#there's nothing left to say i just got a flash of familiarity

[grimm-writings]

Hang on.

[dazzlingjaeyun]

𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐝𝐬 - 𝐬𝐢𝐦 𝐣𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐮𝐧

boxer!jake x nurse fem!reader

୨୧ genre: exes to ??, mostly angst, a little fluff | words: 5.3k | cw: mentions of bruises, blood, heavy injuries and surgery, probably poor medical references (pls bear with me) ୨୧

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"can we get a nurse to the ER immediately, please?" you heard the charge nurse's firm demand through your communication device. you exchanged a quick glance with your colleague, and with a slight nod, she indicated she could handle the task alone. without hesitation, you used your pager to notify the ER that you were on your way, then dashed through the hallway and down the stairs to reach the emergency department.

"sorry, we're completely short-staffed," the charge nurse murmured in apology, ushering you toward a room. "male patient, twenties, just some bad bruises – likely needs stitches. we just got a family from a car crash, and we can’t tend to him right now."

with that, she left you at the door and hurried down the hall toward another room.

you pushed open the door, heading straight to the sanitizer dispenser. you rubbed it into your hands, then pulled on a pair of gloves from the box beside it, and added another layer of sanitizer.

"hello, my name is–"

the words caught in your throat as you turned around. the sharp scent of sanitizer seemed to sting your nose, burning your airways and stealing the breath from your lungs.

you froze, staring straight into a pair of familiar brown eyes – eyes you had learned to both love and hate. once filled with warmth, they now held an icy coldness, mixed with a flicker of surprise at the sight of you. just like you, he was sure you'd never meet again.

"y/n," he finished your sentence.

your throat tightened as your name rolled off his lips. you gulped down the lump in your throat as if you could swallow the whirlwind of feelings right down with it. you shook your head slightly, trying your best to focus on the situation at hand and staying professional.

"yes. i'll be your nurse today," you finished the rehearsed introduction you'd used at least a thousand of times during your two years at the hospital.

with another shaky breath, you slowly stepped closer to where he was sitting, waiting for any type of response from him but there was none.

"can you take off your hood, please?" you asked in the most professional tone you could muster. you nodded slightly when he pulled down his hood and leaned a little closer to examine his face. a pang of hurt rushed through you seeing him in the exact state you'd found him in many times before.

you were sitting on the sofa in the tiny apartment you shared with jake, your knees bent and pulled to your body as if that state could hold together the feelings that dared to overflow. you checked your phone again and again. nothing. as your head started to spin, wondering if tonight would be the night that he wouldn't come home, the sudden creak of the front door finally pulled you out of your daze, and you immediately shot to your feet, rushing toward the door. jake stumbled inside, his gaze on the floor and his hood hiding what you expected to be another field of bruises. "jake..." you whispered, your voice trailing off in a lack of things to say. you carefully took his shaking hand in yours and guided him to the bathroom, where you gently pressed down on his shoulders to make him sit on the edge of the bathtub. "i'm fine," he tried to reassure you the way he always did when he looked anything but fine. you stayed silent as you started cleaning up his bruises. the only sound breaking the silence was jake's occassional hiss when he clenched his fists as the antiseptical burned on his wounded skin. "you don't have to–", the words stuck in his throat with another sharp intake of breath as you cleaned up his bleeding lips with a cotton swap. "i can take care of it," he mumbled, and although he avoided your eyes, you could see a hint of regret flashing through his. "if you took care of yourself, you wouldn't keep coming home like this in the first place," you replied, your voice laced with a mixture of anger and frustration. you threw away the tissues and cotton swabs he'd bled through and faced him again to apply ointment to his bruises and patch them up if necessary. "what if one day you come home and i can't fix it, jake?" you asked, your voice barely louder than a whisper. for a second, you stopped your movements, just standing in between his legs and looking at his battered face. "what if one day you don't even come ho–" "shh," his whisper interrupted you, "that won't happen, baby." jake raised his hands and brought them to your hips, pulling you a little closer to him. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and just held him close until your thoughts quieted down. for tonight, he was safe, you thought. you let go of him and took a step back, gently running your hand through his silky hair and examining his face one last time. then, you reached for the chapstick that you kept on the sink, gently applied it to the ripped skin on his lips, and softly brushed your lips against his. after you pulled away from his lips, you cupped his chin between your thumb and index finger and leaned down to press a gentle kiss on each of his bruises. "you need to stop this, jake," you whispered later when the two of you had gone to bed and he was holding you tightly although every muscle in his body hurt. he couldn't not have you close to him.

"you won't ask what happened?" he suddenly spoke up, breaking your thoughts and pulling you back to reality.

for a second, you tensed again. then, you sighed almost inaudibly, lingering by his face for another second before taking a sudden step backwards and turned around to gather all the things you'd need to treat him. you could practically feel the intensity of his gaze, although you had your back to him.

you turned back around, your face as nonchalant as you could manage as you shook your head.

"i don't care what happened," you replied shortly.

his lips twitched into something resembling a smirk, though it was faint and visibly pained him. “still bossy,” he said under his breath.

you clenched your jaw at his remark, but sat down in front of him and ran your hand through his hair in the gentlest way possible to get his bangs out of his face.

"and you're still reckless. now, hold still," you ordered.

for a while, the room was silent except for the occasional sharp intake of breath as you cleaned his cuts. you tried to focus on the task, but you couldn’t ignore the feeling of his heavy gaze on you.

"this one needs stitches," you said, tapping carefully on the skin next to one particularly deep bruise on his cheek, "it might hurt a litte."

as you began stitching the bruise, his hand moved slowly, almost tentatively, to brush against your wrist. the touch was light, but it still sent a shiver through you. you glanced up sharply, but before you could say anything, he caught your hand.

“jaeyun,” you said, a warning tone in your voice, but he didn’t let go. instead, he brushed his thumb across your knuckles. then, in a gesture so achingly familiar it nearly shattered the walls you’d built around yourself, he pressed a gentle kiss there.

your breath hitched. “what do you think you're doing?” you asked, your voice so barely audible that you hated how vulnerable you sounded.

his eyes met yours, and for the first time since you'd stepped into the room, they softened just a little. “trying to remember what it felt like,” he said, his voice low and hoarse, “to have someone who cares.”

the words hit you like a punch to the gut. you pulled your hand back, your heart racing, but despite everything, you mustered the courage to reply. “i don't care. this is my job, not…” you trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

you wordlessly finished stitching up his wound, grabbed his chin in between your thumb and index finger like you'd done countless of times before and turned his head to both sides so you could examine his face.

your eyes trailed to the bruise marring his lips. they were as plump as you remembered, but the familiar softness was gone. they looked slightly rougher now – chapped and marked with faint remnants of past bruises.

you reached for a clean cotton swab, dipping it gently into the antiseptic. his gaze stayed fixed on you, the weight of it almost making your hands falter. carefully, you dabbed at the bruise on his lips, the antiseptic gliding over it. his lips parted slightly at the touch.

the bruises on his lips were always the hardest to see. he was already struggling with sores from time to time, and every other day, a new bruise was added to what had become a painful collection. but jake loved to kiss you. your lips, your cheeks, your knuckles, your forehead, the tip of your nose – he'd kiss you everywhere, again and again, no matter how much it pained him. only once had he not been able to kiss you. and, of course, it had to be your anniversary. he had promised you to not go that day – had promised you to be home for dinner that you'd prepared so lovingly, cooking all his favorite dishes and even bringing out the nice plates his parents had gifted you when you'd first moved in together. the ones you usually only used for guests. but as time passed, and the blue sky outside your kitchen window slowly turned to black, you knew he wouldn't be home before midnight. you tried to be angry, really, but you couldn't stop the waves of worries from washing over you again and again. with shaking hands, you grabbed your phone to call him, certain he wouldn't answer. but after only two rings, you heard his voice. "babe? i'm on my way, i–" "are you okay?" you interrupted, your voice trembling slightly. just hearing him eased the twist in your stomach, but not fully. jake swallowed hard on the other end, the lump in his throat making it hard to speak. "i'm sorry," he replied after a while. "i know i promised." he sounded guilty. "you did," you replied quietly. "please... just come home." the line went silent except for the sound of jake's breathing, and you knew he was searching for the right things to say, but you still hung up. the dinner you'd put so much effort into had long gone cold, yet you couldn't get yourself to empty the table. you waited silently, eyes fixed on the clock on the wall, until the door clicked and jake's footsteps echoed through the hall. "princess?" jake's familiar voice called, a little unsure but loud enough to hear. he kicked off his shoes and rushed to the kitchen where you were sitting in your chair. you looked at him, your heart aching at how tired his eyes looked – at how his face was covered in fresh bruises; one on his jaw, one right below his temple, and a fresh one on his bottom lip. your eyes filled with tears that you quickly blinked away. he didn't say anything as he stepped closer, pulled you to your feet and embraced you in a tight hug, although it made him flinch. you buried your face in his chest, inhaling his scent as you tightened your arms around him. “i’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair, “i should’ve been here. i shouldn’t have–” you pulled away and looked up at him. jake hesitated, his eyes scanning your face. then, he leaned down and kissed your forehead. it hurt him – you could see in the way his jaw tightened and feel it in the way he pulled back immediately. "i'm sorry."

jake's sudden hiss broke the silence another time. "ah– y/n–"

you quickly pulled back the cotton swab from his lips, only realizing then that you had kept it on his wound while deep in thoughts yet again.

"sorry," you mumbled, blinking quickly as if that could erase the image your mind had just replayed, "did it sting?" your eyes flicked up to his.

"a little," he admitted, his voice low.

you pressed your lips together, focusing on your task as you cleaned away the faint streaks of dried blood and dirt clinging to the cracks. for a moment, your thumb brushed the edge of his jaw, steadying his face as you worked.

your hands were itching to pull out the chapstick you kept in the pocket of your coat and soothe his lips with it like you always used to do after cleaning up yet another bruise.

"you used to just kiss them better," he mumbled, more to himself than to you, but his words still made you freeze for a second.

"are you hurt anywhere else?" you asked, avoiding his eyes as you took one of his hands in yours and silently cleaned his bleeding knuckles.

his eyes traced down from your face to his hand in yours, slightly bigger, probably a lot rougher. it reminded him of how you'd often cleaned the blood off of his knuckles before, but also of how you'd loved to play with his hands when you were cuddled up against each other on the sofa or in bed. or how you'd always let him take the leftover lotion from your hands whenever you'd applied too much again. he was sure your hands were just as soft as he remembered them underneath the thin plastic gloves.

"jake?", you asked again, reminding him of the previous question he'd left unanswered.

he hesitated for a second, before slowly pulling his hand out of your hold, internally forwning at the loss of your touch, and reaching for the hem of the shirt he wore underneath the zip hoodie.

he slowly pulled it up until you could see a dark red bruise blooming on his ribcage. you winced slightly at the sight but still leaned in a little closer to get a better look, bringing two fingers up to the bruise and carefully letting them ghost over his skin.

"there's not much you can do for a hematoma. ice packs and... rest," you said, your eyes flicking up to his at your last word. jake lowered his shirt again and just nodded wordlessly.

for a moment, neither of you spoke. you just stood in front of him, not close enough for your legs to brush against his knees but not far enough to feel entirely out of his reach. his eyes met yours and for the first time since you'd seen him sitting in the ER, you didn't look away.

secretly, you hoped he'd see the hurt somewhere in your eyes. that he'd somehow understand how badly he fucked you up, even now that you supposedly didn't care about him anymore.

jake's hand was itching to reach for yours, to graze his fingertips over your knuckles again. hell, maybe to take your hand and pull you into a tight hug – knowing damn well every muscle in his body would hurt too much – but still, holding you so close you'd never leave him again.

but just as his hand moved forward the tiniest bit, you broke eye contact and took another step back, bringing more distance between the two of you.

"you're all patched up," you said sternly, "you'll get your papers and instructions in a few." with these words, you walked toward the door, yet you hesitated to leave.

you turned around to look at him one last time. "take care, jake. seriously, i don't want to see you here again."

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

the flourescent lights softly buzzed above you as you rushed from patient to patient. your feet were hurting at this point, but you knew you'd only have two more hours left until your shift was over.

you had picked up extra shifts, not entirely voluntarily due to the staff shortage, but you honestly didn't mind. keeping yourself busy kept any thoughts about your encounter with jake almost three weeks ago in the very back of your mind.

you'd be lying if you said you weren't worried deep down, but he hadn't made another appearance in the hospital since the last time, so at least, he was dealing with less severe wounds now.

you were finishing a report on the patient you'd just treated when the charge nurses firm voice made you flinch.

"incoming male patient in his twenties with suspected head trauma and possible internal bleeding. ETA three minutes. notify surgery – likely immediate intervention."

you looked up from the paper, focusing your attention on her and waiting for further instructions.

"y/n, you're prepping," she said, giving you a short look. you nodded, put down your clipboard and followed along as the team moved toward the ambulance bay.

"paramedics said he got injured in a fight," the charge nurse informed. you nodded again, mentally going through the steps you'd have to take now, until you really registered what she'd said.

suspected head trauma. possible internal bleeding. injured in a fight.

the combination of the facts she'd thrown at you and your colleagues so professionally started to ring in your ears like a deafening alarm.

jake.

you felt your heart starting to pound violently in your chest and your airways seemed to swell with every step you took toward where you'd await the ambulance. every worst-case scenario ran through your mind, each more terrifying than the last.

only when you tripped over your own foot, stumbling forward just slightly before catching yourself, you snapped out of it and managed to gather your thoughts again. countless of people got into fights every day. it's not him.

when the double doors of the ambulance burst open, you caught sight of the stretcher, slightly shuddering at the sight of the motionless figure laying on it. it wasn't your first time seeing a patient like this, but that didn't make it more pleasant.

"he's stable for now," one of the paramedics announced, "caller said he hit his head on the floor after a punch. unconscious when we found him. nose bleed, slight swelling of the head, pupils unequal," he rattled off the patient's symptoms.

"we managed to stabilize him, but his vitals dipped twice."

your heart was already in your throat, but when you stepped closer and got a clear view of the patient's face the world seemed to stop.

he looked battered, but you'd always recognize him – in every state, in every lifetime. his skin was pale, sickly so, and blood stuck his bangs to his forehead. a deep gash stretched over his temple, still leaking blood. dried red stains under his nostrils, on his cheeks – everywhere. so. much. blood.

you tried to stay calm but the walls were closing around you, squeezing you tighter until you couldn't breathe anymore. your vision started to blur as you reached for the handle of the stretcher with termbling hands.

"y/n," someone called, but the sound was muffled, like it was coming from underwater.

"jake," his name slipped past your lips in a whisper. you felt your head spinning, every late night thought that had plagued you for so long before you'd walked away from him crashing down on you – revealing reality in its ugliest form.

you didn't realize how much you were shaking until one of the other nurses grabbed your arm to gently guide you away. "i don't think you should–"

"no!" you exclaimed, pulling your arm free and stepping closer again, "i n-need to–"

“y/n,” the charge nurse’s voice cut through, snapping you out of the haze. “step back. now.”

the tone in her voice left no room for argument, but your feet still felt rooted in place. it wasn’t until the stretcher began to roll toward the operating room that you finally stepped back.

the outline of jake's body, all blurry from the tears in your eyes, was the last thing you saw before the doors swung shut behind him.

the charge nurse started to say something, but every noise around you shut down except for the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears and your breath coming ragged.

jake.

you hated him. you loved him. and now, he felt like he was slipping through your fingers for good.

your legs felt numb as you paced up and down the hall, not able to stay still. your body felt exhausted after pushing through your intense 10 hour shift, but you felt restless. time seemed to extend forever as you kept waiting for an update. you didn't know how long the surgery had been going on when the doors finally swung open and revealed the surgeon.

you quickly approached him, although you didn't know if you were ready to be confronted with whatever news he had. his expression seemed calm, but he might as well have looked horrified – you wouldn't breathe until you'd heard the confirming words.

"he's stable," he said finally, and as you hesitated to reply, he added, "he'll be fine. he'll take some time but–"

"can i see him?" you interrupted.

the surgeon furrowed his brows slightly. "he's not awake yet. he needs rest now, y/n."

you should have felt relieved but your terror wouldn't ease until you've seen him with your own eyes.

"please," you pressed, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

he hesitated for a while. your stomach started to drop another time until he gave in and sighed. "i guess you can help out in the recovery room," he mumbled, clearly not fully happy with the idea. you paced off before he could change his mind, only stopping to hesitate for a second once you reached the room. you took a deep breath before opening the door.

your eyes fell on jake immediately, he was lying in bed and although the sight of him wired to all types of machines and with a bandage around his head was worrying, you let yourself breathe for the first time since his arrival. he looked almost peaceful.

your vision blurred as you stepped closer and pulled a chair to his bed to sit down for the first time in hours. you reached out, your hand hovering slightly over his before you pulled it back again.

"i swear to god, jake, i–" a soft sob escaping your throat cut you off.

minutes passed, maybe an hour. you were just sitting next to his bed, blankly staring at him while the tears rolled down your face until you didn't have any left to cry.

when jake's eyes slowly fluttered open, the bright lights above forced him to squeeze them shut again immediately. his head was pounding, the almost unbearable pain forcing a quiet groan out of him.

he took a deep breath and forced his eyes open again, slowly taking in the environment in an attempt to make sense of his whereabouts. as he slowly came to his senses, he started feeling the even rushes of air against his arm.

jake forced himself to move his head to the side, although that only reinforced the pain he now felt in his entire body.

but all the pain melted away when he saw you – your head placed next to him on the matress, your soft breath brushing against his skin. your eyes were closed, your lashes wet and your cheeks slightly flushed. you had been crying for him. and you were here. even after everything he'd put you through.

it was only a few weeks after the ruined anniversary dinner when jake couldn't hold it in anymore. "there's something i haven't told you," he stated when you were cuddled up against him on the sofa. his heart was pounding violently in his chest when you sat up and swallowed so hard that he could hear it. "what is it?" you asked and jake swore the anxiety in your voice nearly shattered his heart into a million pieces. because it wasn't the first time you'd sounded like this, not the first time he'd made you sound like this. and the worst part? he couldn't blame you. when had all of this gone so wrong – when had he stopped being a safe place for you? jake took a deep, shaky breath before he continued, his voice careful as if it could break you. "you remember how i... worked hard, right?" your expression stayed blank, except for the crease that formed between your eyebrows. jake took your wordless nod as a sign to go on. "last week, after one of my boxing sessions," jake began, pausing to gather his courage, "there was this scout. he said he’d been watching me for a while... and that he liked what he saw." your lips parting slightly as you processed his words. "he offered me a chance to go pro." there it was. the sparkle in your eyes. the one thing he wanted to see the most, and the one thing he'd extinguish yet another time. "that's amazing, jake," you said, the relief in your tone only pressing down harder on him. "that means... proper guidelines, more safety?" he nodded slowly, avoiding your eyes as his gaze stayed fixated on the cushions of the sofa. "so...?" you continued carefully. "i turned it down," jake said quickly, as if saying it slower would take away the courage to say it at all. he didn't look at you. couldn't get himself to see the announcement crashing down on you in another wave of disappointment and worry. "you what?" you asked. your voice sounded so unsure – as if you'd only misheard – and jake's heart cracked when he repeated his words. "i turned it down," this time slower. "jake, you said–" "i know what i said, y/n. that i'd take the chance immediately if i got it. but this is not who i am, this–... i don't want to play by other people's rules and–" "do you even hear yourself?" you interrupted. your voice was filled with both anger and frustration and even though jake hated it, you were right. "play by other people's rules? you turned down the chance to do what you want to do, but safely. you've been coming home looking like hell for months. i don't care if you win or not, a body can only take that much," you continued, growing a bit louder with each word. jake knew you were right, and he knew it was wrong when he raised his voice back at you. when he shoved your feelings aside for his pride. "i don't get why you care so much. it's not like you're getting hurt," he replied, his tone agitated. "you're my everything, jake, don't you get that?" you almost screamed, tears of frustration daring to fall from your eyes. the sight of you like this deepened the crack, finally breaking his heart. but he just gritted his teeth, his jaw visibly tensing. you blinked a few times before standing up. "but you're right," you said in a stable voice although jake could see your hands slightly shaking, "i can't keep caring about you when you don't give two shits about yourself." and with that, you left the room – and a few minutes later the apartment.

another low groan stirred you awake. you slowly opened your eyes, blinking away the sleep, and then straightened your back almost immediately when you realized you'd fallen asleep.

your eyes immediately fell on jake and you felt like the weight of the world lifted from your shoulders when you saw him looking back at you. he was awake.

you immediately shot to your feet. "are you hurting?" you asked in an almost alarmed tone, turning around to provide him with painkillers, but the weak grasp on your wrist stopped you.

you slowly turned back around to face jake as he raised your hand to his lips and weakly brushed an attempt of a kiss against your knuckles, just like he'd always done.

"why are you here? i thought you hated me" he said, his voice so faint that it was almost inaudible.

you looked at him blankly, "i... do hate you."

jake didn't reply. the silence between you stretched. you wanted to say it, to admit it. to tell him that you didn't hate him. that you were still so fucking in love with him. that you'd always been, even when his reckless behavior made you lose your mind. that you'd never stopped caring about him.

but you just stared at him, your throat tightening with the words you didn’t know how to say. jake’s eyes, even though they were filled with exhaustion, never left yours.

he broke the silence first, although with only a whsiper, “i’m sorry.”

your breath hitched, and you blinked, unsure if you’d heard him right.

“for everything,” jake continued. “for all the times i didn’t listen. for making you hate me.” his lips curled into a faint, sad smile. “and for breaking every promise i made to you.”

your heart ached at his words. you searched his face for a hint of insincerity, but there was none.

“you’ve got a lot to be sorry for,” you said softly, sitting back down in the chair.

“i know.” he shifted slightly on the bed, wincing at the pain but refusing to break eye contact. “at some point, i didn’t care what happened to me because…” he trailed off, his gaze leaving yours for the first time.

“because...?”

his eyes returned to yours. “because i knew i was losing you, y/n. i know it sounds stupid," he hesitated, "but losing you already felt like i was dead. so i didn’t care what happened.”

the words hit you like a wave, knocking the breath out of your lungs. your fingers twitched, and before you could stop yourself, you reached for his hand. his skin was rough, but the way his fingers curled around yours was heartbreakingly gentle.

"every time you came home like this, i thought i’d lose you, " you said, your voice shaking, "and then i guess i finally did.”

jake shook his head, despite the new jolt of pain that rushed through him. “you never lost me,” he whispered.

the walls you’d spent so long building crumbled, piece by piece. you wanted to hate him, yes. but you also loved him – so much it felt like your heart had never been ready to let go, even when your mind had told you to.

“i don’t hate you,” you murmured. “i never did.”

your eyes met his again, and for the first time in months, it didn't feel like drowning – it felt like coming home.

just as jake was about to bring your hand up to his lips again, the door swung open to reveal the surgeon. you quickly pulled your hand away and straightened your back.

"mr sim?" he asked, to which jake looked at him expectantly.

"i'm sure you've heard this before," the surgeon continued, his eyes flicking to you, before focusing back on jake, "but you need rest. that means no boxing for now. you got severely injured and it will take a long while to heal fully."

your eyes went from the doctor to jake, and as you saw him swallowing, you absentmindedly took his hand in yours again, his fingers gently curling around yours.

jake nodded as best as he could and the surgeon left without another word. as you looked back at jake, you opened your mouth to say something, but he beat you to it.

"no boxing at all anymore," he said softly, causing your eyes to widen just slightly, "i'll stop if it means i'll get another chance to be with you."

© dazzlingjaeyun, 2024. please do not copy.

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[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

Drunk and Disoriented

Prompt: You interrupt Aaron’s day to tell him that you might have…been arrested.

You genuinely never thought you’d find yourself in this predicament. You were never the rowdy type, you were a straight A student from middle school all the way through college. It was just suppose to be a fun night out with some of the girls to let off a little bit of steam after a grueling week of work, but somehow it escalated to the cops being called, you put in handcuffs and now having to call your FBI husband while he’s in the middle of a case at work to explain.

After not answering his cell, you convinced the police officer to let you call one more person-though the river of tears falling from your face probably helped a little.

“Hey Y/N?” Emily’s voice greeted.

“Hey Em.” Relieved that she picked up the call, you sniffled. “Is Aaron there? Could I talk with him?”

“Yeah, of course, we’re all here. I’ll hand you over now.”

You waited until the familiar deep voice of your husband spoke before breaking down into another sob.

“Aaron- I don’t know what happened.- I was with the girls and there was a fight and I’m drunk and handcuffed.” You paused so you could gulp in a breath of air before rambling some more. “I think I might be going to jail. I can’t go to jail Aaron. Please come get me. Please.”

“Y/N. I need you to take a deep breath for me, ok sweetheart.”

You did as he said, momentarily snapping out of your panic at his stern but caring words.

“Ok.” After he audibly heard you take a breath, he continued.

“I’ll on my way. Could you hand the phone over to the officer that’s with you?”

“Yeah.”

You offered your phone to the cop that was standing a few feet from you with your hands handcuffed from the front but he just shook his head.

"I don't need to speak with him. Just tell him you'll be booked at the Alexandria Detention Center."

Before you could start crying again, Aaron's voice rang through clear to you.

"I'll see you in less than 10. Don't worry, everything will be ok."

"Ok, Aaron. I love you."

"I love you too."

You hung up and handed your phone back to the cop before he helped you up from your sitting position on the curb and assisted you to sit in the backseat of the cop car. You don't even know where your other friends ended up or if they were being carted off to jail like you.

