#this is not late in the story but let me know if it needs a spoiler tag

[gracieheartspedro]

Me and The Devil

pairing: qz!joel miller x afab!reader

how to help the palestinians and what it means to write for the last of us characters

description: joel seeks out revenge on the man who stole from him. he finds you in the process. 14k words

warnings: mdni!, dark content, DUBCON, joel is a bad man, no mention of age (but joel is older than reader), murder, weapon use (g*ns), mentions of drug and alcohol, excessive alcohol consumption from reader, nicknames for reader (sweetheart, little one, etc.), stockholm syndrome, forced withdrawals from alcohol, mentions of non-con, forced proximity, physical violence/assault, reader is freaky and insane, reader has a vagina and boobs, sub!reader, dom!joel, orgasm denial, masturbation, unprotected p-in-v, oral (m receiving), fingering, throat fucking, cumplay/cum eating, dirty talk, name calling, spanking. PLEASE LISTEN TO THE WARNINGS.

author’s note: hi everyone! this fic came to me literally like... january of last year. it sat in the docs forever. and then my wonderful and beautiful friend @amanitacowboy told me to pick it back up and it spiraled from there. she also helped me edit, so i've forever indebted to you, lindsey!! it's probably the meanest joel you will get from me. some of the story has loose ends, but it's intentional *brow wiggle* (; also thank you @pedgito for listening to me blab about this shit forever. lindsey and ali have heard every detail and tidbit in this fic, I swear. thank you for putting up with me! anyway, hope you dirty lil whores enjoy this one!

You thought he was a myth. 

The crime-riddled streets of the Boston QZ seemed to lace different stories about him together. You could not understand how a pill dealer could also kill countless guards and top honchos. People would conjure up the wildest lies about the man, so you were always morbidly curious. 

You would sit in your apartment organizing the weapons you and your partner laundered through the streets of the QZ, pondering what it would be like to meet the man. You were never the one to deliver the weapons, only ensuring you were getting what you paid for. Your partner, Roger, would dispense the weapons to God knows who. 

It was enough to get you by. You never ran out of rations and your alcohol dependency was never a problem. 

You were too young to be this beat down. That’s what Roger would tell you, at least. 

But the truth of the matter was that before the QZ, you were free-roaming the US with no purpose. You killed a lot of people. When you arrived at the QZ with an ounce of ‘normalcy’ within your reach, you promised yourself never again. The darkness you harnessed would have to be forced down, sitting in the very pits of your being. 

When you met Roger, he just needed someone to live in his apartment and watch his stash when he was gone. You did just that and eventually, you formed an odd bond with the older man. He would let you count his rations and drink his liquor. Four years later, you depended on him to bring you back alcohol in return for your watchful eye. If a shipment came in late, you would panic, thinking your addiction would get cut off. You needed something to numb the scrambling thoughts, violent tendencies, and crippling anxiety. 

After one tough deal, Roger stumbles back to your shared apartment, venting about the man. 

“Fuckin’ Joel screwed me again. Gave him two .22’s and the motherfucker shorted me a bottle of Oxys.”

You were already too far gone to listen to the rest of the rant, finding yourself dozing off on the couch. The alcohol too often consumed you, sending you into dark nightmares that would have you waking up in the dead of night screaming.

By the time you woke up, though, Roger was no where to be found. Him being gone was not the worrisome part, though. 

No, what worried you was all the drugs and guns he left out on display. 

Springing up from your spot on the couch, you instantly get to work hiding the paraphernalia. When you grab a handgun from the table where you remember Roger sitting before you close your eyes, you feel eyes on you. 

You are still drunk and now your stomach is churning. You feel like you may throw up. 

There’s a figure standing by the window. Too tall to be Roger. 

Your instant dazed reaction is to hold the gun up, and point at the large man who stands in your messy bedroom. You blink away the sleep that’s still in your eyes and stumble a bit as the intoxication still riddles your bones.

“You were sleepin’ when I came in,” His voice is slow and deep and it sends chills down your forearms. 

“Who are you?”

You managed to sound pretty confident, even though you were scared shitless. You had not been so rattled since you almost got bit by some infected a year ago. You can make out his clothes, but that’s about it. Dirty jeans, an old green flannel with holes, and dark brown boots.

“‘M Joel. Roger ever told you about me?”

He finally turns to face you. You’re shocked to see a handsome dark-haired man and not some damaged old mug. His eyebrows are perpetually furrowed it seems, but you could also tell he was annoyed you were pointing a loaded gun at him. 

You were so terrified, you could not even speak. 

He puts a hand up, holding it over the barrel of the gun. “You shouldn’t be pointin’ that at me, sweetheart.”

You just nod, slowly putting down the weapon. You did not want problems with him. You knew what he was capable of. 

You also knew your aim would be off if you did try to shoot, still feeling like you were rocking on a boat. 

“Sorry,” You mutter, bringing the gun down and to your side. You swallow hard as his eyes rake your entire body, “Yes, he’s told me about you. Other people have, too.”

He looks pleased with that response. He steps away from the window and begins to saunter over to you. His footfalls are heavy. You assume it is because of his filthy brown boots. Or maybe it was the intimidation factor he was playing for you. He did not need to scare you, because you were fucked up and not on your game. He could kill you at any time. Why has he not killed you yet? 

“What have people said about me?”

You gulp, sucking in a whiff of his musk. He somehow still smelled good, even though it looked like he had been rolling in the dirt. His hair was pretty greasy but the curls laid perfectly on both sides. He looks like a guy you would avoid in the street, especially in this QZ. The attractive ones were usually the ones who would take advantage of any woman who looked their way. 

“They said you’re dangerous,” You manage, holding the grip of the gun a bit tighter, “That you have killed a-a lot of people.”

“Yeah,” Is all he says, before stepping an inch closer, “Yeah, I have.”

You can not look away from him. You are so rattled at the fact that he is good-looking. You vividly remember hearing a couple of dealers talk about how formidable he was and for some reason, you mocked up a man who looked like The Joker from Batman. 

He inspects you and your gun and crosses his arms, almost like he is guarding himself. “Now tell me… What did Roger say when he came home last night? I need to know how to handle this situation without spillin’ any more blood.”

You start to panic a bit, but you know you can’t be rash with your emotions. You did not want to be more blood that Joel Miller spills. You did not need to be a notch in his belt. 

But you also did not want to rat out Roger. He had done so much for you and you knew deep down, he cared for you in his own sick ways. If you told Joel everything, would that come at cost to him? 

What were you thinking? He was a dead man. 

He notices your demeanor change and his eyes soften. “Don’t worry, little one. I don’t kill just anyone. Unless they cross me. You haven’t crossed me, have you?”

You do not know why or how, but tears start to spill from your eyes. You know you are not guilty of doing him wrong, but you have heard before that it does not matter in his eyes. By proxy, you are associated with the man who fucked him over. You would be next.

“I have not crossed you, Mr. Miller,” You start to slur a bit, your face getting wet quickly with more tears, “Roger just said you fucked him over. I was too fucked up to hear the rest. Said you didn’t give him enough oxys.”

Joel raises one hand and grabs the bottom of your chin. His skin is rough and callous against your sheeny skin. His whole aura gives off danger. You are too afraid to look at him. You’re trembling, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“That fucker stole them all, that’s why. When I tried to get him to confess his wrongdoings, fucker dipped out of there,” He explains, using his thumb to push one of your falling tears, “We followed him and luckily he swallowed too many pills even to realize we were breaking in. You were pretty out of it, too.”

“I w-was d-drinking last n-night,” You knew you had to get ahold of yourself. You were like sand in his hands, slipping right through his fingers.  You were so easy to get information out of. “Where did you take him?”

Joel clicks his tongue, tilting your face so your eyes would look into his, “Don’t worry bout that, sweetheart.”

“Is he going to die?”

“Probably.” He states plainly, his eyes scanning your figure, “You’re going to show me where his stash is and ‘m gonna take back what’s mine.”

Your heart sinks to the floor. Roger was all you had. Without him running the guns and ammo, you had no way of income. You could not do these things yourself, especially now that Joel Miller knew who you were. No one would come near you when they heard he paid you and Roger a visit.  

“I’ll show you,” You respond, trying to steady your voice. “Are you going to kill me?”

It was selfish. With him admitting to having to kill Roger, you knew you were fucked either way. Without a dealer or runner, you had no earnings. You were going to rot away in this apartment, dying from starvation. Joel killing you would be a mercy killing and from the sounds of it, he did not show much mercy.

“Just tell me where everything is.”

You shake your head as you step back away from him. Your instinct is to hand him the gun in your hands, proving to him that you are not a real threat. You grab the barrel and give him the grip, shaking it in his direction. “Here.”

He stares at you, the divots on his forehead still prominent. He slowly lifts his flannel. You first see his hairy tummy and then you see he has a 9mm strapped in his waistband. “Don’t need it, sweetheart.”

You keep the gun extended out to him, “You can have another.”

There’s a beat of silence, a bitterness in the air.

“Are you stalling?” Your blood runs cold. You were not, you were just afraid and unsure of yourself. You also assumed he would want your weapon so you would not use it against him. So many assumptions run through your head, that you are not even aware you are creating more uncertainty for him. 

Your eyes drop, looking at the gun. “No, sir. Here… Follow me.”

You turn on your heels, walking back out to the dining room, right off the kitchen. You scoot the table away from the rug, the ammo and pills on the table vibrating as it moves. Joel watches your every move, the same unimpressed expression written on his face. You put the gun down on the table before you get on your knees at the corner of the rug. You pull it back, revealing a large trap door Roger installed before you moved in with him. It had a deadlock on it that was only able to be opened with a code. 

You think for a moment, your muddled brain trying to remember the numbers.

8-3-6-7-1-9-6-9. 

You say it out loud as you open it. When it clicks, you pull down and unhook it. As you toss it away from you, you hear Joel clear his throat. “Move.”

You instantly throw your hands up, crawling back onto your knees and sliding away from the trap door. You glance back at the tall man, seeing he has his gun trained on you. You did not even hear him pull it out. You sit back, pressing your shoulders into the wall opposite of the entrance of the storage cut-out. It’s lined with different drugs, handguns, some shotguns, and lots of pornography. 

Joel chuckles darkly, looking into the unit. “Seems like you two are freaky, huh?”

You never assumed Joel thought Roger was your lover, but the inclination made you want to throw up. You shake your head, “He was. Not me.”

His addiction never really affected you in any way. He saved those vices for when he was alone. You do recall one night accidentally walking in on him doing something very disturbing that was forever etched inside your brain. Jerking off over a pillow with a magazine full of very young girls. You never looked at him the same way after that. 

Roger was sick in the head, but he gave you drugs. He gave you alcohol. He gave you a place to stay. 

Joel clicks his tongue, crouching down to loot through your stash. “You’re too young for’a man his age, anyway. Too pretty.”

The hairs on your arms and shoulders raise at such a comment. You cock your head to the side, watching the man curiously. He thought you were pretty. 

He does not say anything else the rest of the time he is picking up bags of pills. He inspects each one, sniffing some of the bags as he does. The illumination from the window in the dining room lights up his face with golden stripes. It made you take note of his amber eyes. They were not dark brown in the sunlight. You can hear people on the street from the partially shattered panels, some dragged-out footsteps, and some hushed conversations. Screaming for help would be no use, people hear women screaming in the streets in broad daylight and do nothing. This QZ was not about justice. It was every man for himself. 

Joel stands up, tucking his gun back into his waistband. His eyes laser toward you and you feel his gaze pierce you. “Stand up, you’re comin’ with me.”

You do not try to hide your fear. While you knew better, you silently hoped that he would just shoot you here, let you drown in your own blood in the comfort of your own home. But he was going to take you to a secondary location. You would be dying on his terms. 

You push yourself up off the floor, your feet stuttering as you walk over to him. “Can I put on some shoes?”

He nods almost robotically. He watches you carefully as you drag yourself across the living room. You start to realize how torn up the place really is. Roger must have put up a fight because the side table is in pieces on the rug. You step around the splinters and grab your boots. After you tie up your laces, Joel is yanking you up by your bicep and dragging you into the dark alley your apartment opens up into. You were so fucked. 

-

Joel is a harsh man, but he does not kill you. 

You did not understand why he kept you around. You were eating his food, occupying a room in his apartment, and you were going through horrific withdrawals. He refused to give you an ounce of alcohol. The first couple nights at Joel’s, you were so sick that you violently shook for a whole day straight. You begged Joel through the door to shoot you and put you out of your misery. It was the worst feeling in the world. Your heart felt like it may beat out of your chest. 

After the third day, your shakes had subsided and your mind was a bit more clear. You still felt like shit, but it was tolerable enough that you just laid in bed and stared at the floral wallpaper in your new bedroom.

You did not mind being spared, but being locked away was almost worse than death. You noted the mold smell the day you arrived in Joel’s apartment. You could not stop smelling it, no matter what you did. You kept telling yourself you would get used to it, but it always lingered.  He restricted you to a bedroom where the window was completely caged. You had spotty natural light that only really peaked through in the evenings. 

Joel would bring you a small meal every morning, usually stale bread and a mug of water. On rare occasions, his footsteps would stomp over to your rotting wooden door and he’d unlock the door to feed you for lunch. That only happened twice, though, and it was a bare-bones meal. But every night, right after sunset, he would barge in with a Spam sandwich and a cup of ice water. You would sit on the rusty framed-out bed as he sat in the armchair in the corner of the room by the window. Occasionally he would have a sandwich for himself, other times he would just sit there and watch you slowly eat the meal he provided.

And for some sick reason, you always thanked him. 

He would never reply, his jaw slack and arms crossed. You only heard his voice a handful of times since he brought you here. 

After two weeks of isolation and staring contests over dinner, Joel finally asked you a question after you finished your Spam sandwich. “Do you want to shower?”

You had not washed yourself in weeks and you could smell yourself. The idea of being able to shower was so appealing, that you actually smiled as he asked it. 

Joel guided you across his expansive apartment into his bedroom. The entire place was falling apart, but Joel’s room seemed completely untouched by the times. It smelled like pine as soon as you bounded through the threshold. His bed was made up perfectly, with two pillows on each side. His side table only had one single lamp and a novel that’s title was in another language. Joel snatched you away from soaking up his oasis and forced you into the dated bathroom. He shuts the door behind him, clicking when he rattles the handle. 

You swallow, “Are you joining me?”

He shakes his head, turning and grabbing the bar of soap on the edge of the vanity. “No, ‘m just making sure you don’t try anything.”

You narrow your eyes at him, not completely believing him. Joel had not made any moves towards you, so you are not sure why you are suddenly skeptical of his intentions. Even if he did try something, you knew you could not do anything about it. 

You were at Joel’s mercy. You did not completely comprehend why he was locking you down in his home and you did not get why you were just going along with it. You used to be a ferocious fighter, but after everything with Roger, you did not know where else you would go if it was not with Joel. 

You turn your back to him, hesitantly undressing. Your clothes were disgusting, stained with sweat marks that you left when you were going through withdrawals. As you drop them onto the cold tile, Joel clears his throat. 

You cannot remember the last time you were nude in front of another man. Another person. It had to be over 10 years. “I got ya some new clothes. I’ll grab them when you get in the shower.”

You just nod. While you were grateful for new clothes, you were still confused as to why you were here. As you turn on the water, you peek back at Joel. He is not looking at you, he’s looking out the window. His hands are tucked in his pocket and you have truly never seen him look at peace. His face is relaxed and his shoulders are eased down. 

You use your hand to gauge the water’s lukewarm temperature before you slip in behind the curtain. The bathtub is an off-white color. As soon as you get under the shower head, you note the dirt and grime combining with the water and spinning down the drain. 

You use the bar of soap Joel gave you to clean off your frigid skin. The scent is just a hint of lavender. It must have been an old bar and with age, the smell has faded. As you massage it in, you hear the door creak open and click shut. You assume it’s Joel doing what he told you and then your mind circles back to your previous observation. 

Why is Joel doing this?

You ponder the idea that maybe he is a sadist psychopath who just likes the idea of having someone held captive. But you had heard a lot about this man, and while he was a murderer, you never heard about him kidnapping or hurting women. If anything, he was easier on women who did him wrong. 

But you were not a woman who did him wrong. You did nothing to him. You simply were in the wrong place at the wrong time. You did exactly what he asked and then you went along with his plans for you. 

Maybe he was just lonely?

His deep voice slices through your thoughts, “You almost done in there?”

You nod even though he cannot see you. “Yeah, I’m almost done.”

You rinse the soap out of your hair and turn off the faucet. You peek your head out from the curtain and Joel stands there with a towel in his hands. He laid a pile of clothes on the sink and you noticed that your clothes were gone from off the floor. Joel extends the towel to you and you reach around and grab it. 

It’s scratchy, but it absorbs all the beads of water off your body. You wrap it around your body, tucking the end under your right armpit. You pull back the curtain and Joel is still standing there. 

You step over the edge of the tub, letting some of the droplets run onto the cold tiles. Joel’s eyes never leave yours, but as soon as you step towards the clothes on the counter, his eyes trickle down your body. 

Your heart picks up when his hand comes up to your cheek. Your natural reaction is to flinch away from him, but his motion is quicker than you. He wipes away a water drip off your cheekbone, pulling it down to your jawline. “All better?” He asks, his voice low. You nod, sheepishly. “Yes, thank you.”

He smiles. 

“So polite. So pretty.”

And then he leaves you alone, clicking the knob shut as he exits the bathroom.

You get dressed quickly. Joel somehow knows your exact sizes because the cargo pants, long sleeve, and undergarments are a perfect fit. You never even managed to find clothes to fit you this well when you were doing your own stealing and looting. 

His words rattle around in your head and you start to panic a bit. You start to formulate a plan. You had to stop thanking him. You had to stick up for yourself a bit more. You had to see where your boundaries were with him. You had to figure out his motive. 

It was scary. Daunting. But you knew you could not live like this much longer. 

You reach out for the door, but the knob was already turned and being pulled forward. Joel stands by the entrance of the door and you stride out, your head held a bit higher than usual. His face shows confusion, but you do not falter. 

“I’m still hungry.”

It is like all the air is sucked out of the room. Suddenly, Joel is nine feet tall and you are an inch short. Your voice was confident enough to pass, but it was like he saw right through you.

“I fed you.”

You swallow, your eyes averted from his face for a moment, “Can I have a snack?”

His frown is more memorable than his smile. It is a permanent fixture in his big scary man aesthetic. 

“A snack?”

You almost want to laugh at his condescending tone. But you also realize how you are playing with fire and at any moment this man could snap and kill you. You had to know if you were able to test him, see if you could truly ask him for something and he would be willing to give it to you. This would be your lesson. 

So you nod, very matter-of-factly.

He is looking at you like you have four heads, but he bites.

“Fine, I’ll getcha a snack. Why don’t you have a seat on my bed?”

His cadence is giving him away. You can already tell he is not good at hiding his annoyance. You hesitantly walk over to his bed, plopping down rather obnoxiously. Your feet swipe the rug like a child’s would as you wait for him to return to the room. When he comes back, he has a single piece of beef jerky between his fingers. 

You narrow your eyes at the so-called snack. You hated cured meats and you were sure to let him know that. “Jerky?”

You are really testing him now. And you can tell by the way his chest rises and falls in one quick breath.

“You seem very ungrateful, little one.”

You reach out to grab the bark but he snatches it back in a quick motion. You crinkle your eyebrows at him, trying your best to feign innocence. With the way he is staring daggers at you, you should fear his next move. 

“Beg.”

You feel like your chest cannot take any more air in. Your hand is still hanging in the air, trying to reach out to his offering, but his hand is holding it far from your grasp. 

You do not want to beg, this standoff would be part of your resistance to his captivity. In your mind, something would have to give way eventually. You could not sit around and just take his crumbs and passive weird behavior. So, you shake your head no.

“Go to your room. You’ve pissed me off,” His tone is abrupt and rushed. You do not want to push this further, knowing that you have made it an inch with him and were not completely ready to run the mile. You needed to game plan your next move.

You stand up, walking painfully slow to the door and leaving his space. His steps trail behind you, ensuring you did what he asked you to do. You can smell his musk, which makes the hairs on your arms stand up. He smelled good for a man as rugged as him. 

When you reach your bedroom door, you grab the handle and turn around to face him. He stares down at you, his pupils dilated. 

You make one last plea. “So, no snack?”

You regret saying it immediately. He puts the jerky bit up to his lips, opens them deliberately, and takes a huge bite of the meat. It pulls apart with a crackle and watching it, you know it probably would hurt your teeth if you did something like that. His flexed jaw is a lot stronger than yours. His action is animalistic in a way, reminding you of a lion tearing into an antelope. 

And for some reason, it brings a rise of heat from your shoulders to your cheeks. Watching his teeth gnaw on the jerky sends your mind traveling to la la land. 

His voice forces you out of your thoughts. “Go to bed. Now.”

-

He stopped bringing you breakfast. Instead of your usual routine, Joel started giving you one small meal a day. You start to resent him and by the looks he is giving you, he is still bitter over your whole scheme with the snack. 

You woke up hungry, which only started your day off wrong. You are regretting ever testing him in the first place. You were biting the same hand that literally fed you. The more you think about it, the more you realize that you should be grateful he is even keeping you alive. Why are you even trying to rock the boat with him? In some weird twisted way, he gave you a second chance. You were completely sober from alcohol going on a month now. And while most nights you grieved the burn of it going down your throat, your mind was more clear. You felt more grounded in reality. You did not want to go back to the way you were. Sure, you were hungry, but you were not plastered and sleeping 18 hours a day, and that seemed like a fair enough trade. 

But the ache of your chest started to set in. You were feeling impulsive. You do not clearly remember how your body felt before you started drinking so much, but you do recall the aggression that would riddle your bones from time to time. The knee jerk reaction just to let loose. It had gotten you in some very sticky situations, but it was a sort of rush you craved. 

After three days of the stalemate, he brought you the Spam sandwich and a short cup of water for dinner. You do not look at him when he walks into the room, and you do not thank him. 

You had to get on his good side again. Somehow.

“Are you on a hunger strike or somethin’?” His deep Southern drawl always extending out the end of his sentences. You loved hearing it.

You shake your head no.

“You stopped giving me breakfast,” You grumble, reaching out to the plate he offers you. He shrugs, plopping down in his usual chair in the corner. He does not have his dinner in hand tonight. He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. 

“You were bein’ an ungrateful little bitch. I am offerin’ you a second chance here and you are not appreciative,” He states, almost sighing. You grit your teeth at his name for you, but you decide it is not worth the argument. 

You take a bite of the stale bread. The moan of your stomach subsides for a moment. 

“I am appreciative…”

He sits back, his shoulders flexing under his jean button-up. You scan his body, noting his dirty clothes and muddy brown boots. He was always tracking things into your bedroom from the bottom of his shoes and it ate away at your need for wanting things more clean. Your sober mind needed tidiness. 

He grunts, “Doesn’t seem that way, sweetheart. Didn’t thank me just now.”

You try to get your thoughts in order before you respond. You take one careful bite into the sandwich, trying to read the man sitting in front of you. He got you sober. He feeds you and houses you even though he could have shot you in the face for being involved with a man who screwed him over. And he is not a bad view to look at when you eat. 

