attached to his.

it was a perfect moment for the both of them and neither of them cared about the world around them. as far as they were concerned, it was just the two of them for the rest of their lives.

taglist: @worldlxvlys @fearfam69691