As he got into the car and began driving, you leaned your head back and closed your eyes, trying not to become nauseous from the "spins". Your mouth was dry with a the lingering taste of tequila while your wrists were becoming sore from wringing your hands in the cuffs that seemed to be just a little too tight. You were sure you looked like a racoon from all the crying and to top it all off, you're pretty sure you left your jacket back at the bar. The strapless cocktail dress was doing nothing to keep the cold plastic and A/C from chilling you.

All of a sudden, the squad car lurches to a stop, causing you to open your eyes and look around, seeing a ton of red and blue lights.

"What the hell is this?" the cop spoke to himself before getting out.

You scooted up closer to the plastic barrier to see better and spotted 2 black SUV's stopped in front of the car, Aaron and Morgan both exiting from one and rest of the team from the other. To say that Aaron looked pissed was an understatement.

You couldn't hear what they were saying but you did see Aaron flash his badge in the officer's face and point over to you. Then like that, the officer came over and opened up the door as Aaron popped his head in.

"Come on, let's get you out of here," he said, unbuckling your seatbelt and taking your cuffed hands in his, helping you out and adjusting your dress for you as the officer quickly removed the handcuffs.

Everything was happening so fast it was making you dizzy but it didn't matter once you felt the warmth of Aaron's suit jacket wrap around your shoulders and his arm protectively pull you close as you both walked over to his SUV.

"This is so embarrassing. I'm so sorry, Aaron," you mumbled, feeling bad that you interrupted their work on catching a killer to come help you.

"Don't apologize. The officer was in the wrong. You did nothing that warranted his behavior."

His tone was sharp but you know he was still just fuming at the cop, not you. He opened the passenger door open for you but you didn't make a move to get in. Instead, you turned to face him and fall into his chest, crying for the millionth time that night. He gave you the hug you were craving and kissed the top of your head, his voice now softer and sweet in your ear.

"It's alright. You're with me now. Just take a breath."

Just like on the phone, you listened to him and stopped crying enough to take in a shaky breath and let it out as his tight embrace loosened so he could look at you.

"That's it. Deep breaths."

He wiped your face and you couldn't help but let out a little chuckle.

"I didn't know you were gonna send the whole brigade to get me. I wish I didn't look like a rabid raccoon."

He smiled and looked over at his team who were talking with the officer, surrounding him as he looked completely uncomfortable and intimidated.

"They wouldn't stay behind even if I told them to. You mean a lot to them and you needed our help. Plus, I wouldn't say rabid raccoon. More like a sleepy lemur."

He laughed at his own joke as you slapped his chest in return.

"Gonna make some sweets for them when we get home," you said, thinking out loud, wondering if you had enough flour and sugar.

"I don't think so. I'm gonna drive you home and you're going to take a hot shower, dress in one of my college t-shirts you love so much, take some Advil with lots of water and go to bed," he ordered with a look that was suppose to be stern but you could see through it.

"Mm. Fine Mr. Hotchner. Only because I am really tired. But come tomorrow, it's on."

Another small smile from him as he helped you into your seat and buckled you in, giving you a small kiss before closing your door. You watched from the side mirror as you watched him walk over to the team and most likely discuss what was happening before coming back over and getting in the drivers seat.

He held your hand and traced light patterns on your skin, almost lulling you into a sleep as you closed your eyes.

[itneverendshere]

the first relapse being the most scariest thing you’ve seen. sarah’s even calling you about him like “dads trying to get his doctor on the line just in case he od’s”

added this to what i'd already summarized in this ask!! hope everyone enjoys the angst 😔🫂 it’s a little long (around 7.1k)

death by a thousand cuts - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) warnings: substance abuse.

Ward’s sitting at the dining table, barely glancing up from his phone when Rafe walks in. His jaw clenches. That look—so cold, so dismissive—always sets something off in him.

“What’s wrong?” Rafe asks, already knowing this isn’t just a normal night.

Ward doesn’t answer right away, just sighs like Rafe being here is another weight on his shoulders. “Your mother called today.”

Rafe freezes.

He doesn’t have to ask which mother. Ward’s new wife has nothing to do with this. His real mom. The one who left.

He tries to stay calm, but he can feel his blood pumping, “What’d she want?”

“She says she wants to see you. You and your sisters.”

Rafe’s eyes narrow, his heart pounding harder now. The audacity of it. She always did this—popped back in when it was convenient for her, like they were just part of her life she could pick up and drop whenever she felt like it.

When was the last time? A couple of years? Before that? It doesn’t matter.

“No. I’m not doing this again.” 

“Rafe—”

“No, I said no.” The anger wells up fast, a familiar burn in his chest. He stands there, fists clenched. “She’s full of shit, dad. She doesn't give a fuck about us. So, no. I’m not seeing her.”

Ward looks up, calm as ever, but there's that edge in his eyes—the one that always makes Rafe feel like a little kid who’s stepped out of line. “You’re overreacting. She’s still your mother.”

“My mother?” He lets out a bitter laugh, but there’s no humor in it. His fists tighten at his sides. “She left. She fucking left us. She’s not my mother. She’s just some lady who couldn’t handle shit.”

Ward stands up now. “Watch your mouth.”

“Watch my mouth?” Rafe barks back, stepping forward, his anger boiling over. “I watched her leave me every time she got bored or freaked out. And you—you didn’t do shit!.You just let it happen. Let her walk out over and over.”

“That’s enough, Rafe.”

But he's not done.

He’s too pissed to think straight. “What? You gonna defend her? You’re the one who let her fuck me up like this! You—”

“Stop blaming everyone else for your problems,” Ward snaps, his voice rising. "Grow up. She left.  And you’re still standing here acting like a child over it.”

Something inside Rafe cracks. His chest tightens like someone’s squeezing the air out of him. "A child? You don't get it. You never got it. She fucked me up. She fucked all of us up, and you're still acting like it's nothing." His mind is spinning, flashing back to all those nights he was too high to breathe, too strung out to care if he woke up the next day. He feels like he’s suffocating, the anger burning too fast. “I’m not doing this again, dad. I’m not.”

Ward’s gaze turns cold. “She’s trying now. That has to count for something.”

“Trying? Trying?!” Rafe grits out, stepping forward. All those years, all those broken promises, all the times he was left wondering what the hell he did wrong to make her leave—and now Ward wants him to sit down like it’s a fucking family reunion. 

“I don’t care what you think about it, Rafe. This isn’t up for discussion. You will see her, and that’s final.”

“No. No fucking way!” He shouts, his voice shaking as he steps closer to Ward, fists clenched. “You can’t make me do this. I’m not going to sit there and pretend like everything’s okay when she’s the reason I turned into the mess I was. And you—” His chest heaves as he fights to find the words, his throat tight. “You’re just as bad as she is.”

Ward’s eyes narrow dangerously, but he continues, “Every time she left, you didn’t do a goddamn thing. You let her walk all over us. You let her leave me, leave us, and you never said a word. You’re a shitty father, just as bad as her."

Ward’s face darkens, a storm brewing behind his eyes. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that.”

“I’ll talk to you however the hell I want,” Rafe fires back, stepping even closer, eyes blazing. “You didn’t stop her. You never protected me. You sat there and watched her fuck me up and then turned around and blamed me for it. Like I was the problem.”

“You were the problem,” Ward snaps, “She didn’t know how to handle you, and neither did I. You were a fucking disaster, Rafe. And that’s on you.”

“No. You two were and are the fucking problem because you can’t let go of her.”

Ward takes a step forward, “This isn’t about you. It’s about your sisters. Sarah wants this. Weezie deserves a chance to know her mother. It’s not all about your issues, Rafe. Grow up.”

“Grow up?” He feels like he’s suffocating, “You think I’m the one who needs to grow up? 

“Enough. You will meet her, or you can leave this house right now.”

All the work he's put in, all the shit he's tried to fix, feels like it’s slipping right through his fingers. He can’t be here. Not like this. He’s out the door before he even knows what he’s doing. That itch beneath his skin is back after years, that’s how much control his parents have over him.

Rafe’s hands are still shaking as he gets into his truck, slamming the door harder than he means to. It feels like he can’t get enough air in his lungs, and his thoughts are spinning, they’re all crashing into each other at once. The fight with his father keeps replaying in his head, louder and louder, until he can’t hear anything else.

He’s gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turn white. His dad’s voice, cold and cutting, telling him he’s the problem. That he’s always been the problem. His hands are shaking worse now, trembling like he’s about to snap, and there’s only one thought pounding through his mind: He can’t go to you like this.

The thought of walking through your door, this messed up, makes him feel sick. You’ve seen him at his worst before, but this… this feels different. He can’t let you see him like this—not the old Rafe. Not the one who almost lost everything.

You don’t need to see that. You don’t deserve it.

He knows where he can go instead. Somewhere he shouldn’t, somewhere he swore he’d never go again. But right now, it feels like the only place that makes sense. His head’s spinning, his body buzzing with leftover adrenaline and anger, and he just needs it to stop.

So, he turns the key in the ignition and drives. It doesn’t take long to get to Barry’s. He knows the back roads by heart, even though it’s been years. He pulls up to the small shack Barry calls home, the lights still on, music thumping faintly from inside. It’s like nothing’s changed. The same rundown place, the same shitty cars parked out front, the same smell of smoke and spilled liquor lingering in the air.

Rafe sits there for a minute, gripping the steering wheel, breathing heavy. He shouldn’t be here. He knows that. 

He climbs out of the truck, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep them from shaking, and heads toward the door. The second he steps inside, the familiar smell of stale beer and weed hits him like a wave, bringing back memories he thought he’d buried.

Barry’s lounging on the couch, a joint hanging from his mouth, lazily flipping through channels on the TV.

“Country Club!”, Barry drawls when he notices him, smirking around the joint. “Now this is a surprise. Didn’t think I’d ever see you walk through that door again. Thought you were all clean now, with your pretty little girlfriend.”

He tenses at the mention of you. But he can’t walk out now. Not after what just happened with Ward. Not when everything inside him feels like it’s about to blow.

“I just need something,” Rafe mutters, avoiding Barry’s eyes, already regretting this but not enough to stop.

Barry raises an eyebrow, amused. “Something, huh? You know, you’ve got a real habit of showing up here when you’re all fucked up.” He laughs, low and mocking. “What’s the matter this time? Daddy issues again?”

His jaw tightens. “Just give me what I want.”

Barry leans back, flicking ash onto the floor. “You sure you wanna go down that road again, man? Thought you were past this shit.”

“I don’t care,” Rafe snaps, his voice low, shaking with frustration and something darker. “You know what I want. Go get it.”

There’s a pause, and for a second, Barry just looks at him, sizing him up. Then, with a shrug, he gets up, disappearing into the back room. Rafe waits, heart pounding in his ears, staring at the floor, trying not to think about what he’s doing. About what this means.

Barry comes back a minute later, a small bag of coke in his hand. He tosses it onto the table in front of Rafe, “Knock yourself out.”

He doesn’t hesitate. He grabs the bag, his fingers already moving on autopilot as he pulls out his wallet and shoves a roll of cash toward Barry. He knows this is stupid, reckless. He knows this is going to hurt you, more than anything else. But ll he wants is to forget. Just for a little while.

His hands stop shaking the second he takes that first line.

You’re already drained when you step through the front door of the house, kicking off your shoes and throwing your bag onto the couch. The sticky summer air is clinging to your skin, and all you want is a cold shower and to crash in bed. 

The day’s been dragging—work was a shitshow, and all you’ve been thinking about is Rafe. You haven’t heard from him since this morning, which isn’t weird, but there’s been this nagging feeling in your chest, like something’s off.

“Hey,” Monica calls from the kitchen as you grab a glass of water and lean against the counter. She’s scrolling through her phone, half-distracted. Milo’s at kindergarten.

“Hey,” you mumble back. “Everything alright?”

She shrugs, not looking up. “Yeah, mostly.” She pauses, frowning slightly, like she’s trying to piece something together. “I think I saw Rafe’s truck earlier. Over by Barry’s place.”

You blink, trying to process what she just said. “Barry’s?”

“Yeah, you know. The guy who used to sell—Whatever.” Monica shrugs again, more casual than you feel. “I was driving back from work, and I swear it was Rafe’s truck parked outside Barry’s house.”

Your stomach drops. Instantly.

“You’re sure?”

“Looked like his truck,” your sister says, “Thought it was weird. Figured maybe he was helping someone out or something.”

But you know better.

A cold sweat breaks out over your skin. You’ve heard Rafe talk about Barry. Back when things were bad—really bad—he was the one who kept him hooked, who kept pulling him deeper. He told you everything about those years when he was drowning in addication and Barry’s name came up more than once.

And if his truck’s outside Barry’s, you know something’s wrong.

It’s like a pit in your stomach, this gnawing feeling that’s been sitting with you all day. 

“What? Why’s that such a big deal?”

You swallow, trying to keep your voice steady, but it’s impossible. “Rafe doesn’t… he doesn’t go there anymore. He hasn’t in years.”

Monica frowns, finally understanding. “Oh. Shit. You think something’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” you mutter, already pulling out your phone, fingers wobbly as you open your messages. You scroll through the last few texts from Rafe, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary. Except the silence. He’s usually better at checking in, especially when he knows you’ve had a long day. But today? Nothing.

You stare at your screen, debating if you should call him. But deep down, you already know something’s happened. He wouldn’t go to Barry’s unless things were really bad.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” your sister offers, but her voice is hesitant, like she’s not sure. “Maybe he was just stopping by. It doesn’t mean—”

But she doesn’t finish, and you don’t need her to. You know what it means. You feel it in your bones. He’s back in that dark place—And he didn’t come to you. He went to Barry instead.

Why didn’t he come to you?

“I need to go,” you say, your voice coming out more panicked than you’d like, but you can’t help it. Your heart’s racing, your mind is spinning, and the only thing you can focus on is Rafe. You’re grabbing your keys off the counter before your sister can even answer.

“Wait, what? Where are you going?” Monica asks, a bit alarmed now, but you don’t have time to explain.

“I need to find Rafe.”

Your sister steps forward, “Is it really that serious? I mean, maybe he’s just—”

“He’s not just anything,” you cut her off, shaking your head. “If he’s at Barry’s, it’s bad.”

Rafe had told you everything about his past—every ugly detail about the years he spent losing himself, the drugs, the fights, the constant mess of it all. He had opened up to you after your first time together. And for the past two years you’d seen him, the real Rafe, the one who tried so damn hard to be better.

And now? He’s slipping. And you weren’t there.

Your mind is racing as you drive. You think about how good things have been with him—how far he’s come. He’s not the guy he used to be. He doesn’t party like he used to, doesn’t need to numb everything with lines of coke or bottles of whiskey.

He told you about his time in rehab, how scared he was of becoming that version of himself again. But something must’ve happened.

Something big. 

Why didn’t he tell you?

The thought is suffocating. You know him—he’s reckless and impulsive sometimes, but he’s been so careful with you, always making sure you never had to see the side of him that scared him the most. He’s opened up about his struggles with anxiety, about how he sometimes still smokes weed to take the edge off, but this… this is different. 

This is worse.

It had to be Ward. He’s has always had this chokehold on him, making him feel like he’s never good enough. And whenever his mom gets brought up—whenever she’s even mentioned—it messes with him in ways you can barely understand. She’s the one person who could make him spiral, and Ward is the one person who could push him over that edge.

You slam your fist against the steering wheel, frustrated.

He’s dealing with this alone, and now he’s gone back to Barry. To coke. To everything that almost killed him before. You pull up to his place, your stomach churning. You can see Rafe’s truck parked haphazardly outside, and your heart skips a beat. He’s here.

He’s here, and he didn’t come to you.

You sit there for a moment, gripping the wheel, trying to calm yourself down, trying to figure out what the hell you’re even going to say when you see him.

You get out of the car and practically run toward Barry’s door. You know this place, know the people who come here and what they’re looking for. You’re pretty sure your dad spent half his life here, when Barry’s dad still ran the business. 

You don’t even knock. You push the door open. Barry’s on the couch, looking up lazily when you walk in, and you see Rafe—sitting in the corner, eyes bloodshot, jaw clenched.

He looks like a ghost.

Barry snickers from the couch, taking a drag from his joint. “Well, well, look who it is. Didn’t think I’d see the two of you here together.”

“Shut the fuck up, Barry,” you snap, glaring at him before turning your full attention to Rafe. “What are you doing here?”

“W-What?”

“Baby, look at you.”

He tries to stand, his movements slow, like his body isn’t responding the way he wants it to. His eyes are bloodshot, unfocused, his pupils blown wide, and he’s swaying slightly, barely able to keep his balance.

“I just... I needed to clear my head,” he mumbles, the words slurring together. His hand goes to his hair, but it’s shaking, and he can’t even look at you. “It’s not—”

“It’s not what?” You feel your heart breaking with every word, the cracks widening as you take in the mess of him, his clothes disheveled, his face pale, his hands twitching.

He stumbles again, trying to step toward you, but he’s so high he can barely stand. “I didn’t want... I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he rasps out, finally meeting your eyes for just a second before looking away. “Didn’t want you to... think I was still... still that guy.”

“You’re not that guy anymore,” you say softly, even though right now, he looks too much like that guy. “But you’re acting like him.”

His head drops, and he looks down at the floor, his shoulders sagging, defeated. “Didn’t know...what else to do.”

“And you didn’t think to come to me?” Your voice breaks on the last word, “You went to Barry instead of me?”

“Hey now—"

“I told you to shut the fuck up,” You almost scream in Barry's face, your chest rising with each breath you take. Rafe can't stand to look you in the eyes right now. He can't see the disappointment.

“You always know what to do. You call me. You come to me. Why would you run here? Why would you go back to this?” You glance at Barry, who’s watching the whole scene with a smirk on his face like he’s enjoying every second of your heartbreak. “You’re better than this. Get in the car. We can talk about this.”

But he shakes his head, his breath shaky. “Can’t… can’t be with you right now.”

“Why?” 

 “Just… too much. Hurts too much.” He looks down, guilt washing over him. “Didn’t want you to see... this.”

“Then get in the car. We can figure this out together.” Your voice cracks, the hurt pouring out.

He hesitates, shaking his head again. “I… can’t.”

It pushes something inside you.

Maybe you’ll regret it later but now it’s all you can think about. If he doesn’t want your help, he doesn’t want you. And if he doesn’t want you right now he doesn’t deserve to want you when he’s better. 

“You can either get in this car and fight with me, or you can stay here. But if you stay—”

“Y-You’ll leave?” He’s looking at you despite the fog in his brain, not sure if he’s hearing you correctly, “Leave me?”

“I didn’t say that—”

“E-everyon leaves right?"

He’s never said anything like that to you before.

“I’m not leaving you, but if you stay here, with him,” you jerk your head in Barry’s direction, “I can’t help you. I can’t pull you out of this if you don’t want to get out.”

You know you can’t fix this for him. He has to make the choice. His eyes dart toward Barry for a second, and Barry just shrugs, clearly not giving a damn about anything but his next hit. 

“I love you, but I can’t watch you destroy yourself.”

For a second, you think maybe you’ve gotten through to him, because his eyes soften behind all that darkness. But then he shakes his head again, looking at the floor like he’s already made his decision.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he mutters, barely audible. “But I don’t know how to stop.”

Your heart breaks a little more at that. “Yes you do, baby. You do. You just need to believe it.”

If he doesn’t come with you, you’re not sure where this ends for him. He’s stuck, frozen in place, trapped by whatever’s going on in his head, and you realize that no matter how much you love him, no matter how much you want to save him, you can’t force him to choose you. You can’t make him get in the car.

“You have to decide,” you say quietly, voice breaking. “Me or this. You can’t have both.”

Rafe looks up at you, eyes glossy, and for a second, you think he might actually say something — something that will make this all okay, something that will bring him back to you. But he doesn’t. He just stands there, torn apart by his demons, his lips pressed into a line. You feel the pit in your stomach grow deeper.

“Okay,” you nod, barely holding back tears. “I guess that’s my answer.”

You turn and walk out the door, your heart shattering with every inch of distance you put between you and him. You don't look back, because if you do, you know you’ll drag him out yourself, and you can’t do that. Not now. But as you get into your car and grip the steering wheel with your entire strength, the sobs come anyway.

You don’t want to leave him. God, you don’t want to. But he didn’t choose you. Not this time.

Rafe doesn’t even register the sound of the door slamming behind you. It’s like he’s watching everything happen from somewhere far away, his body numb, his mind completely blank. You said something, you were upset—he knows that much—but the words never really hit him. They just floated around. He sinks back down into the chair, staring at the floor, heart racing but completely detached. The room is spinning a little, his chest tight, but he can’t feel anything. Can’t let himself feel anything. It’s better this way. Safer.

You left.

He knows that happened, but it doesn’t mean anything right now. He can’t process it. Not in this state. Not when the drugs are still in his system, making everything feel like it’s underwater. He blinks a few times, trying to get his brain to catch up, but it’s not working. It’s just static.

Barry’s voice is somewhere in the background, laughing about something, but he doesn’t hear him either. It’s like the world’s on mute. His body’s still buzzing from the high, fingers twitching, muscles tense, but inside? Inside he’s empty.

Hours pass, maybe. Time doesn’t exist here, not when he’s this far gone. The light changes through the window, but it could be minutes or days for all he knows. He drifts in and out, his head heavy, eyes closing, but sleep never comes. Just darkness. Maybe he did too many lines.

At some point, he wakes up—if you can call it that. His body feels like it weights two hundred pounds, his head is spinning, his mouth dry and sour. He blinks against the light, his vision blurry, trying to figure out where the hell he is. 

It takes a second for everything to catch up. To realize he’s at Barry’s.

And then, it hits him all at once. You.

You were here. You were mad. And then you were gone.

His chest tightens, a sick, sinking feeling crawling up his throat. He sits up too fast, his head swimming. Fuck.He rubs his hands over his face, trying to calm his breathing. His thoughts are still sluggish. You left. You walked out, and he… he didn’t stop you. Didn’t even try.

Why didn’t he stop you?

Before he can think too much about it, Barry saunters in, a smug grin on his face, holding a beer in one hand, a joint in the other. He takes one look at Rafe, slouched and disoriented, and lets out a low, mocking laugh.

“Well, well, well,” Barry drawls, leaning against the doorframe, clearly enjoying every second of this. “Look who’s finally awake. You done fucked it up, Country Club.”

Rafe doesn’t say anything. Can’t.

Barry raises an eyebrow, taking a drag from the joint, shaking his head. “Damn, man. Thought you were smarter than that.”

Rafe just stares at the floor, his stomach twisting. He can’t remember exactly what he said to you. But the look on your face… he can’t forget that. The disappointment. The hurt.

Barry chuckles, settling down on the couch across from him. “What was it? You running your mouth again, or did she just get tired of you being a fuckup?”

The shame is settling in now, creeping up his spine. He doesn’t want to hear this. Doesn’t want to hear anything. But Barry just keeps going, like he’s enjoying watching him fall apart.

“Should’ve seen it coming, man,” Barry continues, “Girl like that? She was bound to leave eventually.”

If he felt strong enough he would’ve punched that joint out of his mouth, his teeth following next. Who the fuck did he think he was to talk about you like he knew you.

He knows Barry’s just trying to get under his skin, but it’s working. He feels sick. He presses his hands against his eyes, trying to push it all away, but it’s no use.

“You done fucked it up, Country Club,” Barry repeats, leaning back with a satisfied smirk. “And now you’re right back here. Same old Rafe.”

Same old Rafe. He told himself he’d never end up here again. He swore he was done with this. Done with Barry, done with the drugs, done with the guy he used to be.

But now? Now he’s right back where he started. And the worst part? He let you see it. He doesn’t know how to fix this. Doesn’t know if he even can fix this. But the one thing he does know? He should’ve crawled after you.

Rafe doesn’t say a word.

He doesn’t need to. His hands are already moving, reaching for the small bag of coke on the table. His fingers tremble as they close around it, the weight of the plastic barely registering in his hand. 

Barry watches him, that same smug grin never leaving his face, taking another drag of his joint, exhaling a cloud of smoke with a low chuckle. He’s not surprised. Not at all.

"Of course," Barry mutters, shaking his head in amusement. “Of course, you're takin’ that shit with you.”

Rafe’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t fight him. He can feel Barry’s eyes on him, feel the judgment radiating off him, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not anymore. 

Not after everything he’s already fucked up. He stuffs the bag in his jacket pocket, standing up on shaky legs, the room still spinning a little as he stumbles toward the door. His mind is on autopilot, moving without him, as if the drugs are the only thing holding him together. 

"Attaboy, Country Club," Barry calls after him, voice dripping with condescension, laughter bubbling up from deep in his chest. “Just keep runnin’. That’s what you’re good at, right?”

Rafe’s hand tightens on the doorknob, his teeth grinding together, but he doesn’t turn back. He can’t look at Barry—he can’t look at any of this—so he does what he always does.

He walks away. He doesn’t think. He just keeps moving, out of the door, out into the night, the bag burning a hole in his pocket.

It’s been two weeks since you last saw him.

Two weeks of silence, of unanswered calls and texts that sit there on your screen and make you cry every time you look at them. You told him you’d leave, but you didn’t mean it. You never meant it.

You just needed him to fight. For himself. But he didn’t.

And now, you can’t stop thinking about him. It physically hurts.

Every morning you wake up with this heavy impossible ache in your chest, and it only gets worse as the day goes on. You keep wondering where he is, if he’s okay, if he’s even thinking about you or if he’s too far gone to care.

You miss him. God, you miss him.

Now you don’t even know where he is. If he’s still spiraling or if he’s hit rock bottom.

You’ve barely been able to keep it together at work. Every time you try to focus, that image of Rafe in his absolute worst slips in, and you never get anything done. You’ve called in sick twice, just to stay in bed and cry, because you can barely breathe.

You’ve reached out to Sarah a few times, trying to understand what’s going on, but she doesn’t know much either. "He’s off the grid," she’d told you last time, "Doesn’t want to talk to anyone."

That was a week ago.