“Thank you, Joel.”

He stands up and saunters over to you. As you swallow your bite, your eyes trail up his large frame. You start to worry a bit. Maybe he did not see your answer as genuine. 

His thumb begins to trace the outline of your jaw, before slowly making its way up to your cheekbone. You grasp onto the plate tighter, your eyes piercing his as he focuses in on your lips. When you think he’s about to pull away, his palm goes over your mouth and his hand squeezes your cheeks together. His grip on you is painful, his fingers sinking into the divots of your upper jaw. 

“You are receptive to feedback. Which is a good thing…” He trails off. Your heart starts to pound against your rib cage as you wait for the other shoe to drop. His hand jerks your head to the right, inspecting your side profile. “You will be good for me.”

You do not know what he is insinuating and are too afraid to speak up. You dip your head down, trying to promise him silently. Yes, I will be good. Please don’t kill me.

He slowly lets go of your face. He brings his thumb up to his lips and licks the very tip of the finger. You watch him bring it back down to your level. You flinch when he brings it up to the very corner of your lip. He wipes away at something like a father would to his young child who had food left on their face. 

Joel was violent. But he was quiet about it and that scared you. He moved with such intention and you found yourself occasionally hypnotized by his aura. He was unlike any man you ever met. It could be the fact that others around you made him out to be some enigma, but maybe he was one. 

You finally manage to speak up, the sudden tender touch starkly different from the aggression just minutes before. 

“What do you want with me?”

It comes out as a whisper, but with Joel being so close, his ears perk up. 

His face does not change from the steeled expression. “Time.”

-

He gives you breakfast one morning. You have been sleeping in, trying to use slumber as a substitute for food and it seemed to work for a couple of days. Joel brings in a plate with eggs and some stale bread. You had not seen him bring in eggs before and it shocked you. Your eyes almost well up in tears when he hands it to you in bed. 

“Thank you, Joel.”

He sits in his usual spot and watches you scarf down the meal. “I am going to be gone for a couple of days.”

Your eyes shoot back at him, confusion laced in your countenance. “What about me?”

“I’m letting you have access to the kitchen and living room. You’re not allowed to leave. The door will be locked from the outside.”

The thought of being alone for that long scares you. Your thoughts start spinning. Why is he leaving you? Why would he let you be alone? Would you be able to eat? 

Joel can see the cogs turning in your brain. 

“You are leaving me alone?”

He claps his hands on his thighs as he stands, “I have a run to make. I usually have other guys do it for me but I gotta do this one myself. You will be okay.”

For some reason, your instinct is to worry about him. Going out of the QZ walls is always a very dangerous feat and you knew he would be unprotected from the elements and infected. Joel seems more than capable, but anything can happen. What would happen if he died out there?

“How long will you be gone?”

The question comes out desperate and you do not mean it to. You crawl out from under your covers, planting your feet on the ground. You suddenly felt hot. When the cold air hits your bare legs, you realize that you forgot you discarded your pants in the middle of the night. You were just in your underwear in front of him. 

Joel’s eyes flicker down your unclad legs. You had a good radar when it came to men checking you out and as much as you did not want to admit it, you knew Joel was doing just that. 

His lips twitch, “Not long. Two days, max.”

You cross your legs, holding your hands in front of your crotch in an attempt to try to shield yourself a bit. You watch him meander over to you, his steps purposeful. Once he reaches about a foot away, your breathing slows as his hand trails up your arm. 

You felt this tension rise within the room and for a second you think he may act on his reaction to your legs. But instead, he just clears his throat. You are a bit disappointed and you do not know why. 

“I’ll be good, Joel.”

-

You survive the first night. You busy yourself with stuff around his apartment. You decide that you would not snoop through his belongings, only organizing the kitchen cabinets and alphabetizing his record collection. You had found a sense of purpose, filling your day with pointless tasks. 

When the second night comes, you decide that you finally need a shower. Joel did not tell you that you could use the bathroom in his room, but you became aware that the other tub did not work and was covered in mold. The smell in the bathroom was enough to make you gag. 

You were starting to reek of body odor and you did not want to sleep another night smelling the way you did. Plus, you knew the soap you used when Joel called you pretty was in that shower. He could not be that mad. 

So, you tiptoe into his room and wander into his bathroom. When you flick on the light, you notice some of his beard shavings in the sink bowl. To the left of the shower curtain, you spot a jumbled pair of boxer shorts. You feel a pang in your stomach. His face appears in your mind. You cannot stop yourself from imagining him in the room with you, just like he was when you stripped for your shower before. 

You step into the cool water, letting it soak you as your hands traveled around your body. Your nerve endings were buzzing as your thoughts pondered the idea of Joel being there with you. 

The glimmer of his eyes when you were pantsless days before still rattled around in your head. You had not been desired in so long and with that action alone, Joel made you feel wanted. The tension was so palpable. His close proximity to you, the occasional gentle touches, it was enough to fill your mind with all the dirty possibilities. 

Your hand travels down to between your legs. At first it’s only to clean, but as you explore, you cannot help but slip your fingers between your folds. The titillating motion is enough to have you throwing your head back in pleasure. You squeeze your eyes shut, thoughts drifting to how you need an explosive release and you sickeningly want Joel Miller to give it to you. 

Your pointer finger and middle spread your folds, rubbing carelessly and eagerly. You have not felt this driven to orgasm in years. You recall the sight of Joel’s stomach the first day you met him. Then you think about the boxers right outside of the shower next to you. Your thoughts spin and suddenly he’s naked in your mind. 

Your hand only moves quicker with the thoughts. Your clit is aching with such intensity, you are shuttering and using your free hand to balance yourself on the tub’s wall. The water is pounding down your chest, dripping through the valley of your breasts. 

Your eyes open a bit as you try to find your footing and you notice a bar of soap that’s covered in his short hairs. You snatch it up, bringing it up to your nose as your lips quirk up into a smile. 

Of course, it smells like him. 

You finger yourself faster, his name spilling from his lips as you press the bar into your face. It is almost like you are imagining it is his face stuck to your face. 

“Joel… Oh my god, Joel-”

The sound of the curtain being ripped away from its spot makes you completely jump out of your skin. His fierce brown eyes raking down your completely nude frame, hunched over and in a compromising position. He slams his fist against the faucet, shutting the water off in one swoop. You drop his soap to the floor, scrambling backward trying to dodge his rage. 

He is pissed. 

His hand wraps around your bicep, ripping you out of the tub and onto the tile. Your hip hits the ground first and it sends a shooting pain up your back. He is panting like he just ran a mile, standing over your sopping naked frame. 

“What are ya’? A bitch in heat?” He spits. You are so dazed and a bit afraid, you start to shake and raise your hands in defense. 

He squats down to you, his eyes scanning your dripping body. His hands work so quick to reach out and grab your face. With clenched teeth, he brings your face close. “Answer me.”

His grip is tight on your face and you do not know if you can even respond effectively. You feel your core pulsate with the way he has a hold of you. 

“I-I wanted to s-shower.”

He mocks you, “I-I… You are fuckin’ yourself in my shower like a dirty whore.”

He turns back to check to see if he actually saw you holding his bar of soap. It’s in pieces at the bottom of the tub surround. He pulls his hand away but the sting still remains. 

“I-I’m sorry, Joel.”

His gaze falls upon you again, a little less aggravated. “Dry off and get dressed. Sit on my bed when you’re done.”

-

Your mind is all over the place when you sit down on Joel’s bed. He is not in the room but you hear him in the kitchen moving around. You hear the clatter of some plates and then him grunting. 

When he barges in,you can tell he is annoyed still. 

“You reorganized?”

Your heart pounds with uncertainty. You did not believe that would ever set him off, but you are starting to realize you have gauged Joel incorrectly. “Yes.”

He stops his pacing, his hands still propped up on his hips. “Why?”

“Because I needed to keep busy while you were gone. I also went through and-”

“Alphabetized the records. I saw.”

Nothing was getting past him. Your breathing is labored, the idea of him killing you for helping him be more orderly is so pathetic. You had to go out in a better way. 

You clench your hands in your lap, “I did not mean to make you angry.”

He does not say anything, staring at you with an askane expression. He pivots to the dresser beside the bed, opening up the top drawer. He pulls out a pair of gray sweatpants and a beat up white t-shirt. He folds them meticulously, stacking them and then handing them to you. 

You reach out for them, putting them in your empty lap.

“Put them on and get under the covers.”

Of all the things he could have said, this surprises you the most. “In my own bed?”

“No, this one.”

You look back at his perfectly made bed. He wanted you to sleep with him?

“Joel-”

“We are tryin’ somethin’ new tonight. Change your clothes while I take a shower with my soap, and be under those covers when I get out,” His outline of directions is seriously rattling you to your core. You felt nervous but almost excited? 

You watch him turn on his heels and amble over to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Your stomach sinks when you hear the lock click. You look down at the clothes he gave you, raising them up to check the tags. 

Just your size. 

-

His bed is way more comfortable than the mattress you were cursed with. The blue quilt feels soft and worn under your fingertips. You lay on your back, feeling out of your own body. You hear the water shut off in the bathroom and your heart starts racing. You hear the rip up the curtain and some small stomps as Joel must be exiting the shower. 

When the door creaks open and you see him standing in only some boxer shorts, your breathing hitches. His hair is brushed backward and his hairy upper body is a sight to behold. You silently wished you had this image earlier when you were rubbing your clit. 

He walks over to his dresser, the same dresser he pulled clothes for you out of, and grabs a plain white t-shirt. He tosses it over his head, pushing his arms out of the holes on the side. It was slightly stained at the collar and it was see-through enough that you saw his dark chest hair still. 

“You are sleeping with me tonight,” He announces, walking over to the opposite side of the bed. Your stomach flips when you watch him pull the blanket back and crawl under the blanket. You observe how drastic his mood shifted from ripping you out of the shower. Why did he want you in his bed? What was his end goal? Your core is still sticky with your desire. You secretly wish he would just take advantage of you already. 

But he does not even turn your direction. You watch him face his back to you, tuck one arm under his pillow and shut the lamp off. 

Your mind starts to race. The bedroom door is unlocked, you can see it in the moonlight. You could easily slip out of the bed in the middle of the night and head for the front door and run. 

But it’s the same thought that slipped your mind when Joel left you a couple days ago. You could have jumped out a window, rigged the doorknob to the apartment to get out, but you just never did. Instead, you sat idle inside Joel’s apartment and waited for him to return. 

And now you have access to him when he’s at his most vulnerable. What was preventing you from sneaking a pointy object into the bedroom and stabbing him directly in the throat?

Because you needed him. And while your demented and violent thoughts of all the ways you could kill him rattled around in your mind, you knew deep down you would never do it. You craved the need to impress him. To be good for him. 

He’s silent next to you, not a sound leaving his body. You are not even sure if he is asleep when you slowly turn on your side, facing away from him as well. 

Somehow, you sleep better in his bed than your own. 

-

The routine changes after that night. 

Joel wakes up as soon as the sun breaks the sky and he leaves you in his bed as he prepares you breakfast. When you hear the door reopen, you always wake up to his frame standing over you with a plate. You rub your eyes as you grab the handoff, propping yourself up on his headboard. He would sit on the end of the bed, nibbling on his own meal. 

And then he starts asking you questions.

It starts off with him asking you where you were from originally. You explain how you traveled with a group of people that were essentially raiding other established communities. You had escaped the Baltimore QZ when a bunch of people got infected practically overnight and there was no oversight. When you got out, the people who survived with you became vicious and desperate. 

Then he asks you about your relationship with Roger. 

You give him the overview. You tell him you relied on him to fund your mind-numbing habits and he left you to look over his stash. When you press him about what he did to him, Joel gives you those eyes. Almost to say “you don’t get to ask the questions here.”

Most days you sat on the couch and read his collection of books. You were not the fastest reader so it took days to get through some of the stories. He had a lot of books about space and a variety of science fiction. He would leave every day, running his usual business. When he got back home, you would still be planted on the sofa, reading. He would slam his keys down and get to work on your Spam sandwich. 

Every other night you would shower. After the soap incident, he kept his soap on the very top corner of the shower. When you first noticed it, you smiled sickly. 

The sleeping situation is the same every night. You lay on your back, Joel lays on his side, completely facing away from you. Sometimes in the middle of the night, your arms would brush his back and he would stir. You tried your very best not to test his limits even though you had no real clue what they were. 

One particular night, the window he kept cracked was letting in the most frigid air. You always ran cold while Joel was like a furnace when he slept. He radiated enough heat to keep a whole house warm. But this night you were shaking under the quilt, your toes feeling like they may fall off. 

You turn on your side, facing his expansive back. You are so deliberate with your movement that when your arm falls over his waist, his body jolts. Instead of slapping you away or turning to face you, his body just stills completely, not even a rise and fall of breath. 

“What are you doing?” He asks through the darkness, his sleepy voice. Almost wholesome. 

You stifle a response, trying your best to sound confident. “I’m cold.”

He finally breathes out, his arm moving down over yours and holding it against his waist. Your heart races so hard you can hardly fathom falling asleep, but at least you were warm. 

You start to do it every night, even when the air is balmy outside. You settle on your side, your arm swinging over his waist and pulling your lower half taut with his butt. You never expected you would ever be spooning Joel Miller every night, but here you were, wearing his clothes with your pelvis flush to him. 

Your hand finds his hips one night while you adjusted your position. Your hand graces right below his waist and you feel his member half-hard in his boxer shorts. It makes your eyes snap open, the shock of your body waking him up. Your hand does not move, though. You hover it over that spot, curiously wanting to touch him through his shorts. 

“Do you feel me?”

His voice makes your throat tighten, unsure of how to respond to such a question. So you just hum and shake your head. 

He takes your reluctant hand and pushes it down to his clothed cock, his body pushing back into a bit. Your mind is still a bit fuzzy from your slumber, but when you feel him harden under your touch, you do not want to stop until you finish him. 

He is deliberately moving your hand around, pulling it over and under his boxers until you are touching his bare cock. You shutter at how large it feels in your hand and you cannot even see it from how you are laying. Your hand cannot completely wrap around it due to its girth. 

“Joel…” You practically whimper, clawing his back to get him to lay back so you can see him. He does not budge, still laying on his side. 

Your hand massages the very base of his dick, his curly hair poking your fingertips as you do. You are so eager that as you jerk him off, he grabs your hand to start guiding you slower. When your hand graces his tip, he hisses. 

“Gotta take me slow, girl,” He groans, holding your wrist so tight you know it will be bruised in the morning. You do as he says, slowly and methodically following how he likes to be jerked off. After a minute, you can hear his shallow breaths increasing as you bring your speed up just a bit. 

“Are you gonna cum?”

You try to say it in a sultry voice, but it comes out rushed and desperate. You just want to see him seize by your own hand. Joel grunts, his grip on your arm practically stilling your movements before he can even finish. You resist his persistent handle on you. You craved to make him orgasm. Eventually, he pushes his hips forward into your hand, sighing as he releases.

You feel the ropes of cum spill all over the back of your hand. As soon as the warm seed empties onto you and his tummy, he rips back the covers and stumbles into the bathroom. He shuts the door so fast, you hardly see him through the dark. 

You look at his clear-white fluid on your knuckles and smile in satisfaction.You want him to see your next actions. 

The bathroom light spills into the room as he holds out a wash rag to you. It’s obvious it’s the one he just used on himself. You shake your head, bringing your hand up to your lips, extending your tongue, and licking the spend off your knuckles. You swallow, willingly. 

He gawks at you, his eyebrows still knitted together, watching you clean off your hand entirely. “Didn’t even need my help. What a good girl.”

-

You wake up with Joel standing over you. It rattles you a bit, his stare zeroed in on your face. 

“Mornin’,” He uttered, holding out a small pile of clothes for you. “We are goin’ on a field trip.”

The last thing you expected after jerking the man off last night was an outing. You sit straight up, holding out your hands for him to shove the clothes in your palms. 

“Where are we going,” You stammer, pushing the covers down your legs.

His eyes rake down your body as you stand up, almost standing at attention in front of him. 

“You’re comin’ to work with me.”

You look down at the clothes he has given you. Some cargo pants, a short sleeve gray top, and even a new pair of underwear. 

This is the first outing you have had since being with Joel, so you are a bit nervous thinking about how the outside world may be. It cannot be any worse than it already was, but you worried about how you would be perceived walking down the street with Joel Miller. 

The more you ponder the idea, you start to feel more reassured than anything. If you were placed beside anyone, you would want it to be with the guy everyone feared. No one would ever think to give you a hard time. 

Joel’s line of work was dangerous but it was also a powerful role to have in this fucked up world in the QZ. You were on the right side of the insanity, in your opinion. Joel was your protection in some demented fucked-up way. 

You get dressed as he makes breakfast. This morning, he decides to make you two some eggs that he said were getting old so he had to make them. He likes his eggs runny, so you had to like yours runny, too. 

You two sat at the dining table as you ate. He scarfs his down in a minute, while you take your time to savor the different flavor. You missed eating food that was not Spam or plain bread. Joel notes your painstakingly slow chews. 

“Hurry up, we got places to be.”

-

The people on the streets pay mind to you now. Before, when you did leave your former place with Roger, everyone kept their heads down. Occasionally people would slam into you with their shoulders, acting like they could phase right through you. 

When you walk with Joel, people move out of the way.

The alleyway is not too far from Joel’s apartment. He forces you to walk in front of him, copying every step you make with his loud footfalls. He grabs your shoulders to direct you down a concrete staircase that seems to lead to nowhere. At the bottom, a brute man stands with his arms crossed. You hesitantly stop right in front of him, your eyes taking in all the scars littering his face. 

Joel grunts. “She’s with me, Pete. Thomas and Garrett in there with him?”

The man, who’s now known as Pete, just nods minutely. Joel pushes the door beside him open and grabs your forearm to drag you through the threshold. It’s a dimly lit hallway that smelled like dampness and gunpowder. There’s two light bulbs dangling from the paint chipped ceiling that guide you to the end of the hallway. Joel pushes open the door, and you smell that familiar metallic smell. 

It was a smell that leaked into your dreams occasionally. It’s so overpowering you can almost taste it. 

When you walk in, the room is occupied by three men. Two are standing over the other, their bodies blocking the entirety of the scene. You do note the huge puddle of blood on the floor near a knocked over wooden chair. Joel clears his throat and the two men step away looking at Joel, then you. They have to be around your age, maybe a bit older. The blond man speaks up first as he scans your body. 

“Bringing your kid along for the show?”

You glance over at Joel who’s jaw tightens. You watch his whole demeanor shift, his body becoming rigid. 

“Get out of here, Garrett.”

The blond man furrows his brows, not understanding why he was really being directed to leave. You can sense a bit of hesitance. “Joel, I’m just kidd-”

“Get the fuck out, now. We don’t need you.”

The man scrambles past you and Joel, shutting the door behind him. The dynamic Joel and his men have is very easy to figure out. Whatever he says, goes. The look the other man is giving him is that of unease. 

“He confessed that he stole from our stash. More than once.” Joel walks forward, drawing his gun out. Finally, the man on the floor comes into full view. 

And you recognize him. 

He was a pill smuggler that had come over to Roger’s a couple times before. He always gave off the vibe that he would take advantage of anyone, especially a woman. He would whisper things about you to Roger and you remember a couple times when he had inappropriately touched you. You believe his name to be Don. Maybe Ron. 

His eyes are swollen and bruised. His lip is completely split open and he has a gnarly gash on his left cheekbone. He is tied up, his arms and legs bound by ropes and zip ties. 

You are not at all phased by blood, but his beaten body is a bit hard to look at. He was not a nice looking man already, and surely the swelling was not helping him. 

His lips part almost like he is about to speak up, but Joel swipes the butt of his gun across his face with insane accuracy. 

One thing about you was you did not turn away from violence. Now that you are sober, it's easier to recognize that something was off for you to be so unfazed by the savagery. You sickeningly enjoyed watching people get their karma. 

You had no context as to why this man was bound and brutalized in this random basement, but you knew Joel had good reason to set him straight. 

“Donny boy, I thought we were friends,” Joel’s voice is dripping with sarcasm. He seems in his element as he squats in front of the man, “And you fucked me over good. Sold out people only to get yourself in this position. Pretty fuckin’ dumb.”

Don can hardly sit up, his body completely tilted with his elbow propping up his entire body weight. You can tell he is struggling to respond, but you hear the faintest voice quip up. 

“I told the truth, please,” He begs as he attempts to sit up more. Joel grabs his shoulder roughly, balancing his back on his butt. “I won’t do it again.”

You cannot see Joel’s face, but you know he does not believe that. His shoulders slot back a bit as he stands up and turns to face you. His face is straight, not showing any emotion at all. You notice the gun still in his hand, his finger completely off the trigger. 

“You know him?”

You just nod, your eyes peering down at the gun he has directed at you. His eyes flicker back and forth, seemingly contemplating what to say next. He pushes the weapon into your hand, his fingers curling around the grip so that your hand would follow suit. You watch every meticulous move, pulling the safety clip, slipping his hand away and gesturing towards the man. 

“You’re gonna kill him.”

Your eyes fly open, unsure if this problem should be dealt with by you. The promise you made to yourself when you stepped foot in this QZ rattled around in your brain as you tried not to show Joel your irresolution. Your mouth is dry when you gulp, “Why?”

His hand presses on your back as he pushes you towards the guy. You are about 2 feet from him and Joel’s face is so close to your ear. It’s the closest he has ever been to you. You can feel his breath on your lobe and neck and it makes bumps scatter across your body. 

He raises your arms, pointing the barrel towards Don. As soon as he does that, Don starts begging. His voice shaking, sweat pooling on his forehead, tears pricking at the corners of his swollen eyes. 

Joel’s voice is so hushed over Don’s pleas. “He is the one who told me about Roger stealing from me. Little did I know, he was stealing from me, too.”

It is like a switch goes off in your brain. Your eyes are trained forward on the trembling man but it is as if the whole world went quiet when Joel stopped speaking. You hear white noise in your ears and your mind shuts off for a nanosecond. Your pointer finger slots between trigger guard and trigger and you squeeze, your aim right at his head. 

You feel the spray explode across your face and suddenly you snap back to your reality. 

Your body was overtaken by the need to please. The need to impress Joel. It was also like your own sick revenge. This man is the reason Roger was dead. The reason you got ripped from your normalcy. Your brain had no time to catch up to your body’s actions. Instead of flinching or falling backward away from the body of the traitor, you stand over him like he’s some commodity in a circus. With wonder and curiosity, you lower the gun and smile. 

Joel steps beside you, his face expressing fervor. 

Finally facing him and forgetting the other man in the room who was just a witness to the scene, you speak up. 

“Did I do good?”

A small semblance of a grin spreads across his lips. “Very good, sweetheart.”

-

You and Joel do not stay in the room long after. Very quickly, he ushers you into another room where he checks a cabinet full of guns, looking over each other and counting in a hushed tone. You hear bounding footsteps in the hallway and men talking amongst each other. 

The voices are rushed and surprised. One states, “She didn’t even flinch. Joel’s lucky to have her.”

You feel a tickle on your brow and itch it absentmindedly. As you pull your finger back and look at it, it is stained red. 