And now you’re sitting on the edge of your bed, staring at your phone, debating if you should try one more time. One more call. One more text.

Because this can’t possibly end this way. 

He’s the love of your life. 

Sarah’s name flashes on the screen, and you nearly drop the damn thing. “Sarah?”

“Hey,” You can hear it immediately—something’s wrong. “Are you home right now?”

Your stomach drops, “Yeah. Why? What’s going on?”

You can hear her take a shaky breath. “It’s Rafe. He’s, shit, it’s bad. Like, really bad.”

 “What do you mean, bad? Sarah, what happened?”

“Dad’s trying to get his doctor on the line,” she says, her voice cracking. “Just in case he ODs.”

Your blood turns ice cold.

“He’s not picking up,” she continues, her words spilling out in a rush, like she’s trying to keep herself from breaking down. “Dad’s freaking out, and Rafe—he’s not making sense. He’s been on a bender for days, and now he’s just... he’s not there. I don’t know what to do. I thought maybe you could—”

“I’m coming,” you say, cutting her off, already standing, your body moving on autopilot.

You hang up before she can say anything else, grabbing your keys and rushing out the door. The drive to Tannyhill  feels like it takes forever as your mind comes up with worst-case scenarios. You’ve seen Rafe struggle before—you’ve seen the dark places he’s been—but if Sarah’s calling you, if Ward’s getting a doctor involved….

You barely notice you’ve already parked the car, barely notice the front door swinging open as you run inside. The house is quiet, too quiet.

Sarah’s standing by the staircase, her eyes red and puffy. She doesn’t say anything, just nods toward the living room.

And that’s when you see him.

He’s slumped on the couch, his body limp, his eyes half-open but glazed over, like he’s not even seeing what’s in front of him. His skin is pale, clammy, his hands twitching every few seconds, and there’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead. He looks like half a version of himself, his breathing shallow and uneven.

Ward’s pacing the room, his phone pressed to his ear. “I don’t care if he’s busy, get him here now. He’s going to fucking die.”

“Rafe?” you call, stepping toward him. But he doesn’t react. Doesn’t even flinch. He just stares ahead, eyes unfocused, like he’s not even aware you’re there.

Sarah’s standing behind you now, her voice low, “He won’t talk to us. He’s too far gone.”

You sink down beside him, your heart breaking at the sight of him like this. You reach out, hesitating for a second before gently placing your hand on his arm.

“Rafe,” your voice wavers. “Baby, it’s me. Please… please talk to me.”

But there’s nothing. Just silence.

His head lolls to the side, and his eyes meet yours—but it’s like looking at a ghost. The person you know, the person you love, isn’t there. Not right now. Not in this moment. And it kills you.

You keep whispering his name, pleading for him to wake up, to do something, but nothing works.

Ward's still on the phone, pacing like a caged animal, his voice a angry hum in the background. His eyes flick over to you every few minutes, but he doesn’t say anything. Sarah’s standing off to the side, her arms wrapped around herself, her eyes red and puffy from crying. You can see how scared she is, and you’re glad they got Weezie out of the house before she could see this. 

After what feels like an eternity, the front door bursts open, and a doctor rushes in, followed by a paramedic with a bag of medical equipment. The doctor, some guy Ward must have on speed dial for situations like this, doesn’t waste any time. He kneels down beside Rafe, checking his pulse, his pupils, his breathing.

“This is bad,” the doctor mutters, shaking his head. “He’s lucky he’s still breathing.”

Lucky. 

The paramedic moves in, setting up an oxygen mask, checking Rafe’s vitals, and it feels like the room is spinning. You try to stay calm, try to keep your hand on Rafe.

Ward finally hangs up the phone and stands there, watching as the doctor works. “Is he gonna be okay?” he asks, his voice strained because god forbid he shows more emotion.

The doctor glances up, his expression grim. “We need to take him in. I’m stabilizing him, but if this had gone on any longer, we’d be having a different conversation right now.”

You feel like you're going to be sick.

The paramedic starts prepping him for transport, and you stand there, helpless, watching as they move him onto a stretcher. His body looks so limp, so fragile. They’re talking about taking him to the hospital for observation, but all you can hear is the blood pounding in your ears.

Ward steps forward, he watches his son being carried away. For the first time, you see it—real fear in his eyes. 

“I should’ve seen this coming,” Ward says, his voice shaking. “I should’ve stopped it. This is my fault.”

You feel something snap inside of you.  “I’m sure it fucking is.”

He doesn’t say anything. He just stands there like a fucking idiot. Sarah is beside you now, her hand on your arm, gently pulling you back. “Let’s go,” she mutters,“We should go with him.”

You nod, swallowing as you follow her out of the house, leaving Ward standing there alone.

You climb into your car, Sarah beside you, and you both sit there for a moment in silence, watching as the ambulance pulls away, taking Rafe with it.

“I’m scared,” Sarah admits. 

You close your eyes, and nod. “So am I.”

You have to remind yourself to breathe. She sits beside you, staring straight ahead and neither of you says another word.

The hospital is quiet when you arrive, eerily so. You both rush in, Sarah at your side, searching for the emergency room and after a bunch of paperwork and hurried conversations, you’re finally led to the waiting room. The doctor said they’d keep you updated, and you sit down on those stiff, uncomfortable chairs, the waiting begins.

Minutes drag by like hours. You try to text or scroll through your phone, anything to distract yourself, but you can’t focus. Every time you close your eyes, all you can see is Rafe. It’s like your brain is stuck on replay, and you can’t shut it off. Sarah’s over there biting her lip until it’s bleeding. Every now and then, she looks at you, like she’s about to say something, but then she doesn’t. And you don’t either. You can’t. What the hell would you even say? It feels like you’re both waiting for the worst possible news and just pretending you’re not.

After what feels like forever, the doctor finally comes through the doors, and Sarah and you jump up at the same time. 

The doctor sighs, and he looks tired, like this isn’t the first time he’s delivered news like this today.

“We stabilized him,” he says, “He was really close to an overdose, but we got to him in time. He’s still unconscious, but his vitals are stable for now. We’ll keep him under observation for at least 24 hours.”

You finally take a deep breath, but it’s shaky, and it doesn’t feel real. 

Sarah doesn’t even hesitate. The second the doctor says Rafe’s stable, she’s heading towards his room, like she needs to see him, to make sure for herself that he’s really still here. You don’t follow her, though. Your legs feel like they’re made of concrete, if you move, you’ll just collapse right there in the hallway.

As much as you want to be with him, to hold his hand or just… see him breathing, you know you can’t handle it. Not right now. You’ve spent the last two weeks trying to hold it together, and this is the first time you feel like you can finally breathe. Like you’re not suffocating with worry.

What you need more than anything is to get out of here. To just breathe, to close your eyes for more than a minute without the image of him passed out, strung out, burned into your brain. You need sleep. You need to feel something other than panic. He’s gonna be okay. Maybe not perfect, maybe not healed, but for now, he’s alive. 

The next day, you finally gather the courage to see him. You feel like you might throw up at any second. You stop outside his room, staring at the door for what feels like forever, trying to convince yourself to go inside.

He’s lying in bed, looking like he barely walked out of this one alive, but he’s awake. His eyes meet yours the second you step inside, and you feel like you’re going to start crying at any given second. 

“Hey,” You manage to say, You don’t trust your voice to be strong enough to say something more.

Rafe blinks, like he’s surprised to see you. His voice is rough when he speaks, cracked from everything his body’s been through. “You came.”

“Of course I did,” He’s genuinely shocked. As if he thought you’d just walk away from all of this. From him. You swallow hard, taking a step closer to the bed. “Of course I came, Rafe.” Your voice is soft, barely holding together. “Where else would I be?”

He doesn’t answer. His eyes flicker away from yours, settling on the IV in his arm, like he can’t stand to look at you. 

“Sarah called me. She was scared. She didn’t know what to do.”

Rafe’s jaw tightens, but he still won’t meet your eyes. “She shouldn’t have,” he mutters, his voice hoarse, barely there.

“She shouldn’t have had to, Rafe. You scared the shit out of her—out of everyone. And I’ve been sitting here for two weeks, waiting for you to say something, anything, and you just—” You stop yourself, your throat closing up, and you bite your lip to keep from crying. “You almost died.”

You can see his chest rising and falling slowly, and for a split second, you think he’s not going to answer at all. That he’s just going to keep shutting you out. 

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he says quietly. “I didn’t want you to see how fucked up I am.”

Your heart breaks all over again because you’ve already seen it. You’ve seen every part of him—the good, the bad, the absolute worst. And you’re still here. You’re still standing in this stupid hospital room because you love him. He shakes his head, his hands gripping the edge of the blanket like he’s trying to hold himself together.

“I don’t deserve you.”

You step closer to the bed, sitting down carefully on the edge, and for the first time in weeks, you feel like you can breathe. Just a little bit.

“Don’t say that,” you reach for his hand. He flinches at first but doesn’t pull away when you lace your fingers with his. “You’re gonna be okay. We’ll get through this. But you can’t keep pushing me away. I need you to let me help you.”

He closes his eyes, his face twisting in pain, “Ward wanted us to meet mom and I just—”

You’ve never fully understood what his mom meant to him, or maybe what losing her did to him, now you do. That deep-rooted pain that always seems to haunt him when he talks about her is stronger than you’ve ever seen before. 

“I didn’t want you to see this mess. I don’t want anyone to. I’m a fucking disaster. Every time I try to fix something, I just make it worse. I just—” He breaks off, his jaw clenching like he’s trying to swallow down the rest of his words, the ones he can’t say out loud.

“You spent years sober, that’s not easy,” You scoot closer, wrapping your arms around him carefully, not caring if he feels like a mess or if you’re being too much. You just want him to feel like he’s not alone. “Baby, I know you’re hurting,” you murmur into his shoulder, “But I’m not going anywhere.”

“You should,” He confesses, “I hurt you.”

“You have,” you admit, “But that doesn’t mean I’m leaving. I’m not gonna give up on you.”

He looks away, like he doesn’t believe you, like he’s waiting for you to just walk out of that hospital room and never look back. But you don’t.

You tighten your grip on his hand, "You don’t get to decide that for me.  I’m still here because I love you. Even when you push me away.”

“You shouldn’t love me,” he whispers, like it’s some kind of fact, like it’s already been decided.

You shake your head, leaning in closer, your hand resting on his cheek. “But I do, Rafe. I always will. Even when you don’t think you deserve it, we’ll figure it out, together, okay? One step at a time.”

He nods, barely, but it's something. It’s a start.

[billythesimp]

Could I request headcanons for ZZZ Billy, Wise, and Lycaon reacting to his shy gn crush confessing to him please?

Another late-night writing session, another cilent.

[sips my coffee]

Eh- too much sugar... good.

Heartfelt Confessions

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎…

I may have done this a little wrong, but I wrote it in the sense of that they boys where enamored with the gn!insert. That they had a crush on them yet the insert confessed to them. I hope I got that right!

Billy / Wise / Lycaon x Shy-Gn!reader

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡…⋙

tw: none?

✦ I’ll be honest, this would probably go over his head at first. Billy is familiar with their mannerisms and is always patient with them. After all, he just adores how they stumble over their worlds when they wish to comment on anything their cute mind is thinking over. So Billy is just standing there, looking at them as they gather their thoughts and admit their growing affects to them. Yet he’s too focused on the dewy glaze over their eyes when they shyly look up at him, the subtle pout on their lips where he could only dream to feel on his face-plates.

✦  But after some moments of quiet and Billy finally registering what it is they said, he’s baffled and exclaiming why someone so amazing- a beacon of joy and pure innocence, a being that anyone would be more than blessed to have been in the presence of when they flash their most radiant smile- would ever like the likes of him! Believe me, if his long pause of silence from before startled them nervous, his own sudden confession made them embarrassed as he’s practically screaming how amazing they are.

✦ But they assure him that they’ve always admired and shortly grew to love his flaws and perfections. That he made them feel safe and how he made them laugh when times grew grim, that he is always too patient and understanding and that no matter what he was told, they’d only see the real him. The person who cheers up a friend, a person who is passionate about the interests of his colleague, a person who is strong and steps up for others who can’t themselves. Billy could feel his gears and joints ache in the need to collapse as their words come out confident and true, wanting to be a mere puddle beneath their feet. Needless to say, he happily accepted after making another scene which only made them more embarrassed.

✦ His crush has been working part-time at the store with them, always helping them out with returns and promotional materials. So when Belle left to run some errands and it was just them two, Wise was shocked at first when they asked to speak with him in private. So in the staff room, they rushed out their confession that Wise was worried that they could have bitten their tongue and tried to calm them down.

✦ He holds their arms gently and tells them that it’s alright and how he’s nothing but happy to hear this. He’ll admit, he’s known about their affections for a while after all he’s Wise, cunning and sharp with attention to details. That and while he won’t admit it, Belle has at times helped him figure out if they really do like him. The teasing she and Eous gave him, if word got out to you he’d probably die there and now. Maybe he should have gone through Fairy and see to it that any camera recording of the incident be deleted.

✦ Seeing as he all accepted their confess, they smile happily before he pulls them into a tight hug, heart beating as he finally could do all the things he wanted now that they knew he liked them- no, cherished their affect and love. He couldn’t wait to bombard them with the soft touches, lingering kisses and teasing whispers that he has held back out of respect and belief that they were nothing more than just friends, co-workers, allies. That is, if they would be mentally ready as he notices how fidgety and flushed they became at the simple gesture of affection. Yeah, he’ll go slow with them for sure, but he was nothing but excited.

✦ Lycaon cares dearly for his proxy and always attempts to keep things professional between the two. However, it proves difficult when they always depend on them when working together, always seeking him out and giving him the time of day while others probably wouldn’t. He holds them closely to his heart, so anytime they call on him, he’s at attention and can’t help but have to hold back the need to kneel before them and pledge loyalty there. Which would have made them more nervous and flushed when they ask about what they are.

✦ Of course, they’ve noticed his attention to detail in their mannerism and how he’s always stepping up to help them should they grow to shy to order or help solve their problem they thought dumb and meaningless. They are scared of ruining this little bond of theirs, but Von could only assure them that their feelings are true, that he would be an idiot should he not accept their confession as he too has nothing but love filled for them. He compromised that they’ll still hold a professional work relationship but in private, he’d want nothing more than to be theirs.

✦ The way they blush and start fidgeting with a strand of hair, he hadn’t noticed how his tail swayed happily despite the calm and clear demeanor he displayed. The mere motion made them only awe at how cute he was, taking his gloved hand as he lifted it towards his muzzle. The lightest of kisses on the back of their hand, skin warmed at the touch as he only stares with those dark red eyes of his. Piercing as to say they were his as he is theirs, a bond stronger than human- one of the beast and their tamer.

[bandgie]

The One That Got Away

synopsis: Hyunjin is nothing more than a playboy you wish you had zero history with. You wish he feels the same, but he can't seem to forget the night you ran from him.

warning!: MDNI 18+, fem!reader, oral (f!rec), teeth use (i have to), fingering, cum eating, dry humping (brief)

notes: this is a request that took me way too long to write

3.8k words

“No.”

Hwang Hyunjin blinks. He awkwardly shifts on his feet, standing at the front of the classroom two feet shy away from you. He had made sure to ask you once everyone left. When you were busy stacking the papers the students turned in for grading. Your unamused eyes looked away from his still form, hoping he’d get the message and leave, but of course, he didn't.

“No?” He parrots. “I really need to pass this course.”

“And I really need to grade the papers,” you slap the stack on the desk. When you applied to be a teaching assistant for your professor, you thought it would be simply grading and answering emails. Instead, you’re teaching class, helping students who are either too tired or high to understand what you’re saying. It got to the point that you begged Professor Bang for another TA, one that’s specifically for tutoring. 

“But Jisung told me to ask you. All of his slots are full,” his usual cocky eyes fill with uncertainty. “Is this because of…the thing?”

You freeze at the mention, swearing that your heart stops beating. A flash of memories infiltrate your mind as you're forced to recall his hands on your body, the feeling of his warm breath on your neck as you pushed up against him. It was before the semester started. Before you knew that Hwang Hyunjin would be one of your professor’s students. 

The first time he saw you.

You clear your throat, carefully putting the papers in your bag. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But your half-irritated half-nervous demeanor gives it away. It’s enough for Hyunjin to smile, propping himself against the desk almost flirtingly. “You don’t? Well, I do. You were wearing that cute little tank top and-”

“Jisung is the one in charge of tutoring,” you cut him off and pray he can't see the blood rushing to your face. “If he doesn’t have a slot open, I’ll make him open one up. Don’t bother me about shit that isn’t my problem.”

There’s a small victorious feeling when you see his smile drop. When his limbs look more lanky than confident as you take your leave. The reason your hips sway is because of your heels, not because of the piercing gaze you know Hyunjin is giving your back.

-

Luck is hardly, if ever, on your side. Or maybe it was just Jisung’s pretty eyes practically begging you to take just one student to tutor that made you cave. 

“Just one time, please! I’m filled with students already!”

“I don’t see any sessions for Saturday.”

“It’s mine and Minho’s anniversary that day! Pleeease!”

You tune out the remembered conversation to focus on your outfit instead. It was Hyunjin’s idea to meet at a cafe, though you weren’t sure if they were open this late. You slide your clothes across the rack, looking for a jacket when a familiar tank top catches your eye. Gently, you pull it from the closet to further inspect it. 

You were wearing that cute little tank top…

The material is tight, purposely so that your chest pushes together for extra cleavage. It makes you look nice, so much so that Hyunjin couldn’t take his eyes off you that night. Were you a student? No, Hyunjin knew almost everyone, especially pretty girls. There’s no way you would have slipped under his radar. Asking you to dance was pure alcohol on his side, you grinding your ass against his crotch was on yours.

There isn’t much to the memory, you left before things got too serious. But you remembered the night when you woke up the day after and apparently, so did Hyunjin when you walked into the classroom to introduce yourself as their TA.

Wearing the same tank top would be foolish. It would only show Hyunjin that you did remember, that you did like the way he felt against you even through all the clothes and people bumping against you. Logically, you should toss the top back into the closet.

You saved thinking logically for your assignments. 

-

Hyunjin was having a hard time looking at your eyes. You were explaining the critical differences between an independent and a dependent variable, but those pretty lips moving would occasionally sip on the staw. Your lips would purse and your tongue would stretch out to firmly hold onto it while you drank. Your throat would gently bob, and now you licked the remaining liquid from your lips to continue talking. 

Whenever you help Hyunjin write, his eyes lock with your chest. That damned tank top barely doing anything to help the spilling of your tits. The same ones he groped from behind you during that night, daring to dip underneath that material just before you fled.

“Why did you run away?”

You pause in the middle of your sentence to look up at him, leaning back to properly scan his face. Hyunjin hadn’t meant to speak out loud, but he can't find himself regretting it when you cock your head to the side in confusion. “From what?”

“The thing.”

You groan, grabbing your cup and furiously drinking it. “Can you stop it with the thing? That was months ago.” You keep sipping in hopes of Hyunjin dropping it, but he leans closer from the other side of the table as he says, “I don’t think so. You were all up on me and then dipped. I can’t get over it.”

“First of all,” you raise a manicured finger at him. “You were the one on me, let's get that straight. Secondly,” you put up a second digit, “You’re gonna have to get over it. I didn’t wanna fuck you then and I don’t wanna fuck you now.” Horrified eyes from nearby tables turn in your direction. You silently curse yourself and embarrassingly suck on the straw. “This isn’t a place where we should talk about this.”

Hyunjin nods, agreeing with you for what seems like the first time ever. “You’re right. Let’s go to mine.” He begins to pack his things without waiting for your response. You scowl at him, watching as he leaves a generous tip for the waiter and stands. 

You don’t know why you follow him and you don’t want to know. His place is only a few blocks away from the cafe, but the street feels like it stretches on forever in the night. Hyunjin keeps you on the inner sidewalk, huffing about how you shouldn’t walk close to the streets. You’d think it was cute if the person was someone other than him, so you only bicker in return. 

It’s only when you enter his apartment that you fall silent. You thought his place would be trashed, maybe even some female underwear lying around somewhere, but it’s cozy. Clean enough to know that he keeps it up, but still having things thrown around to know he frequents here. Books sprawled open, only a few dishes in the sink, and random splashes of paint on the hard floor as if he spilled. 

“Not bad, huh?” He smiles at your ogling. You huff and turn your head away from him, “I never said it was good.” Hyunjin chuckles, gesturing to the small living room as he makes his way to his smaller kitchen. 

“I got chocolate muffins, grapes… instant ramen…” he trails off, obviously desperate to look for something good to offer. “I assume knock-off Oreos are off the table?” Against your better self, you smile. You remember being a struggling undergrad, living off cheap ramen and tap water. “I’m okay, thanks.”

He nods, “Good. ‘Cuz that has to last me ‘till my next paycheck.”

You look at him both amused and perplexed. “Then why did you even offer me anything?” Hyunjin flops beside you on the couch, letting his limbs stretch, “Because I’m a good host. Am I supposed to let a pretty girl starve instead?”

Ah, there he is. It’s hard to believe that Hyunjin is anyone but a flirt. It’s even harder to believe that his little tricks actually worked, even almost on you. “Does that always work for you?” He cocks his pretty head to the side, dark hair falling over his eyes in the process, “Does what?”

You gesture to his body; the open legs, the sly smirk, the nonchalant slouch that he’s practiced, “This whole…act. You being all hot and flirty so girls will sleep with you.” Hyunjin’s eyes widen. He shifts in his seat, uncomfortable with your observation. It only takes a cool ruffle of his hand through his hair before he says, “I dunno. Is it working?” He laughs borderline obnoxiously while your nose scrunches in distaste. “Hardly. I’d say it’s having quite the opposite effect.”

A wicked smile finds his beautiful lips. “Is that so?” Hyunjin gently places his hand on your thigh, letting his thumb rub on the smooth surface of your skin. He leans towards you, hair tickling your neck as he whispers, “How about now? You feeling any different?”

He expects you to roll your eyes, maybe even push him away, but you don’t. You’re too busy trying to ignore the pumping of your heart. It’s loud in your ears, thump thump thump.

You open and close your mouth, not sure of what you should say. Shoving him away should be your next move, but being this close to him only reminds you of the party. His breath is warm on your skin, so much like that night. Hyunjin doesn’t creep his hand up, but you're silently wishing he could. You want to feel him touch you again. You want his fingers to dig into the flesh of your breasts, leaving marks in their wake. 

“Why’d you run?” He asks again. 

You can’t ignore him now. Not when the truth crawls up your throat and leaves your tongue. “I didn’t mean to. I just had never…” You turn your head away. A part of you wants to run away again. To leave this awkward, yet alluring situation. You want to go back to the comfort of your room, rotting in your bed while graduates and undergraduates live the college life you know isn’t meant for you.

Hyunjin doesn’t let you escape this time, not without an answer at least. One hand finds your chin, gently turning it until you’re forced to look at him. His eyes are anything but impatient like you thought they’d be. They’re intent, watchful, and gleaming. They drop to your tongue swiping against your lips then back to your eyes.

God, you want to kiss him.

“You just never what?”

Screw it. You close the distance. With your eyes closed, you pray that you find his lips aimlessly. Hyunjin lets out a surprised mmf! when you make contact. He lets your lips mold around his, moving his hand from your chin to the back of your neck to steady himself. He presses you slightly harder against him, forcing your mouth to open just the tiniest bit so he can get the first taste of you.

The gentle sounds of smacking turn wetter. You quietly whimper against his mouth and you feel him smile. Hyunjin tugs you. Once, twice, before you finally get the message to sit on his lap. You only break the kiss for a short second before your back on them, ignoring the nervousness pooling in your stomach as you straddle him. 

Hyunjin pulls from your mouth to kiss your cheek, down your jawline until he bites your earlobe. You cry out, gripping his shoulders and slightly trembling in his hold. His hands squeeze your waist, unintentionally making you rub against his crotch.

“Look at that,” he whispers in your ear. “Who’s on who now?” Hyunjin giggles when you bury your face in his neck. His hands roam lower until they find the fat of your ass. You stiffen, arching your back just the slightest so he can have more to grab. With his hands on you, Hyunjin slowly grinds you on his crotch. You feel his hard-on, the bulge pressing against your cunt so deliciously it scares you.

Hyunjin notices the difference. He picks his head from your neck and you do the same. 

“You said you've never done something before,” you can see him connecting the two, but you already know he’s going to arrive at the wrong answer. “Did you mean, like? You’re still a virgin?”

You shake your head, red from both embarrassment and arousal. “Not like that. I just mean, I’ve never had…a hookup.”

He raises his eyebrow. “You? Never?”

“Nope.”

“But you’re like, a graduate. And you’re hot.” Hyunjin wiggles his eyebrows and you playfully push him. “Thanks, but none of those really matter. I get awkward if it’s not someone I know. That’s why I usually…”

He finishes for you, “Run away.” 

You nod. 

“Well…” Hyunjin moves his hands back to your waist, lifting you until you’re back seated on the couch. Disappointment fills you. You weren’t sure if you necessarily wanted to fuck Hyunjin, but you definitely didn’t want to be rejected by him at the very least. You don’t want to feel humiliated, but you do. You’re about to get up and practically scurry for the front door before he parts your legs.

Hyunjin hooks one over his shoulder while the other hangs over the couch limp. He leans his head down, stomach flat on the cushions as he nudges against your thighs. He shoots you a sly smile, “Guess we’ll just start slow then.”

You bite your lower lip when his fingers diligently work your buttons. Hyunjin leans closer and takes hold of the zipper in his mouth. “This okay wit’ you?” You giggle from his muffled words, nodding. “Mhm. I honestly thought you were gonna tell me to leave.”

His eyebrows shoot up, surprise evident in his face as he drags the zipper down. “What?” He says as he shuffles your pants down. “Why would I do that?” You shrug, but there’s a pink hue in your cheeks. “I dunno. I was thinking maybe you’d like someone who knew what they were doing.”

Hyunjin blows a raspberry, concentrating on getting your tight jeans off until they’re nothing but a pile of clothes on the floor. He settles back between your legs, eyes lighting up at the sight of your pretty panties. “The way you were grinding up on me that night? I won’t lie, I definitely thought you knew what you were doing. But it doesn’t really matter if you do or don’t.” Hyunjin presses a chaste kiss to your inner thigh, making you hum from the warmth. “I can do it all for you.”

Heat bubbles in your stomach at those words. You mindlessly nod, although you’re not sure if you were supposed to respond anyway. Hyunjin’s nose brushes against your clothed cunt, his lips puckering so he can gently press kisses to your core. 

You mewl at the sensation, widening your legs so he has more room. Hyunjin shows his appreciation by opening his mouth. Even through your underwear, you can feel the heat of his mouth. Your legs eagerly quiver when he finally plants his mouth on your pussy. His tongue makes work to your clit, rubbing the sensitive flesh until your panties grow wetter. 

The sounds make up for the lack of noise in the room, but you can’t find yourself to be embarrassed. Not when he finally pushes the underwear to the side with the tip of his nose and presses another gentle kiss on your bare cunt. His tongue is just as gentle as his lips. He smoothes over your flesh with consideration, sucking the bud of your clit. You jolt, one hand shooting to his hair to grip.

“Fuck!” You use your free hand to grasp onto your breast with your elbow keeping you half-sitting. “It’s so sensitive there.”

Hyunjin giggles with your clit in his mouth, giving a harsh suck just to pop off a second later. “I know. Ever had your pussy eaten at least?”

You have to blink in concentration. It’s hard to think of the small, pathetic sexual encounters you’ve had when Hyunjin goes back to eating you out. The only response you give him is moaning, your hand pressing him deeper into your cunt until his nose shines with arousal. 

A whine leaves you when he pulls away, replacing his skilled mouth with equally skilled fingers. They’re long, and warm, but not as soft as this tongue. You open your mouth to complain, but a long-winded sigh leaves instead when they brush against your fattening clit. Your teeth dig into your lower lip as you look at his digits flicking your pussy. “Shit.” 

“Anyone ever told you how cute your little pussy is?” He locks eyes with your core. “I can’t believe no one’s tasted it. It’s fucking good.” Hyunjin’s eyes glaze over with something you haven’t seen before. A desire so deep you think he could drink you up with just his look. His tongue pokes out of his mouth unconsciously as he slides his fingers lower, just until the tip of his digit finds your entrance.

He dips it in, groaning at how easily you open up for him. It’s warm inside, so soft that he can’t help the way his fingers keep digging deeper until his knuckles touch your skin. You can feel your walls pulsing around him as you throw your head back. “Not- mmm- not like this. No one’s eaten me like this.” 

Hyunjin lets out what you think is closer to a growl than a moan at your words. He pumps his fingers fast and hard, making a repetitive slapping sound echo throughout his living room. You squeal, snapping your head down to look at him. You clench harder seeing him; his open mouth, the intense gaze, the heavy breathing. 

Unable to keep eye contact, you peer down at your cunt. His fingers have a sheer coat of white from his efforts, so much so that it begins to slide down his wrist. You whimper at the sight. Hyunjin follows your line of sight, moaning at the mess you’ve made on him.

“God, fuck!” He leans his back down, tongue already blindlessly looking for your cunt. “Please, please, please.” You’re not sure what he’s begging for, but something in you bubbles with the first signs of your orgasm at the thought of him so needy to taste you. The combination of his fingers and mouth makes you gasp. The very few people you’ve been with only cared if you were wet enough to take them. They didn’t care if you came. If you felt so good that you wanted to crawl out of your skin like how you feel now.

It’s so hot being trapped between your thighs. Hyunjin has sweat dripping down his forehead, but he hardly slows down. Not when he can see you panting, legs restlessly scrambling before you wrap them around his neck to keep him there. Being pressed against your cunt makes it harder for him to finger you, but you don’t seem to mind. You seem content with having something to clench down on while he sucks on your clit, and he’s more than happy to oblige. 

“Hyunjin!” You cry out his name. You repeat it over and over when his mouth envelopes your entire pussy. He sucks, he licks, and he grunts when you yank on his hair a little too hard. Your hips begin to rock against his face, trying to both escape and increase the intense pleasure you’re feeling. His mouth follows you easily, uncaring of how much you pull and tug on his hair. 

“Don’t stop. Shit, please don’t stop.” You build and build, nearly forgetting to breathe before finally crashing down. Hyunjin tipped you over by ever so slightly biting on your clit. The hardness of his teeth provides the perfect amount of pressure for you to cum on his face. Hyunjin stills his fingers, letting you rhythmically pulse around his digits while his tongue laps continuously over your flesh.

You must sound like you’re crying, screaming, or something in between. You can’t help the shuddering breaths, the loud mewls, or the moans that leave you when Hyunjin helps you come down from your high. 

Finally, you release his hair. You loosen the grip you've trapped him with between your legs so he can let up, but Hyunjin stays satisfied by licking you clean. It would be overstimulating if it weren’t for his kitten licks. His tongue swipes a fat strip up your pussy before pulling his fingers from your entrance to suck there instead. 

“Damn,” you say breathlessly. “You stuck there or something?”

Hyunjin makes you yelp when he roughly drags his tongue back to your nub. You shoot him a warning look that only makes him laugh. “Weren’t you telling me not to stop?” You huff, rolling your eyes and looking away dramatically. 

Hyunjin doesn’t let you bicker before he sits up away from your cunt. Although your cunt is swollen and sensitive, you can’t help but chase the heat of his mouth when he lets go.

You whine and collapse on the couch, arm and back slightly aching from keeping you upright. You can’t imagine how tired his jaw must be from making you finish, but he wears your cum like a trophy on his face. Hyunjin keeps a dazed smile on, leaning back until his back perches on the arm-rest of the couch

“Ugh,” You groan from his shit-eating grin, closing your legs and sitting upright. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Hyunjin throws his head back and laughs, picking it back to give you a false frown. “I made you cum, and that’s how you repay me?” He pouts, “Don’t try and run away from me again.” Your breath gets caught at his words. He most likely meant it as a joke, but you can’t help feeling almost guilty about leaving him high and dry that night. Maybe you should finally make it up to him. 

“Do you want me to…return the favor?”

Hyunjin’s eyes widen for a moment, seemingly surprised that you even offered. You’re waiting for him to shift in his seat and begin to unbuckle his belt, but he stays on his ass comfortably. “Nah, that’s okay.” He smiles charmingly. “You can kiss me instead.”

You groan, pretending that the butterflies erupting in your stomach are just the aftershocks from your orgasm. Hyunjin laughs again, harder this time. He’s too busy closing his eyes and giggling at your reactions to see you crawl forward. Too busy wiping the hilarious tears to notice that you’ve puckered your lips and leaned in.

This time, you’re the one smiling when he squeaks in your mouth.

[thetxtdevil]

Jealousy Award Show

Yeonjun x Reader

summary: It was the first award show you got to go with your boyfriend. The many acts and celebrities interest you, but Yeonjun thinks you got too invested with a certain celebrity.

content: smut, bf/idol dom.yeonjun, gf reader, bts makes an appearance! (lets pretend this is the future and they're all back from the military), car/public sex, fingering, degrading (nickames like slut/whore), oral (fem rec.), riding, no condom (smh)

word count: 1.7k

The crowd was loud tonight, thousands of people attending the award show were seated all around the arena. It was your first time going, sitting there with a gracious small next to your boyfriend and his band. It was fun to see these acts in real time, after getting your vision back from the flashing lights of paparazzi. Yeonjun sat close to you, eyes linger on your body in a dress that was specially made for you with the help of his staff. He had to hold himself back a lot trying to not be too touchy when cameras were on him and you all night.

It was tiring, Yeonjun did have his hand on your waist many times but not like how he usually does. His big hands lightly graze your waist teasing you a bit, but it was all to show the world he is a gentleman. In reality he wanted to grip you closer, he wanted your ass sitting on him instead of the uncomfortable chair given to the guests.

Yeonjun's eyes were diverted from your physique when a stage manager came up to his band. "You guys need to start getting ready." You turn your head towards Jun and pout, hesitant at first Yeonjun gives you a peck on the cheek and you wishing them luck before he leaves. Left there alone, you fix your dress feeling awkward until a few familiar gentlemen sat next to you and introduces themselves.

Talking to the men, your attention was caught by the loud screams of fans. You look at the stage knowing what was to come next. An accustomed tune fills your ears making your lips turn up. Spot lights rotate to the lifted members of TXT, you had to stop yourself from standing up in excitement remembering this isn't one their concerts. The men fills the arena with booming music, excellent vocals, you drool seeing Yeonjun having a surprise breakdance. At the end of their act, the members separate walking the stage waving to moas. Yeonjun nonchalantly looks for you his big smile weakens when he sees you talking to the members of BTS. Little did he know you were bragging about your boyfriend, but Jun continues to give moas attention.

---

"Oh my god guys you were so great!" you scream at TXT meeting them backstage at the end of the award show.

"Thanks y/n, did you enjoy Yeonjun's dance?" Soobin asks with a dimple smile.

"Uhhh yes, but it was a little too sexy in my opinion" you say glancing at your boyfriend who was rolling his eyes.

"Hey y/n, I just bumped into BTS do you want to meet them?" Kai asks getting all the members' attention.

"I sure do!" you squeak skipping towards Kai.

Yeonjun had a buring sensation of annoyance "you already met them" he mumbles remebering what he saw on stage, but he couldn't back away from the opportunity, you admired the band just like he does. Body tense, Yeonjun tries to be polite to his hyungs however, he was getting irritated with your bright attitude. The older men were invested in you, having great conversations starters and you were loving it, Yeonjun was not. Rolling his eyes every time you would laugh, forcing a smile when you would look at him. As time passes Yeonjun felt like there was steam coming out of his ears.

"The cars are waiting for you guys" a staff member announces.

Yeonjun sighs in relief, you purse your lips having a fun time with the band. Saying your goodbyes, you and your boyfriend get into the car. You break the silence by thanking Yeonjun for taking you tonight but the man nods and says nothing. Looking at the sulking man your brows furrow trying to study his grumpy attitude. What has gotten into him? He was so happy earlier.

It was dark, lights from building windows glowed numerous colors and the street lamps' light flashed in the back seat. You two sat there in silence, nothing but faint breathing.

"Why did you have to feel Jungkook's muscles like that?" he says focused on the seam of his pants.

"Uh because he's hot" you say like it was obvious then smack your mouth realizing you said this to your boyfriend not a friend.

Yeonjun's gaze snaps towards you, signaling that you were in deep trouble. His slit eyebrows furrowed and his round eyes turned sharp. He abruptly gets out of his seat crawling over as you fall on the car door, handle digging into your back. You stared into his dark eyes, shivering at the feeling of the man's hot breathe. Electricity sparked between the lips that grazed one another. Yeonjun grabs your legs so they were surrounding his waist, teasing a kiss on the lips.

"J-junnie we're in a car" you say as you look around and watching the focused driver.

"Oh so I'm not good enough for you? Am I not hot enough for you to do it anywhere?" he interrogates, making you shiver, "answer me."

"You're extremely hot especially..." you thoughts trail off when you feel your boyfriends hand kneads your inner thigh.

"Finish your sentence slut" Yeonjun spits.

"Especially when you're jealous" you whine.

Even in the dark of the car you can see Yeonjun's noxious grin. He leans down roughly kissing your lips until they bruise, forcing his tongue into your mouth proving his dominance. His rough hand grazes your thigh to your cunt rubbing the wetness into the thin material of your panties. You quietly gasp into the mans mouth slightly moving your hips against his hand.

"You don't have to be quiet, princess" Yeonjun's raspy voice vibrates against the skin of your neck, "everyone should know how good I make you feel."

Yeonjun's fingers find their way into your folds. The freezing digits made your back arch and head hit the leather of the car door. His fingers glide along your wet slit every now and then flicking your clit. Bitting your lip to stop your sounds from falling out of your mouth.

"I'm not going to continue if I don't hear my whore moan for me" He looks at the neediness in your eyes, god did he love this sight, "Maybe if I occupy somewhere else I'll start hearing you."

Whining when his warmth leaves your face, you watch his eyes stare as he bends down between your legs. You try to push your knees together but it was no use as Yeonjun's broad shoulders were in the way. His hand grasp your plush flesh kneading them while his other hand still teased your cunt.

"You weren't this shy when you were at the award show what happened?" Yeonjun teasingly asks as his thumb finally rubs circles into your clit.

A long drawn out moan escapes your lips making the man happy to hear you loosen up. "There it is, your beautiful sounds."

He pushes a finger into your tight hole allowing more sounds burst out of you, "that’s it, let me hear you because I'm the only who is allowed to make you like this."

You start to heat up from the lewd sounds coming from your mouth and pussy. Yeonjun leans into your wetness licking and sucking you pulsating clit. He adds another digit to your entrance stretching you out deliciously as he spreads his fingers. "Ugh, jun need you.."

The man hums at your request but not doing anything other continuing his abusive behavior on your cunt. He pushes your grinding hips down making you whine profusely. Lapping up your juices and fingers curling hitting that sweet spot every time. He hears your moans turning into cries knowing you are about to cum on his face at any moment. "J-jun, um going to-"

Yeonjun abruptly stops his actions releasing himself from you. A gasp of horror strikes you as you lose the sense of release in your core. Looking down at the man, he doesn't say anything grinning to himself he says "who else hears, knows those sounds you make, hum?? no one."

Your chest was heaving, feeling uncomfortably horny for more. You watch him unbuckle his belt, undoing his trousers to free his angry hard dick. He kneels back, slowly pumping himself in front of you. He acts like you weren't there still laying wide open to take him.

"Please.." you softly whine, Yeonjun's dark eyes open to look at you, "please, no one has ever, will never make me feel as good as you do."

Yeonjun tilts his head back smiling in victory, cock twitching at the thought that you're only his and that you intended to be only his. You could only watch in awe as his aura changed from anger to relief. He changes positions on the car seat going back to the proper sitting position. "Come one, ride my dick." He pats his thigh.

Launching out of your seat you quickly straddle his hips. Grabbing Yeonjun's face and kissing him desperately. Yeonjun moans as he feels your drenched pussy grinding on him. His hands massage the flesh of your thighs. You couldn't wait any longer, your fingers pushes your ruined panties to the side and quickly sink onto Yeonjun's dick. Both of you gasp at the feeling of your walls engulfing him so well. You lay your head on his shoulder kissing his neck, hands fondling with the buttons of his shirt.

It wasn't long until you started picking up the pace bouncing on him. His big hands grab to your ass helping you along his dick. Every curve of his dick stirred your insides pounding into you hitting deep. Looking up at your boyfriend you moan at the sight of his tilted head fully exposing the veins of his neck and sharp jaw line. His groans filled up the car, your cares of anyone seeing you were long gone.

"You're hot" you breath out.

Yeonjun's head snaps to look at you grinning, leaning in to passionately kiss you as he thrusts up into you harder. His hand drifts from your hips to in between your legs skillfully circling your clit. Moaning into his mouth that electrifying feeling fills your stomach again.

"C-can I please.."

"Go ahead"

With all of your strength grinding hard against the man you eventually come undone, Yeonjun hisses at your walls' intense clenching making him paint your walls with his cum. Both of you sat there for awhile cuddling and warming each other. It was so comfy you could've fallen asleep in his arms until you realized the car slowing down to a stop. Lifting your head up to see your surroundings you gasp, "shit we're home already."

Yeonjun smiles at you, "let get inside and take that pretty gown off."

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil

read more from: Jealousy/Envy TXT Masterlist

taglist: @inkigayocamman, @naoristerling, @f4iryfever

[ericscroptop]

Needy

✧ pairing: bf! eric x gf! reader

✦ genre: smut

✧ warnings: 18+ (minors DNI), smut, p!rn with slight plot, bratty and dramatic reader just a tad, reader is insanely needy that it’s like, “okay, damn, we get it!” — but that’s the entire point, teasing, kissing, making out, fondling, grinding, one spank, marking, unprotected sex, sideways sex, creampie, dirty talk, cursing, pet names, fluff, fluffy aftercare

✦ word count: 6.5k words

✧ synopsis: it’s ‘missing eric hours’ and you can’t help but be a smidge of a brat about it until he finally gives you the attention you need.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

A huff passes out of you for what seems like the millionth time today.

Anything and everything you could possibly watch on TV seems uninteresting. You sit up from your bed and stare at nothing in particular, drowning out the television noise with your sulking thoughts at the fact that it’s getting late and your boyfriend still isn’t in the room with you.

While he was actually under the same roof as you, he was working in his at-home office room, swamped by various tasks and extra work he had to bear suddenly.

He’d been in his office practically all day and night. You know that duty calls, but you can’t help that you want to spend pretty much all of your time with him. These days, he’s been a busy man. You’re both lucky that he was able to work from home today, but it was still painful and no different since he’s locked away to focus properly.

You’re becoming restless. All day you’ve tried to occupy yourself with several activities, but they all got monotonous quickly. It also felt isolating knowing you and Eric were under the same roof, but couldn’t spend proper time together. It was torturous.

Planting your feet on the ground, you stand up out of bed. The clock was getting close to midnight and your boyfriend was still locked in that damn office.

You stride towards his office, going with determination to persuade him to call it a night and come join you in your comfortable shared-bedroom.

He had advised you to leave him be and he’d call for you or text if he needed something so he could fully immerse himself without distractions, but you couldn’t help your antsy-ness.

He needed to take care of himself properly and rest. And you needed a reminder of how good it felt to have Eric curled up beside you, relaxed in his arms.

Without knocking on the door, you invite yourself in with no hesitation. Eric is already peering up at you from his desk once the door’s fully opened. You greet him with a sense of longing behind your eyes, while he offers you a weary grin.

“Babe, it’s getting late.” you’re the first one to speak, moving yourself over to his figure slumped on the chair.

“I know, honey. But I have just a couple more pages left and then i’ll be done.” he lets out a heavy sigh, exhausted eyes trained on his computer.

You bring a hand to his soft hair and run your fingers through it, then carefully brush along his fringe before pressing a chaste kiss over his temple.

The sight of his eyes fluttering shut for a second from his side profile, and hearing the short hum paired with a faint giggle as you kiss him has your heart burning. God, you missed him.

You retract with a sweet smile and move your hands over his shoulders, deciding to give them a massage as well.

He exhales while you kneaded along his hard, tight muscles, closing his eyes for a second time and starting to lose himself in the feeling of you reducing and relieving any present tension.

The sensation of your hands alleviating his stress and your familiar touch making him immediately unwind is almost enough for him to say ‘fuck it’ and call it a night.

Though, he flashes his eyes open and straightens his posture, forcing you to drop your hands down as he scoots his chair an inch or two closer towards his desk.

“Go ‘head and lay in bed, princess. Don’t wait up on me.” his eyes are once again stuck to his computer, his calloused fingers going back to making work with the keyboard like they have been all day.

The taste of accomplishment is too close to give up now. He’d finish up the last bit of work and then finally get to reward himself with a well-deserved sleep, fueled by your warmth and presence.

While you admired his strong work ethic and commitment, it did sometimes stand in the way of your selfish desires and from him getting proper rest.

All you wanted is for your boyfriend to be laid alongside you. Your eyes followed his own at his screen, noticing the time in the corner displaying that it’s technically a new day now. Seeing it makes you shift your weight to your right leg, arms crossing over your chest and head slightly tilted.

“Eric!” you whined, pouting tiredly.

“Y/n!” he mimicked your tone, incessantly typing away.

“You’ve been trapped in this room all day! Surely your body and mind need a break. You shouldn’t be working this late.” you continued to nag him.

“It’s my job, baby. The deadline for this is tomorrow afternoon. Lemme finish this and I’ll have the whole day free tomorrow.” he says without sparing you a glance.

You were agitated. You didn’t know how much you valued quality time until you met Eric. He was your person. It killed you seeing him so busy and hardly having time to even sit down and have a meal with you. Now that it was night, you’d think that he would actually clock off and come running to you. Boy, were you wrong.

“I need you, baby. Come lie down with me.” you tell him desperately, hoping he folds for the neediness laced in your voice.

“And so does my boss— to finish this work up. I’m sorry. Please go lay down, hm?” he responds, turning to meet your form with a dog-tired look written all over his face.

It’s only a few seconds before he faces his computer again, continuing to click away.

His expression is serious and focused, albeit tired. While your persistence is tempting, it’s even more enticing having the entire day free tomorrow if he finishes this last task.

He’s not budging, leaving you to mope to the max. You release a deep sigh, adding extra emphasis to the sound to express how irritated you are.

“You know, I’d get this done a lot faster if you’d just leave me to work in peace.” he mutters, but audible enough for you to obviously catch it. There’s a tinge of impatience within his words, wishing you’d just let it go. It’s too late to be fussing around. He’s aware that he’s been distant, but he’s so close to freedom. If only you’d just let him get it done.

His words make your brows furrow and feel a sting in your heart. All you wanted is for him to take a break after working nonstop and remember that he has a life outside of work. Your behavior was probably annoying, but was it bad that you just wanted your boyfriend to unwind and be with you? Even if it was for a couple minutes?

Without any more communication, you stomp out of the room like a bratty child. Eric’s gaze follows your figure as you leave the room, eyes closing shut with an upset sigh once he hears you shut the door. You don’t slam it, but he knows how pissed you are at him.

He feels bad that he just kicked you out and rejected you. Oh, how he wishes tonight could’ve been a movie night filled with cuddles and kisses. But he knows that you know he can’t slack off his job. The sooner he gets this done, the sooner he’ll get to be attached to you by the hip.

You just had to unfortunately wait a little longer.

Storming back into your room, you’re filled with defeat. There’s really nothing you can do, and you just have to accept the fact that work consumes a decent chunk of his time sometimes. You have to suck it up.

Maybe you will listen to your boyfriend and go to bed. You’re bummed out that the day has gone to waste. Without a doubt if the roles were reversed, he would’ve dragged you to bed hours ago. You just miss your man!

Since you already completed your bed time routine a while ago, all you have to do is turn off the TV, lights, and sink into bed.

Though, as you grab your remote that was hidden in between folds of your blanket, you turn to the television and are faced with a very romantic scene between a couple. It has you pause in turning it off, jealousy beginning to itch your brain.

Damn it, Eric. That could’ve been us tonight.

Seeing that moment ends up sparking an idea in you. Instead of turning the TV off, you only turn down the volume, then place the remote on the nightstand. Afterwards, you shimmy out of your comfy loungewear bottoms, leaving you in some underwear that isn’t anything special.

You decide to discard of that as well, moving over to one of you drawers to hunt for some new underwear, a specific pair in mind that is Eric’s absolute favorite.

Within seconds, you find it. It’s a pair of cheeky, lacey baby pink panties with a small bow in the front. It was one of your most beloved as well. You loved how pretty the style and color was. Even if it was just fabric, who doesn’t love a good pair of underwear?

Eric has expressed to you at least twice how the visual of you wearing this special pair makes him swoon. The delicacy of the detailing and softness of the shade of pink flatters your sensual areas. It teased him so much. Especially with how it exposed your ass cheeks the perfect amount. Just the sight of you prancing or laying around in those lacey pink panties had him captivated and folded immediately like a lawn chair.

Which is why you’re wearing them to bed tonight, and only that.

You figured that if work has kept all his attention today, you could tease him by going to bed simply wearing that piece of fabric that drives him insane. It’s silly and petty behavior, and you know that him having a demanding job can’t be helped, but he needs a reminder in what he’s missing out on.

You remove your shirt and toss it to the side, leaving your torso bare. You crawl into your respective side of the bed, lying on your stomach, side of face down against your pillow. The lights from the TV and lamp remain on, you not bothering in shutting them off so Eric has a crystal clear view when he finally decides to go to bed.

You also don’t cover yourself with the sheets or blanket, leaving your almost-bare body exposed to the air.

Now all that’s left is to wait.

About an hour later, Eric finally feels freedom from closing all the open tabs on his computer. After a long day, he successfully accomplished what he needed to get done before the deadline.

He cracks his neck and knuckles while staring at his screensaver, a candid of you and him that was taken by a close friend.

He takes a deep breath and lets his shoulders fall, feeling drained and upset that work rips him away from you. He’s finished now but at what cost? Under the same roof but his attention was caught elsewhere, leaving you to feel lonely.

He’d be sure to compensate for his lack of company lately once you two wake up. Emotionally, physically— whatever you need, he’ll devote the day to properly taking care of you.

He shuts off his computer and rises from his chair, getting that long-needed stretch he’s been yearning for after being seated uncomfortably for what seemed like an eternity.

Right after, he immediately leaves the room without looking back. A yawn escapes out of him as he shuffles to the bedroom, ready to drop his fatigued form next to you.

Since it’s not that far of a walk to the room, he can tell from a couple feet away that you’ve left the light on. He wonders if you’re still up.

When he steps into the bedroom, the burnout he bears is momentarily forgotten. Your body is relaxed over the bed, his breath stuck in his throat when he sees the unexpected sight of your bare back on display. His gaze trails down and is practically bewitched when he sees your ass cheeks out, lower half of your region only covered by thin panties— of which, make his eyes widen once it registers that it’s that pair of panties.

His features stretch to an amused expression, wowed in seeing that his girl went to bed in exclusively those dainty-but-dangerous baby pink panties.

You normally were swallowed in his clothing or something comfortable of your own when you went to bed, so this was definitely telling. The lights were left on and you didn’t bother covering yourself with the sheets or blanket, indicating to him that this was intentional.

There’s his little minx, so desperate for attention and doing this to rile him up. And it’s definitely working without fail.