You find a shiny surface in the room of arms and paraphernalia, glancing at your own reflection. The smear of blood goes across your forehead, while the splatter itself is speckled across your cheeks like freckles. Joel stops what he is doing to check you out, his steps trailing up to your back. His breathing is quite labored and as you stare at your own mirror image, you note the look he’s giving you. 

His hand goes across your chest, his finger tips starting to dance across your décolletage.

“We gotta clean you up. Can’t have you walkin’ the streets lookin’ like you killed someone.”

He says it while he rubs the blood across your chest, smearing it and massaging it into your skin. 

You loved it when he touched you. Even if it was roughly, you counted yourself lucky that Joel felt the need to do so. 

“But I did kill someone.”

Your voice does not have any hesitance, you are simply stating facts. Joel’s chin tilts upward, his hand grabbing your shoulder and jerking you around to face him. His face is practically millimeters from the tip of your nose. 

He grunts, almost like he’s clearing his throat. “And you didn’t even second guess me. I didn’t even need to push you, you just did it.”

You smirk to yourself, enjoying the slight praise he is giving you. 

“And here I thought I was testin’ ya.”

Your eyes flicker up to his, trying to see right into his soul. Testing you?

“Did you not expect me to do it?” You bite. 

“I had an inklin’ you’d be loyal. Consistent. Even a bit violent. But I didn’t expect a killer.”

Your chest rises at his statement. You are trying to manage your breathing as his words have a visceral effect on you. It was like he was talking dirty to you. Why did his impression of you mean so much? Ever since you met the man, you were at his mercy and you got off at his reassurance. It was like he was your new vice. 

His right hand traces down your bare arm, while his left grabs your jaw. “Let’s get you cleaned up and home, how ‘bout it?”

You agree with a jerk of your head. 

-

Once you walk into the apartment again, you are reminded of the smell of mold again. When the scent hits your nostrils, you scrunch your face. Joel is quick to notice the expression because his eyes and hands have not left your body since you shot that guy. He has been watching your every move. 

You toe off your shoes by the front door as Joel tosses down the keys. He takes the handgun out of his waistband and places it carelessly next to them. 

When he turns to look at you, he crosses his arms. He is studying you as you unzip the jacket he offered you. It was only to cover the blood that stained your new outfit. 

“Take it off slow.”

You shoot him a confused look, still trying your best to follow his instructions. You shrug the jacket off your shoulders, letting it purposefully fall down your arms. The blood on your clothes has left semi-permanent spots on your skin. Once the clothing pools to the floor, you stand there at Joel’s mercy. 

He clenches his jaw, nodding slowly as he inspects you. “Now the shirt.”

You do not second guess his next directions. You grab the hem of your shirt and draw it upward over your head. The fabric goes across your lips and nose lifting them up awkwardly. You smile when you drop the next article next to the jacket. 

The anticipation makes your pussy pulsate. You have thought about this moment for longer than you care to admit. 

“Pants.”

The pants are buttoned so you fumble with getting it undone before you are shoving them down your goosebump-ridden legs. When they get to your ankles, you use the opposite feet to step on the fabric and pull them off your feet. You kick them further away than the shirt and jacket.

You are only in your underwear in Joel’s living room. He is looking at you with such confliction. You have never felt very self conscious until this very moment. 

“Should I keep going?” 

It is an innocent question, but there is lustful intention behind it. There would be a point of no return if he did answer it. 

“I was gettin’ there,” He steps towards you, his guise not giving away any of his next movements. His face was still unyielding. “Panties first.”

Your breathing hitches when his fingers wrap around the elasticity of the waistband.

“I’m still c-covered in blood-” “Shut up.”

You nod, sliding the underwear down and revealing your already dripping core. He sucks in a big breath of air as his hand reaches between your legs and swipes at your wetness with the pads of his fingers. Your entire body tenses, the feeling so foreign and exciting that you cannot contain your gasp for air. 

Finally his expressionless face changes to a small twinge of a smile, “Dirty fuckin’ girl. Have been wantin’ this for a long time, eh?”

You are afraid to admit it out loud so you just nod. His fingers still make work through your folds and your knees feel like they may buckle with every swipe. Joel notes your position and grabs your face with his left hand, squeezing your cheeks so hard it forces you to look at him and stand up straighter. 

His fingers dip into you briefly, making squelching noise so loud that you both groan.

“Joel,” you whimper, sounding desperate and hasty.

He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours. It is a passionate act you did not expect. You did not know that sex would Joel would mean open mouth kisses, but you are thankful for it. His hand releases its grip on your cheeks and wraps itself around the base of your throat. Your lips slip open for his tongue, letting it explore every inch of your mouth. His fingers are making their slow methodical movements around your clit, driving you absolutely insane with desire. 

Your body seems so in tune with every movement he makes, but as you makeout with him, you realize it is because he has molded you this way. To curve and bend to his every will and way.

And you loved every moment of it. You thirsted for this type of control. You knew you would not have to worry or have a second thought, ever. Joel was already ten steps ahead and thinking out everything for you. 

He pulls away from the kiss, his eyes flickering between your lips and eyes. You note the red tinge of blood on his lips from kissing yours. 

“Get on your knees.”

You obey, whining when you realize that means he would no longer be keeping your pussy warm with his hand. Once your knees hit the hardwood, his hands are making work at his belt and jean buttons. 

“You know how to suck dick? Or do I gotta do all the work for ya?”

Your eyes fly open at the vulgarity. You tug your bottom lip between your teeth, “Yes, Joel. I’ve done it before.”

Having his dick in your hand last night was one thing, but seeing it for the first time is jarring. He is definitely the biggest you have ever had the pleasure of being in front of. He can tell by the look on your face that you are a bit stunned. 

“Let’s see how you do,” He inches his waist closer to your face and slightly ajar lips, “Open.”

Complying is what you do for Joel. 

You open your mouth nice and wide as he inches his cock into your warm mouth. You close your eyes, trying to focus on not disappointing him with your gag reflex. You try your best to relax, but his watchful eye is making you feel disoriented. 

He pulls out, letting you take a breath, only to push back in more forcefully. You try to stop his intrusion by putting your hand up on his hairy bare thigh, but it is no use. Your closed eyes prick with tears as Joel pulls out again, this time he is slapping his dick across your mouth. 

“Keep those fuckin’ eyes open and on me. Open nice n’ wide and relax that fuckin’ throat.”

His demands needed to be met, so you nod and adjust your position, laying your tongue out. He inches in again and instead of resisting, you relax and watch him through your eyelashes. His face twists as he draws back, his cock getting so impossibly close to the back of your throat. When he hits your gag reflex, you grip onto your own thighs tightly to contain the urge to empty your stomach. He smiles sickly at your reaction. “Poor girl,” He teases, snapping his hips forward again. Another gag. “Can’t fuckin’ take me? Guess we will have to train that mouth and throat, huh?”

He keeps fucking your mouth as your eyebrows draw together in concentration. Joel’s loving every moment, watching you writhe under him. Your wetness is pooling on the hardwood and you can already hint the embarrassment you will feel if Joel notices. 

You hollow out your cheeks, attempting to assert yourself in the situation. When you do that, Joel pulls out completely. He leans down to grab your arms and lifts you off the floor, dragging your shins against the uneven wood planks. And to your horror, he notices the wetness on the floor. “Drippin’ on the floor like a wet mop, ain’t ya?”

Joel’s eyes were always dark brown, but they look black with his eyes as dilated as they are. His grip on your arms is very assertive and when he pushes you back over the arm of the couch, you can feel your heartbeat in your ears. 

“Please, Joel.”

He grabs you up by your armpits, dragging your body across the couch. When you're lying flat, he settles himself between your legs, holding your right leg taut with his hipbone. 

“Keep begging,” He demands, a smug expression taking over his face. His eyes scour your entire body, “My little killer.”

The word sends your body into overdrive and you start grabbing at his body, trying to take what you want. He fights your hands, grabbing both of them and pinning them against the throw pillow right above your head.

You want to confess everything to him in that moment. The very moment you laid eyes on him, you wanted to give yourself to him. In every single way possible. 

“I want you.”

“I know you do,” He grabs the shaft of his cock and begins his torture. Sliding it through your soaked folds and humming in satisfaction. You lift your hips, trying to get him to slip it in, but he is always quicker than you. “Desperate, ain’t ya?”

Before your face can react to his mocking, his hips snap forward, fully sheathing himself inside you. The meat of your thigh presses against his waist, trying to hold him in that spot, but he does not let up. The pressure is almost too much but the pain is appallingly satisfying.

You cannot even remember the last time you felt this. Your previous sexual encounters were usually hasty and boring. Most were not consensual and left you feeling gross and deprived of release. 

The build up between you and Joel was a months long endeavor that left you feeling borderline insane. You could not help but let your desire for him fester. 

His pace is not slow in the slightest, but it is calculated. You manage to widen your legs a bit allowing more space for his thighs to take up. As he kneels between you, you get a great view of his muscular flexed thighs.

Joel was a specimen. You could not stop yourself from admiring such a sight, especially when his hands are all over you and his dick is driving into you over and over. You had never been in love, never seen it first hand even, but you knew you love this moment. You love Joel for making you feel so good. That’s not a feeling you have ever had for anyone, let alone a man in this sick world. 

“Oh my god, yes,” You clamor, your hands still locked over your head. The tension you feel in the pit of your stomach feels like it may explode, “Please, please.”

He repositions himself, releasing your wrists and pushing your legs up. You are folded in half while his upper body falls over you. You can already see the glistening of sweat across his neck and shoulders. His body locks you on the couch as he continues rocking into you. 

“You don’t cum til I say, got me?”

He fucks into you harder now, and from this angle, you do not know how that will be possible. A couple more thrusts and you know you are a goner. 

“I feel it,” You choke, trying to clench to prevent yourself from letting go before Joel’s instruction. “Joel.”

“I said hold that shit back,” His pace only speeds up, like he is chasing his own high, “Not ‘til I say.”

The friction is too much. You tug your lip between your teeth and you bite so hard that you start to taste blood. He is not letting up and you know the rope is about to snap. No matter how hard you try, when your eyes roll back and your body goes rigid, you let the release take over everything. 

You are screaming, your voice cracking as you do. Joel’s hip stutter when your pussy tightens up around him, but you know he’s only slowing down because you did not listen. 

Your limbs feel like jello and being that you are unable to really shift or move below Joel anyway, you just lay there limp. Joel flexes his arms and you can tell as he pulls away from your body that he is pissed. 

“Roll over.”

You knit your brows together, still trying to manage your breathing. “I’m sorry-”

He slaps your thigh, the sting prickling down your entire leg. “Roll the fuck over.”

The motion takes almost all of your energy. When you are on your stomach, Joel hauls your ass towards his pelvis. With your ass up in the air, you can feel the cold air hit your spent cunt. Your head is tilted, only able to see Joel in your peripheral vision. He looks down at your pussy, dragging his cock head through your seams. You note how he smiles coyly. 

When his lips purse and spit starts to dribble out, you start babbling all sorts of nonsense. The spit lands perfectly between your pussy lips and the top of his red tip. 

“You know what happens to girls who don’t listen?”

You keen as he pushes his cockhead into your cunt, “What?”

“Punishment.”

The thrust is so powerful it has your body almost slamming back onto the sofa. As he ruts into you, the moans that come out of you do not sound human. You are already so sensitive from your orgasm, you know that it takes practically no touch at all to set off the chain reaction again. 

His grip on your ass will leave bruises, just like all the other bruises he has given you in the last couple months. You count all of them like trophies. All the time Joel has touched you. 

When the grip turns into open hand spanking, you know your ‘punishments’ would be something you would enjoy tempting time to time. 

They are brutal. With each thrust, his palm comes down on your left ass cheek. All the while, his right fingers are digging scratches all along your ass and thigh. Between the sounds of the smacks and his balls slapping against your skin, you are being sent back into an ever-growing burn in the pit of your stomach. 

“Fuckin’ pussy is squeezin’ my cock,” He mewls, his voice gravelly, “You like gettin’ spanked? Hm?”

You restrain yourself from screaming out that you love it. You settle for just, “Please don’t stop.”

You can hear him chuckle behind you, his actions continuing as he bucks into you. 

“You’re lucky ‘m feelin’ nice.”

His hips start to stutter as you continue your mewling over his cock. He reaches out to your shoulders, pulling you upward and locking his arm around your neck. He has you in a loose headlock as he fucks you. Your hands rest on your forearm, your nails digging so hard that you leave small half moons on his freckled skin. 

His other arm finds its way between your legs, swiping your clit as his thrusts become more labored. Even with the pace slowed down, the small titillating circles he pushes into your sensitive bud sends you over the edge again. As you fall apart in his arms, he spirals into his own climax, fucking his seed so deep into you that you will probably have it dripping out of you for days. 

The husky moans he lets out as he empties himself inside you rattles in your eardrum. It was like music to your ears. You finally got what you want.

“You came again without permission.”

You do not respond, just grunt and fall onto the couch. 

-

Your body is humming still. Joel’s half-hard cock is still standing at attention as he stands up and walks over to the kitchen. You grab the back couch cushion and push yourself up to watch him wander over the sink. His hand reaches for a kitchen towel and he wets it under the sink faucet. 

His ass is so perfect and you silently curse yourself for not grabbing it when he was balls deep in you. 

“Come ‘ere.”

You scramble up, your legs wobbling with each step. Joel’s eyes scan your entire body again, enjoying the sight of you so bare in front of him. “Didn’t think you were the one for aftercare.”

He furrows his eyebrows, as he extends the towel to you. “I ain’t. Wipe yourself up.”

Your heart pangs against your ribcage. For some reason you thought being so intimate with him would bring something different out. You are sorely mistaken. 

The anger you felt earlier, the blind rage, takes over all your nerve endings again. You cannot stop yourself from lashing out after such a high. A high he gave you. 

You slap the towel away, tilting your chin up at him. He has never seen you defiant. His face twists in confusion. 

“You made me kill for you. Then you fuck me. And you can’t even give me any decency by wiping your fucking cum off of me?”

The words are like vomit coming out of your mouth. You ever thought you would talk back to him like this. It is the kind of thing you could have been killed for months ago. But now, you both are in vulnerable positions. You want to prove a point. Look at me, appreciate me, love me. 

“Excuse me?”

His tone is threatening. But so is yours. 

“You heard me.”

As silence cuts through the air, you notice the gun Joel put on the kitchen counter next to a broken coffee pot. He sees you eyeing it and goes to reach for it, but you are closer and a bit faster than him. When your hand wraps around the metal, you point it directly at his hairy chest. 

Proving a point with violence was always your specialty. Before the alcohol, and now, after the alcohol.

“You fuckin’ bitch,” He bites, his lips tightening inward, “You put that shit down now.”

You are steady with it, your finger not on the trigger, but only millimeters from gracing it. “No.”

“You’re not gonna kill me. Not after all you just did for me,” His voice is more clipped, his words staggered. His hands raise in the air, almost in surrender. “Put it down.”

You are not sure what your next move should be. The rage now turns into confliction. 

You have screwed yourself for snapping so quickly at him and now he was never going to trust you. Threatening him with words would be one thing, but pointing a gun at center mass was absurd. While you wanted to get your point across to him, you knew this was overkill. Your fuse was so short and your urges were unkempt. Acting on impulse was going to get you in major trouble.  

In the time you are second guessing your actions, Joel’s already springing forward and snatching the gun from you. You are easy to disarm when you are not prepared for a naked man springing at you in your time of contemplation. Joel grabs the gun, pushing you backward into the kitchen counter and points it at you. 

“Now…” His southern drawl carries out the word. Your heart is pounding, the same way it was racing last time Joel trained a gun on you. This time was different. Instead of a look of contempt and uncertainty, he appears to be offended by your actions. “You know damn well that shit ain’t gonna fly with me.”

“Joel-” “Shut your fuckin’ mouth,” He steps closer, the gun still trained on you, “You know better, don’t ya?”

The coldness of the barrel on your right collarbone is enough to send you over the edge. Your eyes flicker between his chest, his lips, to his eyes, “I do. I don’t know what came over me.”

His eyes reflect a silent consideration. He is trying to figure out if he believes you or not. You silently pray he does even if you do not fully believe yourself. 

“You are too quick to react to someone tellin’ you know. Knock that shit off now or else we will have bigger issues.”

You knew those bigger issues would lead to Joel putting you out of your misery. You would have to work on impulse control. “It won’t happen again. I will work on it.”

“You’re lucky I love that pussy of yours or else you would have a hole in your fuckin’ head.”

Love.

“You love it?”

He smirks at your candor. He did not even realize he said that. “Get on your knees and beg for my forgiveness. You don’t have time to get a big head.”

“On my knees?”

He clenches his jaw, withdrawing the end of the gun from your skin. It leaves a small circle indentation, solidifying that next time, there may be a much bigger one there. “On your knees, little one.”

divider from @/saradika-graphics

[the-boy-meets-evil]

lost in the west | kmg

(where your best friend pretends to be your boyfriend for the holidays so you can avoid more nagging from your mother. except your whole family thought you were already dating)

pairing: mingyu x f!reader genre: fake dating (kind of), friends to lovers, holiday!au | fluff, smut, romance rating: explicit, minors do not interact word count: 18.1k warnings: eating, drinking, mentions of christmas and holiday celebrations, reference to mingyu being afraid of heights, some minor family dynamic issues, so much kissing, fingering, big dick!mingyu, sex (just plain old missionary), i think that's it

author's note: thank you to the amazing @camandemstudios studios for hosting the winter with you collab! it's been so fun to be part of (even if i forgot for a second that i had to include sunrise sledding, but we're ignoring that). i'm sorry this is a little late as a holiday fic but sometimes life happens and inspiration just doesn't want to strike. i'm not even going to say it's longer than i intended because that's just my brand atp. this is largely unedited.

author's note 2: i think there's going to be an epilogue but idk when that will be possible

tag list: @vitaminkyeom, @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizon, @klecksstorys, @gyuminusone, @aaniag, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @haolistic, @vanishingboots, @babybae-shisui, @harry-the-pottypus, @pyeonghongrie, @nuttywastelandmentality, @writingbarnes, @tomodachiii, @gyuhao365, @jjin-kun, @divinityyy, @dibidibidismynameisleeknow, @tinkerbell460, @aidanjoon, @cookiearmy, @kaepjjangiya (join my taglist here)

“You’re bringing your boyfriend back with you, aren’t you?” your mom asks, which makes you look sharply toward the phone. It’s on speaker because you’re in the middle of folding laundry. Your best friend also looks over towards your phone with a grimace, which makes you wish it wasn’t on speaker.

The thing is…you haven’t told your mom that your ex and you broke up about two months ago. Didn’t want to deal with all the sighing and interrogation while you’re rushing to finish end of the year deadlines at work. Somehow, you know it’ll be your fault. Never mind the fact that he cheated on you in your own apartment. But, that’s another story. Your mother will say something about how you shouldn’t be so picky and everyone makes mistakes. Say that sometimes it’s not your most attractive trait that you’re dedicated to your job. Say that you’re not getting any younger and remind you how many of your friends from school are already married or even having kids of their own. That’s one reminder you don’t really need. You see it every time you aimlessly scroll through your feed. Or when you open the mail and see another wedding invitation. 

You sigh. “Well, actually…” 

“Oh, don’t tell me,” your mother says with her own sigh. “You broke it off with this one, too?” 

“I’m not going to get into it with you,” you say, gentle but firm. 

“I don’t understand what could have made you break it off. You said he was like your best friend,” she reminds you. 

This earns an eye roll from one of your actual best friends, Mingyu. He takes over folding your clothes for you as something to do and as a way to speed up the whole process. 

“Well, he’s not and I don’t see any reality where I will forgive him for what he did to me. So, let’s move on,” you say. 

“Maybe that’s okay. You know, one of my friends has a son who’s single and I could just…” she starts.

“No, absolutely not,” you say. This causes Mingyu to stifle his laughter with a hand.

“I don’t understand what the harm in meeting him is. He seems very nice and you’re not exactly getting any younger,” she says. 

There it is. The conversation always somehow ends up at the same point. You’re not getting any younger. All your parents’ friends have been planning weddings and getting grandchildren. They all seem to understand the importance of building a family. Why do you have to be so focused on what’s wrong with every person you date? Why are you too wrapped up in work? Your parents constantly remind you how you seem too wrapped up in the city life to realize what you’re missing.

“I just don’t think…” you start but then trail off when Mingyu starts waving at you to get your attention. He’s pointing at himself and mouthing something you can’t understand.

“I know you don’t think, but just…” your mom starts and you mute yourself so you can figure out what your best friend wants.

“What, Mingyu?” you ask, sharper than you intend.

“Take me back with you for the holidays,” he says. 

“What?” you ask.

“Take me…” he starts.

“No, I heard you. What are you on about?” you ask. 

“You can just feed your mom some line. Tell her you and I just started dating. It doesn’t matter. Anything to just get her off your case,” he says.

“I’m not…what is wrong with you? I’m not going to just fake date you like some weird holiday movie,” you argue.

“Okay, first of all, rude. Those movies aren’t weird, they’re great. And second of all, what do you have to lose?  Your mom loves me and she’ll be thrilled to see me. I already know everyone that’ll be at the parties and dinners. My parents are out of the country visiting my sister and her new boyfriend for the holidays, so I was only going to my cousin’s as kind of a pity invite. It can’t possibly fail,” he says.

“There are a lot of ways it could fail, actually,” you point out.

“Wow, are you going to leave me stranded for the holidays? I’m already rethinking this relationship,” Mingyu says through a pout. “My own partner doesn’t even want to spend the holidays with me. Are you embarrassed to bring me around your family?”

“So what do you say?” comes your mom’s voice. You had been blocking it out while talking to Mingyu, yet it still catches your attention.

You quickly unmute yourself and look away from Mingyu. “I…actually can’t, Mom. I’m sort of seeing someone different, but it’s new so I wasn’t going to mention…” 

“Oh, you already found someone new, that’s wonderful!” she exclaims. 

You don’t have to look at Mingyu to know that he’s wearing a grin that’s entirely too satisfied. Even if he’s mostly kidding about being abandoned for Christmas, you know that it’s been bugging him that his parents decided to go abroad. You also know that he wouldn’t ever dream of inviting himself to tag long even if that’s what he wanted to do. He actually likes your family, sometimes more than you do. 

“I’ll have to ask him if he’s willing to come with me, but…” you try to say before your mother cuts you off again.

“Tell him it simply wouldn’t be the holidays without him. I can’t wait to meet him. Oh, I’m going to tell your father. We may manage to get you married after all,” she says in seemingly one breath.

“I still haven’t…” you try again without any luck.

“I can’t wait to see you both! Love you!” she says. 

“Love y-...” you say, but she’s already ended the call. 

“I guess I have holiday plans after all,” Mingyu says and you fight the urge to throw a pillow at him.

“This is a terrible idea. I can’t pretend we’re dating,” you say and crinkle your nose.

“Oh, wow, have I offended your high standards?” he asks. “Should I remind you of your last two relationships?”

You do throw the pillow at him this time. 