He takes caution in his steps as he approaches the bed, seeing that your body rises and falls, fallen into slumber.

Though when the bed dips from his added weight on it, and he fumbles to add a blanket over you, you stir. You’ve awoken slightly disoriented, eyes still glued shut but mind and body conscious.

“Shhhh, it’s okay. I’m here now. Go back to sleep, honey.” Eric whispers, his body now spooned behind you. A hand of his reaches over the top of your head, brushing along your hair to soothe you.

Hearing his voice and being aware of his presence has you whimpering softly, beginning to pathetically grind back into his crotch, your way of showing that you needed his attention.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he coos, already knowing that you simply missed him.

You don’t verbally answer him. Your tired eyes are still closed as you turn over towards him. You push your body into his own, melting and snuggling into him, making his arms immediately wrap around your back to hold and accept you.

Your face sinks comfortably into his chest, his chin now resting over the top of your head.

“Sorry for taking so long. I missed you so much.” his arms swaddle you and he brings a kiss into your hair, then rubs his nose along it, inhaling your cozy scent.

You can’t believe it took so long for you to be wrapped within his embrace. The nice warmth his body provides to your entire being is better than any blanket to ever exist.

The atmosphere carries a sense of private intimacy from your almost-naked body held securely within your boyfriend’s hold during this late hour in bed. It was domestic moments like these that had your heart pounding in hearty love and affection for Eric.

You swooned over how his touches were so gentle, out of fondness and adoration for you.

But his touches were duplexing. He had another side of him that was filled with carnal desire. He couldn’t help in wanting to worship your body naughtily, feeling the way your body would weaken and lose control while he touched you lasciviously.

You possessed that same duality as well. Attraction to one another manifests itself in many ways, and sex was an intimate one that displayed how strong that attraction for one another was, as well as how bonded you two were.

Your bare breasts press up against Eric’s clothed torso while he cuddled you. It’s impossible to ignore the feeling of your soft mounds move against his chest, even more so when you’re practically squeezing your chest into him.

A hand snakes down to one of your ass cheeks, remembering that you wore those panties that please him beyond words. The palm of his hand rubs along the part of your rear that is exposed to the air.

The feeling of his rough hand caressing your bottom and his fingers beginning to trace the outline of your undies is sensual. It prompts you to throw a leg over his hip, trying to intertwine with him, allergic to space when it comes to him.

Your clothed core seeks for his manhood. The close proximity with your man, the feeling of your body covered merely in frilly panties against him, and his small touches are all driving you haywire.

You’re not even the slightest embarrassed when you start to buck your hips into his, desperately wanting him to get the hint.

Eric has been growing hard since he saw how you looked on the bed. His pretty princess in pink panties, waiting for him. Teasing him with that lingerie and even now, being so touchy and clingy.

Although both of you could be ready to doze off, the sexual appetite between the two of you was growing. You wanted Eric to hold you, kiss you, and fuck you.

He wasn’t expecting to do this tonight, but he has now become equally as horny. Always without fail when it comes to you.

It was time to settle this.

“Look at me.” he utters.

His request is heard but you refuse to move your face hidden in his chest. Your sexual movements continue, wanting to push his buttons just a little to make things a bit more interesting and get him heated.

The hand that was circling your bottom lifted abruptly to spank you with force, making you gasp and jolt at the impact.

“Hey— behave.” his voice stern.

Your core shivers from the act, turned on by his dominant behavior.

“Stop being a brat and tell me what you want.” he grabs a handful of your fleshy ass, pawing roughly at the skin.

This act you’re putting up is driving blood straight to his cock, but your lack of words and taunting is running his patience thin. Much like how you were peeved from his lack of attention up until now.

You lift your head up and meet Eric’s dark gaze. Tiredness is drifting away while lust prevails. His hand continues to roam over your rear, teasingly inching his fingers down slowly in between your legs.

Your lips part, arms hooked around his neck as you looked at him with heavy lidded eyes.

“I need you… to fuck me, please.” you beg sweetly through batting lashes.

Eric licks his lips at your words, his fingers starting to rub you through your clothed cunt. His moves continue to engorge your pussy with blood, senses heightened and filled with heat everywhere.

The fabric is slightly damp, your sex already producing fluid out of excitement.

“My needy girl missed me, hm?” he teases and removes his hand from between your legs.

He makes you sigh out in frustration at loss of contact, making him smirk as he pulls you up his body closer, bringing your face mere centimeters away from his.

“Nothing’s keeping me from you anymore. I’m all yours.” his breath brushes your lips before his own chase yours, capturing them eagerly.

Both of your eyes flutter closed. You didn’t hesitate even for a second to kiss him back with the same level of yearn.

Your hands redirect to cradle either side of his face, held as steady as possible to keep him in place, tender gesture showing your devotion for him. He reciprocates that same need for closeness by keeping his left hand on the small of your back, while his right tousled through your hair. The stir of excitement that rushes past both of your veins when kissing is thrilling and addicting, clinging on to each other due to naturally wanting one another closer than close.

The feeling of his slightly chapped lips due to his bad habit of biting on them while working has you smiling into the kiss. The smile that stretches your mouth allows Eric to slip his tongue past, brushing and sucking with fervor and wetness along your own.

The warmth, moistness, and sliminess of it all has you hungry for more. You softly moan from the amorous kiss, causing Eric to playfully nibble on your bottom lip in response to his favorite noise.

He then rolls you onto your back swiftly, now hovering over you.

His face dips down straight for your neck, sharp nose tickling you before he starts dotting tender kisses along the sensitive area.

He worships your hotspot, circling through sucking, softly biting, blowing his hot air over you, and licking the skin.

The physical affection raises the hairs on your skin, and the nerves that run behind your ear down your neck being stimulated have your body shivering.

All while the other side of your neck is held tightly by his hand, trailing his lips lower to your collarbone, then to your shoulder, and then to your breasts.

When he gets to your mounds, he can’t resist in pausing his kisses to cover them with his hands, playing with the fleshy skin and warming them up in his hold.

The squeezing and toying he does to you has your pussy boiling with ardor. You stare dumbly at him, open-mouthed as you watch the frisky glint in his eyes. Eric is infatuated with how soft and squishy they were, his two plushy pillows.

His fingers roll over your nipples, rotating the erect buds. Your breathing increases and heart rate picks up, turned on from the way he shows sultry attention to every inch of you.

A grin plasters across Eric’s face in hearing your breathless sounds, savoring the way you lie under him in all your glory, touching and teasing you carnally.

His craving for your breasts in his mouth has him dropping his face down to lick a bold stripe up your cleavage, leaving you to gasp at the sensation of his wet muscle navigating through.

Like a shot, he aggressively marks his precious territory, relentlessly devouring your mounds with his mouth, deeply enough to where he’d be sure his marks littered your chest for days.

You absolutely lose it when he traces an areola with his tongue, then, encloses his lips around your nipple and sucks with determination, practically making out with your boob.

It has you arching your back, yelping and crying out as zaps of pleasure from Eric send arousal to pool down inside your panties.

“You like when I suck your tits? Yeah?” he chuckles while locking eyes with you, switching momentarily to give your other breast some love.

It’s impossible to not squirm under his touch, but he keeps you pinned down with his body, so you’re just left breathless and submitting to him spoiling you in utter bliss.

Eric groans into your chest, avidly grinding down, making you suddenly aware of your boyfriend’s hard-on firmly pressing into your thigh.

“Shit, babe— wanna feel you.” you manage to breathe out. Your core is aching to feel his cock inside you.

He throbs at your breathy utterance. He feels your fingers tug slightly at his hair, displaying your great need for him to give you more.

He abandons your bullied chest glistening in his saliva for now, proceeding to drag kisses down along your stomach, until his mouth reached your panties.

Even if it’s beyond obvious what you want, he still takes the time to peer up at you with a questioning look, to which you give him a nod, signaling that he could remove them.

He brings a gentle kiss to your tummy before hooking his fingers over your underwear, tugging them down your legs and off at last.

The pair is bunched up in his hand, and he raises it up, gaining your attention to look up at him. He pushes the panties to his face, nuzzling his nose into the fabric before he leaves a hot kiss over the wettish undies.

Your whimpers fill the room in response, legs squeezed together. So horny, sexed up for Eric.

He tosses his favorite panties away somewhere, focusing on your-now-naked body presented to him like a platter. Your slick pussy is revealed to him once he pushes your knees apart, making him whistle pridefully.

“So fucking pretty, princess. All for me?” he sighs in admiration.

His thick hand is kept placed on one of your knees to keep you open while he lathers his fingers in your arousal with the other hand, leaving your breathing to be shaky, core burning hot.

He doesn’t think twice in popping those coated fingers inside his mouth, giving you a show of him shamelessly sucking your slick off.

“Eric…” you cried, desperate fuzzy feeling consuming your senses.

He snickers at your eagerness and longing, pulling his fingers out with a pucker sound.

“Gonna fill you up real good, sweet baby.” he rasps, finally pulling his shirt off to start off his own undressing.

He rids himself free from the remainder of his clothing, now leaving you both naked. You’re salivating in viewing his delineated abs and slender waist, as well as the hard, girthy cock that makes your soul smile and face blush a rosy color.

Eric smirks as he maneuvers towards the free spot next to you. You’re on the edge of the bed, on your particular side. Tonight, it’s calling to him that he fuck you side-by-side.

So he adjusts himself and you accordingly.

You don’t question his movements, licking your lips at his bare body moving next to yours. His figure brushes your side, lifting your leg to be angled, raised over his thigh.

An arm of his snakes under your curved leg, hand directing toward his shaft, gripping over it to stroke his cock and spread the clear fluid that’s glimmering out from his tip.

A low moan flows out of him due to the gratifying stimulation of his hand as he preps himself to enter you. But he knows it doesn’t beat the friction and heavenly satisfaction from your beautiful pussy that he’s about to get.

“Ready, babe?” he traces the head of his cock around the edges of your outside, causing you to shake at the sudden contact. Fuck, you needed him.

“Yes, please.” you choked, leaving him to tongue his cheek as he inserts the tip, groans and gasps mixed with cursing filling the room in unison.

A fiery flurry shoots up your spine when his tip slides past your wet folds, pussy welcoming that familiar hard, yet smooth pressure.

One of your hands clutched the sheets while the other gripped at your own thigh out of feeling his length push inside you.

“There we go. Shit… nice and tight for me. Easy, baby.” he coos, hissing at your walls squeezing around his length and encouraging you to relax.

Your walls stretch to accommodate to his size, being invited in and encompassed nicely.

A hand of his reaches for your tummy protectively, patting your stomach out of praise and soothing nature.

“Always take me so well. Such a good girl.” he sighs. The sensation of your hole stuffed and full of him has you both heaven-sent.

That warm stretch of your walls engulfing his cock is like pure luxury. After a long day of working, this is exactly what he needed to unwind. He missed this so much. His sweet baby, and her precious pussy that hugs his cock eagerly. Seems like you both missed every part of each other.

His hand still rests on your tummy, arm snaked around from under your leg that remains bent and raised in the air.

He tightly holds onto your abdomen as he starts humping into you slowly to start off. You mewl at the awaited feeling of his manhood moving inside you. Your blood is pumping and all you can think about is the pleasurable pressure and how gorged you are now from Eric’s cock.

He boosts up the pace. His thrusting builds friction, making your pussy gradually hotter.

The sounds of skin slapping and pornographic moans springing from your voice fill the room. You can’t help it, it’s like he’s scratching an intense itch of yours, mind-numbingly pleasing and electric.

“Ahh— yes, Eric!” you breathily cry, features creasing as he fucks you with devotion.

Your velvety walls caressing and brushing his cock while you moan and whine aloud bewitches him. You’re making it so easy for him to wanna pop fast, but he doesn’t want to bust quick. He wants to savor this moment. He isn’t in a rush at all, wanting to take his time in relishing this heated moment.

He allows his thrusts to let up to divert his attention for a minute. He swiftly withdraws his arm from under your angled leg and redirects it to the other side, gravitating to pull your jaw towards his face, him even raising up a bit to meet you closer so your lips could connect.

“Fuck, Eric. Mhmmm.” he swallows your sounds greedily, allowing you to moan into his mouth.

Your lips lock together, passionately moving together ravenously. He nips at your bottom lip in every other searing kiss, growling as the plump appendage slips through his teeth.

A hand of yours travels to reach for his abdomen while you kiss, smoothing over his muscles and defined lines. You admire the firmness of his abs, as well as the way his muscles flexed at your touch. Eric has a beautiful body, and so you loved grazing your hands over any and every part of him whenever you could.

He absolutely goes feral when you openly show affection towards his body. Holding him, touching him, feeling him— your touches of all sorts remind him that he’s real. It makes him feel so alive. You cherish him in many ways, and when you do so physically, it makes him inflate with love and confidence.

His cock throbs out of making out with you while your pussy swallowed his manhood. He’s vocal about what you’re doing to him, letting out a few guttural moans of his own.

Aching to move as he wishes inside you, he draws back from your lips, redirecting his arm back under your angled leg, making contact with his bicep.

His hand goes back to its position on your stomach from earlier, continuing to rock your bodies back and forth.

Your sweaty bodies move together repeatedly. It’s so sexy, leaving you two submerged in lust.

He keeps a steady pace, and every so often, you’d squeeze around him during his out-strokes, making him groan in rapture.

To acknowledge the effect you’re having on him, he inches his hand upwards to grip over your breast. His thrusts don’t falter as he starts groping your entire mound, holding onto it while he continuously fucks into you.

“That’s it, baby. Pussy swallowing me so fuckin’ good.” he praises.

You’re nonstop whimpering, breath blown away with every plunge into you.

Eric watches in zeal the way the flesh of your breasts and thighs bounce and jiggle, your body shaking fiercely.

Those mouthwatering noises of yours don’t cease and only grow louder. Every movement means another cry in pleasure out of you. Your mouth is dumbly stuck ajar from getting fucked stupid.

Each sound and action of yours activates his brain chemicals, leaving his senses enhanced due to the intoxicating sexual arousal.

He believes he’s going to give into the full kind-of pressure that’s present. Muscles in the lower parts of his torso are stretching. Sexual goosebumps that have built up creep across the back of his neck, shooting down his spine. Every part of his genitals are tingly, hot, and heavy.

His ragged breaths draw you to turn your head to some degree to look at him. His teeth and jaw are clenching, bulging veins run down along his arms, one of them still gripping your breast, too consumed in the ticking and tension within the base of his cock that’s eating him.

It’s crystal clear that your boyfriend’s about to cum. He’s rapidly driving his length into you, showing your pussy no mercy.

It’s a steamy thrill watching Eric crazed from chasing his release. He looks so hot all desperate, persistently humping into you, panting and tensed-up.

You sneak your fingers towards your swollen cit to amplify your pleasure into overdrive, wanting to cum alongside him.

The relief you get from attending to your puffy clit has you trembling, eyes fluttering from your fucked-out daze. Rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves is like sparks exploding uncontrollably. Your brain is mush, not being able to breathe regularly alongside your boyfriend as you continuously cry out.

You start to feel his cock twitch. It thickens and swells for a mere few seconds, and that signals that you’re about to be milked.

His mouth hangs open as he tenses up, bloated, hot cock finally busting burning semen.

He lets out broken moans of relief, whining out your name as he’s jerking into you and pulsating every half second or so, shooting hot wads of cum with every pulse.

His spasms trigger your own orgasm, exploding with your own fluid. Your inner muscles clench hard, legs flex, pulse elevates, back arches, and toes curl. Your eyes are glossy, vision blurred, and you’re mumbling repeatedly breathless whines from finally reaching that peak.

“Oh my god, Eric!” your voice cracked.

He’s huffing and puffing trying to catch his own breath, now overly sensitive with his cock still burrowed inside your soaked, baked pussy.

“I’m right here, princess. Shit— I got you.” he rasps.

He’s gentle but immediately pulls out of you after you each crash, making you two groan at the sensation of his length pull out of you, everything so sensitive.

You feel limp, body and mind numb. That sex with your lover was fulfilling, but it’s left you exhausted. Same goes for Eric.

Your eyes are shut as you roll over to him, much like earlier, and he helps adjust you to lay on top of his body.

Each of your bodies is covered in sweat, still hot all over, and your pussy is leaking with both of your fluids running down— even now getting on Eric, but who cares? Cuddles are very much necessary after sex.

He holds onto you tightly, rubbing your back as you lay your head on his naked chest. No words are exchanged momentarily as you’re listening to each other’s heartbeats and breathing, attempting to calm down.

You could practically nod off comfortably even with your sticky body resting over his own, until he speaks up.

“I’m so sorry for neglecting you, honey. Everything I do is for you. Gonna make it up to you.” he says softly.

Your heart softens upon hearing his words, prompting you to raise your head up slightly, peering up towards him, who’s already looking down at you.

A hand of yours reaches up to nest in the nape of his neck, entangling your fingers with the hair that resides there.

“Hey, I know. Don’t apologize. I should be the one apologizing for being such a brat.” you scoff at yourself for your whiny and clingy actions, even if you did end up gaining his attention like you desired. And you’d lowkey do it again.

“You’re such a driven, hard worker and I admire the hell out of that. I’m so proud of you. I just missed you, and I get worried when my handsome boy works too hard.” you continued, tone sincere and affectionate.

His lips curl upwards as he chuckles softly, his pupils shyly darting away from you as you compliment and gush over him. You just pout your lips cutely at him to tease him before pressing a kiss over his perspiring chest.

“Plus, you already made it up to me.” you smirked, then bursted into small giggles, throwing your head back in laughter as your cheeks flushed.

Fuck, you’re so damn cute. How is it possible that his heart grow any fonder for you still? It’s like the angels sing when he hears your voice, his body glowing when around you. Every stress or concern of his fades away when he’s with you.

Your giggles make him grin like a fool, stupidly in love with everything you do. He lifts his head up to lean into your face, signaling that he wants to meet your lips.

You pucker you lips slightly to give him a light kiss. One, two, three times before you’re both satisfied and content for now.

“I love you so much, sweet baby.” his eyes twinkle with endearment. His hands still hold onto you and run over your spine, fingertips dancing over your bare skin.

Those words mean so much to you, over and over again. No matter how many times he tells you. Every time, it makes you melt.

“I love you too, ‘ric.” warmth filled your cheeks and heart as you inched up to nose into his neck. Your head burrows into the crook of it, making yourself at home. There’s no where else you’d rather be.

For only a minute, you two cuddled in comfortable silence before Eric spoke up again.

“Y/n?”

“Hm?”

“Can you scratch my back?”

At his request, you elevate yourself to look at him once again. Smiling, you grab hold of his chin and can’t resist in leaving a feathery kiss on his cheek. “Of course, babe.”

His eyes light up like an excited puppy, beaming at the thought of one of his favorite activities— you kindly dragging your nails over one of his hard-to-reach spots.

You two immediately switch places. He settles himself over you, flopping his head to rest on its side, getting comfortable. His hair tickles your neck while his facial features rest upon your shoulder.

When settled, you finally bring a hand to start stroking his back. You start off with shifting your hand into a claw and make overlapping circles around his back, just the way he likes.

Eric’s body feels instantly lighter and your touches bring him so much relief. He groans in pleasure once you get in the groove of it, your light scratches and rubs stimulating millions of nerve endings.

“Happy?” you teased as he wasn’t shy in vocally expressing how your scratching was doing wonders for his back.

“Feels so good.” he mumbles, feeling soothed and safe under your touches. At this rate, he could be lulled to sleep.

You hum in response, continuing your ministrations contentedly. You must admit, you loved pampering your boyfriend. He always treated you like a princess, so it only made sense that you give him equal attention and care.

Though, you know that he could fall asleep any minute now knowing that your scratches are apparently too relaxing that it drifts him off with ease— especially after working nonstop today, and then fucking you right after.

You two are still naked and have yet to go clean up. You’d hate to ruin this dear moment, but you guys have got to clean yourselves up and use the bathroom.

“Hey, we should probably go clean off, babe.” you voice, hoping he hasn’t fallen asleep yet.

“Just a few more minutes.” he sighs into your shoulder, voice groggily, indicating that he’s ready to pass out.

You let out a groan straight away.

“I’ll even carry you… please?” he begs, rubbing his cheek and nose cutely against your shoulder.

You just shut your eyes as you still continue to scratch him, trying not to roll your eyes, knowing that there’s a possibility that he’ll fall asleep in minutes.

But he needed this moment. I guess a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

“Okay.” you weakly huff out, giving in. “Just a few more minutes.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

[10byten]

Old habits die hard

Jaehyun and you share a messy, complicated past — a whirlwind of rushed goodbyes and fiery reunions. By chance, you find yourselves face-to-face again, caught in a pull neither of you can escape. But is there still light in this story, or will it burn out under the weight of everything left unsaid? -

Words : 4k

WARNING : smoking cigarette, Smut.

You excuse yourself from your convo host for a sec, making a beeline for the drink table. Johnny’s apartment is packed—obviously, it’s his birthday, and no one’s missing that.

You’re about to hit up Jungwoo to suggest sneaking downstairs for a smoke—because, duh, Johnny’s place has been smoke-free ever since he got that “cool uncle” title. But as you’re weaving toward the door, it swings open.

And… he’s there. Jaehyun. It’s been months since you saw him—months of staying away like you both agreed. Everything—the noise, the people, the lights—fades when he walks in. You feel it all at once: the tightness in your throat, the knot in your stomach. It’s like the universe is laughing in your face, and tonight? Extra cruel.

You specifically checked before coming to this party—Jaehyun was supposed to be visiting his parents.

“What the hell is he doing here?” you hiss at Johnny, grabbing his arm.

“Ow—” Johnny follows your line of sight. “Oh, right. His parents canceled, so he skipped the trip. My bad, maybe I forgot to mention?”

“Forgot? Seriously, Johnny?” You pinch him hard.

“Anyway,” he says, brushing it off, “aren’t you seeing Lucas right now?”

You stammer. “Uh, yeah. I mean, no. He’s heading back to Hong Kong—long-distance? Not my thing.”

The last time you and Jaehyun broke it off, it felt… final. Like, no casual makeups this time, no easy resets. It was all or nothing—building a future together or walking away for good. And guess what? Option two won. But even though you knew you’d run into him again, some kind of heads-up would’ve been nice, y’know? A little mental prep.

You hug the wall, sliding toward the kitchen. Grabbing your glass, you spin around—and there he is, catching your eye from the hallway. How long has he been watching you? His gaze, those piercing eyes—it’s like they burn straight into your chest. You quickly look away, pretending you didn’t notice, but your heart’s racing. Seeing Jaehyun again stirs something deep, something warm, something dangerously familiar.

You spend the rest of the evening holed up in the kitchen, clinging to the safety of Ten, Yangyang, and Kun’s hilarious banter. For a while, it works—the knot in your stomach loosens, and you almost forget Jaehyun’s here.

But then you see him. Leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, watching you. His lips curve into a knowing smile—because of course you’re making him laugh. You always do.

God, that smile. You missed it. For a second, you can’t help but mirror it, a tiny grin sneaking onto your face. You shrug like, What can I say? I’m naturally hilarious.

He hesitates, then starts toward you as the spot next to you opens up. Every step seems calculated, deliberate.

“You’re still the same clown, huh?”

“What can I say?” You flash a smirk. “Old habits die hard.”

You both start with small talk—classic avoidance of the giant emotional elephant in the room. You laugh at everything he says, a laugh that’s just a little too nervous. He doesn’t take his eyes off you, studying your face like it’s a map he’s trying to remember. Every curve, every line—he’s looking for signs of change since the last time he saw you.

You think to yourself: He hasn’t changed. Same calm, detached vibe, like he’s carrying the world on his shoulders but pretending it’s no big deal. But his eyes? Oh, they’re a whole other story. They give away what his words never will.

Meanwhile, he’s thinking about how different you seem. A little colder, maybe. But that spark in your eyes? It’s still there, and it could still destroy him if he’s not careful.

The silence that falls between you is loaded. Your eyes meet, and honestly? Words are unnecessary. Your history is in the room with you—your love, your heartbreak, all the messy, raw intensity of it. It floods the space, making it hard to breathe.

You remember the nights you spent talking until the sun came up, building this fragile, glowing little world for just the two of you. And the crushing disappointment when you hit that same wall over and over again—Jaehyun’s habit of running the second things got too real.

He remembers the fights where words were weapons, and the way he couldn’t stop himself from ruining everything good. He remembers you walking out for the last time, leaving him alone in an apartment that suddenly felt way too big.

He tilts his head, breaking the silence. “Wanna get out of here?”

You nod, and he leads the way, weaving through the crowded living room. He grabs your hand to guide you, and the feeling of his fingers laced with yours sends a shiver down your spine. Like your whole body remembers him in a way your mind’s trying to forget.

At the door, he picks up his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. His Ford Mustang II King Cobra is parked outside—brown, classic, and way too familiar.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you feel a wave of déjà vu so strong it nearly knocks the breath out of you. The music hums softly in the background as the car starts, and you stare out the window at the passing lights, wondering if following him was a mistake. You can’t bring yourself to look at him. A black lock falls over his eyes, his long lashes fluttering to shake it off. His face is flawless, he’s the kind of guy that’s hard to look at without wanting to taste him.

“So… you seeing anyone?” Jaehyun’s voice cuts through the silence.

You smirk, not buying his casual tone. “Is that a question, or are you fishing for confirmation?”

He clicks his tongue, letting out a low laugh. Leaning one arm against the open window, he runs his fingers through his hair in mock exasperation. The thought of you with someone else? It’s enough to make him sick. He can’t focus on the road; he’s too busy stealing glances at you. The wind gently ruffles his hair, a few more strands falling over his eyes, you can see the muscles in his neck tense up. Jeong, why the hell are you so hot? You dream of diving into the back of his neck and devouring him with kisses. But he's not yours anymore.

“Word on the street says you’re seeing other girls too,” you fire back, throwing in a little jab.

His laugh is sharp and sarcastic. “Oh, so you’re confirming then? - A couple of lame setups from Doyoung. Nothing worth mentioning.”

His hands tighten on the steering wheel. That godamn hands that have sent you to heaven so many times. “Can’t stop thinking ‘bout you and I.” His voice drops to a murmur, the words barely audible.

You pretend not to hear him, staring out the window, trying to avoid your desire. He knows the way to your place by heart.

When you arrive, he steps out of the car at the same time as you. You raise an eyebrow.

“Smoke?”

You nod. “Sure.”

Leaning against the hood of the car, Jaehyun lights your cigarette, his eyes never leaving yours. It’s like you can hear his thoughts, feel his emotions radiating off him. He looks away, gazing into the distance.

He’s tried to forget you, to fill the emptiness with other faces. But none of them shine like you. You’re etched into him, a scar that refuses to fade.

And you? You tried to move on, but the silence he left behind was louder than his presence ever was.

“I thought you quit,” you say, your tone teasing.

He chuckles, the cigarette dangling from his lips. “I did.”

You snort, gesturing to the smoke curling in the air. “Sure looks like it.” 

“Guess old habits die hard.”

You smirk. “Tragic loss for the Olympics. Michael Phelps can rest easy.”

“Hmm, truly devastating for the world of sports.”

He exhales, the smoke curling lazily in the air. “This was our thing, y’know? Sneaking off to smoke at every party, everytime we were together. It’s a bad habit, but it’s ours. Guess I’m scared to change that.”

You glance at him, your voice quieter. “Some things just stick with you, no matter how much you try to shake them.”

He leans in, his face close enough that you can feel his breath. “I like the things we share. Even the bad ones.”

Your heart skips a beat, and for a second, you forget. Forget that he’s not yours anymore. That you can’t just close the distance and kiss him like you used to.

You snap out of it, standing abruptly. “Thanks for the cigarette, Jeong. See you around.”

Shrugging off his jacket, you hold it out to him. He doesn’t take it right away, his gaze lingering on your hand before he finally brushes his fingers against yours, just enough to send sparks up your arm.

He smirks as he takes the jacket, and you return it with a soft smile before walking away.

Back in your apartment, your skin still tingles where he touched you. Jaehyun.

When you wake up the next morning, there’s a message waiting for you on your phone. Simple, almost cold: “Can we talk?”

You hesitate, your fingers trembling slightly over the screen. You know that replying means reopening a door you worked so hard to close. But you also know you can’t say no to him—you never could.

The two of you meet at your usual coffee shop. It’s been a while since you’ve been here. Everything looks the same, yet everything feels different.

Jaehyun is sitting there, dressed in a plain white t-shirt and blue Levi’s, paired with boots. The look is effortless, but on him, it’s like no one else could wear it better. The black of his hair contrasts so perfectly that he looks like he stepped out of an old James Dean movie. And all you can think about is how badly you want to slide your hands under that shirt.

He sees you and smiles, his eyes lighting up like he’s been waiting for this moment all night.

You know you look good—you’re wearing the black mini skirt you two bought together ages ago, and your signature crimson lipstick that drives him crazy. As you walk closer, his gaze rakes over you, devouring every detail. The flicker of excitement in your chest feels like a tiny victory.

You sit down, and the conversation starts politely, almost mechanically. Like you’re dancing an old, familiar routine. But the air between you is thick with everything unsaid—last night, the months before that—it’s too much. Too heavy for small talk.

Jaehyun finally breaks the silence, his voice quiet and unsteady, like it’s coming from somewhere deep and vulnerable.

“I always thought I’d eventually get over thinking about you. But here you are, and I’m still the same idiot who wants you more than anything. When you left, I really thought my world stopped turning. I built my life around you. It’s like you took a piece of me when you walked away, and I’ve been chasing it ever since, trying to find it in all the wrong places.”

You didn’t expect him to say this. To be this open about the pain he felt when you left—the pain he never knew how to put into words before.

You listen in silence, but the way your hands tighten around your coffee cup betrays your nerves.

Barely above a whisper, you respond, “And I thought you’d be the one I could remember without pain. But I can’t even breathe normally when you’re around. I can’t sit across from you for ten minutes without falling apart.”

The truth between you is undeniable now: you’ve always loved each other, but your love has always been poisoned by your fears and insecurities.

“I was scared,” Jaehyun admits. “Scared you’d leave for someone better. I’ve never felt like I was enough for you, like I could give you what you needed. You always seemed so sure of yourself, so put-together. And me? I was just… me. So I let you go. Cowardly, I know, but it felt easier than telling you how I felt. You told me that you love me but you never want to see me again..”

“I know,” you say softly. “And I know I’m not innocent in all this. I made you feel that way. I never trusted you, not fully. I was so sure you’d leave eventually, that you’d get scared of commitment. But in the end, I was the one who walked away. Because I felt so empty, Jae. Being with you, it started to hurt.”

Jaehyun’s voice drops lower, but there’s a determination in it now. “So what? We just let our insecurities keep running the show? Let them ruin us for good? Or do we forget all that and rebuild? I don’t want to pretend anyone else could ever be you. No one’s you.”

You look away, staring at the traffic outside the window.

It hits you—this is the exact spot where you broke up for the first time. Back in high school, when you were still kids fumbling through love and heartbreak. It feels like some kind of cruel deja vu, like the universe loves throwing you into the same cycle over and over.

And yet, a few months ago, you promised yourself something. That you’d protect yourself first, no matter what. Even if it meant walking away from love.

“Look, I know, trust me I understand, I deserve less, If I was you I wouldn't take me back. But Y/n…I don't wanna see you- I can’t see you with anyone but me. How am I supposed to accept it, I love me so much more when you’re around and I know that you do too. Us, together, is something else.”

“It just goes round and round every time. I’m done with this.” You stand to leave, the chair scraping against the floor with finality.

Before you can take another step, his hand catches your wrist.

“If you walk away again, I won’t stop you this time,” he murmurs, his voice low and trembling. “But if you stay... I promise, this time, I won’t let anything come between us. I’ll be the man you need. Someone you can trust, someone who’s by your side. Always.”

His words sound raw, almost desperate, and for a moment, you freeze.

You want to leave, but his eyes—those eyes—you’re powerless against them. The way he looks at you wraps you up, as if you’re already in his arms, as if he’s touching every part of you without even making contact.

And he’s different now. You can feel it in the way he speaks, in the way his vulnerability lays bare between you. Jaehyun looks like he’s finally grown, like he’s learned to open up in ways he couldn’t before. He’s not just asking for another chance—he’s begging to be the person you’ve always needed him to be.

So, just this once? Why not give him that chance? After everything you’ve shared, doesn’t he at least deserve that?

“Take me home,” you whisper.

His smile is immediate, radiant, and you can see the relief in his shining eyes. It feels so bittersweet—how deeply you love him, even after everything. Even after running, even after months apart, even after you tried to leave him behind. Your heart has never learned to be quiet about him, and it frustrates you to no end. He has this undeniable power over you, and you hate it almost as much as you love it.

As you step out of the coffee shop, Jaehyun pulls you to the wall outside, one arm wrapping tightly around your waist. He holds you there for a moment, looking into your eyes like he’s trying to say something his words can’t reach: This is it. This is the last time. This time, it’s forever.

And then he kisses you.

It’s deep, consuming, his velvet lips brushing against yours with an urgency that makes your knees weak. His mouth moves over yours like he’s trying to make up for all the lost time, for every second he’s gone without you. When his tongue meets yours, you let out a soft moan, your body melting into his as his hand presses against the small of your back.

No one else could ever be him. No one else could kiss you like this.

Because with Jaehyun, it’s not just a kiss—it’s everything. 

The air between you grows heavier, filled with passion and the raw intensity of everything you’ve been holding back.

“Let’s go home babe. Or I'll behave badly in public.” 

“You miss me this much ?”

“You really ask the question.” He narrows his eyes, studying you. Oh, he knows that look. You’re playing with him, and he’s more than ready to join the game.

“Why the mini skirt, then?” he asks, his voice low, teasing, as his lips curve into a smirk. “Just to torture me, huh?” He slides his hands down your hips and takes a firm grip on your butt. 

You let out a small gasp of surprise, your eyes widening for just a moment. Jaehyun’s smile grows—it’s that sound, the one he’s always loved. It tells him everything he needs to know. You haven’t gotten over him. He still has the same effect on you.

“Maybe..”

“Tell me, did you have sex with him?” You pretend not to know who he’s talking about, tilting your head slightly as you widen your eyes in mock innocence.

“Who, exactly?” you ask, your voice light and teasing, the perfect picture of feigned cluelessness.

“This Honk-Kong guy, don’t mess up with me right now.” he presses his hips against yours, you feel the bone in his jeans. 

“He never took what was yours, if that's what you're asking for”

He exhales in relief, his shoulders relaxing as his eyes light up with renewed energy. “And what’s mine?” he asks, his voice soft but laced with a quiet intensity. He needs to hear you say it, to let the words come from your lips.

You bite your lower lip, feeling your heart tighten. This guy loves you so much, you can feel it in every fiber of your being. It’s overwhelming, undeniable.

“Me.”

“So let's see, show me how much you belong to me.” He grabs your hand and pulls you along, urgency in his steps as he leads you to the car. Before you know it, you’re climbing into the backseat with him, your heart pounding in sync with his.

In one swift motion, he pulls you onto his lap, straddling him. His hands grip your waist as his lips crash against yours, this time with a wild, unrestrained intensity. The kiss is deeper, hungrier, as if he’s been holding back for far too long and can’t anymore.

“I can’t wait.” he undoes his belt and unzips his jeans.

“Someone could catch us.” You say this as you lift your skirt and take off your jacket. You burn too much for him, you can't reason with yourself.

He lifts you slightly to free his cock from his jeans. Moving your thong to the side, he aligns himself with your entrance and penetrates you in one smooth movement. You cry out as you feel the tip of it touch the bottom of your pussy. You grab his shoulders, Jaehyun is going to take the lead this time, that's for sure. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs. His movements are quick and dry at first, he moans at length, it's such a relief for him. “Finally home.”

Your fingers weave into his hair, wrapping a strand around them as you tighten your grip, pulling him even closer. In his arms, you feel weightless, like a doll being held with a mix of tenderness and raw intensity.

His warm breath brushes against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. And in that moment, as his touch grounds you and his presence surrounds you, it hits you—this is what home feels like. He’s your home.

You pull back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. They’re dark, filled with lust and raw pleasure, a haze of emotion that makes your breath hitch. He looks almost dazed, like someone taking a long-awaited hit after years of restraint.

Unable to resist, you lean in and kiss him passionately, pouring everything into it. The intensity of your connection shifts something in him. His movements slow, becoming more deliberate, more intimate. It’s not just hunger anymore—it’s something deeper, something that lingers in the space between desire and devotion. You were fucking and suddenly you're making love. He intertwine his fingers with yours and caress your hips with his other hand. He can't take his eyes off you. 

“You have no idea how much I missed you,” he murmurs, his voice steady and deep, carrying the weight of all the time you’ve spent apart.

“I’m here now,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him close until your forehead rests against his.

“Don’t ever leave again,” he mumbles, his voice breaking slightly. “No matter what we go through. Never again.”

You cup his face gently, your voice soft but resolute. “I’m not going anywhere without you, Jaehyun.”

His movements are regular, and you feel his cock rubbing your walls in the same rhythm. He lightly pinches your ass and you moan. He knows you love it. He gently caress your other hole to stimulate you. You can feel your orgasm rising. He doesn't let go of your neck, which he's working hard on. You'll probably have a bruise by tonight, or several. 

You pull on his hair to signal that your climax is coming. He lifts his head to see you moaning.

“Say my name.” he murmurs.

“Jaehyun, Jaehyun, oh my god Jae yes, yes…” you shout his name until the end of your climax. He closes his eyes and enjoys the moment, his name sounding so good in your mouth.

“Yeah baby, ‘m right here.” He picks up the pace again, his movements becoming urgent and demanding, as if he’s making up for all the lost time.

“Tell me I’m the man of your life, say it,” he commands, his eyes dark and intense. He needs to know where he stands in your heart, in your life, what place he occupies in your eyes.

“You’re the man of my life, there’s only you,” you whisper, gently running your fingers through his hair, wanting him to feel every ounce of love you have for him. You know Jaehyun needs reassurance, to feel cherished and cared for. You’ll say everything he wants to hear.

“We’ll never be apart again,” he murmurs, his eyes now filled with sadness and a quiet desperation.

“No, never again—ah, Jae…” you moan softly, your breath hitching as his touch overwhelms you.

You feel his dick tense up inside you, you know he's close to orgasm. 

“I'm yours, I love you so much.” Jaehyun likes to feel loved and reassured it helps him reach his climax. “You're the man in my life Jae. No one can be you, no one can love me like you and no one can fuck me like you.”

He moans loudly, finally relaxing into you, he's always done it, so why change your habits. He remains in ecstasy for a moment. His forehead is moist. His breathing calms and so does yours, your head resting against his chest. 

"I meant it, you know," you murmur against him, your hand still intertwined with his.

"I know... and so do I. You're the woman of my life. I want everything with you. I want us to get married, I want kids, I want a dog, and the beautiful country house that comes with it."

You look at him, Jaehyun is so much more mature and confident now.

"Why don't we pick up where we left off a few months ago, let's move in together."

"Leave your place tonight, and come stay at mine."

"Are you serious?"

"Completely. I don’t want to wake up a single morning without you. Last night I was going crazy coming home without you. You can bring your stuff gradually, but I’m warning you, you’re not sleeping there unless I’m with you."

You smile and kiss him. "Okay, Mr. Possessive."

"You’re mine, remember? You’re the one who said it."

-

[vacayisland]

Could I request Floyd with a heavy metal/rock troll who almost always has an bass guitar at their side and plays extremely loud, metal music? Could they also just generally be viewed as sardonic and teasing, often teasing others and calling them things like "doll", or "darling", but if someone did they to them then they would go red?

Thank you!

@!; Get used to it, Doll. Floyd / Rock troll! Reader

"Tag list"! @storydays @chamille-trash @valvalentine69 @starzwithapen @ykvlanq @apieceofcathair3 @kitthefanfickat @cyb3r-st4r

ꨄ︎. When Floyd told his brothers he was introducing them to his lover, none of the brothers (expect Branch) would have ever bet that they would end up at Rock Hollow (home of the rock trolls in the Pop Troll). Nevertheless, none of them expected Floyd to be such a frequenter at Rock Hollow that one too many Rock Trolls knew him by name! "Floyd, buddy. Come here for a second." One Rock troll would shout towards the group, a snicker on their face. Floyd only would glance over and wave them off, explaining how he needed to find Prima/Primo with a slight flush on his cheeks. And before he could even get teased, Branch noticed how Floyd covered the side of his face, "Oooh, watch out boys, the Prima/Primo's lover is here! Clear the way, clear the way!"

ꨄ︎. Safe to say that Floyd's brothers didn't expect this at all, especially since Floyd tended to have more sensitive ears than the rest (though Branch's was by far the most sensitive after the years of isolation he had to endure). Everything was just so loud and chaotic and in your face, even JD had to shuffle towards the group despite having been curious about this whole place at first.

ꨄ︎. Floyd grew ever so nervous the further they trekked into Rock Hollow and didn't find you, as he knew how noisy it tended to be inside the Hallow and he didn't want to put his brothers up to that for nothing. After all, after all the time he's spent in here, he's more accustomed to the noise. His brothers? They were not. (expect Branch) "Right Floyd, are you sure they're here?" JD shouted over the music, covering one of his ears to drown it out. Meanwhile in the back, Clay was questioning Branch as to why he wasn't bothered by the music. "Yeah! I'm sorry, they're-" Floyd fumbled over his words, trying to peak over the crowd of rockers. Yet he didn't have to search for long as he heard an all too familiar guitar riff scream over the speakers of the center stage.

ꨄ︎. To say his brothers had to run to keep up with Floyd was an understatement, they had to sprint and dodge and duck and weave around other rock trolls to catch up with Floyd (who hadn't even realized he took off sprinting towards the main stage). When they managed to finally catch up with him, they found Floyd stood off to the left wing talking to two other rock trolls.

ꨄ︎. "Ha! Buddy, better late then never." A Troll Branch recognized as Val patted Branch on the shoulder, flashing him a grin as Demo nodded in agreement. He went on to explain how, who the brothers guessed was Floyd's lover, was getting all nervous thinking he wasn't going to come as promise. Demo even made a playful jab, "They were about to bail the sound check!" With a small chuckle, which got him a playful punch from Val in return. "What? I'm just saying that would have been really bad." And as Floyd chatted with the two, with the brothers standing awkwardly to the side (unsure what to do with themselves), Branch got curious about who this mystery Troll everyone called Prima/Primo was. Maybe Poppy was rubbing off him in a bad way... but nevertheless, he's heard that name around the village before and he was sure Poppy had invited them here for some sort of reason (he had heard her also gushing about them). So naturally he was a little more curious than the rest.

ꨄ︎. "Well, you see I had to get my brothers in line and-" Floyd would explain, hoping that Val and Demo would understand the situation that led up to him being late. Especially since you had been the one to tell him to bring his brothers over if they wouldn't let him leave without them (mostly JD's fault). And while he was explaining, Floyd's voice slowly trailed off as he watched Branch tip-toe around Val and Demo to get a peak of the stage. And for some reason all the nerves of his family meeting you had shot right back through his veins as Branch paused in astonishment. Confused, Val would wave a hand in front of Floyd's, now nervously frozen, face as Demo glance behind him. But, it was no use: "FLOYD?!" Branch had figured out who you were.

ꨄ︎. And well that's when sound check came to a complete halt as you had heard Floyd's name being echoed over the speakers (surprisingly because usually you couldn't even hear demo). In your (silent) excitement about Floyd finally getting here, you didn't notice the way your guitar pick slashed over your guitar strings, causing a god awful sound to ring through the speakers (thank god Demo had cut that off early, because JD swore that might actually give him early hearing loss if it continued longer than the three seconds it had!).

ꨄ︎. "Doll, you finally made it!" You would shout from the center of stage, swinging your guitar to the side and jumping off the small rosed platform you stood on. Despite the excitement Floyd saw in your eyes, you played it suave and walked over to him; Slinging your arm around his shoulders and giving him a peck on the forehead. A giddy smile wobbled it's way onto Floyd's face, though he crossed his arms and shot you a teasing look up, "You thought I would miss your soundcheck, Darlin'? Sour judgement on your part really." No one missed the way you would look away, letting out a cough to clear your throat and misdirect the fact that there was a blush creeping on your face. Val and Demo were used to this, the teasing way of your twos relationship and the fact that you could never hold a straight face at Floyd's sassiness. Sometimes, Val even joked that Floyd wore the pants in the relationship (which you tried to heavily deny until Floyd would call for you and you trailed off like a puppy.) "Right, is anyone going to explain to us how the fuck this happened?!" Branch cut the two of you off just as Floyd gave your hand a kiss, drawing both of your attention back to the four other brothers. Clay stood next to Branch, equally as confused, "How did you manage to get with the guitarist of DSOTM?!"

ꨄ︎. Safe to say, it was kind of a long story on how you and Floyd met. Funny enough it was during both of your solo careers, after Floyd left Brozone (and before he got captured) and before you joined Dark Side of the Moon (which is quiet a mouth full so it got shortened to DSOTM). "Basically, the short end of it, was that I was on tour," You would start as everyone had gathered on the stage, sitting around the raised platform in some sort of semi-circle like it was kindergarten story time. You and Floyd sat on the raised platform, "And my manger said I needed some vocal lessons and I told him to piss off and find me some. "I wasn't going to waste my time searching for an instructor, and to be fairly quant with all of you I had no idea how to even start lookin'. Apparently, you just look through newspapers." You would shrug, smiling as you wrapped your arm around Floyd's waist again. You would fail to notice the way Branch scrunched his nose in slight distaste at the fact you constantly were holding Floyd. Floyd didn't seem to mind to, as he placed his hand on top of yours, "Well his manager saw my add in the paper and called me... and it kind of was professional at first until they invited me out for coffee and we kind of clicked." "Right, but where as that twat when you were captured Floyd?" Branch blurted out, crossing his arms. There was a pause on the room for a moment. Val even paused in eating her order-in lunch to look over at Branch in slight shock, "Oh shit."

ꨄ︎. You and Branch have issues now; Floyd and Val had to physically restrain you after Branch's comment as you kept yelling about how you would beat him up (Floyd was sure you weren't going to actually do it because he kept telling you don't but Demo wasn't taking any chances, the stage just got cleaned!). Demo called Poppy to come get Branch and Floyd, after the whole event, stood there wondering what the hell had just happened.

ꨄ︎. "I can't believe your brother called me a twat!"

ꨄ︎. "I don't know whether to be shocked... or if I expected this."

Master list | Home Page (can Y'all tell I have fun creating discourse in the brothers family with lovers? It's funny to me)

.ᐟ this work is published and owned by @vacayisland. please do not plagiarize, copy, or steal this work; like, reblogs, and saves are appreciated :D

[daphwritesworld]

Chapter 4— YKWIM?

content: Top!Leah, Bottom!Reader, pussy eating (both receiving), impact play (R receiving), face riding, degradation, caught cuddling, little flash of toxic!Leah, angry!Leah, & mean!Leah

warnings: allusions to heavy dom/sub relationship, one slap in the face, angst, Leah taking her anger out on Reader, calling reader a slut once, crying reader oops

synopsis: The arrival of a familiar face brings a whole new wave of emotions over you. Can you withstand the flesh and blood reminder of your past, or will it start to tear you apart?

word count: 3.7k

Series Masterlist: here.

!! 18+ MINORS DNI !!

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“WHAT THE BLOODY HELL– Y/N?!” A loud and all too familiar voice booms out. You and Leah jolt awake from the commotion, and you end up on the floor as a result. A rough sounding groan slips from your lips as the wind gets knocked out of you, sitting up as you rub at your head. “Darling, are you alright?” Leah’s concerned morning voice pulls you from your dazed confusion, scooping you up as she settles you back into couch cushions. 

“Somebody better start explaining– NOW!!” It’s only then that you realize she’s actually here, and that this isn't some horrible nightmare. Before Leah even has a chance to get words out, you’re springing up and dragging Keira into the downstairs bathroom. “HEY! Where are you two going?” Leah’s hoping up after the shock wears off, hot on your trail. “GIVE US A MINUTE!” And that stops her right in her tracks. Leah has NEVER heard you speak like that. The anger and hurt in your voice, and what’s that look on Keira’s face? She can't quite place it...

She just stands there with her hands in her pockets, anxiously biting at her lips as she thinks about all the possibilities. Oh god did you and Keira date? Is she her best friend's ex's rebound?? Are you married? Is that why you won't talk about your sudden departure from Barca? OH GOD..Leah is a mistress?!? Is that why you left in the middle of the night in Ibiza? Leaving Leah with nothing but your scent on her sheets and the fond memories you both now share…Because you had to cover up the tracks of your affair? Then like a brick drops on her head— did you break Keira's heart somehow? That look on her face…it was one of betrayal. And no matter how much she cares for you, she'd never speak to you again if that were true.

She gets pulled out of her head when the bathroom door reopens. Both of you come out, laughing and smiling as Keira shoves at your shoulder. You both come to a stop as you take in Leah's disheveled appearance, Keira cracking up as she runs to mess up Leah's hair with her hands. "You look like utter shit! Better go shower before I take your girlfriend home with me!"

A groan leaves your lips as wrap up in the blanket on the end of the couch, "She's NOT my girlfriend!"

"Oh sure! You just cuddle through the night with all your friends with benefits, don't you?" The redhead says as a smirk spreads across her face.

"You told her we're friends with benefits, you little worm?!" Leah looks at you with an offended look. 

"NO! I didn't even tell her we've had sex! Let alone—"

"I FUCKING KNEW IT!" Keira erupts into a fit, jumping off of Leah as she points an accusing finger your way. 

Your face goes red as you snap your mouth shut, not even realizing what was coming out of it until it was too late. "I'm delusional from the flu right now, don't put words in my mouth!"

Keira rolls her eyes as she crosses her arms across her chest, "YOU PUT THOSE WORDS IN YOUR MOUTH, YOU DINGUS!"

"HEY! Don't call her a dingus, carrot top," Leah hops back in. 

"Oh you've got it bad, Le. Defending her already? It's barely been a week, and you've let her come back to your flat? Are you sure you aren't the sick one?" Keira keeps poking fun at you two, making kissy faces at the blonde. 

"We've known each other way longer than a week! What are you even talking about— LEAH!" It's you interrupting her now. A pointed look on your face as you glare at her. Keira furrows her brows at first, looking between the two of you as the gears start turning in her head. Back, forth, back, forth, back, forth— her head snaps from you to her best mate. Then a lightbulb goes off, "OH MY GOD!" She turns to you as an incredulous look overtakes her face. "YOU'RE IBIZA GIRL!" 

"NO I'M NOT!" You yell out as you jump up to defend yourself. 

"YES YOU ARE!" Keira shoves her finger into your shoulder. 

"LEAH?" "LEAH!" You both turn to the blonde, looking for an end to this argument. She's just smiling at you two, silently laughing at the scene playing out in front of her. All her worries and doubts about you are completely gone from her mind at this moment. They just slip away as the ease of being with her two favorite people sinks in. 

"Oh, no. This is between you two. Figure it out like big girls," she moves to sit Keira down on the couch. Making you face each other as you roll your eyes at the cocky look breaking across her features. You can't keep your next words in, too tired to hold the sass in. "Stop making that face. It makes you look constipated."

"Keep deflecting! I know it's you," she smiles at you.