Despite all the questions from your parents about just who is coming home with you for the holidays, you insist that it needs to be a surprise. You definitely think that your parents will be surprised when they see Mingyu on their doorstep. Even though you only met Mingyu in college, the two of you have been nearly inseparable since then. He’s come with you to countless family events to keep you company, especially between other relationships. Your parents buy him Christmas presents every year and insist on video chatting with both of you on his birthdays. Your younger cousins ask when he’s going to be coming around again because they look up to him, both literally and figuratively. It’s kind of annoying sometimes because you wonder if they like him more than their own family member. But, you reason it away with them liking him for the same reasons that you do. He’s just so easy to be around, though they get more of his polite company attitude than you do. Around you, he’s much more relaxed and somehow more prone to pouting to get his way. 

More unfortunately, the pout always seems to work on you. You pretend to be annoyed with it (well, it’s not always pretending, actually), but you give in every time. Which is fine when it’s just the two of you. It’s less fine when other friends are around because they all have smug looks. Convinced that you and him are end game and neither of you realizes yet. The worst, though, is when he slips into the pout mode around your family and you have to deal with the looks from your family members. It’s all worth it to have someone to act as a buffer, even if you’ll never tell him as much. 

Before you get to that point of seeing your parents, you figure that you should stop by to see your childhood best friend first. Of course, he already knows the whole story with Mingyu and doesn’t seem entirely surprised. After all, he’s also known your mom nearly his whole life. Somehow you went from kids forced together when the parents hung out to adults that actually still genuinely love each other, which means he knows Mingyu well too. In his role as best friend, your current situation will not spare you from his teasing. That’s a role he’s happily embraced all your lives. 

The smirk on his face is present as soon as he sees you and Mingyu walk into the coffee shop. Mingyu hasn’t even spotted him while he unwinds his scarf and heads to the counter to order drinks. You say you’re going over to sit with your friend and only then does Mingyu notice you’re not the first ones here. 

“Hey Kwan, you good on your drink?” he calls.

“Yeah, thanks,” he calls back before his eyes turn on you like he’s got a secret. 

You make your way over to his table and try not to react to the look he’s giving you. Typical Seungkwan looking like he’s about to burst with the latest gossip. Even when he knows exactly why you have Mingyu with you and even said, over text, he gets why you agreed. Ugh. You know better than to think he’ll let you live for even a second. Sometimes you think you need better friends.

“Has he gotten taller?” Seungkwan asks, casting his eyes over at your other friend. 

“No, but for real,” you say with a laugh. “I swear, I see him constantly and I still feel like he’s getting taller.”

“Constantly, huh?” Seungkwan asks, raising an eyebrow.

“We’re best friends,” you say with a sigh.

“And what am I?” he asks. 

“Also my best friend. There’s no rule on having only one,” you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time. 

“Are you nervous to head back to your parents’ house?” he asks, entirely switching approaches. 

It’s not your first rodeo, though. “Why should I be? They like Mingyu, at least, so there won’t be any of the awkwardness beyond explaining that we’re dating now.” 

“Which probably isn’t going to come as a surprise to them,” Seungkwan says. 

“I mean, why wouldn’t it be a surprise?” you ask before you clock the look on his face. “Oh, don’t tell me this is more of that bullshit about how often I bring him around. You know my family is insufferable if I have to deal with them alone.” 

“No, I just know for a fact that they’ve wondered if you were dating him before,” Seungkwan says as Mingyu finally joins you with two coffees in hand.

“That would mean she would need to have good enough taste to date someone as great as me,” he says when he sets your coffee in front of you.

“I’m so torn,” Seungkwan admits. “I could insult her taste in relationships, which, love you babe, but really? Or I could insult you as not really being any better than anyone she’s dated.”

“That one gets us both, though?” you point out, only a little offended.

“Option two it is,” Seungkwan agrees. 

“Okay, enough of that. Fill me in on everything before I have to walk into the lion’s den,” you say. 

It’s always the same when you catch up with Seungkwan. He’s thriving even though he chose not to leave the area where you grew up. It’s not that big of an area, but he’s found opportunities. You just found those opportunities a little further away. Just far enough away that your mother can’t easily pop by unannounced. That lead time before she shows up is usually enough that you can mentally prepare. 

Seungkwan, for his part, really does brighten up the entire space, when he’s not being a demon. He’s got that kind of shine that can’t even be dulled by staying in the same general area as his family. He’s also better at setting boundaries, which he gently reminds you again. He doesn’t need the space and preparation time of his family showing up at his place unannounced because they all know that’s not allowed. It’s not that you’re a pushover, it’s just that it feels different. Even your parents seem to respect Seungkwan more than you at times. You try not to let the cynicism of being a woman seep into those feelings. But, it’s hard. Harder still when Seungkwan gives you the sympathetic look like he wants to agree and knows it won’t really help anything. He’s always been that special brand of ally. The one that actually does want to help and understands the inherent privilege.

Unfortunately, Seungkwan and his family won’t be coming to the events that your parents have planned for the next week, though they’re always invited. They wanted to do something more focused on their family instead. It probably seems like something over the top to anyone on the outside. To you, it just seems normal. This is how your parents always handle the holidays and most events seem to take place at their house. 

All too soon, Seungkwan says that he needs to get back to something and reminds you that you can’t put off going home any longer. You’re already getting dangerously close to what your mother considers late. It’s probably not the best idea to test her patience before the week even starts. 

Mingyu takes care of getting you over to your parents house. Maybe fake dating him for a week won’t be so bad when he takes care of driving without asking and doesn’t even need an address. Since he also already knows your entire family, he doesn’t need help with getting gifts to bring with him. That includes both something to give them when you get there as well as actual Christmas gifts. You remember telling him that wasn’t necessary and remember the look of horror on his face when he asked what kind of fake boyfriend he would be if he forgot. Despite the weirdness of the situation, you also find yourself far more at peace than the last time you brought an actual partner home like this. Mingyu has seen you through a lot of ups and downs. Knows when to be serious and when to crack a little joke to break the tension, even if it’s something only for your ears. 

That all disappears as soon as your mother greets you at the door with a look of genuine surprise on her face. 

“Surprise,” you say. It seems a little redundant because she seems shocked. “You, uh, you remember Mingyu, right?” 

“Of course, of course, come in out of the cold,” she says, recovering quickly as she steps out of the way. “Let me get your coats.”

“I know this is probably a bit of a surprise,” you start.

“It definitely is,” she agrees as she takes Mingyu’s and your coats. “Your father is just in the family room.”

“I figured it would be a good surprise,” you offer as you start to follow her into the house. 

“No, of course it is. We adore Mingyu, you know that,” she says with a soft smile for Mingyu. She’s always loved him. “We just, well, we thought you and him had broken up…”

“Broken…what?” you ask, your own shock now matching your mother’s as you come to a complete halt. 

Mingyu seems to just stay quiet through this entire exchange. You’re wondering why until you look over at him to see that he’s barely containing his laughter. Of course he would find this whole thing funny. Maybe he believes Seungkwan that your parents have wondered if you were dating him. Or maybe he’s just quicker on the uptake. Whatever it, it would be annoying if your brain wasn’t working overtime to try and catch up.

“Yes, you said you’d broken up with a boyfriend. Your father and I realized we hadn’t actually met the last person you dated and we just assumed, since you only mention Mingyu. Well, you said he was like your best friend and we knew it wasn’t Seungkwan. Mingyu only made sense,,” your mother says with a shrug. 

“Mingyu! What are you doing here?” your father asks, rising from his seat to shake your best friend’s hand. 

“Dating our daughter, apparently,” your mother says with a skeptical look. 

“Oh, good! I’m glad you kids worked it out,” he says. 

“Did…everyone just think I was dating…?” you start to ask, looking confusedly between your parents. “Mom, Dad, I was not dating Mingyu. We were only…”

“Friends?” your mother supplies through her heavy tone of disbelief. 

“Yes,” you say, eyes wide and desperate looking to Mingyu for support.

“We really were just friends,” Mingyu says. “I mean, I guess not just friends. But, seeing her go through another heartbreak just made me realize that I didn’t want to see her go through something like that again. I guess it just made me realize how much I do care about her. So, I finally said something.” 

There’s a lot that you can count on Mingyu for. Driving, having an endless supply of oversized hoodies to steal, a stocked kitchen, the best meals of your life, 2 am chats, support through break ups, hating the same people, being scared of his own shadow, a perpetual golden retriever energy, endless loyalty, and the list goes on. Something you never expect to count on Mingyu for, though? The lie that spills so easily from his lips to try and get your parents off your case. Sure, he knows just how much you struggle with your relationship with them. This is different, though. The lie sounds so sincere and his face looks so soft when he glances over at you. 

“You know, it’s okay if you just got back together,” your mother says, looking between the two of you. 

“Oh my god, that’s not what happened!” you say, throwing your hands up. 

“Of course, dear, of course,” your father says. 

“I should go take our suitcases upstairs. Am I just in the normal guest room?” he asks. 

It’s both a deflection from the conversation and a valid question all rolled into one. Whatever the case, it does work for long enough to have your mother refocus her attention on Mingyu to answer. That gives you at least a second to catch your breath. Bringing Mingyu was supposed to give you a break from your parents. And it will, you think, but it’s also bringing up a lot that you hadn’t planned on. You wonder what Seungkwan will say when you tell him about the reception. Probably that he told you so.

“Oh, no dear. We planned to have you stay in our daughter’s old room with her,” your mother says.

Great. Now you’re in an entirely new spiral because, what? She has you and Mingyu staying in the same room where there is only one bed? You can’t remember the last time she was this relaxed with a partner you brought home, which brings up even more questions. Has this really been the plan? Or is only the plan now because of how much they like him? Is this just another way for them to try and nudge you into marriage?

“But, mom…” you start to protest.

“We’ve got a full house with family, dear,” she says as an explanation. 

“I know where it is, I’ll just take the stuff up,” Mingyu offers.

“I can help,” you say as a way to get out of this whole thing and to talk to your friend.

“Pretty sure I’m strong enough to get some luggage upstairs,” he jokes and you roll your eyes.

“Why don’t you go up with him anyway? Then you can freshen up before dinner,” your mother says with a poorly disguised look at your slightly wrinkled clothing. 

Mingyu insists on carrying the bigger suitcases upstairs on his own, but you grab the smaller bags you had in the car with you. Well, except for his backpack that he also stubbornly carries. You don’t need a personal demonstration, you already know that he’s strong. You also don’t need to hear your mother talking about how nice it is to have such a polite young man around like he hasn’t been around a million times before. Once you’re inside the room and behind a closed door, you round on your friend.

“What the hell was that?” you ask.

“Your mom actually letting you and a boyfriend stay in the same room? I don’t know. It’s crazy, right?” he asks.

“Not that, what was with you?” you ask. 

“What do you mean?” he returns, looking up from his suitcase where he had been getting ready to unpack. 

“That whole answer you gave my mom,” you say and he looks almost pitying.

“I have to make it believable, don’t I?” he asks like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “Otherwise, she won’t buy it and she’s going to try to set you up.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you concede. 

“Kind of wild that they thought we’d been dating, though,” he adds on.

“Yeah, what was that?” you ask with more force than you mean. 

He only shrugs. “I don’t know, they’re your parents.” 

“Seungkwan said the same thing,” you remind him. 

“About people thinking we’re dating?” he asks, eyes back on his suitcase.

“Yeah,” you say.

He only chuckles before he looks up. “Come on, that’s not the first time either. How many of our friends have thought the same thing?”

“They’re just fucking with us,” you disagree.

“And my ex?” he asks with a raised eyebrow. 

“Okay, well in my defense, she was insane. The whole idea that people of the opposite sex can’t be friends is an insane take,” you say.

“Yeah, I’m not exactly upset to be rid of her,” he agrees.

“Come on. We better hurry up and get back downstairs,” you say.

The rest of the day is somehow just as weird, but also comforting. As the rest of the family starts arriving, either to stay or just for dinner, you find out that most of your family thinks you’ve been dating Mingyu. Or that it was him that you broke up with and are now back together with. It’s hard to tell if it’s something coming from your parents or just a general vibe that the two of you give off. You can at least acknowledge that you didn’t talk about your last relationship much with your family. Hindsight is always clearer, but you still think you knew something was off in that relationship the whole time. Knew that he wasn’t destined to go the distance. Maybe that’s why the break up didn’t hurt that bad. Honestly, the worst part was thinking of facing your family alone for Christmas.

Mingyu saves you from that as he’s saved you countless times before. 

That brings you to the more comforting part of the evening. You can’t tell if any of your family members actually buy that this is a new relationship. At least, none of them seem to think it’s fake. You can probably put up with it if they just think you’re lying about when you actually got together. That makes it all feel much easier. Then, there’s the fact that your entire family loves Mingyu. It’s the first time you can remember joining the dinner to kick off the family Christmas festivities in years. Your family takes the holidays very seriously and it’s Mingyu’s first time experiencing it like this. Yet, he slots right in with everything. 

It also feels like he’s thought through this whole fake relationship in ways you didn’t. Sure, you talked about some of the ins and outs since this isn’t just a quick overnight trip. But, mostly, you just decide it’s easiest to keep it as close to the truth as possible. The friendship is so deep that there’s genuine love there. You don’t have to fake that. What you did not consider is physical affection. You’re not the kind of person that drapes yourself all over a partner, never have been. There’s a moment where you worry, as you watch your cousin and her fiancé, that you and Mingyu could be found out for not showing enough affection. 

A few minutes later, you’re wishing he would be less affectionate. And you’re not even sure why you worried. The first thing you really learned about Mingyu was that he was incredibly physically affectionate. Tight hugs, random hand holding, an arm around your shoulder, a hand on your arm or leg. It’s all just par for the course with him. It’s gotten even more obvious now that he’s pretending to date you. It seems so innocuous, too. He’s got his hand on your thigh, giving the occasional squeeze, while he’s talking to someone else. He randomly plants a kiss on your temple. He leans over to whisper something to you on the pretense of being close and usually it’s nothing. You don’t even realize that it has most of your family giving each other knowing looks. Like they’re still not convinced you hadn’t been dating before. 

By the time it’s late enough to go upstairs, you’re more than ready to have time away from your family. Every time you think that you’re social, your family is there to humble you. Or maybe it’s just that being around them is too draining. In any case, you and Mingyu head upstairs together. Thankfully, your parents house is big enough that it feels like there’s a little bit of privacy in your old bedroom. 

“So, how’s this going to work?” Mingyu asks, glancing at the bed and then into the attached bathroom. 

Okay, so maybe, even with how big the house is, you haven’t fully considered everything. You’re not really sure what to do. It shouldn’t be weird. You and Mingyu have shared a bed before. This just somehow feels intimate when your entire family thinks you’re sharing because you’re in a relationship and don’t know this is all pretend so you can have a little bit of peace for the holidays. Your gift to yourself. Shaking it all off, you turn to Mingyu.

“I mean, we’ve shared before. It’ll be fine,” you say. 

“So are we not gonna talk about the last time we shared?” he asks with an eyebrow raised.

Racking your brain, you can’t really think of anything that would make him say that. Had something awkward happened? Did one of you do something that you should really remember? Just as you’re about to go into a full blown spiral, you feel Mingyu appear before you. He reaches out to smooth out the line between your eyebrows.

“Don’t hurt yourself there,” he says with a laugh. “You whined about me taking up too much space.” 

“Oh my god,” you say and swat at him. “It was a tiny bed and you took up the entire thing! You can’t do this to me when I’m already wound tight over my family.” 

“Sorry,” he says and throws up his hands. The sparkle in his eyes says that he’s anything but. 

“I’m going to change and then start my skincare routine,” you say as you move to grab something to wear to bed. 

Without even asking if you’re dressed, Mingyu comes into the bathroom to start doing his own skincare routine while you’re in there. He’s already changed into a t-shirt and shorts, which you know is more than he normally wears to bed. It’s somehow peaceful to go through your routines in silence like this. You consider that it might be in part because it forces him to be quiet. Not that you usually mind his chatter, it’s just that your brain is already tired from one night dealing with your family. You can’t imagine how the rest of the days are going to go and are thankful for the downtime when you’ll be able to get out of the house to do things. 

Once you’re back in the bedroom, you both finish off all the little things you need to do. You plug in your phone after checking for any important notifications, grab the TV remote to fling it over to Mingyu, and slide under the covers. Usually you just kind of scroll before going to sleep or sometimes you’ll read. But, you think it might be weird to do those things when you’re sharing a bed with someone else.

“Do I need to make a pillow wall or something?” he asks as he’s flipping through to find something to watch.

Your head whips to the side to look at him. Even though it’s only his profile, you can see that he’s smirking. Purposefully not looking at you because he knows it’ll break the little composure he has. To deal with that, you whack him with a pillow. 

“Just don’t drape your entire body over me,” you say.

“Why?” he asks and does turn to look at you now, wiggling his eyebrows. “Afraid it’ll be too close?”

“No, you fucking goober, you’re just heavy,” you say through a genuine laugh.

“How is this relationship ever going to work if we’re calling each other names?” he says, pretending to be heartbroken. 

“Same way it has for like 8 years,” you joke back with a soft smile. 

“Are you saying you love me?” he asks, hand on his heart. This is one of your favorite things about your friendship with Mingyu because he’s so dramatic that it takes your mind off everything else.

“I don’t know, I’m rethinking it,” you say and turn back to the TV. 

“I love you too, you know,” he says, voice soft enough to make you turn back to him.

“I know, Gyu. I don’t think anyone else would put themselves through this for me, so thank you,” you say honestly. 

He just shrugs and goes back to a lighter place. “Well, I didn’t have good holiday plans and who can say no to this level of entertainment?” 

The next day actually gives you time to catch up with some of your family members more personally instead of everything being such big conversations. That’s especially true for your cousin, Mimi, who’s only two years younger than you and has always been your favorite of your cousins. Even if you go months without seeing each other, it always feels like no time passes. There’s just a level of closeness and understanding between the two of you. You can complain about your mothers since they’re sisters and honestly the same person, just in a different font. It’s easy to be on the same page about things as well. 

You’re actually a little surprised to see that she’s here alone, even though you know she recently got out of a bad relationship. Somehow, it seems her mom is more understanding than your own. She was also much more honest about how the relationship fell apart after 3 years and her mom is sympathetic about it. When she says it like that, you understand. Your last few relationships have all been measured in months rather than years. 

“You’re not, like, actually dating Mingyu though, are you?” she asks quietly when it’s just the two of you.

“Mimi,” you hiss and look around.

“We’re alone,” she assures you with a wave of her hand. “So, spill.”

“No,” you say hesitantly. “Why?”

“I’m just curious,” she says unconvincingly. 

“He was with me when my mom was bugging me about the holidays and bringing someone with me. Then she was going to set me up, so he just offered…” you start.

“He was the one who suggested it?” she asks, far more curious than she should be. 

“Yeah,” you say simply. “Again, why?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ve just always thought he was cute and I was wondering if he’s actually single.” 

“You cannot hit on Mingyu,” you whisper through gritted teeth. She gives you a look you can’t place before brushing it off.

“Oh, I’m not saying I would. It’s just good to know I could,” she says.

“You can’t,” you remind her. “Everyone thinks we’re dating.” 

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t do it anywhere anyone else could see,” she teases. 

Of course, another of our cousins picks that moment to join you, so you can’t further chastise Mimi. It irritates you all the same though. How does she think it’s just fine to do something like that when you’re supposed to be in a fake relationship? Could she not just wait to hit on him until the rest of your family wasn’t watching with too much attention? 

Normally, Mimi is a respite from the rest of your family. She’s one of the few people that you’re always completely honest with. Now, she’s taken that away. You try to go about the rest of the day with her knowing that the relationship is fake and she seems like she’s trying her best to get under your skin. Every part of you wants to stop her from chatting so much to Mingyu and you can’t. It would seem weird when everyone knows that you and your cousin are close. Weirder still when she always knows Mingyu relatively well from every other time he’s been to some family event. 

When you excuse yourself up to your bedroom for a second away from your parents and their incessant hint dropping, Mingyu slips into the room just after you. Which is odd, considering you had not even seen him also slip away. The second odd thing comes when you look at his face. He looks more serious than usual, more tired. It doesn’t fully make sense because he’s incredibly social. Loves to be around people in the way all true extroverts do. Something must be wrong.

“Can I talk to you?” he asks after closing the door.

“You don’t ever have to ask,” you say with clear apprehension. 

“Did you tell Mimi we weren’t actually dating?” he asks, still looking at you in a way you can’t place.

You exhale, thinking it’ll be nothing. “Oh, that, yeah. I’m sorry I didn’t mention it to you, I just…”

“Did you also tell her that I’m very single and she should go ahead and shoot her shot?” he asks and you stop short hearing that.

“I - what?” you ask.

“She just kind of cornered me and was laying it on super thick, but she said it was fine because she knows we’re not really dating and that you’d encouraged her to…” he starts and you immediately cut him off.

“What the actual fuck, Mimi?” you say in frustration. 

“I mean, if you want me to…” he tries to start again, looking a little like a lost or kicked puppy. It makes you immediately close the space between you and him. 

“Gyu, no. I did tell her that we weren’t actually dating, but I absolutely did not tell her it was okay to do any of that, let alone encourage it,” you say. 

“So you don’t want me to flirt back?” he asks. He’s still looking Too Serious when he says it and you’re not really sure how to feel.

“Since we’re supposed to be dating, I’d prefer you didn’t. But, if you think she’s pretty it’s not like I can stop you,” you say noncommittally. 

“Of course I think she’s pretty. You and your whole family are pretty. It’s like something in a TV show or some shit,” he says and this is a Mingyu you recognize because he’s rolling his eyes. 

“Oh yeah, says the guy who looks like that,” you say and vaguely gesture at him.

“I…did you just compliment me?” he asks, totally off track from wherever he was going.

“That depends, did you compliment me first?” you deflect. 

“You’re such a shithead,” he grumbles and you tsk at him.

“Now, now sweetheart, should we really be name calling?” you tease.

He fixes you with his attempt at an unimpressed stare, but he’s nowhere near as good at it as you are. Like every other time, he relents first. “I’ve probably told you how beautiful you are hundreds of times in our friendship.” 

“Which I’ve always returned,” you lie.

“Be so for real. I have to pull most compliments out of you,” he says through a snort. When you open your mouth to protest, he cuts you off. “Most compliments that are not about my cooking, I should say.”

“People fall all over you,” you say with a good natured eye roll of your own. “Do you really need to hear me also say you could easily be a model?”

“Doesn’t hurt,” he mumbles through a pout.

“Oh, beautiful Mingyu,” you start, taking on the silliest voice you can muster. “You’re so pretty that I could cry. Your face breaks hearts every day, your smile lights up the room, your hair…”

“Okay, okay, enough,” he says even though he looks pleased.

“I cannot believe Mimi, though,” you say.

“I’m glad you’re not trying to push us together,” he admits.

“Why? Not interested?” you tease.

He answers seriously, though. “No. She’s pretty, sure, but no, I’m definitely not interested, even if I wasn’t pretending to date you.” 

That honest answer strikes something in you. Not that honesty is unusual between the two of you. It just feels like there’s also an element of vulnerability in the response as well. Like he’s saying something that you just can’t quite decipher. You just brush aside for now, though, since there’s nothing else you really can do. 

Mingyu, as it turns out, has one winter time tradition that he’s always wanted to try and never had the chance to do: sledding. He’s never lived in any place where it’s snowy enough or there’s enough free space. But, up here in the relative mountains where your parents live, sledding is a way of life. It’s something you’ve done countless times growing up with friends or family. Part of you is even a little thankful that he wants to do it, too. It’s been years since you’ve gone sledding and getting to see his face when you go for the first time feels special. Feels like something that’s just for you. 

Which is why you’re up before the sun. 

Last night, when you talked about sledding and getting an early start, Mingyu was on board. Now that it’s time to actually get up, you can see it written all over his face that he’s regretting every decision that’s ever led him to this moment. Like the true best friend that he is, though, he’s keeping the actual grumbling to a minimum. You’re not sure why you’re not also grumbling. You’re not a morning person. But, you’ve never gone sledding at sunrise either and something about it just seems like it’ll be magical. Like it really will make it an entirely new experience for you and him to share. 

The house is quiet as you grab the bag of snow pants and winter jackets that you packed the night before from the closet in the entryway. Everything feels so peaceful in the house and just as still when you leave. Like even the soft sound of the door is too much while the whole world sleeps. You can hear the slight crunch under your feet as you trudge over to Mingyu’s car and take care not to be too loud getting in. Thank him again for driving when you know it’s way earlier than he wants to be awake. All he does is smile like there’s nowhere else in the world he would rather be. 

The drive to the hill where you’re going to sled is quick and also tranquil. Even the music is soft like Mingyu is afraid of disrupting the peace. Or maybe you’re both just appreciating something different than the normal bustle of life in a city. It’s never this kind of quiet there and there’s something kind of beautiful about it. Even the parking lot is empty when you get to the small hill that you used to sled down as a kid. You’ve never seen it empty before. Then again, you’ve never been before the sun rose, either. Mingyu takes care to unload the sleds before you both bundle up. It’s not terribly cold, but you make him put on the waterproof gear anyway. 

He stops at the bottom of the hill and looks towards the top. “We’re going all the way up there?” 

You can hear a little bit of nerves in his voice. Mingyu has never been a fan of heights. This isn’t that high, though, and you nudge him playfully. Well, it doesn’t seem high to you. “I think you can manage. Come on.” 

Climbing up to the top is always your least favorite part because it uses the most energy. Not that you mind the activity, it’s just a lot of work for a relatively short ride back down the hill on the sled. At least this hill has stairs built into the slope off to the side to help you. Once you’re at the top, you plop down with Mingyu right beside you. It’s less about catching your breath and more about appreciating the view. It seems like you can see for miles even though you’re not that high up. The sun starts to rise and you know it’s all worth it. All the shades of orange and pink stretch across the horizon as the sun makes its way over the distant mountains. There aren’t any words that come to mind to really capture how beautiful it is. The colors are more vibrant against the white of the snow all around you. Everything feels magnified in the quiet space. All either of you can do is utter out a soft wow to express your awe. 

And then the quiet really is broken.

“Okay you expect me to slide down that on a piece of plastic?” he asks with a hint of panic in his voice. 

You follow his gaze and look down the hill, because it really is only a hill. Not anything crazy. It always looks a little more intimidating from the top, but it isn’t anything all that high. 

“Oh come on you giant baby,” you tease and nudge him. “We got all the way up here, how else are you going to get down?” 

“Walk back down the stairs they so nicely provided?” he offers. 

“That’s crazy,” you say.

“I’m afraid of heights!” he shouts, more panic in his voice. 

“I know, Gyu,” you say, instantly softening as you approach him to put your hand on his arm. 

“I didn’t really think this through,” he admits.

“Why did you agree to sledding down a hill?” you ask, genuinely curious. 

He’s quiet for a moment as he looks out over vista before him. You watch as a calm comes back over him. The kind of calm that can only come from a setting as pretty as this one. Watch him take a couple steadying breaths. Even though you’ve been friends with Mingyu for years, you’ve never really seen his fear of heights firsthand. Couldn’t have imagined it would kick in for something as seemingly innocuous as a small sledding hill. Though, admittedly, it is a pretty decent size. It’s definitely not just the kind of hill people sled down in their backyards or local parks. 

“Because I wanted to try sledding and do something new. And this hill seemed important to you,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m not going to say no to something you ask me to do when you get that look in your eyes.”

“What look?” you ask to avoid considering a deeper meaning to his words.

“I don’t know. You get all starry eyed,” he says with a shrug. 

“How about this? We can go down together and check it off the list. You don’t have to sled again,” you offer. 

“We came all the way out here,” he says, unsure.

“And I got to see the prettiest sunrise of my life with my best friend beside me,” you say easily.

“Okay, okay. I can at least try,” he says.

You get up and send the smaller of the sleds down the hill without anyone on it in case you really only take the one ride. It would be a hassle to have to come back up and get it. Then, you position yourself on the bigger sled that’s meant for two people (or three kids sometimes when you were younger). Once you’re in place, you motion for Mingyu to settle in behind you. Point out where he can put his legs on either side of you, which already feels closer than normal even with how affectionate Mingyu can be. You adjust so that your back is pressed against his chest. It’s about the right balance to the sled so that you’re less likely to topple over on the way down. Mingyu has to crowd into your space to wrap his arms around your middle because he’s bigger than you are, something you hadn’t considered when suggesting this. You can almost tell that he’s considering burying his face in your hair, but stops short.

At least, until you push over the edge with a combination of wiggling and using your hands to push your forward. That’s when he buries his face. Then, you’re slowly picking up speed as you slide down the completely untouched snow. It’s always best like this, in your opinion. Before there are lanes carved into the snow. Yes, those lanes pack the snow down and can make you go faster, but you can also catch an edge and topple over more easily. 

None of that is really on your mind once you start descending though. All you can think of is the way Mingyu’s body feels pressed against yours. How it’s very foreign but also very comforting. How you can understand why your whole family so easily believes that you’re together. The comfort is effortless, something you don’t ever think about. It just exists. You focus on how funny it is to have this giant of a man wrapped around you like a koala with his head buried in your hair now because he’s nervous. You don’t even consider any other way that it might make you feel. When you let out a squeal of delight as the sled picks up more speed, you feel, rather than hear, him grumble by the tickle of his breath in your hair. It only makes him cling more tightly to you. 

It’s almost disappointing when you feel the sled level out at the bottom of the hill and slow down. It’s been the perfect way to relive one of the parts of your childhood that you loved the most. Getting to do silly little things like this really was one of the best parts of winter. You’re fully stopped before you realize that Mingyu is still clinging to you with everything he has. So, you carefully place a hand over his and feel him untense the tiniest bit.

“It’s okay, we made it to the bottom in one piece.” 

Slowly, he loosens his grip on you and actually looks up. Again, you feel this rather than seeing it. You feel the absence of his body heat and only then realize just how tightly he was clinging to you. Mingyu pulls his face out of your hair and seems to look around, as if testing that you’re really at the bottom of the hill. Like he’s not sure it’s over that quickly. 

“That wasn’t so bad.”

“No, it was a lot of fun.” 

“Do you think…could we maybe go again?” 

Both of you are standing up again now and it makes you whip your head around to look at him because you can’t believe this scaredy cat actually wants to go down again after how much it took to get him down the first time. His face is hopeful, though, and you’re not about to start saying no to that face now. Not when you never have before. So you match his smile. 

“On one condition,” you finally say. Mingyu only looks at you like he’s waiting for you to continue. “You have to actually keep your eyes open this time.” 

“You don’t know I had my eyes closed,” he insists with a pout.

“Gyu, your face was in my hair,” you say through a laugh.

“Okay, fine. Eyes open. But, I have my own condition, too,” he fires back, still kind of pouting. 

“Yes?”

“I want to ride together again.” 

It’s easy to agree to that. Even though you don’t say it out loud, it’s kind of fun riding with him, especially when the hill is so untouched. He’s tall and muscular, very helpful when it comes to carving a path and also picking up speed. He adds to the momentum and you like going faster. You don’t consider telling him that he wouldn’t go quite as fast without you because you would be losing on as well. It’s not a bad deal for either of you, really. Mingyu gets to work a little on a fear of heights on something much more manageable and you get to live out your best sled dreams. 

Each run gets a little bit easier. Mingyu holds up his end of the bargain and actually opens his eyes, which is more entertaining to you than it probably should be as he curses all the way down that first run. But, he keeps wanting to go and you’re not going to stop him. Don’t realize that maybe he also keeps going because he loves to see the way your face lights up each run. Neither of you makes an effort to get the other sled again either. 

By the time the sun is fully risen, yours and Mingyu’s cheeks are rosy from the cold. And also from the way you’ve taken to running back up the steps to the top like kids. You have to admit, even if it means he’ll get a big head, this is the most fun you’ve had in your hometown during the holidays in a long time. Honestly, it might actually be the most fun you’ve had anywhere in a while. It’s nice to get back to something simpler without worrying about anything else. Life can get busy back in the city between work and chores and endless responsibility. Sometimes it’s nice to just take a break from it all. Remember that there are more important things than just working all the time or being stressed about things you can’t really control. Maybe there’s something to simplifying life a bit. 

Now that the sun is rising, it’s a more acceptable time for people to be out and about themselves. Kids can convince their parents to take them sledding as well. At the first sign of people approaching, you and Mingyu agree that it should be your last run. You’re starting to get a little tired and you know it’ll get loud. You don’t mind having the kids around, you just know it gets harder to avoid everyone and you have to wait longer between each run. Besides, you planned something post sledding as well. It catches you off guard that he actually seems a little sad to be leaving. 

That is, until you take him to this little hole in the wall of a breakfast place. It’s something new because you’re not usually in this area when he comes with you to family events. Not that it’s far, it’s just a few towns over and there are closer places. Until winter comes around again and the elderly couple that runs the place roll out their secret recipe for hot cocoa. Honestly, you could probably just drink that without even ordering anything to eat and be the happiest person in the world. The food is amazing too, though, and you didn’t eat before leaving to go sledding. You and Mingyu order a few things to share and laugh all the way through it, talking about sledding and the trip so far.

“Thanks for this,” he says as breakfast is winding up.

You’re a little surprised at both his words and the gentleness of his tone. “For what?”

“Taking me sledding like this. That sunrise was amazing and I, well, I guess I didn’t think I’d have as much fun as I did,” he admits, a little more shy than you’re used to.

“I’m glad you trusted me,” you say and can’t quite place the look he gives you.

“I think I’d trust you with just about anything.” 

The day before Christmas is always the same. By then, you’re in desperate need of a break from your family and you think they may be in need of a break from you as well. So, each year you get together with Seungkwan and some of your other friends that still live in the area. Anyone with a partner brings them along and you have a nice, boozy brunch. This year, Seungkwan is hosting because his place is spacious and the group seems a little bigger. It’s also nice to get to really spend some time at his place since he’s only been there a few months. 

Typically, a few people in the friend group will bring over some pre-made things to warm up the next day as well as everyone bringing whatever they want to drink and share. That’s the same for this year with a slight change. Mingyu, once he sees the kitchen, says that he just has to make some food as well. After taking an inventory, he heads back out to buy more things that he needs, ignoring any of your protests and only agreeing to take your card so you can sort out the cost with your friends. (You’re not going to do that because you don’t mind just covering it, but you don’t want him to cover it either.)

When he gets back, he immediately goes into the kitchen and your friend Vernon’s girlfriend offers to help. She drags Seungkwan’s sister, who doesn’t usually come around, with her as well. Mingyu only leaves the kitchen long enough to bring you one of the mimosas that he made, insisting there’s a special ingredient. Then, it’s back to fully focusing on the food. Not that you really mind. It’s nice to just be in a low stress environment with your friends to catch up, have some drinks, and laugh a lot. 

Vernon, after looking around to make sure nobody else is listening, shows you and Seungkwan the ring he’s been walking around with for the past few weeks. Apparently, he’s finally settled that he’s going to propose to his girlfriend tomorrow on Christmas Day. You’re thrilled because they’ve been together forever and she already feels like family. Seungkwan nearly bursts into tears, which you have to quickly cover so nobody realizes what’s happening. You love that your best friend is like that. It’s just not the time if you want to keep it a secret that Vernon wants to propose. 

It also feels nice to be in a group where you don’t have to pretend. Nothing changes all that much for how you and Mingyu are together because he’s always affectionate with you. But, you get to trade any of the not-so-subtle comments about when you’re going to get married to the relentless teasing about how he passes as your boyfriend so easily. It’s nice to have someone joking about it and you find you don’t even mind. Especially when Mingyu chimes in with his own little comments from the kitchen. There seems like there’s a lot of laughter in there as well. 

“You’re going to have to dress him better if he’s going to keep posing as your boyfriend,” Seungkwan jokes and you look over at the kitchen. 

Mingyu is wearing this kind of awful green zip up sweater. It’s not even that nice, soft material. But, he insisted on wearing it because he wanted to wear something with Christmas colors and it was the only thing he had apart from his outfit for tomorrow. It makes you roll your eyes again remembering it.

“I know,” you sigh. “Usually he dresses so well and then there’s that.” 

Your eyes drift back over to him in the kitchen again and you kind of wish you hadn’t looked back. You catch him as something falls off a spoon he’s using to taste test and onto his skin. And, without seeming to think about it, he sucks it off his hand. Then, licks along his finger for good measure. It makes your heart stutter a little in a way that’s completely foreign to you. Why are you so entirely transfixed by someone who’s supposed to be your best friend and fake boyfriend doing that?

“Hey, you good?” Seungkwan asks, snapping in front of your eyes.

You shake your head to clear it before turning back to him. “Yeah, sorry, zoned out for a second.”

“Uh huh,” he says skeptically, but you catch his eyes darting over to Mingyu. 

“Don’t,” you warn him, causing him to throw his hands up in defense. 

“I won’t,” he says. “But, if you decide you want to talk about it…”

“Talk about what?” Mingyu asks. You hadn’t even seen him leave the kitchen. 

“The issue she’s having with Mimi,” Seungkwan lies quickly. 

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “She won’t leave me alone.” 

“And that seems to be driving both of you crazy,” Seungkwan observes. 

“Well, yeah, our bestie is just being a good friend and she knows I’m uncomfortable,” Mingyu says before you can answer. Is that all it is? For the first time, you’re not sure.

“I’m not sure how I feel about sharing a best friend,” Seungkwan says with feigned distaste.

Mingyu tries to give The Look again, but fails even worse than with you. Nobody can outdo Seungkwan and so he gives up. “Food is ready.” 

“Oh good, I’m starving,” Vernon interrupts. 

The rest of brunch goes by without Seungkwan making any other comments. To you, at least. You don’t see him sit down next to Mingyu after the food is done like it’s casual and unplanned. Nothing that man ever does is either of those things, though. What you do notice is how easily he fits into this group of friends. Sure, he knows Seungkwan pretty well and he’s met nearly everyone there. But, he doesn’t get to spend much time around them. Not really, in the grand scheme of things. It isn’t really surprising, if you think about it, because they’re all close friends of yours and he tends to think you have good taste where friends are concerned.

It is a little weird, you think as Mingyu sits on the other side of the room, that he seems to be a little glued to his phone now that things are getting closer to wrapping up. He checks it mid conversation and furrows his brow at whatever he sees. Both seem unusual. Mingyu is always one of those people that gives his full attention to a conversation. Unless it’s an emergency, he likes to be present in a moment. It’s one of your favorite things about him. It’s also unlike him to be so upset by something on his phone. You can’t think of any person that would be creating that reaction from him. Or anyone that he wouldn’t just ignore until later. You try to put it out of your mind as best you can. If it’s something serious, he’ll talk to you about it. At least, you hope. 

Any other time, you would be thrilled to have your favorite cousin staying at your parents’ house for the holidays. She’s always been your confidant and one of your safe spaces. Now? You can’t stand it. You really wish she would be literally anywhere else. Just the sight of her is getting to be enough to set you off. It seems like she’s really taking it to heart that Mingyu is single. You’re not sure what her game is and you hate it. 

Of course, she manages to corner you the second you’re back to your parents’ house. You’re not exactly paying all that much attention, though. The end of brunch with your friends had been a little weird, even if nobody else noticed it. Mingyu accepted all the praise for the things he made, but was distracted by his phone. Someone, you’re not really sure who, kept sending him messages. Whatever it was didn’t seem to be making him happy. Not that you really have any right to ask him who’s blowing up his phone. It’s just a little weird. Usually he’s so present in events like brunch. It’s odd to see him constantly checking his phone. Odder still that he had headed off to the bedroom as soon as you got back. You’re a little buzzed from the mimosas. Mingyu, on the other hand, is very sober.

“There you are,” Mimi says, appearing as if out of thin air. It makes you jump back, hand on your heart.

“Jesus,” you gasp out.

“No, Mimi,” she jokes. Any other time, it would make you laugh. You’re not so entertained with her now. 

“What are you sneaking up on me for?” you ask instead. 

She rolls her eyes and looks around. “I’m not sneaking up on you. I was just trying to catch you away from the others.”

“Why?”

“Why do you have that fake boyfriend of yours on such a tight leash?”

Out of habit, you look around to make sure nobody is listening. Everyone seems too busy, though. “I don’t have Mingyu on a leash.”

“Then explain why he’s basically refusing to answer any of my texts,” she says, arms crossed.

“I don’t know why…wait a minute. Was it you texting him while we were at brunch?” you ask.

This, somehow, seems to satisfy her. “Oh, so he’s not telling you who’s texting him.” 

“I didn’t ask, honestly.”

“Well, I don’t see why he’d be ignoring - “

Your brain catches up then. “Hang on. How the fuck did you get his number?” 

Mimi rolls her eyes again with a huff. “Please. You’ve had the same passcode on your phone for ages. I just grabbed it when you left your phone out.” 

“That’s so fucked, Mimi. You can’t just go through my phone or take his number,” you say. 

“You’re no fun anymore,” she says with a whine.

You’re not interested in hearing anything else she has to say because you just want to talk to Mingyu. This is getting insane that she’s going to this amount of trouble just to try to get to him. Yet, it’s also weird he kept it to himself that she was texting him. The two of you have talked a lot about the shit Mimi pulls in order to get close to him. Why is it different now that she’s texting him while he’s out with your friends? Is he starting to get worn out from dealing with the insanity of your family? Every other time he’s been around, it’s been really chill. This time, not so much. 

Up in your room, you don’t initially see Mingyu. You’re not sure what you’re expecting. Maybe him on his phone texting or else complaining to another friend about how this whole trip is going. Or even talking to his sister about getting out to see her instead of staying here. None of that happens, though. Instead, you find him in the bathroom applying a face mask. It’s a little ridiculous and definitely the last thing you expect. But, you also know that it’s a sign he’s carrying some amount of stress. 

That’s the thing about being as close to someone as you are to Mingyu. To most people, he’s got this unfailing streak of energy and kindness. He’s the kind of person that lets himself be bullied by all his friends even though he could definitely take them. It’s all part of making sure everyone is enjoying themselves and most things just roll off his broad shoulders. There are hidden depths to him, too. Sometimes he gets a little worn out because he’ll keep things to himself instead of burdening someone else. He takes so much onto his own plate and you wish he wouldn’t. At least, not always. He’ll go until it feels a little unbearable and then finally speak up. He’ll force a smile even when he doesn’t feel like it just to make sure nobody else realizes anything is wrong. In a way, he folds in on himself a little. But, you’ve been friends for years so you know his tells. Know how to spot the signs. It takes you a little longer this time surrounded by family and some friends. This is one of those signs, though. Taking the time to do a face mask, even if it’s in the middle of the day, to just give him an excuse to be quiet. 

You’re not usually the one to initiate physical contact with him. Not because you don’t want to, he just never really gives you the chance. He’s like a human koala most of the time. With his back to the door and his eyes closed to enjoy the feeling of the mask, he doesn’t even hear you approach. Your hands wind around his waist, hugging him tightly from the back and your head rests between his shoulder blades. For the briefest moment, he tenses and you worry that he’s using this as a break from you. Then, he realizes it’s just you and his entire body relaxes. He puts his hands over yours and sighs softly. After a moment, it doesn’t seem like it’s enough because he turns in your arms and pulls you tight against his chest, wrapping you so tightly in his own arms that you would complain in any other situation. Not now, though. Not when he’s putting himself through all of this just so you don’t have to have a stressful holiday experience. 

When it’s like this, you don’t dream of pulling away from Mingyu. There’s so much that he does for you and it’s so rare that you can do anything for him in return. So, you’ll stay tightly pressed against him as long as he wants. You won’t be the one to break the hug first. If you can take even a little bit of whatever he’s feeling onto your own shoulders, you will. This trip has been so much better than you could have expected in most ways and you’re determined to be more conscious of his needs. Eventually, he does pull away and let you look up into his face. He looks much more at peace than you expect. Maybe your hugs do have healing powers like he always says. Mingyu turns to remove the face mask and wipe his face before turning back to you.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly into the space between you. 

“For what?” he asks. 

“For the whole drama that is my family,” you start. “Mostly, for Mimi, though.” 

“Ah,” he says and his face falls a little.

“Gyu, I would never have put you in this position if I had known she would be like this,” you say earnestly. 

“I don’t think anyone could have guessed she’d pull all this,” he says with a humorless laugh.

“You should’ve told me that she was texting you and bugging you like that,” you say without any accusation. You just want to be able to share in his burden.

He only shrugs. “We were with your friends and you looked so happy. I didn’t want to bring it down. How did you even find out she was texting me?” 

“She told me,” you say with an eye roll. 

“Really?”

“Well, she cornered me and asked why I had you on such a tight leash…”

“Kinky,” he interrupts and it nearly makes you choke. 

“And then, when I asked how she even got your number, she told me she’d gone into my phone and taken it,” you say to avoid thinking too deeply about Mingyu and any kinks he might have. 

“Bold,” he observes. 

“Do you like that?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

The second the question comes out of your mouth, you wish you could take it back. What is going on with your brain today? First you’re losing your train of thought watching Mingyu lick something off his finger. Then, you’re wondering about his kinks. Now, you’re wondering if he likes someone that’s a little bit bold. It’s got to just be the atmosphere that you’re in. Or that you’re pretending to date him. It’s messing with your mind and you’re not responsible for the way you act. 

The worst part is that Mingyu’s entire face changes. He gets that knowing look on his face when he meets your eyes. A little cocky. The look that says he knows just how attractive he can be. It’s not usually directed at you and you’re not really sure what to do now that it is. 

“Sometimes,” he says. “Not necessarily from someone I’m not actually interested in, though.” 

“Good to know.” 

Mingyu arches an eyebrow and okay, that’s devastating. Maybe you’re still a little under the influence of the mimosas. There’s no other explanation for the way your knees go a little weak at such a simple movement. “Is it?”

“Huh?” you ask, shaking your head to clear it.

“You said it was good to know and I asked if it was,” he repeats, smirk only deepening.

“Oh, sure,” you say and he seems momentarily surprised. “You know, so I can tell Mimi.”

You’re actually not entirely sure what makes you say it. It’s not like you would ever want him to consider Mimi. It might actually drive you crazy if he went for her. He gets that look on his face that you’re all too familiar with. Affection mixed with exasperation. Nobody seems to get it more than you.

“Too bad for her that I’m very much not interested,” he says. 

“Shame. I don’t know how I would get over the loss.”