"Oh, yeah? How?" You look at her and tilt your head as you squint your eyes.

"Because you were gone last year at the exact same time. Those 3 weeks when Leah abandoned me in Ibiza? That's the same 3 weeks you said you were visiting back home, but then couldn't provide a single photo from your trip. It wasn't because you forgot, it's because you were getting your back blown out in a different continent. Plus, I'm the only one Leah's ever even told about her. So the only way you'd know is if you are her. BOOM!" Keira uses her hands to mimic an explosion at the end.

You stare at her with your mouth dropped open, cheeks redder than a tomato as her proud smirk mirrors Leah's. Did she really put all that together from the time she walked in to now? I guess you can never really hide anything from Keira…you already knew that though. Sooner or later she always finds out what you're hiding. 

"Okay, fine! But you are sworn to complete and utter secrecy, Walsh!" You point a finger this time, a smile finally gracing your features. "But seriously, we are NOT dating."

"Oh, come on! What does a girl gotta do to take you out?" Leah throws her head back dramatically, a loud sigh filling the space at the end of her tantrum. 

"I've already told you, Leah! I don't date my coworkers. Maybe if you transfer to Chels—"

"I'D RATHER BLOODY DIE THEN WEAR THAT JERSEY!" Leah cuts you off with a scrawl on her face. 

"Guess we'll stay acquaintances then, Williamson," the cocky smirk is on your lips now.

"We'll see about that, y/l/n." Leah leans in closer as she raises her eyebrows.

"Watching you two is like interactive reality tv. It's a fiery mess, but you can't look away…Anyways, I was just stopping by to see if Le would let me stay with her. I really don't feel like sleeping on a hotel bed for a few days," Keira says.

"Of course you can stay! God, Keira like that's even a question. You act like you don't have your own room and spare key," Leah says.

"Well I wasn't going to ask…Until I saw you all cuddled up with y/n in your little love nest," Keira fires back.

"Excuse you, if we're labeling it then it was more like a love cocoon," Leah challenges her. 

"Hey? Where are you going?" Keira asks you.

"Yeah! Was it a nest or a cocoon, darling?" Leah pouts your way.

And even though it does make your heart skip a beat, you push that feeling down. You wrestle it from your chest all the way down into your stomach. Where it's going to twist and turn your heart, your mind, and your sanity. "Sorry but this is between you two. Work it out like big girls," you use her earlier works against her. You go to grab a towel from the hall closet before heading to the bathroom, "I'm gonna hop in the shower now that I'm feeling better!" 

"Without me?" Leah calls out.

"Keep talking and I'll call Russo to be my new roommate!" You tease before shutting the door. As soon as the barrier of wood is up you feel your facade start to crumble. You truly do love Keira, but seeing her has been a rush of emotions. You know you two left things awkward and unsaid when you left Barca, but she did really try to be there for you…and you pushed her away. You iced out one of the only true friends you have, and then left without warning. You know you two have more to talk about, but at least you're back on good terms. The last time Keira caught you in a compromising position with someone, it was the beginning of a trainwreck. The reason for your departure….A messy and convoluted tale of her. A name that causes so much pain your brain refuses to even whisper it. She remains nameless and faceless in your mind. That’s the only way you can push through it— if you erase her from your being completely. You don’t allow the feelings to encompass your heart, and in turn, you never allow them to heal your soul. Just a walking open wound, always bleeding out with sorrow. Lashing out and hurting the ones closest to you. Because after all– hurt people hurt people.

So you follow through with your teasing threat, and you dial Alessia's number. She agrees to let you stay with her for a while after you explain the flu situation. As the phone call ends the shame bubbles up and spills out of you. You run to the toilet to release the burning sense of disgrace tumbling out of your throat. You flush before taking a second to let the sick feeling in your gut subside. 

You must take longer in the shower than you think, because soon Leah’s knocking on the door. “Hey you alright in there, darling? I’m starting to think you passed out and I need to kick the door down!” You laugh at her concern as you let the worries boggling your mind wash down the drain. Leah is a source of comfort...and you haven’t quite figured that out yet. You just know she makes you forget. All the pain, guilt, and memories…they all vanish when she's near you. Maybe that's why you always give into her advances; because the blinding pleasure brings a shield of solace in her embrace. "I'm fine, just needed a good ol’ fashion deep clean!" 

You turn off the water before reaching for your towel, and the door opens just as you pull the curtain back. You're scrambling to cover up your exposed body as a surprised yelp leaves your lips, "LEAH!" Your cheeks heat up as she racks her eyes up and down your body. She keeps walking towards you, purpose pouring out of every step she takes. When she approaches the shower entry you back up until you feel the cold tiles strike a shiver down your spine. "W-what are you doing?"

She walks right in and cages you to the wall, still dressed in her clothes and all. She grabs the top of the messily wrapped towel around your body and yanks it down. Her hands are quick to slide from your hips up to your chest, playing with your nipples as you shutter from the feeling. Leah's getting on her knees now, leaving a trail of kisses as she does. "Y-your pants, Le!"

She growls out as she nips at the skin above your navel. "I don't give a fuck about my pants! Keira finally left and I'm starving. Now be a good girl, and let me have my breakfast, okay?"

She doesn't give you a minute to protest, diving her tongue straight through your folds. She doesn't even pull back when she speaks again, the words mumbled into your pussy. "Been too fucking long since I've got to taste you." 

It makes you arch your back, pushing your cunt down onto Leah's face even more. "F-fuck! Please, Le— want your fingers!" 

"No. This isn't about you right now. So shut up before you get nothing," it's like a switch flipped. She was being so nice, and now her grip is tightening on your chest. The stinging feeling running down to your clit as she pinches your nipples. 

"But Le—" and with that she pulls away. An anger burning behind her eyes you've never seen before. "What did I say?" 

Your eyes widen at that, mouth falling open as you stare at her like a deer caught in headlights. Your cheeks get redder as the silence grows between you two, falling victim to the fiery look ablaze behind her eyes. It's like diving into the ocean and being swept away by the tides; there's no use in fighting it. "Fine. If you don't want to listen," She's standing up now and pulling at the sweatpants around her waist. Her panties quickly follow the same path as she throws them both behind her. "Then you're gonna use your mouth for the only thing it's good for." 

You can't help the way arousal seeps out of you at the thought. During this whole reunion of sorts, you've been the only one receiving. It sparks a passion in you to taste her cum, and after all like she said— it's been too fucking long. She grabs your hair as she forces you to your knees. It makes a whimper leave your lips from the force, but the pain in your legs only adds to your pleasure. She spreads her legs as she steps over you, and you moan as your hands go to run up her thighs. You feel the grip on your hair loosen and before you know it, she's on you. Her hands are pinning yours to the wall behind you, switching them to just one as she positions herself atop you. A light slap is sent across your cheek, and it makes a surprised moan fall from your lips.

Leah grabs your jaw after, forcing you to look her in the eyes. "You're just a selfish slut aren't you? Can't ever follow orders because it's not what you want, hmm?"

You go to defend yourself, but Leah's eyebrows raise as your mouth opens. You decide on closing your lips and shaking your head instead. A furrowed brow and a pout easily settling into your features. She just rolls her eyes at you, throwing your face out of her hold as she scoffs. "Oh, don't give me that look. It's not gonna save you this time. Now stick your fucking tongue out for me." 

Your need to prove her wrong is stronger than your need to be a brat right now. So you swallow down the sassy remark in your throat and do as she says. Open your mouth as you lay your tongue out flat. She's so close you can feel the heat radiating off of her, and it takes all your strength to hold yourself back. Your eyes go to watch as she sinks herself down onto you, and they close as her taste hits your tongue. But the sudden reentry of her hand into your hair ruins that, and she yanks your locks. Just a bit, enough to make you whimper and shift your sights to her. "Keep your eyes on me. Understand?"

You nod as best you can, and it makes your nose nudge against her clit. Causing a sequence of moans to tumble out from her lips. She starts grinding down into the pleasure, keeping your head in place with the hand in your hair. You could cum just like this, but it's still a struggle to not rub your thighs together from the sight above you. Leah's not got her shirt off, but you can still see her hard nipples poking through. It makes you moan into her pussy, and her hips stutter from the vibrations. You miss seeing Leah's tits, but you miss sucking on them more. Every night in Ibiza she'd have you straddling her lap, your mouth around one of her nipples as her fingers buried themselves inside of your cunt. 

Her hips grind into your face harder as she throws her head back. The muscles in your legs are burning now, and you know your knees will be bruised before the end of this. But you don't care, not when it's Leah. You'd stay down here till your legs went numb if that's what she needed. "Fuck me," she pulls on your locks, "Fuck me with your tongue, y/l/n."

You want to frown at the use of your last name. You like it when she calls you pet names during intimate moments like this— hell you even like it when she degrades you. But this seems more personal, like she's actually mad at you. Like that fire behind her eyes is more than just her dominant side taking over. So you do as she says, moving your tongue to slip into her hole as you try and prove yourself to her. You want to make up whatever it is you did to piss her off so bad. She starts moving your head along with her hand, adding extra force behind your thrusts. Her legs start shaking as the minutes pass by, her orgasm building with every flick of your tongue. Her juices are running down your chin, neck, and chest at this point. Effectively ruining the shower that turned your fingers and toes into prunes. 

"Just like that, keep going!" She groans out as above you. 

She spurs you on, laser focusing on keeping everything the same. You want— no you need to make her cum. Your jaw is beyond sore, but it doesn't deter you from your task at hand. How can you think about the pain in your jaw when you have a goddess placing her pussy onto your mouth? Easy— you don't!

You feel her legs start to close around your head a bit as she leans forward, bracing herself against the shower wall. Your head moves with her until you're pressed back against the tiles. Leah uses her newfound support to grind herself against you faster, sending a chorus of beautiful sounds to spill from her mouth. She's fucking your face as she has you completely pinned down and at her mercy. You're so exposed…so vulnerable. In your pleasure induced daze, you think about maybe— just maybe! Letting your guard down around her. You make the decision right then that you need to cancel your move to Alessia's, mentally writing a note to text her. You'll do it as soon as you two get done fooling around. Plus you'll both need a shower after this..and you guess she can join you this time. 

It only takes about five more thrusts for her to let out a broken moan, the precious cum you've been working towards finally spilling out onto your tongue. You can't help but let out a moan, too, the taste of her casting a glaze to cover your eyes. You slip further and further into the spacey feeling as you lick up her arousal. Now that she's let you have a taste of her, how are you gonna stop? 

You're pulled out of your thoughts as she pulls away from your body. She helps you up after she regains her strength, letting you cling to her as your legs wobble like a newborn foal. She sits you on the toilet as she goes to get you both some clean clothes. You smile to yourself as your fingers come up to collect some of her cum around your mouth, pushing them into your mouth as you clean them up. Even when she isn't looking— you're her good girl. You reach for your phone and click on Alessia's contact, but the door reopens just as you go to hit send. "Here, I put a few days worth of clothes in this. I washed your shorts and put them in there, too. Should keep you covered till you can swing back home."

She just turns around after handing you the bag, walking back towards the door. "W-wait! Where are you going? And do I really need my own bag while I stay here?" Your confused tone stops her in her tracks. You hear a scoff before she turns around, met with an infuriated Leah. 

"The last time I checked you ran in here to tell Alessia to come pick you up. So stop the bullshit. But I guess that's all you're good at, huh? Being a bullshitter," she says it without an inch of comfort in her voice. You suddenly feel way too exposed for this conversation, covering your naked body as best as you can with your hands. You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes as you start shaking your head. "L-Le, no that's not! I'm not— please just let me explain!" 

"You left me in Ibiza, you left your last crew, and so go ahead and leave again! Apparently it's the only thing you're bloody consistent at. You can't stay loyal to a god damn football team, so I don't know why, god forbid, I thought you'd stay for someone who actually fucking cares about you!" She's shouting now, her chest rising and falling with the anger brewing in her chest. 

The sobs can't stay locked inside you anymore. They rock through your body, enabling you speechless as the shock of her words sink in. She just shakes her head before turning back around, slamming the door so hard behind her that it bounces back open. Once you've calmed down after a few minutes, you quickly change into a pair of the clothes from the bag she gave you. You cry a little harder when you smell hints of her scent on the fabric, but it only fuels you to get dressed faster. You grab your phone and the bag from Leah before walking out of the bathroom. You keep your eyes on the floor, avoiding her presence in the living room. You reach for the front door as you storm out, more tears blurring your vision. You end up bumping into a body before you push past them, a whimpered apology leaving your lips. 

"Hey, y/n— what's wrong," Keira turns around to go after you, but Leah stops her as she approaches the door to watch you leave.

"Don't! Let her go. It's not like she ever stays, anyways."

[razrbladekiss]

GUILTY AS SIN? | Joel Miller

SUMMARY: your dad’s ex-best-friend explains just why your old-man no longer associates with the man whose blood once ran through his veins.

PAIRING: dads(ex)best friend!joel miller x afab!reader. joel is in his fifties, reader is early twenties.

WORD COUNT: no idea i raw-dogged this on tumblr dot com.

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI, 18+ WORK BELOW THE CUT. kinda established friendship between reader and joel, despite not seeing one another for a few years. insinuated NSFW, nothing strictly dirty. just wordy shit.

PART TWO

He’s a lot grayer than you remember. Broader, too. He looks positively stacked beneath the faded red flannel he’s donning today. For an old-ish man, Joel looks good.

Too good.

Much, much too good for a man who has the audacity—the absolute temerity—to show his face in this town after all that he said about, and did to your father.

Apparently—though, you’ve never been too sure how true the tale of brotherly betrayal had been—Joel had broken the “sacred” pact between himself and your father, when you had moved out of state four years ago, and neither spoke a word to the other since.

Joel left Point Pleasant and took with him his shame for whatever it was that he’d done. But now he’s back—to the dismay of your father—and you’ve just so happened to cross paths with him.

And though you don’t understand—or care to learn about—just what happened between the two who’d been friends since childhood, you respect your old man and his desire to keep you from Joel.

That was, until today.

When you bumbled through town—hunting for a padlock to secure the gate in your backyard that keeps blowing open with the fucking wind—you didn’t think you’d come face to face with him.

You’d waltzed into the hardware store on St. John’s Road, roaming the aisles—feeling uncomfortable in the mundane—for the biggest, brassiest lock you could find and when you got your hands on it, a familiar—though not entirely expected—voice filled the space between you and the monotony of being back home.

He showed himself and you all but shit yourself. You hadn’t expected to see Joel God damn Miller in your town, but you did. And it knocked you for six.

The two of you made small talk for a few minutes—mindful of who could’ve been around—before Joel was inviting you out for drinks later that evening. And being the sweet—slightly intrigued as to what happened between him and your father—soul you are, you said “yes.”

And that’s how you wound up in this position.

Joel sits opposite to you, puttering with the beer mat between his pointer finger and thumb. He flashes you a smile whenever you speak, and you’re filled with a strange sense of warmth in his presence. Nostalgia, perhaps.

“And college was a drag.” You say honestly. “I dropped out after the second semester, but I didn’t tell my parents.”

He laughs in disbelief, not for one second thinking that your father would’ve let that slide.

“What’d dad say?” Joel cringes when he realizes the way he’s spoken about your old man, remembering that they were no longer on friendly terms. “Sorry, Mike.”

Tight lipped, you smile.

“I didn’t tell him for six months. Mom knew, but she never told him.” Breezing past that hiccup, you tell him. “But when he did find out, he kicked my ass. Didn’t speak to me for a year. Didn’t want me back at home for Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas, my Birthday. Didn’t want nothin’ to do with me, ‘til I re-enrolled.”

“And did you?”

You shake your head. “No, sir. I moved to Atlanta, instead. Got a job in marketing, worked my way up to a senior position, met a great guy and got engaged, built the best life I possibly could’ve.”

Proud of you—genuinely pleased—Joel smiles. “So what brings you back here?”

The wine glass in your hand is suddenly bone-dry, empty of it’s once fruity contents. You laugh wryly. “Got fired. Fiancé cheated on me with the CEO of my company. Lost my house in the split. So I came back here last summer.. taken me ‘til now to be able to move outta dad’s place.”

“Oh, sweetheart..” He sense that you don’t want his sympathy, but he can’t help it. “How did d—Mike take it?”

Again, you laugh.

“Badly. Didn’t speak to me for a while.” You smile tight-lipped. “Common theme, that. Dad not speaking to me.”

Joel whirls his whiskey around its tumbler, refusing eye contact. “I know how that feels. Been four years since he last said a word to me, and I kick myself for that everyday.”

It’s sad. Meditative. Almost makes you want to keep your nose out.

Almost.

“Yeah,” you put down your glass. “What happened there, then? ‘Cus nobody seems to tell me jack-shit here, anymore.”

Usually, Joel would say something along the lines of “darlin’, it’s best you don’t know,” or “none ‘a your damn business.” But he supposes that it is your business—what with it being your father.

And the fact that you’re the fucking reason for your dad wanting to murder Joel, and use his guts as drapes.

“Well.” He begins—feeling his chest constrict and heart pound wildly inside of its ribcage. Joel takes a deep, drawn out breath, and a swig of his liquor for some well-needed fucking courage.

But it doesn’t work.

He’s a trembling mess, now.

“Alright, you needa know…this ain’t somethin’ I’m proud of.”

You blink at him, feeling crimson bleed into your cheeks while simultaneously knowing that all color is draining from your face.

“And I’ve been on my own for years. Since Sarah’s mother died—“

“Joel.” You say, warningly. “Spit it out.”

He swallows thickly the residual bile on the tip of his tongue. Joel didn’t think he’d ever be in this position. Least of all today.

“Your father and I, we got drunk at a yacht party one night.” He begins. “Some hot-shot at his company invited us and I wasn’t gunna go, ‘til Mike convinced me.”

You can tell he’s trying to drag it out, and so you stare at him pointedly.

Joel clears his throat, continuing. “Anyway. We got hammered, told one another some shit and shared a few heart-to-hearts. And then I crossed a boundary that—darlin’—I know I never should’ve crossed.”

“Go on..” Apprehensive, you say.

He rubs his lips together, sending you a very apologetic gaze.

“I told your father that I had a crush on you.” Finally he admits, and your heart falls out of your fucking cunt. “Now—this ain’t somethin’ I ever wanted to act on—“

“You had a crush on me?” He nods, ignoring the venom in your tone. “Joel! That’s fucking—that’s—“

You can’t find it in yourself to be disgusted with him. In fact, you’re quite flattered, actually. Because for as long as you can remember, Joel Miller was desired by every single woman that he’d ever known, and yourself would’ve been included in that.

Despite being the father of one of your closest childhood friends, you often fantasized about what it’d be like to screw around with Joel. Because he was so handsome—so rough and rugged—and he made you squirm whenever he put a friendly hand to your shoulder or hugged you at a family event.

You’re completely dumbfounded, actually.

He says your name as you’re lost in your lascivious thoughts, hastily plummeting you back to reality.

“I’m sorry—“

“Don’t be.” Completely unfazed, now, you say. “My dad’s a drama queen. I should’ve known it’d be something stupid that split the two of you up.”

He stares blankly at you, brows fused together.

“If I’m being honest, Joel, I’ve wanted to fuck you for years.” Candid, you tell him. “So I guess that now you and my dad hate one another, I have nothing to feel bad about.”

“What the f—I mean—thanks? But, sweetheart, this is wrong.” He reasons. “Your father ground me into the sidewalk when he found out, and I can’t imagine what he’ll do to me if he finds out you’re sayin’ all these things—“

You wave, completely detached from reality. “Aw, fuck him. Never cared much for him, anyways. Was always tryna control my life.”

Joel actually can’t believe what he’s hearing. It’s like some strange music to his ears, but it feels so wrong.

“And, y’know what? He can’t control me now.” You say matter of fact before you’re hopping off your bar stool, and shifting to stand in front of Joel. “I’d love to hear his thoughts on this.”

In a moment of completely blind, unadultered passion, you fuse your lips to Joel’s. His left hand comes up to take purchase on the skin of your neck while the right lands on your waist. He moans, pushing his tongue into your mouth.

You laud the sweetness of Honey on his tongue, and drink the lustrous flavor of him. He’s so steamy. So beautiful, for an older man.

And now that you’re back in the same town, then who knows what’ll happen?

“Joel?”

He hums against your lips, holding tightly your skin.

“Take me home with you.”

[saltylemontears]

try again || ln4

summary: you and lando meet after many years with lots to talk about... warnings: none? i think? a/n: my first lando fic got over 650 notes (INSANE), so here's another, longer, as a thank you!

you weren't a big fan of racing. in fact, you had no clue what it was really about, until your brother brought you here.

the paddock is loud, way too loud for your liking, and you don't really understand. you see people wearing merch, carrying around signs and cutouts with big smiles on their faces, and it's actually kind of cute.

your brother gets into a passionate conversation about a championship with a fellow fan and decides to completely ignore your existence. how typical of him. your eyes wander to the big screen on your left.

names and pictures flash before your eyes, but none of them sound familiar. max verstappen, charlec leclerc, oscar piastri, lando norris.

lando norris.

lando norris?

lando norris, your highschool sweetheart? no, that can't be. surely, it's just a guy with the same name. and the same face. and the same fucking curls. just a coincidence.

your thoughts begin to wander, and suddenly you're in highschool again, anxiously waiting for lando in the park, on your bench. but lando's not in sight. not a single trace of him, he didn't even text you that he's busy like he usually does. you left the park two hours later, tears streaming down your face, betrayal stinging inside your chest.

and it starts stinging again. your first ever love, your first ever heartbreak.

you never thought you'd feel like this on a random sunday in miami, and it's overwhelming, it's all too much and you need to go.

your brother turns back to you. "hey, where are you going?"

it feels stupid to tell him about lando and whatever feelings you're feeling right now, so you just sit back down. "nothing, nothing,"

you manage to zone out for a while, only coming back to your senses when the lights go out, the race starts and your brother screams in excitement.

the crowd goes insane every time a car passes them, making the whole place even louder, and to be completely honest, it's actually kinda fun to watch those cars go ridiculously fast.

as the race comes to an end, the fans get louder, specifically the ones dressed in orange and your brother stands up, cheering passionately.

"and lando norris wins the miami grand prix, for the first time in formula on-"

jesus christ. you just witnessed your first love win a fucking formula one race with your own eyes.

you watch the screen, seeing lando on the podium, looking so happy and relieved, and all of a sudden, you see the same kid you loved those years ago and it's way too much to fucking handle. you get up again.

"i'm gonna go pee," you tell your brother, attempting to leave as quietly as possible, making your way through the crowd.

hell, you don't even know where the toilets are. you just need to get out of there real quick.

and you run, you run until you don't know where you are, but you're standing next to a bunch of guys in orange, breathing heavily.

you feel tears streaming down your cheeks and you hide your face, trying to find a bathroom. those orange guys definitely have a bathroom there, right?

and now, you're completely lost, messy and lando norris is in front of your eyes, chatting with someone. you need to get out.

you wait for a while until everyone turns around and run out of there as quickly as you can and-

something taps on your shoulder, and when you turn around, it's him. you're not sure whether you should cry or laugh.

your eyes meet and it's awkward as hell, just like back in highschool.

"didn't think i'd see you again," he says quietly after a minute of just staring. his voice is a little wobbly.

"i wish you didn't," you reply softly, turning back around to make your way back, but he stops you again. he stays quiet.

"congratulations," you say when he doesn't reply, and you mean it. no bad feelings, just like your mum always told you. "you did well,"

lando's hand on your shoulder tightens and he bites his lip, as if he was trying to find the right words.

"i'm sorry." he eventually whispers, voice breaking in the middle, and your heart fucking breaks at the sight, as angry as you are. "i-i'm gonna explain, alright? i'll tell you everything, please,"

you nod in agreement. today just can't get crazier.

he gently leads you somewhere, and you feel your survival instinct kick in, but it's lando. it's always been him.

he closes the door behind you when you sit on the couch in his driver's room. your hands shake.

"go on then," you begin, "explain,"

he takes a deep breath. "listen, i didn't really have a choice. i had to leave, you know? to move up the ladder, and i dropped out, because i wanted to chase this dream," he says, eyes wandering over your face. "and then - then it started being more than a dream, and i left everyone behind, not just you, and i'm so fucking sorry,"

you tense. "you could've at least texted me,"

"and what was i supposed to text you? that i'm leaving the country to become a racing driver and that i'm gonna be living in monaco and flying around the world and might never see you again?"

"anything. you don't even know how i felt after you ditched me," you reply, bitterness coating the sentence.

"i didn't want to ditch you,"

"but you did, lando, and it fucking hurt!" you raise your voice a little, but it's shaky and unstable. lando reaches for your hand.

"i'm sorry, i really am," he whispers, "i thought about you every day, how you're doing, because i loved you. i loved you so fucking much, i wanted you to just forget my dumb ass,"

"i didn't forget," you say, hand brushing against his. "i thought you didn't want me anymore,"

the room goes silent and you can hear each other's breathing.

"i still love you. i never really stopped," you blurt out, not even realizing what you've just said until he pulls you into a much needed hug, whispering a "me too," in your ear.

you pull away, looking into his eyes. he smiles, and it's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

"you think we could try again?"

[haikyu-mp4]

Attuned

word count; 608 – gn!reader

Anyone who knew Tendo well noticed how attuned he was to others. The way he understood emotions and subtle body language was something you admired, and he left you speechless in many cases with his emotional intelligence and everything that came with it. Including the cute little tilt of his head as he observed.

“Tendo, do you know which vending machine is closest?” you asked him in the break between classes, eyes squinting slightly as the bright lights of the classroom only seemed to worsen your pounding headache.

And just like you could expect by now, Tendo tilted his head curiously, or perhaps in understanding, before pointing over his shoulder. “The one that leads towards the gym is pretty close, and you’d get a breath of fresh air as well.”