“Luckily you don’t have to because you’re stuck with me.”

“Until you actually have a crush on someone again.” 

Even though you say it, you want to take it back as soon as it comes out of your mouth. Images come rushing into your mind of Mingyu falling in love with someone that actually lasts. Someone that could take your best friend away from you. Which should be what you want, right? You should want him to be happy. And you do.  You just can’t really stand the thought of a life where he’s happy without you being right there by his side. This trip makes you think about a lot more than you bargained for. 

“I do have a crush,” he says softly.

“Oh, of course,” you say and look away from him. That’s fine. This is all fine.

His finger is under your chin the next second to pull your face back around to his. It’s the look of patience that you also see a lot. Especially when he’s trying to teach you something in the kitchen. Or explain something from work. Or really just talk about anything he’s passionate about. 

“The crush is on you, dummy,” he says softly. 

“What?” you ask, not sure you heard him correctly. 

With a shake of his head, he steps back to lean against the bathroom. “Of all the times I pictured telling you this, I never considered telling you in the bathroom attached to your old bedroom at your parents’ house.” 

“We don’t…” you start and he shakes his head again.

“No, this probably fits,” he says with a light laugh. The kind when he’s just a little caught off guard himself. “I thought I wanted to tell you after brunch with your friends and, I don’t know, I could be misreading the whole thing, but I think you’re ready to hear it now too. I like you. I’ve been more than happy just to be your friend because I didn’t want to say something before we were both ready. I’m happy to be here as your friend that’s only pretending to date you because I’d do anything to make life easier for you.”

“Mingyu,” you say, so low it’s barely above a whisper. Like you’re afraid to break the quiet in the limited space between you. 

“You don’t have to say…” he starts, only to be interrupted by a loud knock at your bedroom door. 

Your senses are entirely overwhelmed and you wonder what he sees as you look up at him, eyes wide in wonder. Before this, you would say that your brain could process too many things all at the same time. That it always had a million things going on. Now, you can’t seem to do any of that. Can’t focus on anything other than your beautiful best friend before you and the fact that apparently he has feelings for you. You see his mouth move, assume it’s to answer the knock, and have to shake yourself back to reality. Need to come out of this day dream so that you can react to whoever is at the door. 

“Too bad, lovebirds, you have to come downstairs. Attendance for games and cookie decorating is mandatory on Christmas Eve,” your cousin calls back. 

“Mimi, just…” you start to call out to her and Mingyu shakes his head.

“We’ll be right down!” he cuts across you. He waits, seeming like he’s listening for the sound of Mimi walking away from the door. How he can hear anything over the pounding of your heart seems unthinkable. Somehow, he must hear something because he turns back to you with soft eyes and speaks in an even softer voice. “It’s okay, we can talk tonight after dinner or when we come to bed. There’s no pressure for you to even say anything. Our friendship is the most important thing in the world to me.” 

With that, he gives you a quick peck on the top of the head. Something that’s immediately gentler than anything you’ve experienced with him during the entire course of your friendship. The smile he gives you as he steps around you to lead the way down to interact with your family has you go weak in the knees. Has he ever smiled at you like that before? Or is it a new smile? Once upon a time, you would have said that you had every facial expression of his memorized from years spent in each other’s company. Years spent sharing private jokes, going on adventures, complaining about work and family and everything in between. But maybe, you think, there are still things that you can learn about Mingyu. Maybe there are still things that you can learn from him as well. 

When you don’t immediately follow after him, Mingyu turns around to grab your hand and pull you along with him. There’s something about the way he threads his fingers through yours and squeezes that makes your heart pound again before settling down. His touch is gentle, like it always is, and filled with complete care. You don’t notice the way he glances back at you every few steps. Not with concern, but with curiosity. He would have bet he knew your every facial expression and can’t fully place the way you look now. Somehow, even though he can’t completely tell what you’re thinking, he knows that he made the right decision. Knows it was time to tell you what’s been on his mind. Knows that, no matter what, he’s still going to have his best friend on the other side of this trip.

It’s chaos once you and Mingyu get downstairs, like it always is at your parents’ house on Christmas Eve. Though, this definitely seems a little busier than years past. You’re not sure why that is either, but everyone seems to want to join in on the traditions that your parents cling to. In any case, it’s a good thing for you because it lets you just blend into the group of people without your parents paying entirely too much attention to you. Mingyu uses your hand intertwined with his to pull you into him, the way he has countless other times on this trip, and presses a kiss to your temple. Then, he’s off into the kitchen, throwing a joke at your mom about how he’s here now and she doesn’t need to worry. He looks over his shoulder and winks at you as your mother puts him to work mixing ingredients. You honestly don’t even know how you react in response. It must be okay, though, because he smiles back at you.

You love to decorate the cookies and will happily help make them in other situations, but there are already too many cooks in the kitchen. Instead, you help to set up some of the card tables that your parents keep for times like these. It gives people the chance to figure out what they might want to play and who they want to join them. It really is a nice tradition, no matter how you feel about your parents. And since your mother usually spends more time on baking and decorating the cookies, she doesn’t notice if things get a little too competitive between you and the cousins. Or if your father eggs the rest of you on while he watches. She has her favorite parts and lets everyone else do whatever it is they want to do. As long as everyone takes a break to help with decorating the cookies. Not that it’s ever a concern, that’s most people’s favorite part. 

Once the tables are all set up, you settle into a board game with some of your cousins. Usually, you’re one of the more competitive ones. Board games come pretty easily to you and you pick up on the strategy quickly. If your cousins notice that you’re not nearly as invested this time, they let you have it. And they do notice it, pretty quickly, but let you have it. It’s easy to see you’re distracted and to see that you keep glancing into the kitchen at Mingyu. They just let you have it. It’s in their best interest, anyway. It’s nice to get the chance to win without you being fully committed to beating everyone around you. 

This kind of setting really gives you a chance to think without shutting yourself away in your bedroom. That’s too obvious. You can’t just say that your best friend confessed feelings for you and now you need to figure out what your own feelings are. Not when he’s pretending to be your boyfriend already. Not when your whole family already thinks you’re lying about having just gotten together with him. And not when your mother would probably kill you if you missed out on traditions that may be older than you are. 

All the spiralling in your brain is just cover, you realize, for the bigger picture. Mingyu likes you and he thinks this is the right time to have a conversation about it. He also knows that your friendship is the most important. You agree. He’s one of the most important people in your life, but is he more than that to you too? Is it possible that it’s more than friendship? That’s not something you ever considered. When you and Mingyu met in university it was through someone you were dating at the time. The relationship was, fortunately, very short lived. But the friendship with Mingyu, that was the stuff of stories. That instant connection that survived the breakup. The two of you always joke that your friendship was meant to be and that’s why it lasted when the relationship didn’t. Why others could come and go from your lives but you two are forever. Especially when either of you has dated someone that had an issue with the friendship. It’s insane to think that men and women can’t be friends. A completely archaic way of thinking. 

That makes you think about your friendship with Seungkwan, though. Someone in your life who has also always been a constant. Someone who supports all your rights and your wrongs, even if he gives you a hard time too. And that’s when something else clicks. Your past partners haven’t objected to your friendship with Seungkwan nearly as often as your friendship with Mingyu. It’s not that he’s not attractive, because he definitely is. It can’t be that you’re not as close. Seungkwan has been with you through a lot. It could be that there's been more distance between you and him since you moved away, but you’re not sure that’s it either. He’s a constant in your life even from a distance. When you can’t see him, you regularly FaceTime him. So, no, he’s still present even if he’s not in the same city. 

And then it hits you. You don’t watch Seungkwan lick something off his finger while he’s cooking.  You don’t get jealous of your cousin hitting on him, regardless of what else is going on. You don’t seek out physical affection in the same way. Don’t find yourself looking over at Seungkwan for his reaction to everything going on around you. Don’t want to know his thoughts on something before you make each big decision. Seungkwan is your best friend and he means the world to you, but the thought of him constantly kissing you on the cheek or the temple or forehead or even the back of your hand doesn’t unleash butterflies in your stomach. 

Holy shit. You’re in love with Mingyu. Definitely in way over your head with feelings that should have been obvious to you. It’s impossible to pinpoint when it might have happened or how. Maybe there isn’t a specific time. Maybe it’s something that happens slowly over time. You know that when you first became friends it was only that, a friendship. Someone that you could be yourself around and feel at home with in a very foreign environment. Somewhere along the way, it’s morphed into more. He really is the person you want to share all your news with, the person that you look to for support first. It’s so clear to you that your feelings are there now that he’s confessed and gotten you thinking about it. When you meet his eyes across the room, you wonder if he can see the realization on your face. 

Now that you realize that you also have feelings for Mingyu, you’re not sure how you missed it before. If you consider the traits you’re looking for in a partner, he ticks off every box. And if you’re being completely honest, he’s been the reason for adding some traits to your list. So, not that you’ll admit this to any of your most recent exes, but maybe they had a point when they questioned your relationship with Mingyu. Not a big point. They still had shitty reasons for disliking Mingyu, but a small point nonetheless. 

The rest of the evening seems to go by entirely too slowly, even if you do enjoy yourself. Much to the dismay of your cousins, you’re no longer distracted and you proceed to kick their asses at any game they suggest. You do go a little easier on them than normal, though, and avoid any of the trash talk. Thankfully Seungkwan isn’t there to point out that being in a good mood makes you soft. Even decorating the cookies is more fun than you can remember. You try not to think about whether that’s because Mingyu sits right next to you the whole time, trying to sabotage your cookie designs or make you laugh with his own. Spoiler alert: it absolutely is and you’re already down horrendous. It’s even easier to act like a cute couple in love now than it was before. And you also ignore the realization that it being so easy to pretend to be in a relationship with your best friend should have also been an indicator. Nobody ever said you were the most observant when it came to your own feelings. 

Finally, you get a free moment to go upstairs. It’s time to get changed for Christmas Eve dinner and that gives you both the chance to excuse yourselves. The only person who seems to be tracking the movement with some amount of interest is Mimi. You’re too caught up in reaching out for Mingyu’s hand to notice, though. His smile at the action is immediately familiar and new. Familiar because you know his face better than your own and new because you didn’t expect to see him looking at you like that.

“I didn’t expect your mom to have me working so hard in the kitchen helping with the cookie dough,” he says once you close the door. 

“Oh, I did,” you say through a snort. 

“How was the - “ 

“You were right.” 

You both go to speak at the same time and Mingyu’s mouth closes the second he realizes what you said. Whatever he wants to ask dies on his tongue over three words from your mouth. They might just be the second best three words you could say to him right then. 

“About?” he prompts. 

“It was the right time to tell me,” you confirm for him. It’s clear that he’s biting his tongue to let you say whatever you need to. Even if he knows by the look on your face. “I like you too.” 

“Thank fucking god,” he says with an exhale. “When Seungkwan told me that I should tell you because he caught you watching me, I thought he was being a shit and…”

“Wait, what?” you ask. Fucking Seungkwan. Of course.

“Oh, yeah, at brunch earlier he said that he noticed you watching me while I was cooking and that if I liked you like he thought I did, that I should probably tell you,” he says a little sheepishly. 

“You know what? Forget Seungkwan. I need to see something,” you say and close the space between you. 

Before Mingyu can ask anything, you’re on your tiptoes, hands cupping his face and lips pressed to his. He wraps his arms around your lower back to pull you tighter against his body without missing a beat. And that really is all you need to know. Everything is in that first real kiss. Any lingering hesitations slip away. You can feel his promises and the answers to the questions you know you’ll have to actually ask in that kiss. For now, it just feels like coming home. Like you found the person that can get through all the bullshit and remind you about what’s actually important in life. 

“Wow,” you say when you pull away.

“Yeah,” he agrees. 

“Is that what I’ve been missing out on?” you wonder.

“Just how long have you liked me?” he says with an all too knowing smirk. 

“I only realized today so I’ve got some catch up to do,” you joke. 

“We both do, I think,” he says. 

Without having to say a word, both of you get ready for Christmas dinner since your mother insists that you get dressed up. Every few seconds one of you seems to catch the other looking. It feels exciting, but you’re also a little shy. There’s a lot to talk about and a lot to navigate. You know you can’t put it aside. It just doesn’t feel as time sensitive now. This is one of the most important people in your life and it’s going to work out. At least, if you can get through the whole drawn out affair that is dinner first. 

Which you do. Through all your mother’s courses and all the formality that she insists on following, you have Mingyu by your side. You’re not even distracted by Mimi on the other side of the table. She can’t seem to take her eyes off you while you and Mingyu can’t take your eyes off each other. More than once, you entirely miss a question and Mingyu has to nudge you to prompt you. It’s not your fault, you reason. He’s just so insanely attractive and made all the more so because you know that he’s a genuinely wonderful person. 

Every part of you wants to skip the after dinner drinks and go back upstairs with Mingyu, but he quietly insists that you should stay. Even laughs when you turn his signature pout back around on him. If he makes a good point that you have nothing but time, you still want to take advantage of some of that time right now. Instead, you sip on your rumchata and curl into Mingyu on the oversized armchair by the fire. Despite trying to leave a little bit of space, you’re basically sitting on his lap at his own insistence. 

Once the first people start to call it a night, you look at Mingyu with nearly pleading eyes. That gets a light laugh out of him as he nods to agree that you can go upstairs to your bedroom. You say your goodnights to everyone in the room, wish people a Happy Christmas Eve, and lead the way back up to your room even though he doesn’t need the directions 

It’s nice to have uninterrupted time to figure everything out with Mingyu now that your feelings are out in the open. And once you’re both changed and through your skincare routines, you get into bed just to talk. It’s remarkable how much can fall into place so easily. It’s obvious that he figured out his feelings first. You insist that yours are already just as strong. The two of you depend on each other in everything without realizing it. Turn to each other for support. Share in all the best news. Suffer through any heartbreak together. In the years of friendship, there’s something deeper than either of you ever expected.

Honestly, it’s not even something either of you just held onto or harbored for years. The feelings really came suddenly. Mingyu shares that he wasn’t just waiting around to tell you that he had feelings for you. He also shares, though you already know, that no part of him felt entitled to your returned feelings. Had Seungkwan not said something, he’s not even sure if or when he would have said something. The last thing he would ever want was to make you uncomfortable. As much as he cares about you and wants to explore the relationship, you’re also the best friend he’s ever had. You feel the same. It’s a little scary and exciting at the same time. You trust Mingyu with your heart in a way that you’ve never trusted anyone else.

It’s entirely too late into the night by the time you and Mingyu fall asleep. How the two of you have so much to say at this point in the friendship is something to be studied. But, eventually you drift off, completely intertwined with Mingyu. He’s been a cuddler this whole trip and you’re not sure how he’s gotten himself even more attached to you. Yet, he does. It’s like any space between you would be too much. It’s too much satisfaction to give him that he’s right. He can tell anyway. 

When you wake up, it feels too early. A fact only confirmed when you check your phone. None of the little cousins or your cousins with kids are staying at your parents’ house. So, you know that it doesn’t have to be an early start to the morning. You consider if you can drift off back to sleep. In the night, you ended up with Mingyu spooning you. His arm is loosely draped over you and your back is pressed somewhat lightly into his chest. When you go to adjust to think about drifting back off, your ass brushes against his hips, you feel something press into you. That stops you for a moment. Obviously, you and Mingyu talked about sex the night before. About how you wanted to try to take it a little slower since this means so much to both of you. And obviously you know that it’s relatively common for a guy to wake up a little hard. Your brain knows all those things. Knows what you should do. You should just reposition and go back to sleep. 

That’s not what you actually do though. 

So carefully that it could be an accident, you wiggle against him, a little harder this time. You yawn like you’re actually just adjusting to get comfortable and fall back asleep. He might let you get away with it, too, if you didn’t do it more than once, pressing further back into him each time. You know he’s awake by the sharp intake of breath and then the way he moves his hand to grip your thigh. The way his fingertips dig into your skin there makes you grind back harder without pretending it’s anything else. 

Mingyu puts his lips to your ear. “Are you trying to drive me crazy?” 

“No,” you whisper. 

“I thought we said we were going to take it slow,” he says with incredible difficulty.

“I can move slower,” you answer immediately. It feels gratifying when he snaps his hips into your ass. 

“You’re teasing me,” he whines.

“Not if I follow through,” you say. “I want you, Mingyu. I don’t want to wait.” 

“Fuck,” he hisses as you continue to grind into him. “I want you to.” 

“Then…” you start and immediately cut off as his hand winds back around to your front. He grabs your pussy through your shorts that suddenly feel too flimsy. Runs his long middle finger up your core and you immediately know you started something that he’s going to finish. 

But his hand is gone entirely too quickly. Worse still, he pulls back. It’s only long enough for him to turn you towards him and then pull you on top of him. Your brain catches back up once you’re straddle over him and he pulls your face towards him. You kiss him like you haven’t yet. Full of desire and desperation. Nothing like the first few kisses you share. Those kisses were to make sure this was right. This kiss is to ruin him. Maybe to ruin yourself as well. His hands are on your hips, anchoring you to him, not that there’s anywhere else you could possibly be. 

It’s never been like this with anyone. Just some heavy kissing and you’re already getting turned on. Already wondering what’s next. What it’s going to feel like. If Mingyu is the type of person that will take his time with you. It’s hard to imagine when he seems just as desperate as you are. At least, he tries to anchor you in a certain position so that you can’t grind too much. Maybe he does want to savor it. You really are down horrendous for this man because you think you could just kiss him like this forever and never quite get enough. 

All too soon, Mingyu rolls the pair of you over again. Now he’s hovering over you and nobody has any business being that hot. And then he pulls back, somewhat straddling your legs without putting too much weight on you. In one movement, he pulls his shirt over his head and casts it aside. Okay, now you really think that nobody has any business being that hot. And sure, you’ve seen him shirtless before. This is just different. You don’t even realize as he’s reaching for your shirt until you feel his fingers brush the skin of your stomach. He’s looking for permission, but you’re a little impatient and pull the shirt off yourself. You’re not sure that anyone has ever looked at your body with so much love. Like he’s just as amazed as you are. He peppers your chest and your chest and your stomach with kisses. Showing you just how much he loves every bit of you. It’s the safest feeling in the world and you’re not really sure how you got this lucky. 

Mingyu is so gentle when he pulls your shorts off. Trails kisses along your thighs as well and makes you shiver. Chuckles when he pulls his own off and you swallow at the sight of him. He’s a big guy and somehow you’re still not expecting his dick to be big like it is. Haven’t ever really thought about it in all the time you’ve been friends. You expect him to be all confident seeing your reaction. There’s something else there too, though. Like he’s a little nervous about this. You’re not really sure what to say to reassure him, so you just pull him back to you to kiss him again. He adjusts into you almost immediately, half laying on top of you while still making sure that he’s not crushing you.

This time kissing him is very different, though. He moves one hand between your legs. It’s gentle at first. He only runs his finger up your center a few times. Catches each moan with his kisses. Slowly works a finger inside you and pumps at a languid pace. It turns you into a whiny, squirming mess entirely too quickly. Empties any thoughts or worries out of your head. You know you can’t be too loud and you hate it. Nobody should be able to kiss this well while also hitting the perfect spot with each pass of his fingers. He adds a second finger and you’re sure that you’re done for. Sure that nothing else will ever feel as perfect as him again. You reach to stroke him and he pulls back. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, unable to hide the concern in your voice.

“No, nothing,” he assures you quickly. “I just, um, well I really want to fuck you and I’m not sure I could handle it if…”

“Do you have a condom?” you ask, already ready to say it doesn’t matter if you have to.

“I might?” he says more like a question and gets off the bed to cross to his bag with too much speed. In any other situation you might laugh. Now, you just want to feel him. A moment later, after rifling through his bag, he comes back up with one. 

He’s moving back to you, unwrapping the condom, and then he looks up at you. There’s a question in his eyes.

“Yes, Mingyu, I want this. And yes, I want it here,” you assure him. 

Thankfully, that’s the only confirmation he needs. In the next second, he’s pumping himself a few times and rolling the rubber onto himself. You move to reposition, but he doesn’t let you. He gently presses you back and gets between your legs. Carefully, he lines himself up and presses in. 

“Oh fuck,” you hiss out, trying to stay quiet. 

“Too much?” he asks and stills.

“No, Gyu, just move, please,” you whine out, pulling him into you. 

He does exactly what you ask and snaps his hips so he’s fully buried inside you. It’s a stretch in the best way. Like this is exactly how it’s supposed to be. You can’t help it, you moan out the first time he thrusts and he catches the second moan with another bruising kiss. Probably better to have bruised lips than to have your family hear the screams you let out as he fucks you. Probably better than having them hear his moans as well. They vibrate through his chest and it gives you a sense of pride. Mingyu is a taker in every sense of his life. You know that it must be killing him to keep quiet now. 

The two of you fall into a perfect rhythm without even trying. There’s nothing awkward about it being your first time. Knowing each other as well as you do as friends seems to translate here. Or maybe Mingyu just pays much closer attention to you than you realize. You run your nails down his back and his thrusts stutter so you do it again. That seems to get to him. He picks up the paces of his thrusts. Pulls his dick almost all the way out of you before quickly snapping his hips to bury himself in your pussy again. Never in your life has sex as simple as this position felt so good. Never has anyone you’ve dated felt this perfect. 

When Mingyu’s thrusts start to stutter, you reach down between your bodies to rub your clit. Seconds later, your pussy clenches around Mingyu and your vision whites out. You can feel Mingyu release and try to pick up the pace to work him through his own orgasm. He half collapses on you, breathing heavy. Both of you have to catch your breath from all the kisses to muffle the noises as well. He tries to roll over so that he’s not on top of you and you cling to him, not ready to lose contact just yet.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assures you.

“I know.” 

“That was…” 

“Better than I was expecting.” 

You can feel his eyes on you even without looking and it makes you smile. Can imagine what he’s about to say before he even opens his mouth.

“Oh, you didn’t think I’d be any good?” 

You laugh at that as you turn to face him. “No, I thought you’d be good. I just didn’t expect our first time where we had to be quiet because we’re in my parents house to be that good.” 

He considers your words for a second.

“I guess I can take that,” he concedes. 

“Come on. We have to clean up and get downstairs,” you say and he sighs dramatically. But, then he gets up and helps you up with him. 

Half an hour later, you’re downstairs at the kitchen table sipping on a peppermint mocha latte and picking out your favorite pastries from the spread your mother has out. Mingyu has his chair pulled close to you and his arm along the back of your chair. Your cousin is sitting on your other side, cheerily humming under her breath. In a strange move, she isn’t even trying to speak to Mingyu. Just as you’re trying to figure out what’s going on with her, she turns to you.

“Have a good morning?” she asks knowingly.

“We’ll talk about it later,” you hiss back, casting your eyes around. 

“No need,” she waves off and shoots a smirk at you. “I got exactly what I wanted.” 

“I don’t…” 

“Seungkwan and I have been talking a lot. Plotting, I guess you could say. Seems like it finally paid off,” she says and your jaw hangs open. 

“Are you…did you just…” you stutter out. 

“As long as it’s real now,” she says and doesn’t wait for confirmation. Doesn’t need it, when it’s written all over your face. “We can talk about it later but I am sorry.” 

“You and fucking Seungkwan,” you grumble. 

It is a weight off your chest, though. Mimi has always been your favorite. A safe space in all the insanity of your family. It’s good to know that she’s still that for you. The two of you can argue about her methods, or her alliance with Seungkwan, later. It’s hard to ignore that it did actually help. You’re in this place because some of your favorite people meddled to help you and Mingyu see sense. Maybe you can say all is well that ends well. 

In between all the chaos of breakfast and making sure the presents are under the tree, you manage to tell Mingyu about what Mimi had really been up to. He seems relieved. Not even annoyed, just happy that things can settle into whatever the new normal looks like for you and him. You also find time to whisper all the things you want to do to him when there aren’t prying eyes around. It may be cruel, but you delight in the way the blush rises up his cheeks and the way he shifts in his seat. You’re going to have a lot of fun playing with him, you already know. He’s so easy to rile up. Now you have brand new material to use on him. 

Your mother works to corral everyone into the living room where the Christmas tree is so that people can start opening presents. You always hold back and watch at first. Don’t even make an effort to find anything that might be for you. It’s more fun to see people’s reactions. Does your mother like what your father picked out? Are your cousins humoring their parents? Did someone manage to get something that’s genuinely a surprise? There’s never a dull moment. In fact, you’re so lost in thought watching that you don't notice wasn’t beside you until he plops back down and nudges you. Hands a small, beautifully wrapped box over to you. 

“Go on, open it,” he urges you softly. It’s clear he’s trying not to draw too much attention. 

Exchanging gifts with Mingyu isn’t new. It’s something you do every year. This is unexpected though. Usually you exchange gifts away from other people because they can be a little silly. Nothing about this feels silly, though. With a final questioning glance at him, you pull the ribbon off and carefully ripping the paper. It’s immediately clear that it’s a jewelry box. That makes your heart hammer. You can’t even look over at him. Surely this is something he had already. It’s not like there’s been any time to go out and get something in the midst of all your confessions. 

There’s a necklace inside the box. Something that looks old, important. The kind of thing you can tell has been well worn and loved without looking cheap. There’s a pendant hanging from the chain with your favorite stone in a setting that you instantly love. It’s the most perfect gift that anyone has ever given you and it makes you a little emotional. You turn to Mingyu, tears welling in your eyes, and want to have the moment just for the two of you. Unfortunately, your mother and several other family members watch your reaction.

“It’s beautiful,” you say softly.

“Do you like it?” he asks, still unsure.

“I love it,” you say earnestly.

“It was my grandmother’s that she got from her grandmother before her. She told me to hold onto it and that I would just know when I should give it to someone,” he says and that does you in. Any last resolve disappears. 

The only response you can think of is to just kiss him. A real kiss pressed to his lips full of all the words you can’t say about how much a present like this means to you. How sure you are that you two are making the right decision. It’s so meaningful. 

“I love you,” he says quietly, trying to keep it just for the two of you. Which doesn’t happen. Not that it matters. Your parents have heard you saying you loved each other this whole trip. It means something different now, though.

“I love you, too,” you say back. “So much.” 

“It’s a beautiful necklace,” your mother offers as Mingyu helps you to put it on. 

“I thought it would look good on her,” he adds to your mother. 

“Almost as good as a ring,” your mother says. It’s the least subtle comment in the entire world.

Mingyu doesn’t miss a beat. Just smiles and nods a little. “Well, maybe you’ll have to invite me back next year and see what the gift is.” 

“You have a deal.” 

For the first time, you’re not upset with your mother for bringing up marriage and the idea of settling down. You’re just basking in the affection coming from Mingyu and appreciating your new necklace. Soon, you’ll have to leave this little bubble. Trade the idyllic snow covered scenery where everything moves a little slower for your life back in the city. But, you’ll be taking a different relationship with Mingyu back. You think that maybe he’ll be the key to you finally figuring out how to balance it all. Maybe he’s been the answer all along. 

[windixie]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ out of touch ♱ soccer player! gojo x alt! reader pt.1

summary : gojo is the university's most popular boy and soccer player. he can get any girl he wanted to warm up his bed, so why did he catch feelings for the girl who looks like she just woke up out of a coffin?

warnings ☠︎︎ this will contain smut throughout the story. reader is implied to have a smaller chest! gojo is an asshole :( so angst, profanity, insecurities, p in v, creampie, comfort, fluff, slight breeding kink, light choking, jealousy, ill prob add to the list as the story progresses!

word count : 1.03k

let me know if you want to be added to the tag list !!

you knew gojo. hell, everyone knew gojo. annoying, loud, obnoxious, ah should I go on? that's how you described the so called star player on the soccer team. his ego reached all the way towards the clouds by how much he was admired in the community. you on the other hand, not so much. sure you were known by many but not in such a positive way. you were intelligent sure, but the way you dressed wasn't entirely accepted. you were always getting bothered by other students, one of them being no other than satoru gojo. although, it seems that you two have grown into a friendship lately.

"hey pretty" you heard an awfully familiar voice come up behind you. the white haired boy was still in his blue and white soccer jersey covered in grass stains and some of his sweat from his practice that he just came from. you gave him one of your small sweet smiles."hi gojo" you mumbled back.

he looked down at your figure. the pretty black blouse fit you so perfect as well as those mini grey jean shorts that cupped your ass so deliciously. gojo took notice of you wearing your earbuds which he took one of them and placed it in his ear. "whatcha listening to?" you faced him slightly annoyed as you looked at how his face scrunched up in disgust.

"seriously? how can your ears support all that screaming?" he grimaced as he heard the loud singing.

he let out a chuckle at that before his eyes lit up as he realized something. reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a piece of paper handing it to you. you blamed the shot of arousal that traveled towards you as you took notice of how veiny his arms were. you glanced down to see it was a ticket. a ticket to his upcoming soccer game, to be exact.

your eyebrows picked up as you turned to him. "you want me to go to your game?" the question made the blue eyed boy nod. "want you there on the stands baby, if you can, then I promise to play even better than I usually do." you were shocked to say the least. the satoru gojo inviting you to his game personally even after countless months of relentless bullying was not something you could see coming.

but you couldn't help yourself from nodding. "yeah sure ill be there!" the feeling of your heart beating against your chest brought a scary but not unwelcome feeling. You stared at him for a moment, unsure if you were hearing things correctly. The blue-eyed boy, a walking angel blessed by God himself, smirked down at you with a flicker of something you couldn’t quite place. It wasn't the usual cocky smirk. It was different—something warmer, maybe? Or maybe you were just imagining it.

"I'd like that."

"great, ill see you tomorrow after school then?" he asked in which you let out an mhm in return. "okay pretty, try and get some sleep. you need some just by judging off your eye bags" he teased. "shut up!"

you watched the taller boy walk off. his use of the sweet and loving names made you feel a little awkward, but you shoved it down. You had a feeling that this was just another one of his ways of throwing you off. It wasn’t like he was being sweet. Not Gojo. He never was.

As you walked off to the other side of where the dormitories where taking note on how the night was now awakening due to time change. as you reached for your AirPods case to put back your earbuds your fingers stopped on your left ear. your earbud was missing.

gojo didn't take notice of the music cutting off. he was in a completely different world thinking about none other than you. he didn't understand how he caught feelings. no matter how many times he reminded himself it was you and how he could do some much better that that. he only gave you to ticket to his game only to be nice, is what he told himself. a friendly gesture friends do all the time!

"yo Satoru!" one of his friends called out to him. gojo turned to look at the boy with long black hair and big ass gauges walking up to him along with some other boys from the team. a smile crept up on his face dabbing them all up. "hey you all did well at practice today"

"yeah man that's what we came to say as well but we saw you talking to that emo freak uh whats her name, y/n?" this made gojo slightly embarrassed on how they caught him. "don't tell me you hitting on that emo pussy, it can't be that good" one of the other teammates chuckled making the white haired boy slightly uncomfortable.

"nah man, too busy with uraume" Geto patted his back "good good, lets keep it that way. she's got a better body anyways. let me burrow her sometime yeah?" the blacked hair boy received a nudge at that making him chuckle.

you looked around you trying to find the taller boy to retrieve your airpod. sighing in relief as you saw him. "gojo!" you called out making the boys turn around.

"ah she came back for round two?"

you walked up to him. "hey uhm you still have my AirPods." you said pointing to his ear. "give back your friend her AirPods satoru" his friend teased.

"we're barely friends. acquaintance is a better term" he mumbled out. as you received back your airpod, you stopped. eyes widening as you heard what he said. "acquaintance? thought we were-"

"friends?" he cut you off. "cmon I pay attention to you two or three times and now suddenly we're friends?" he scoffed. why was he acting like this? that's right, because he's satoru gojo. you were nowhere as close as him. you never will be. your face turned serious before you reached into you pocket handing him the ticket he gave you. "here, you dropped this" you mumbled.

gojos eyes fell down to the ticket in his hands. his heart broke a bit. "wait.. y/n-"

"forget it" with that you retrieved back to the direction to your dorm fighting back tears as you left the boy stunned.

"looks like you hurt her feelings, gonna go apologize?"

"nah."

© 2025 windixie. All work belongs to windixie . please do not copy, repost, plagiarize, any of my works as your own.

[yuujispinkhair]

I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 11

🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 4.5k Warnings: 18+, smut, cigarettes, alcohol. Fuckbuddies to lovers. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 14 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear

MASTERLIST

You are deep in thought as you walk towards the ice hockey arena. Sukuna asked you to meet him there at ten for another private ice skating lesson. You can't help but grin because, yeah, you are certainly in need of more lessons. But it's a bit weird that he wants to meet up so late. You didn't even know the arena is still open at that time of night, but you won't question the guy who practically lives in the hockey arena. Plus, Sukuna is busy with his studies, hockey practice, and his insane workout schedule, so maybe this is the only free time he has this week.

In the end, it doesn't matter because who are you trying to kid? You would never say no when Sukuna wants to see you. Even if he knocked on your door at 3 a.m. and asked you to once again be his getaway driver for some prank on a rival team, you would grab your jacket and leave with him. You are down bad for your fuckbuddy, and you know it. And you will take every minute you can have with him for as long as it lasts.

Your grin turns into a bittersweet smile. You still can't figure out how Sukuna feels about you. Sometimes you think he likes you too. Like when he acted so jealous when Satoru tried to hit on you. Or when he smiles that rare smile at you and looks deeply into your eyes with that almost dreamy look in his maroon eyes.

But you don't know for sure. You could ask Sukuna, of course. Or you could confess how you feel. But the thing is, you are too scared. Too scared that you misinterpreted things. That you made more out of it in your fantasy than there really is. After all, it has happened before. Your mind is the mind of a writer. Someone who spends her life in her head. And maybe you once again mixed up reality with your fantasies.

So it's better not to do anything. Safer. Because you know that the moment you tell Sukuna you see more in him than your fuckbuddy, and he doesn't reciprocate those feelings, it will be over. And you aren't ready for that. Just the thought of losing him makes you drown in anxiety.

You reach the dimly lit small plaza in front of the hockey arena, and your heart jumps to your throat when you see Sukuna leaning casually against the closed entrance, smoking a cigarette while waiting for you.

He's dressed in grey sweatpants and a black hoodie under his equally black jacket. The glow of the cigarette he's bringing to his smirking lips lights up his angular jaw and his facial tattoos, and the light coming from the street lamp lets his pastel pink hair look almost like a halo on top of the bad boy's head.

Sukuna watches you with that cat-like and always slightly amused gaze, making your heart race like crazy. The effect he has on you is insane. You walk towards him with weak knees, feeling flustered and giddy, unable to stop yourself from smiling broadly.

Sukuna flicks his half-smoked cigarette elegantly onto the ground and crushes it with his Nikes. He grins at you, greeting you with that sexy, velvety voice,

"Hey, princess."

Sukuna reaches out to ruffle your hair and laugh that low, rough laugh when you squeal and pat his hand away even while you smile at him and wish you could just grab his hand and hold it and never let go again.

Sukuna's hand brushes over yours and then glides down your back until it comes to rest on the small of your back to pull you slightly closer. Sukuna's eyes trail slowly over your face. He licks his lips when his gaze lands on your mouth, and for a moment, you think he will kiss you, but then he smirks his typical cocky smirk and jerks his tattooed chin towards the large glass door behind him.

"Let's go. You keep watch while I get us inside."

"What? I knew something was wrong when you said to meet here at ten at night! We cannot break in!"

Sukuna laughs, and his smirk grows even wider,

"Technically, it's not breaking in if I have a key."

He pulls a keychain in the shape of a tiger head out of his jacket and lets it dangle from his long, tattooed fingers, presenting you with a single key glittering lightly in the light coming from the streetlamp.

You raise a suspicious eyebrow,

"Did you steal that key?"

"Nah, our coach gave it to me. Believe it or not, I am a trusted team member. Let's just say that when he gave me the key, he said it was for emergencies, and it's debatable whether our private ice skating lesson counts as an emergency. But who cares? I wanted to have the arena all to ourselves. Also, I am the fucking star player of this team, so I should be allowed in here anytime I fucking want."

Sukuna winks at you, and you shake your head incredulously at his typical display of arrogance. But at the same time, you can't help but laugh, and your heart jumps at the thought that Sukuna planned this. That he wanted to be alone with you. A secret night in the hockey arena. Just the two of you. It's romantic.

Sukuna slings his large hockey bag over one shoulder and unlocks the door. He holds it open for you, like a gentleman in an old movie, making butterflies flutter in your stomach as you enter. The door closes behind you, and Sukuna's tall body bumps gently into you, his low voice close to your ear,

"We have to keep the lights off, though, because I don't want the janitor to come to check what's going on."

He grins at you and takes your hand into his much larger one, interlacing your fingers and giving your hand a squeeze. Holding it just like you wished he would only a minute ago. Sukuna's voice is laced with amusement when he adds,

"Don't worry, princess. I got you. I would find my way through this arena even blind."

You chuckle softly, excitement tingling in your veins, your pulse racing so fast that you are sure Sukuna can feel it where your palms are pressed against each other.

Sukuna leads you down the dark hallway that's only lit by the emergency lights. The hockey arena seems ghostly like this, too dark and too silent. It would be creepy if you were here alone, but with Sukuna by your side and his hand holding yours, you feel completely safe.

Sukuna finds his way through the nightly hockey arena with ease, proof of how much time he spends here, all those countless hours of training and hockey games and team meetings. He brings you to the player's bench without any accident, turning around to grin proudly at you as he tugs you towards him and gently but firmly makes you sit on the bench.

The huge arena seems a lot smaller tonight when almost all the lights are off. The only light comes from the LED strips fixed to the boards around the rink. They cast the ice and the first few rows of the stands into a fairytale-like soft half-light. It makes your stomach flutter. Being here in the nightly hockey arena feels so intimate as if you and Sukuna are the only people in the whole world.

You steal a curious glance at Sukuna. He is pulling his hockey skates out of his bag and puts them on with routined moves, his long tattooed fingers tying the laces so gracefully that you find it impossible to look away.

Sukuna turns his head to smirk at you, catching you staring at him instead of putting on your own ice skates. But before you can get flustered, Sukuna is already getting off the bench and on his knees in front of you with that damn sexy smirk on his handsome face. He holds out a large hand while cocking his head,

"Come on, give me your foot, princess. I'll help you."

You feel so nervous suddenly. It's stupid because you are used to doing all kinds of other things with Sukuna that involve being a lot closer to him with a lot less clothing, and yet this here feels so strangely intimate.

You slip out of your sneakers and carefully place one socked foot in Sukuna's hand. He smirks a lopsided smirk and puts the ice skates expertly on your feet, kneeling before you the whole time while carefully lacing them up.

He takes his time, working focused while being so gentle and caring, and you can't stop looking at him, how he, the star player of the hockey team, kneels before you with his pink hair and pretty, tattooed face. You're hit with such an intense wave of longing that it almost makes you sob. You want to tell Sukuna you love him, want to tell him how much he and all your shared moments mean to you.

Your lips open, but no words come out, and you close your mouth again when Sukuna pats your leg and grins up at you,

"All done. Let's get on the ice."

He gets up, towering over you again, so tall and broad. He looks intimidating with his muscular, tall build and face tattoos, but you know him by now. It's funny, but Sukuna is the person you feel most at ease with. Even when your heart is pounding like crazy, just at the feel of his warm, calloused hands wrapping around yours and pulling you up from the bench and into his arms.

You can smell his cologne, that fresh, sexy scent that makes your head spin with want. You bite your lip, grinning up at Sukuna as you make the first tentative steps on the ice skates, your hands clinging tightly to Sukuna's. His hold on you is firm and safe as he leads you carefully to the ice.

You are still wobbly on the ice skates and not really confident you will stay upright for long, but you don't have to worry, you realize. Sukuna doesn't seem to plan on letting go of you tonight. He has one strong arm around you while his other hand holds yours safely, his long fingers interlaced with yours, offering a comforting warmth even here on the cold rink.

Skating across the ice with Sukuna is fun, just like it was the last time. He moves as if he is walking on normal ground, so skilled and sure on his hockey skates that you can't stop marveling at how graceful he looks. He gives you instructions, his low voice soft in the silent arena as if he doesn't want to disturb the serene atmosphere. And you laugh as you let him pull you along and try to get a feeling for the ice beneath your feet.

You do the second round across the rink, and Sukuna slowly pulls his arm that was around your waist away. He is skating next to you, holding your hand while his maroon eyes are on you, carefully checking if you are able to keep the balance without the added safety of his arm around you.

And to your delight, it works. You smile and make a triumphant noise as you skate next to Sukuna, only holding his hand, and he laughs, looking at you with one of his rare, dazzling smiles.

There's a softness in his eyes tonight as he watches you. It makes your pulse race and feel giddy and full of adrenaline. But the problem is that you are so distracted staring at Sukuna that you lose your focus and slip on the ice after all, squealing loudly as you lose your balance and are about to tumble down.

But Sukuna catches you, his muscular arms instantly wrapped safely around you, pulling you against him, making both of you glide back a few meters from the impact of your body slamming into Sukuna. Your squeal turns into breathless laughter as you cling to Sukuna's hoodie, holding tightly onto him.

Sukuna raises an amused eyebrow at you,

"So eager to get all cozy with me, huh, princess?"

His low voice is warm, and his maroon eyes are too, that same beautiful smile lifting his lips again as he gently holds you, his large hands sprawling over your waist, his eyes never leaving yours.

You chuckle, telling him in what you wanted to be a joking voice but which comes out all breathy,

"Maybe I like being all cozy with the 6'3" guy who is always warm, even on this freezing ice rink."

God, I sound like an idiot!

You bite your lip, fearing you will say more, and end up accidentally telling Sukuna how much you want him to be more than just your fuckbuddy. A nervous laugh escapes your mouth, and you feel your face get hot, but Sukuna grins that irresistible boyish grin at you, looking very smug.

"Then you're really a lucky girl because I plan to keep you warm all night, princess. Come on, I'll show you something."

Sukuna turns you around so you are in front of him and steers you slowly back to the bench, his strong hands resting securely on your hips, holding you, guiding you, every touch of his strong fingers sending the butterflies in your stomach fluttering like crazy.

Sukuna helps you exit the rink, his tall, firm body pressing against your back as he just lifts you off the ice so your feet are dangling a few inches above the ground and carries you to the bench while you giggle and smile.

Sukuna places you on the bench, not seeming to be out of breath at all from carrying you. But he eyes you for a moment with a strange look on his face, almost looking nervous, you think. He blinks and runs a large tattooed hand through his pink hair, averting his gaze and instead getting busy rummaging around in his hockey bag.

You watch him curiously, only to make an "Oooh!" sound when you see the surprise he prepared. Several boxes of his famous homemade snacks, two large thermal mugs, and a warm blanket. The last item Sukuna pulls out of his bag is a glass jar with a candle in it, which he lights and places on the bench one row before you, engulfing your little picnic space in soft, warm candlelight.

Your stomach is doing summersaults by now. All of this is so romantic! It makes you feel completely light-headed with all the thoughts running through your mind. This is what Sukuna planned when he asked you to meet him here at ten in the night? This doesn't feel like a regular ice skating lesson. It feels like a date!

You watch him carefully, feeling a bit shy as the implications of what this could mean fill your chest with giddy hope.

Sukuna grins at you and wraps the warm blanket around you, making things even cozier. And you smile and lean against Sukuna's broad shoulder, thanking him softly when he hands you a thermal mug with steaming hot coffee and a homemade muffin (the ones you told him a few weeks ago are your favorite).

You lift the blanket, telling Sukuna to join you so he stays warm, too. You both sip on your coffee and munch on the muffins, easily slipping into your usual camaraderie, joking around with each other and talking about your day. Sukuna brushes some muffin crumbs off your lips and tells you about his upcoming game and the current topic of his history research. And you lean comfortably against him, smiling when Sukuna wraps his arm around you while you tell him about the book you started reading this morning and the passive-aggressive insults your creative writing professor threw at people today.

You chuckle and sigh softly,

"Thank you for bringing me here. This is the first time today that I haven't felt anxious about my classes and my future."

And Sukuna smirks that hellishly attractive boyish smirk at you,

"Well, I'm glad that I'm providing you the same stress relief that you give me before my games. Look at us being the antidote for each other's stressful lives. We should drink to that."

You both laugh and hold up your thermal cups, clinking them gently, both grinning as you bring the cups to your lips and sip the warm coffee.

You stay like that for a while, leaning against each other under the warm blanket, sitting in comfortable silence while you gaze over the dimly lit ice rink before you. It feels magical.

Your heart is almost beating out of its chest, filled with such yearning that you think you will go insane if you don't do something about it. You slowly turn your head to gaze at Sukuna. Only to realize he is already looking at you. Your breath catches in your throat when your eyes meet his.

You think you can see fear in those beautiful maroon eyes. And you wonder if Sukuna feels the same fear that you feel. The fear of messing this up. The fear of losing what the two of you have. Maybe you aren't the only one who is scared of your feelings.

And yet you are here, just the two of you, in this romantic atmosphere. Not putting distance between you, but spending even more time together. Not running away from your feelings but running, or rather ice skating towards them hand in hand. Your heart flutters hopefully, just when Sukuna's low, velvety voice breaks the silence,

"I always enjoy being with you, no matter what we do. Whether we are talking about hockey or books or studying in the library, or having lunch together, or just talking shit while watching videos on my phone. I have never felt so close to someone before."

You gasp softly at the unexpectedly tender words. Tears well up in your eyes as you look up into Sukuna's eyes,

"I feel the same way. It's like I have always known you."

Sukuna smiles softly. He cups your face, his warm palm resting gently on the side of your neck while his thumb slowly caresses your cheek. A touch so tender as if he is scared to break you or disturb this soft atmosphere while he gazes deeply into your eyes.

You don't think anyone has ever been so gentle with you or looked at you that way. And out of all the people, it is him, it is Sukuna, the rough hockey player, the campus bad boy, who treats you with such gentleness.

"S... Sukuna."

Your voice is thick with unshed tears, but Sukuna shakes his head gently, low voice barely a whisper, raspy but full of tenderness when he says,

"No, let me say something, princess."

You nod, blinking to chase the tears away, and Sukuna continues in his velvety, low voice, his eyes gazing deeply into yours,

"I told you that ice hockey is my life. But that's only half the truth. Lately, you have become my life, too."