You smiled thankfully, bowing politely before heading in that direction.

“Tendo, did you do the homework?” you half-whispered, nervously pinching the fabric of his loose windbreaker that he had yet to put in his locker.

“Well well, what do we have here?” he teased, but as his eyes darted over your chapped lips, the crease between your brows and the slight glass of your eyes, his head tilted to the side. “It’s not my best, but feel free to use it.”

You breathed out a heavy sigh of relief as if you hadn’t been sure he would give his homework to you (he would even give it all to you and be left with detention).

“Thank goodness, you’re a lifesaver.” The pinch on his jacket turned into a grip, so he put a hand on your upper arm to coax you into relaxing.

“If we’re getting a detention, it better be for something cool, right?”

“Satori!” His head turned like a dog to a squeaky toy when he heard you call his name.

“What’s up, buttercup?” His thumbs were tucked under the straps of his backpack, and the way he stood so straight made him look even taller than usual.

“Nothing! I just happened to cross your path and thought I’d say hi.”

Slowly, a bit unsurely, Tendo’s head tilted to the side. He noticed how your cheeks looked pinker than usual, making him hungry for a fresh peach. He noticed how you were slightly leaning on the pads of your feet, effectively swaying closer to him. He noticed how your eyes smiled with your lips, and when adding all these together, he let himself wonder if maybe you liked him too.

“Y/n?” a familiar voice said from behind you, making you turn around swiftly, only to part your lips in surprise.

“Satori?” His head was tilted slightly, just like when he observed you, and his hands gestured in no particular pattern as he kept talking.

“I was wondering- you‘re coming to our game this weekend, yes?”

You nodded, flashing him a toothy smile. “Yes, indeed I am.”

“Excellent!” Giggling at his nervous stature, you had him blushing before he even got to the point. He was easily comparable to a cartoon character at this point. “Let’s grab a milkshake before the bus leaves?”

This time, you copied him, head tilting slightly the other way. “That’s a great plan, I’d love to! Will it just be us?” And Tendo would forever melt at the memory of how you leaned in closer, eyes so bright.

“Yeah, the rest of the team is lactose intolerant,” he lied but followed it with a laugh so you’d know he was joking.

And with a great laugh, you agreed on a time for the date. Because when you find someone who sees you the way Tendo Satori does, you hold on tight.

masterlist

[ssahotchnerr]

Reader sending Aaron cute messages when he’s off on cases and him not realizing he’s kinda smiling when reading them? Or they just make him in a much better mood in general and the others let reader know when they’re officially introduced? Idk it sounded cute in my head LOL

all thanks to you

omg that's ADORABLE cw; FLUFF

"you!" you had merely crossed the threshold of dave's foyer, only to be attacked by a sudden, warm embrace.

"me?" you said within a laugh. you caught yourself before penelope's abrupt hug caused you to lose your footing, quick to reciprocate and the butterflies in your stomach somewhat lessening.

it was your very first night meeting the bau team, and you had been beside yourself with nerves for close to a week now - ever since aaron had first mentioned the get-together. as they were the next closest thing to aaron's family than jack, you equally wanted to make a perfect first impression.

you must've shown aaron at least five potential outfits before you had left his apartment, asking him over again if he were sure the time was right for you to meet them, and if he was even more sure they would take to you.

aaron had reassured you, that first, you would look stunning in whatever you wore. and second, they would adore you. he offered the comfort that he himself wasn't worried, because he knew them, and he knew you. "trust me," he had said, chuckling softly as he grabbed his car keys. "i'll be long forgotten once they get to know you."

likewise, aaron had already warned you - penelope was ecstatic to meet you and would not keep that hidden in the slightest. but if she were half of what aaron had already described, you knew the two of you were guaranteed to be instant friends. and her current show, was pure evidence of that.

"it's so nice to finally meet you. you have no idea how long i've been waiting." penelope grinned, buzzing from ear to ear. "like, once hotch opened a text from you while we were all sitting around, y'know, being productive. and boy, i knew he was a goner."

"really?"

"are you kidding? okay," she takes a second, as if she's mentally preparing herself, ready to paint the picture. "we were sitting there, like i said. his phone goes off, and y'know that normal face he makes - eyebrows kinda pinched, mr mcpouty pants? - you know the one. he picks up his phone, reads it and he smiles. full-on smiles, right in front of us. he didn't think we noticed, but we did. didn't he smile?" her hand smacks out onto derek's arm, who happened to be passing by, resulting in a gentle slap.

"yeah babygirl." derek flashed a smile in your direction. "saw it with my own eyes."

"so," penelope's hand now flew onto your arm, resuming her energetic story. "when he realized he smiled, god forbid right - mr grumpy face returns, rather labored this time because again, the world will end if we witness anything otherwise. hotch simply puts down his phone as if it were nothing, but oh my god, he was blushing so hard i thought he was gonna explode. he was so so tickled."

"aww," you laughed, your lips curving into a smile and more love for aaron - if it were possible- swelling in the middle of your chest. "that's so sweet."

"oh honey, and that's one time out of, millions. dare i say, he got used to smiling and was generally in such a better mood all around." she lightly shakes your arm. "earlier nights, later morning starts, no more mr mcpouty pants - well, for the most part. all thanks to you!"

you felt a familiar presence still behind you, a hand finding your back. "you blush when i text you?" you turned your head up towards aaron, blush of your very own tinting your cheeks.

aaron shrugged reservedly, helping you slide your coat off your shoulders and folding it over his arm. "i did mainly at the beginning."

"sir, no." penelope shook her head, a pleased smirk vibrant on her face as her gaze switched between the two of you. "you were blushing today."

[spicy30]

Modernness of 1400s 001

Pairing: HOTD x Fem!Modern!Reader

Extra: The reader is noted to be bilingual (Spanish speaking) and is familiar with the majority of Latin-based languages, No use of Y/N

cw: Misinformation, cannon-typical violence

Rating: 13+

Not proofread

WC: 4k

“Yes! I will call you both when I arrive at the airport.” You spoke in a hurried voice excited to leave. It was your first time leaving the country without your parents. Your first trip alone, well not exactly alone. Your best friend was in the car. Saying your final goodbyes you grabbed your three large suitcases and stuffed them in the back while taking one in the front.

“Why did you bring three!? What even is in there?” Your best friend spoke as she was squished to the side.

“Basically all of my clothes and shampoos, soaps, scrubs, sanitary pads, sanitary wipes, toothpaste, y’know all the stuff you need to be clean.” You listed the things on your fingers as you spoke to her.

“You can’t bring liquids on a plane.” She stared at you with a blank stare. “You’re so gonna get stopped by security.”

“If they’re over 100 milliliters. I did my research. You can never be too clean, and you never know when you might need them!” You urged with an exaggerated tone of voice.

“Girl, we’re gone for two weeks, we can buy anything we need once we get there.” She rationalized with you.

“We’re on a budget. Why waste money on useless things when we can simply just take from what we already have, duh!” You rolled your eyes and chewed some gum while smiling then offered her some. Your best friend hummed and shrugged while taking one and popping it in her mouth.

“Anyways, these jeans are gonna be the death of me, I know it. This plane ride is like 10 hours!” Your best friend complained as she unbuttoned her jeans.

“Airport crushes. Gotta look your best.” You spoke as you touched up your makeup and adjusted your sweater. “Anyways, I hope it’s cold on the plane. I hate it when it’s too hot, but just in case I wore this.” You unzipped your sweater showing a cream-colored, halter-style top with a square neckline. “The cold is better because you can always put on more layers, with the heat, only so many layers you can take off.” You hear your best friend hum in agreement.

You watched the world pass you by and the sunset as the music sounded in your ears from your headphones. The car came to a slow stop to pay the highway toll before speeding up again. You looked into the darkness of the night. This bridge that you were crossing was quite long. Deciding to prep ahead of time, you downloaded movies and songs on your phone.

Red lights flashed on your left and you heard a honk. You looked over and saw a semi-truck switching lanes. It was far too close to you. You simply sat still watching as the semi-truck hit the front of the car. There was nothing you could do. Another collision hit you from behind, jerking you forward. Your best friend screamed. You only screamed when the car began swerving closer to the edge of the bridge. The only thing below this bridge is the black ocean.

The car gave a screeching stop as it crashed into the concrete wall. The back of the car hung over the edge. Both you and your best friend were screaming and crying for help, though the driver only quickly unbuckled themselves and got out of the car. Your screaming drowned out anything else as the car hung in the balance. The car door opened on your right and your best friend was helped out by a bystander.

She called your name as the car slipped backward. Acting fast you stuffed your phone in your purse, crawled over your suitcase and finally stepped onto solid ground again. As you tried to walk forward you got stuck. Looking back, your sweater had gotten stuck in the suitcase. In desperation, you pulled, and it pulled the whole suitcase out. However, the suitcase fell over the edge. You heard your name being yelled at as you were yanked backward. You screamed and swiped for anything, your hand only hit the car. As you fell you screamed even louder as you saw the car fall after you, the bright red tail gates chasing after you. It was a long drop, every second you felt as if you would hit the cold black waters. You moved mid-air and curled yourself into a ball before you felt the sharp hit of the cold water.

As you sank down you extended your body swimming upwards, but you felt heavy. Nevertheless, you persevered. Swimming with desperation you felt a cramp in your calf. You groaned as you stopped moving your leg. Looking down, you saw nothing but black, but as you looked back up red lights crashed into you. The blow was hard and the wind was knocked out of you. Reflexively you breathed in, only to swallow water, coughing, and you swallowed more water. You failed your arms trying to get to the surface. Everything burned and you tried to breathe once more, only to take in more water before you finally gave up.

…

Your body jerked to the side and you threw up seawater while crying. More and more water came out and you couldn’t breathe. Every time you tried a water shot from your mouth. Finally, you took a big deep breath in and grabbed on firmly to what seemed to be an armored shoe.

Looking up the sun blinded you, as well as the shine from the armor.

“That’s her…we just found her…when…what…wearing?” Voices came in and out and you flipped back over onto your back letting the sun hit you. You simply breathed, looking up towards the blue sky. You simply laid back trying to refocus, though it didn’t seem to be working. Large dark figures flew in the sky, you didn’t know what they were but you blinked trying to figure it out. As your eyes focused on them, a man stepped in front of you, he was bald with thick white eyebrows and a matching beard.

“Are you…” The words he spoke sounded blurred.

“Huh?” From behind him, a large creature, what seemed like a… well a… a “Dragon?” It was the last thing you spoke before you felt your body give into the exhaustion once more.

…

“Though it is the great hope of the court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survives his wounds, we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. As a hand, I speak with the King’s voice on this and all other matters.” All watched as Otto finished his speech and then sat on the Iron Throne much more comfortably than Rheanerya would like. “The crown will now hear the petitions. Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon.” Otto called upon him and he stepped into the middle of the hall.

“My Queen, my Lord Hand, the noble history of our noble houses extends to the times of Old Valyria.” Vaemond began. “For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Valeryon has ruled the seas. When the doom fell on Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind. Our forebears came to this new land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean an end to their bloodlines, and their name. I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother's seat. I am Lord Corlys's closest kin, his own blood. The true and impeccable blood runs through my veins.”

“As it does in my sons, the offspring Laenor Valeryon,” Rhaenerya spoke. It would be a cold day in the seven hells before she lets the heritage of her sons be questioned. “If you cared so much about your house's blood Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and for your own ambition.”

“You will have a chance to make your own petition Princess Rhaenerya,” Alicent spoke, a cold look in her eye as she looked at her. “Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing him to be heard.”

Vaemond turned with a mocking smirk. “What do you know of the Velaryon blood princess? I could cut my veins and show it to you and you still wouldn’t recognize it. This is about the future and survival of my house, not yours.” He turned away from the mother of bastards to address Otto once more. “My Queen, my hand, this is a matter of blood, not ambition. I place the continuation of survival and my line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brother’s successor. The Lord of Driftmark, Lord of the tides.”

“Thank you Ser Vaemond,” Otto said, nodding as he acknowledged the claim. “Princess Rheanerya, you may now speak for your son Lucerys Velaryon.”

Rhaenrya stepped forward, annoyed and aggravated with the whole situation. “If I am to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding the court that nearly twenty years ago in this very-” A door opened interrupting her. She turned and saw her father, standing with all the glory, once more coming to protect his heir.

“King Viserys of House Targaryen, the first of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.” Everyone in that room watched as he hobbled down the steps, then to the Throne. Dropping his crown, they watched as his ever loyal brother, Daemon, placed it back on his head.

“I must…admit…my confusion.” Viserys breathed heavily. “I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. The only one present who might offer a kenner insight into Lord Corlys’s wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.” Everyone looked towards her as Viserys spoke.

“Indeed your grace.” Rheanys spoke and she stepped forward. “It was ever my husband's will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor, his trueborn son,” She looked towards the dark haired boy. “Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed, nor did my support of him. As a matter of fact, the Princess Rheanerya has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys’s granddaughter; Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I…heartily agree.”

“Well the matter is settled…again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the driftwood throne and the next Lord of the Tides.” As Viserys spoke a scoff broke through Vaemonds lips.

“You break the law.” He spoke to Viserys. “And centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir. Yet you dare tell me who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon.” Vaemond spoke, anger clear in his voice and face.

“No!” A faint yell was heard, but no one paid mind to it.

“No. I will not allow it.” They were words of defiance. He would not let his house fall into ruin because the King was short sighted.

“Allow it?” Viserys spoke, offended that he thought he had a say in the matter. “Do not forget yourself, Vaemond.” The warning was clear.

“That!” Vaemond yelled pointing towards Luke. “Is no true Velaryon and certainly no nephew of mine.”

“Go to your chambers.” Rheanerya spoke, ushering her sons away but they did not move. “You have said enough.” She redirects herself to Vaemond stepping in front of her children.

“Lucerys is my true-born grandson and you are no more than the second son of Driftmark.” Viserys spoke once more. This was treading too close to the line.

“Let go of me!” Another voice yelled, though it was muffled and once again, no one paid it any mind.

“You may run your house as you see fit.” The initiation was clear. “But you will not decide the future of mine! My house survived the doom and a thousand tribulations besides.” He turned back to Rhaenyra. “And gods be damned…” His eyes shifted to Luke. “I will not see it end on the account of this-” Vaemond held his tongue, but just barely.

“Say it.” Daemon whispered, tempting him.

A grim smile bloomed on Vaemonds face as he looked towards Rhaenyra. If no one else had the gaul to say it, he would. “Her children…are BASTARDS!” He yelled for everyone in the Seven Kingdoms to hear.

King Viserys leaned forward. “And she…” Vaemond turned to look towards Viserys with conviction in his eyes. “Is a whore.”

Viserys stood up taking out his knife ready to cut out Vaemond’s tongue himself. “I…will have your tongue for that!”

A sharp slice followed and the top of Vaemond’s head came flying off. “He can keep his tongue.” Daemon said.

“I said unhand me you twats!” Once more the voice sounded, this time, closer, as if behind the doors.

“Disarm him!” Otto yelled, ignoring the yells from behind the door.

“You smell horrid! All of you!” The voice yelled once again and this time everyone turned as the door opened and they watched a woman nearly fall back while she gave a small yelp of surprise.

The sounds of swords unsheathing sound. “Woah!” The woman yelled once more and lifted her hands high in the air. Her accent sounded clear. She was not from here. The court watched the event unfold. Guards surrounded her. “Those look a little too real to be fake so imma need y’all to stay a healthy distance away from me!” They heard her yell, such an informal way of speaking. A common born they all deduced, but why was a common born here in the throne room, why was she even in the Keep at all? However, what most caught the attention of everyone was her clothes. What was she wearing? It looked very inappropriate.

“Listen I don’t know what kinda freaky stuff y’all got goin’ on, but as you can see.” You gestured to yourself and your clothing. “Look at my clothes, and look at yours” Your hands moved sporadically around trying to explain yourself. “Ergo, I am not a part of this … .role playing? Whatever you guys got goin’ here.”

They watched as the woman tried to reason and the guard stepped closer, and she left a high pitched scream. All winced at the volume. “Stop! Please! I’m unarmed!” She yelled. “Look! My hands are up as you can see!” She gave them all a spin and for the first time, the people of the court saw the woman’s face but only for a second. “No weapons. Please put the swords away, I don’t care if they’re fake, they’re a little too real for me and it’s freaking me out!”

“Lay down your swords!” Commanded Viserys and all the men sheaved their swords

“Oh so you listen to the man and not the girl whos been pleading for you to stop? Okay.” You spoke with annoyance. You turned finally taking a look at the court. “Ooh….” You sucked in a breath as you saw the old man in a chair or what looked like to be swords. “Uhh, good make up artist.” You murmmed.

“Step forward girl.” Viserys commanded. You looked around, the men in armor had their sharp eyes trained on your, as if they were hounds waiting to be told to strick.

“Uhhh, I’m a little hesitant to uh move…” You gave an awkward smile.

“They will not harm you, I have told them to stand down.” Viserys spoke once more, a headache become more potent by every moment that passed.

“Okay….” You moved slow making sure to show your every movement and keeping your hands visible. “I’m moving, I’m just moving, no weapons.” You spoke as you slowly walked forward. You didn’t know where you were, but you didn’t want to find out if the props were real or not. It all looked so real, a nice place they had. Their dresses and attires, it was all very surreal. Very nice wigs as well, they almost looked real. A man who had half of his white hair pulled back and the rest down looked at you. You looked down to his sword noticing a red liquid, you stopped right in your tracks.

You pointed at him while your hands remained in the air. “Uhh what about him? I’m seein’ a little…a little red there.” You looked him up and down then back at the rough looking old man who sat the sword?? Throne thingy.

“Daemon.” You watch the white haired man step aside and you gasped and turned around.

“Oh my god!? What? Is! That!?” You yelled your back turned not wanting to look any closer at the…person?? Who was on the floor. “That uh! Thats ummm…. very good props? The anatomy is uh…very good. Wow! Uh yeah… sorry I don’t… I don’t wanna look at that, I have a weak stomach, I can’t even watch animals get killed, I start crying.” You began babling.

“Take him away.” Visery spoke and the silent sisters whisked him away. As you turned you looked around taking in the sights of people. So many white haired ones. Peculiar. You eyes caught one with dark hair and a semi bad haircut, but he was good looking nonetheless. Damn, you hope you didn’t look too rough. Looking to your right, you caught sight of two with white hair.

“Damn.” You whisper wiping the underneath your eyes hoping to take away any mascara that may be running. “Please let me look good right now.” You whispered.

“Is it safe?” You called out no longer hearing the sounds.

“It is.” The old man spoke and you faced him. “Who are you girl and what are you doing here. Commons are not allowed here.”

You made a face at the word commons but rolled your eyes and introduced yourself and gave where you were from. You were met with faces of confusion. You scoffed. “Listen uh, your highness? I don’t know. Can we uh, quit role playing or whatever this is. I- I don’t do that, its not for me. So listen can we be real here for a second? I gave you my country, and my continent. There is no way, you would not know that. Unless…” You looked around and breathed but quickly covered your nose giving a noise of displeasure. “Listen you’re a..what? King? So uh forgive my insolence your highness, but uh…there no way you wouldn’t know unless you all are…uneducated?” All in the court made a face towards you.

You sucked in a breath. Wrong move. Oh well, it is what it is. “Yeah sorry, uh disconnected because uh clearly…y’know your attire, your buildings….the smell, god it’s potent, uh everything it’s just y’know.”

Everyone stared at you in confusion. They had never heard of the place where you claimed to come from. Perhaps it was a place in Essos, of in the Shadowlands beyond Asshai.

“Are you from Essos then?” An old man to your, now left, asked. “What? What is Essos?”

“Are you sure you are not the one who is uneducated.” A voice sounded behind you. You turned swifted to glare at the man who spoke. It was the one with the sword.

“Uh excuse you, I’m not the one who doesn’t the seven continents. Comeone everyone learns those. You don’t know Asia or Africa, what about Europe?” You asked him as he looked at you with an unamused face. “North America? South America? Antarctica? Oceania? No! Exactly, you wanna know how I know? Because of that stu- I’m yelling. I probably shoudln’t be yelling in my position.” You caught yourself and turned around to face their king.

“But come on Essos?” You scoffed. “Listen I may not be the best at geography, but,” The words got stuck in your throat and you sighed out a breath of defeat. “You wanna give me a hint where it’s at?” You heard a scoff behind you and your eye twitched and you smile became forced.

“It’s in the name.” The man behind you —Daemon they called him— spoke once again and you scoff. “What East?” You smiled as the white haired woman to your right gave no signs of a smile. You smile fell from your face. “What? Seriously? What do you call the West?” You laughed. “Western Land? What about the South? Southlandia?” You give another laugh.

“You’re is Westeros.” The old man on your left said.

“What kind of- Okay,” You murmured. “And South?”

“Sothoryos.” He said once again. You face morphed into an approving expresson. “That one is actually not bad. Sounds really actually cool. Okay North?”

“We don’t have a North, it’s part of Westeros.” Once more he answer your question and you nodded turned to him and pointing. “So Westeros leads to the polar icecaps?”

He furrowed his brows. You made a sound of understanding. “Ah I see, you haven’t discovered them yet. So no South pole or North pole. Okay. These are your continents? Okay…so I’m gonna assume Essos is just Asia, this seems a lot like the UK, England? The accents match, or maybe Ireland? No…I think imma stick with England. Okay so I’m in England.”

“As my uncle said…you seem to be the one who is uneducated.” A male voice rings out, and the one with the eyepatch has an aggravating smirk.

“Excuse me? You try getting into a car crash, falling off a bridge because a damned suitcase, wake up in who knows where and figure out where you are. Might I add after not being told common continents.” You looked him up and down. A shame he was good looking, well as one can be with an eye patch. Him opening his mouth really just ruined him. “Tell me, if you, I don’t know, what do you guys have here? Carriages? Do you guys have bridges? Probably not as big as the one I fell from. Have you ever fallen say 200 hundred feet or… sorry uh…. 60 meters? Thats what you guys use right? Well say you fall from 60 meters, into water, drown, then wake up on a beach not knowing where you are or who anyone is. If you fell from that hight and landed on say…oh I don’t any island on Micronesia. Do you know what or even where Micronesia is?” You tilted your head. “No? Well…I think I’ve made my point.”

“You speak to a Prince girl” The King spoke and you turned to him then back towards the one eye man who seemed a bit shocked that his father would come to his rescue.

“Thats your son? My apologies. Is every white haired person here your child?” You asked but the King suddenly let our a groan. The woman in the green dress ran to him.

‘His wife? No? She’s too young. Are those her kids? No…she’s too young…right?’ The thoughts raced in your mind.

“Get the Maesters!” The woman yelled.

‘Maesters? Masters? Weird accents, definitely in the UK.’ You looked around standing there unsure of what to do.

“Get him milk of the poppy, and the get the leaches!” The Maester called.

“Milk of the poppy? Opioids!? Well I mean, I suppose it's common, but um, as long as he doesn’t get addicted to it.” As you spoke the white-haired woman looked back at you with an expression you couldn’t quite describe. “Did you know, there are only two drugs that can kill you if you just quit them? Opioids, which is what your ‘milk’ is, and alcohol funny enough. Once your body becomes dependent on it, or in other words, you get addicted, if it is ripped away from the addict. Your body will go into shock, thus killing the addict. Just a little fun fact to think about if you feed him that stuff every day.” As you spoke the room became silent as men in white clothing came and grabbed the King. From your left, you heard a scoff.

“You think you know more than the Maesters?” The old man asked once again.

“Well…if my ears do not mislead me and I heard you still do leaching, or bloodletting. Then I think I just might.” You smiled and shrugged at him. “If anything, you’re doing more harm than good. While leeches can be used in other ways that would be beneficial, this is not one of the ways. You’re idea of leaching and blood letting comes from the notion of bad blood or good blood right? Something along those lines.” As you spoke the Maester stopped and let go of the King and another took his place walking him down the Throne. Everyone was looking at you and the sounds of the King.

“Well, there's no such thing as bad blood or good blood. What there is in the body is something called bacteria. It's on a microscopic level, don’t think you’ve discovered it yet, that's okay. Misinformation is common these days. Well in any case, when you bleed the patient, I’m pretty sure you deprive them of white blood cells and then force the body to focus on the cut instead of the actual issue that the body is facing. White blood cells are kind of like the fighters, they fight off the bad bacteria.” You continued. “Well it might not be exactly because of that reason, but it's one of the many reasons why it doesn’t work.”

“Well if there are these ‘white blood cells’ as you call them why isn’t our blood white?” The Maester asked. He had a smug expression on his face.

“Well, there is white blood and red blood cells. Also as I said, it is on a microscopic level. It’s not visible to the naked eye. They’re very very very very small. Also, there is a chemical reaction that makes blood red.” You answered with a smug smile of your own.

“How much do you know of medicine?” The white-haired woman asked.

“More than him it would seem.” You gave a blank smile.

“Would you be able to cure him? My father, the King.” The woman, who was a princess asked once more with a pointed look.

“Uh I’d have to take a look at him. Can’t make any promises.” You spoke and she nodded walking away and you stood still unsure of what to do. You looked over to the boy with the bad hair cut and gave a smile. He gave you a small curt one in return before following the Princess. The the seconds dark haired boy left. You turned to look at the man with the eye-patch and what you assume are his siblings or cousins.

The shuffling of feet stop and you look towards the Princess who looks at you with an expectant look. “Oh! Oh! Right, sorry!” You turned back, they were royalty, it felt wrong to just leave, but you didn’t know what to do. “Um, bye.” You said in a small voice giving a small bow before turn and giving a small run to catch up to the Princess.

Next I Masterlist

Note: This is self-indulgence and I'm not gonna research anything trying to make it as real as I can. If an average person was just randomly there.

To be added on Tag list: !(•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