He gulps, making his adam's apple bop, and then adds in a soft but sure voice,

"I have never felt this way about someone before, and it scared me shitless when I realized what was happening. So I tried to suppress it. But I don't want to run from this anymore. I don't want to run from you when you are what makes me happy, and then I feel like I can't breathe when I imagine there could be a time when you aren't by my side. I didn't bring you here tonight to teach you ice skating. I brought you here to tell you I fell in love with you."

The whole world seems to stop. Everything around you disappears, and there is only Sukuna and you. Only the boy you love, and you. And everything is so perfect and easy.

Your tears finally spill over and slowly run down your face as you reach out to cup Sukuna's cheeks, too, caressing the tattooed lines on his high cheekbones as you smile at him, finally confessing how you feel about him,

"I'm in love with you, too. And it scared me also. I tried to pretend I didn't like you that way, but then you got injured, and it freaked me out so much, and after that, I couldn't lie to myself anymore. I knew you meant a lot more to me than I had planned. But I didn't want to lose you if you didn't feel the same. So I didn't say anything. I told myself it would be better to have you as a friend with benefits than not having you in my life at all..."

"Come here, princess."

Sukuna wraps his arms around you, pulls you into his lap, and hugs you tightly to him, his lips brushing a tender kiss to your forehead,

"I've never been in a relationship before, but I will work my ass off for this. I want this to work. I want you and me."

For once, there is no teasing smirk on his beautiful face. It's rare to see Sukuna like this, all open and honest with you, not hiding behind a mask. His maroon eyes are earnest, burning with the same fiery ambition he has when it comes to hockey and his studies. It makes your heart throb, seeing how invested he is. Seeing how much he wants to have this with you.

You wrap your arms around Sukuna's neck and lean closer to him,

"That's what I want, too. You and me."

A soft smile plays around Sukuna's lips before he closes the last remaining distance between you and claims your lips in a slow kiss.

You sigh, melting into the kiss and into Sukuna's arms. He takes his time, kissing you slow and deep, making your head spin and the butterflies in your tummy go crazy with each tender flick of his tongue.

It feels like an eternity until both of you pull away, breathing heavily, lips swollen from all the kissing, eyes so soft as you look at each other, both wearing the same perplexed expression as if you both can't believe this is really happening.

You smile at Sukuna so broadly that your cheeks hurt, and he laughs that soft, low laugh and smiles at you, too, brushing a thumb over your grinning cheeks before he puts his hands on your waist and lifts you off his lap, gently placing you on the floor so he can get up, too.

He holds out his hand to you, raising an eyebrow and grinning that sexy boyish grin at you,

"Join me for another round across the rink, princess?"

You nod and take Sukuna's hand, letting him pull you to your feet and against his tall, strong body. You place a hand on his chest, getting on your tiptoes to steal another kiss before Sukuna leads you carefully back onto the ice.

It's different this time. Not so much an ice skating lesson, where Sukuna lets you get a feel for the ice, but rather Sukuna taking the lead, pulling you with him, holding you safely in his embrace, skating across the dimly-lit rink much faster and more graceful than you could ever hope to do on your own.

It's not ice skating, but rather dancing, you realize. One of Sukuna's arms is wrapped safely around your waist, his other hand holding yours, his long tattooed fingers interlaced with yours, as he spins you around on the ice as if you are the Ice King and his Queen, and the hockey arena is your ballroom.

It feels incredible. As if you are weightless and flying across a glittery ice floor surrounded by soft light. You tilt your head back to look up at Sukuna's tattooed face, your gaze meeting his, and you see the smile in his eyes. It's only you and Sukuna. Only you and the boy you love and who loves you, too. Dancing in the nightly hockey arena. Sharing that magical moment in the place that is so important to Sukuna.

You let him spin you around without any fear, trusting him completely, knowing Sukuna will never let you fall. He already proved that the first time you met. He will never let you hit the ground. Those strong arms will always catch you.

You feel more tears run down your cheeks as you look up at Sukuna and smile at him, and he watches you enrapt, his cocky smirk replaced by a soft, wonderous expression.

"Why are you crying, princess?"

"Because I'm happy, baby."

You see how Sukuna's eyes widen at the use of the petname, and then his lips lift in a very happy and amused lopsided smirk,

"Baby? Hmm, I like it when you call me that. Make sure to do it very often from now on."

You chuckle softly as you nod,

"Sure, baby."

A second later, you squeal loudly because Sukuna makes another dance move, dipping you down while smirking his sexy, playful smirk at you. Your squeal turns into loud, breathless laughter that gets muffled by Sukuna's warm lips a second later. And he keeps kissing you, even while continuing to glide gracefully over the ice, not even needing to see anything.

You spend the whole night in the arena, just the two of you, alternating between dancing on the ice while laughing and kissing and sitting on the bench, cuddling under the warm blanket to keep warm while sipping coffee, talking about everything and nothing, joking around teasingly and stealing more kisses. Slow, deep French kisses that make both of you sigh softly into each other's mouth.

You sneak out of the hockey arena with the first hints of the approaching sunrise, walking to Sukuna's dorm while holding hands. You fall exhausted but happy into his bed. Your face comes to rest on Sukuna's buff pecs, your lips smiling against his tattooed skin as he wraps his strong arms around you and hugs you close to his warm, muscular body.

It's perfect. It feels so natural as if Sukuna and you have always been together as if it was always clear that things would lead to this, from the very first meeting in the hallway where you crashed into him, and his hockey reflexes and strong arms saved you from falling, only for both of you to end up falling in a different way. For each other.

THE LOVE CONFESSION 😭💗💗 I am so emotional! This is one of the first scenes I wrote for this AU, and for months, I have been daydreaming about dancing across the rink with Sukuna. Sighhhhhh I hope you liked it, too, and could feel the same magic I felt while writing it!

Also, please listen to the song "Black Coffee" by Nightly. It's the song that I imagine during the scenes in the hockey arena. It's a perfect song to describe Sukuna's and Reader's connection. I love them so much together.

Thank you so much to everyone who is still here reading this story and waiting for updates! It means so much to me that you are on this journey with Sukuna and me 💗💗

I hope the love confession could put a smile on your face!! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

In the next chapter, we will see Sukuna and Reader officially dating and making their relationship public. Learning how to move from fuckbuddies to being boyfriend and girlfriend.

[springtyme]

Hey there. I love your Spencer Reid stories and was hoping I could request something.

Just something fluffy about day to day life with Spencer and a Diabetic female reader. I imagine he does lots of research, keeps snacks and juices in his desk at work ,for her lows. How does he react when her low sugar alarms go off at night? When she's so sorry for waking him, when he already gets to bed early in the mornings and only gets a few hours to sleep. Does he first mistake her insulin for "something else", and freaks out thinking she's a user?( I Had a boyfriend think that once).

I know this is a lot of an ask and it's okay if you don't write it. But I can't find any Diabetic reader fics anywhere and it'd be super cool if you could do one.

You can message me if you need info on life with diabetes.

𝐋𝐨𝐰 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 ♡

Thank you for the request, hun. I tried to do my best to do as much research as I could, so I hope this is okay. But if I have gotten something wrong, please feel free to let me know <3

Spencer Reid x f!reader || Masterlist || Spencer playlist

summary: Spencer takes care of you when you wake in the middle of the night to the sound of your glucose monitor.

word count: 2.0k

tags: Fluff. Comfort. Diabetic reader. Eating. Brief mentioning of reader being scared of feeling like a burden.

You toss and turn in bed, the familiar feeling of dizziness creeping in as you start to come to. The soft beeping of your glucose monitor cuts through the quiet of the night, its persistent alarm pulling you from the depths of your dreams. You blink rapidly, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep, but your heart sinks as you realize what the sound means.

Low blood sugar.

Sitting up slowly, you take a moment to gather your senses and find your bearings. You glance over to see Spencer’s silhouette beside you. He always looks so peaceful when he sleeps, wavy locks of brown hair softly tousled against the pillow, his lips slightly parted in a way that makes your heart ache with affection, but he begins to stir next to you. Guilt floods your chest for waking him, knowing he sacrifices so much of his sleep already for his work with the BAU, often staying up late thinking about cases or preparing for the next day’s challenges or having to pull all-nighters when cases demand it.

You fumble for the monitor, desperate to silence the alarm before it disturbs the tranquility of the night any further, but it’s too late. Spencer stirs more, his brow furrowing as he blinks awake, his eyes adjusting to the low light with a hint of confusion.

He murmurs your name, his voice thick with sleep, his voice laced with a groggy confusion and concern.

“I’m so sorry,” you rush out, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I just—”

“Don’t apologize,” he interrupts gently, propping himself up on one elbow. His concern is palpable as he studies your face, and you can see the worry etched in the lines of his features. “How low is it?”

You glance at the screen of the monitor and wince, your heart sinking further at the number displayed. “I’m at 60. I just need a snack.”

His eyes widen slightly, and without another word, he swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands. You can’t help but admire the way he moves, even in his sleepy state. “Stay here,” he says, his voice firm yet soft, a request that you can’t help but obey, though you do feel a slight sense of guilt for waking him up and now getting him out of bed. “I’ll get you something.”

You watch as he leaves the bedroom and pads down the hallway, the sound of his bare feet against the hardwood floor grounding you in the moment. As he disappears from view, you pull your knees to your chest, feeling an overwhelming mix of embarrassment and gratitude. You know he needs his sleep—he’s been working so hard lately—but the way he cares for you, despite the toll it takes on him, makes your heart swell with a warmth you can’t quite describe.

A moment later, he returns with a glass of juice and a granola bar, a sleepy smile lighting up his face that makes your already fast beating heart flutter. “Here you go, ” he says, holding out the glass of juice for you, his eyes sparkling with affection.

“Spencer, you didn’t have to—”

“Yes, I did. Please stop saying that,” he interrupts again, his voice a soft  plea which instantly makes you feel lighter. “And I want to, so don’t worry about it.”

You take the glass from him, your fingers brushing against his as you do, sending a small thrill through you. “Still… I’m really sorry for waking you up,” you say softly, your voice filled with sincerity. “You work so hard, and you need your rest.”

He shakes his head, his expression turning serious as he leans in closer. “You’re my priority. I’d rather be awake helping you than asleep worrying about you.”

You sip the juice, feeling the sweetness flood your system like a warm embrace, and you can’t help but smile at him, the corners of your mouth lifting despite the earlier panic. “You really are the best.”

“Just doing my job,” he replies, but the warmth in his eyes tells you how much he means it, how deeply he cares.

As you finish your juice he takes the glass from you to set it on his bedside side table before he sits himself down beside you on the bed, propping his pillow against the headboard and leaning back, his eyes still fixed on you with an unwavering concern. He reaches out, prompting you to come closer, his hand open and inviting.

You move closer, shifting to sit beside him, leaning against his side as he drapes his arm around you, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. His presence is a comforting weight against your side, his fingers lingering against your skin, sending a soft shiver down your spine. “How are you feeling now?” he asks, his voice low and soothing.

“Better,” you admit, the dizziness fading as the fruit sugar kicks in, your body slowly returning to normal. “Thank you for being so amazing.”

He chuckles softly, his eyes sparkling with affection that makes your heart flutter. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

He pulls you closer against his side, and you nestle against him, feeling the comforting warmth of his body seep into your bones. You can’t help but close your eyes, letting the safety of his presence wash over you like a soothing balm, the gentle rhythm of his breathing lulling you further into relaxation as you wait for your blood sugar to go back to normal. 

“You can go back to sleep, if you want. You must be exhausted,” you say, though you don’t move away from his side. The warmth of his body feels too good, too safe, to leave even for a moment.

“I’m alright,” he replies, his voice a soft murmur, brushing against your ear like a gentle caress as he adjusts his hold on you, pulling you even closer. “I’d rather be here with you than trying to fall back asleep and worrying about you,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment that feels infinite. 

You smile to yourself, feeling cherished and safe in his embrace. “You really don’t have to.”

“I want to,” he insists, his voice steady and calm, unwavering in its sincerity. “I’ll always want to.”

The sincerity in his words wraps around you, warming you up from the inside. You breathe in the soothing scent of his skin, a mix of his shampoo and something uniquely him, and it brings you a sense of all encompassing peace you didn’t realize you needed. You let his words linger in the air around you for a moment before you break the silence, letting his sentiment absorb within you. 

“Spencer,” you finally whisper, the weight of the night’s events still lingering in your mind, “promise me that if I ever wake you up like this in the future, and it does bother you, you’ll tell me,” you say, a hint of vulnerability in your tone. “I don’t want to feel guilty for needing you.”

He shifts slightly, tilting your chin up with his finger so you can meet his gaze. The warmth and sincerity in his eyes make your heart flutter again, pushing the remnants of guilt away.

“I can’t promise that I won’t be a little groggy,” he says, his voice low and steady. “But I can promise you will never bother me  for needing help. That’s what I’m here for.”

You nod slowly, feeling the tension in your chest ease just a bit. “I appreciate that,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just… I would hate to be a burden. ”

“But you’re not,” he says firmly, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes you feel seen. “You’re not a burden. You’re my partner, and that means I’ll always be here for you, no matter the hour. It’s just part of loving someone.”

You let out a soft sigh, both relieved and grateful. “You make it sound so easy.”

He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through you. “But it is easy. I love you.” He says it so matter of factly that it sends a rush of warmth through your chest. The simplicity of his declaration feels monumental than than any grand gesture could ever be. 

You feel your cheeks warm at his words, the moment between you and Spencer vibrates through you, it feels all consuming in a way that leaves you momentarily breathless. “I love you too,” you reply, your voice a little shaky as you nuzzle your face into his shoulder, closing your eyes as you let yourself fully sink into the moment and let the weight of the world outside fade away for a bit.

Minutes pass in peaceful silence, the only sound being the soft hum of the night and the quiet rhythm of your breathing. You can feel Spencer’s heart beating steadily beside you, a calm and reassuring presence. You drift into a peaceful state of half slumber, your mind finding a place of ease. Every now and then, you feel Spencer’s fingers gently tracing small patterns on your arm, grounding you in the moment until his voice finally breaks through the silence. 

“I think it’s time to check your blood sugar again,” he says softly, his tone gentle but filled with care. “Make sure you’re back to normal.”

You nod slightly, still nestled against him, reluctant to break the comfort of the moment. “Yeah” you murmur, your voice thick with sleepiness.

Spencer shifts away just enough to reach for your monitor. As he checks the reading, you watch him, noting the way his brow furrows in concentration, an expression you’ve come to recognize as his deep-seated need to ensure your well-being.

He glances back at you, a slight smile breaking through the concern. “You’re at 85. Just a little lower than your target, but still good.” He takes the granola bar from the bedside table and hands it to you, his eyes still filled with warmth and encouragement. “Finish this, and I’ll feel a lot better.”

You take the granola bar, feeling a swell of appreciation for his attentiveness. “Thank you,” you say, your voice soft as you unwrap it and take a small bite. The chewy texture and nutty flavor is comforting on your tongue. As you chew, you watch him, unable to suppress the smile that spreads across your face. He’s still watching you, his gaze a mix of concern and affection, and it makes your heart race. “What?” you ask playfully, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Just admiring you,” he replies, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re really beautiful.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the blush that creeps up your cheeks. “Spencer, it’s 3 AM, and I just woke you up because of a blood sugar emergency. I don’t think ‘beautiful’ is the first word that comes to mind.”

He just shrugs his shoulders, a sweet, almost shy smile playing on his lips. “For me it is,” he insists, his voice steady, and the earnestness in his eyes makes you melt a little inside.

You finish the granola bar, feeling a little more energized. “You really are the sweetest.”

Spencer just shrugs again, holding out his hand so you can hand over the now empty granola bar wrapper to discharge it next to the empty juice glass. As the two of you lay back down on the mattress, Spencer instinctively wraps his arm around you once more, pulling you close. The warmth of his body envelops you, and you can’t help but let out a contented sigh.

“Are you feeling better?” he asks, his voice still a soft murmur, the concern never quite leaving his tone.

“Yeah,” you reply, a smile spreading across your face. 

“Good,” he says, his eyes sparkling with relief. 

You nod, feeling the weight of the night sink in, wrapping around your heart like a warm blanket, leaving only the two of you in your little bubble of comfort.

As your eyes flutter closed once more, Spencer kisses the top of your head gently, his lips lingering there for a moment. “Get some sleep,” he whispers, his voice a soothing balm that sends you drifting back toward dreamland. With a final squeeze of his hand, you nestle deeper into his embrace, feeling cherished and safe as you slip back into slumber.

[revelboo]

I’m here for Soundwave stealing away reader from Starscream. It’s a very likely scenario to occur if Starscream continues to be his own downfall but it’s amusing to consider nonetheless the less because he knows that is an outcome that can happen.

He absolutely would at this point if reader wasn’t fully bonded to Starscream. He’s just trying to keep Star from dragging you with him when he self destructs at this point

Everything Is Alright Pt 106

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• “Megatron.” Turning at Soundwave’s deep voice, he waits for his communications officer to catch up to him. “A word?” Servos flexing because he can still smell you on Soundwave, he inclines his head. Starts walking again with the other mech and waits for Soundwave to begin speaking again. Because this is about you, he knows it is. And you’re a problem. The way his spark heats when you glare at him or snap back an unexpected thrill. Afraid, but willing to stand up to him for your mates, but not yourself. Why does he care when you really shouldn’t matter.

• “This is about the human. Your mate.” Ignoring the thinly veiled growl in Megatron’s voice, Soundwave nods. Carefully. If Megatron realizes he’s being manipulated, he’ll never cooperate. So he waits and walks, feeling when Megatron glances sidelong at him, optics narrowed. “Why a human?” Because of the way you smile when you see him, though those have been fragile things lately because of his own actions. Because he loves the chaos of your emotions within his thoughts, those soft hands, having someone that doesn’t mind if he’s too quiet. If he’s lost in thought. The way you trace little patterns on his plating when you’re drowsy and the way you never shy away when he reaches for you. That soft voice talking to him about anything and everything. All things he can’t say to Megatron.

• “Easy to control,” Soundwave replies and Megatron’s lips twist. Because he’s almost certain that’s a lie. No, definitely a lie. Remembering the affectionate way Soundwave had brushed his cheek against you and feathered kisses against your skin. Murmuring to you as you curled into him, trusting yourself fully to his care. And part of him wonders what that would be like. Someone waiting for him, happy to see him and with no ulterior motives behind their smiles. He’s lonely, but he’s been lonely a very long time. Letting his reputation and temper keep everyone at bay.

• “The truth,” Megatron admonishes, voice soft and Soundwave vents. Tiredly reaching up to press his servos against his chassis over his cassette compartment. Can still sense your emotions despite the distance. That incomplete bond a tie to you. A way to ensure the Seeker can’t just run away with you. And a gamble that you’ll hopefully survive Starscream if he won’t stop clawing for power. If Megatron ends him once and for all because of the Seeker’s own treacherous actions, you don’t deserve to die with him. And he doesn’t know how this will work. If he‘ll be tied to Starscream’s fate alongside you if he fully bonds you or if it might spare you. Spark bonds are a taboo and who knows which or if any of the old stories are real or just legends.

• “Happier since finding them,” Soundwave admits. That isn’t a lie, his communications officer looking at him as if daring him to judge. And he really can’t. Because he understands as much as it makes him uncomfortable. Likes speaking to you despite the fact that you’re beneath him. Insignificant. “Less lonely.” And that strikes home.

• “I don’t know what that means,” you whisper and that hint of miserable fear in your voice pierces Starscream’s own worries. “I don’t know what a protoform even is.” Feels when you start to tremble and wraps his arms around you as he realizes that he’s not the only one completely lost in this. You’re worried and scared, too. “I need someone to talk to me, okay? Please?”

• “I know.” Raspy voice low as he tucks you more firmly against him, chin resting on top of your head. “We’ll do this together.” Feeling his palm sliding up and down your spine, you desperately want to believe that. That he’s not going anywhere. That he won’t panic and run again. But you’re not sure that you can anymore. “Figure it out together.” And you need to believe that so much it hurts, but can you?

Previous

Next

[4chensungs]

don’t kiss and tell

brothers best friend!jisung x fem. reader

after the incident of your brother finding out you hooked up with one of his friends, you promised to yourself to never look out for him anymore. but who says he’ll give up on you that easily?

wc. 2.8k

warnings. smut (mdni), jisung is down bad, body worship like crazy in here, tit sucking, fingering, ass slapping, unprotected sex

part 1 for context here <3

IT HAS BEEN one whole month since you last talked to jisung. one month since you saw him probably for the last time in a hot minute.

the last few weeks have been extremely unusual; you keep questioning yourself how was he doing, if he's even ever going to appear at your house again to hang out with you brother, like he always did. he's probably not.

and fuck jaemin, fuck him for screwing your bond with him. it's useless, pure jealousy and he's so stupid!, stupid for being this mad with one if his best friends of years, simply because he thinks you're still a child.

on the other hand, jisung is being not so subtle in the way he still wants you. he keeps liking the pics you post on your instagram stories, sometimes even replying to them. and it's the sad fact you're not giving him a single reply.

his mind wanders to the thought of you being already completely over him, wanting to distance yourself fully right now, thanks to your brother.

but your heart knows that's not what you want, and it keeps giving you a warning that the next time that you see him, these feelings will come back stronger than ever.

you miss him. so bad, thinking about him makes you sick.

you're laying in bed, scrolling quietly through your phone when the damn notification appears. why does he keep trying? you sigh out loud.

the__and.y liked your stories.

you ran your hands through your hair, turning off your phone to stare at the ceiling to collect your breath. you can't, your brother is still furious with both of you.

jisung ♡: why do u keep ignoring me in every existing social media

is he really going to do this? at this late at night?

jisung ♡: i miss you

you kept reading his messages and not replying. you didn't contact him for a month.

maybe, just maybe, things may have gotten lighter with jaemin. perhaps he's not really remembering this whole thing, yeah?

you: i'm sorry jisung

you: idk if this is right i really don't know

you: im confused

you turn off your phone again while waiting for his reply. let's give it a try.

jisung ♡: why wouldn't it be right

jisung ♡: jaemin can't control your life, you can do whatever you want

hm.

you: i felt bad that day and he's still so mad with you

you: idc if he's mad with me, he's my brother at the end of the day

you: i worry about you and how hes fucked up your friendship

jisung ♡: baby you know what's fucked up

jisung ♡: you trying to convince yourself that you don't want this because of him

jisung ♡: say to my face that you don't want it

you want this so fucking bad. to be in his arms again, and the thrill of being with him behind closed doors. god, that's all you want in every way.

you: ji

you: i want to see you

jisung ♡: that's right

jisung ♡: i've waited for this princess

jisung ♡: waited so long

you: i need you

you: i don't care anymore

you really don't give a fuck - your brother can hold his protectiveness instinct for himself, he actually can. you can't control what your heart aims for.

and it screams for park jisung.

"you can't ignore him forever, you know that?"

"who says I'm ignoring him? I texted him yesterday saying he should come this weekend." jaemin huffed, acting oblivious to the fact that the only reason why he invited jisung over was because of the boys' annual end of year party.

chenle deadpans at him with his stare, letting out a chuckle, "if you didn't invite him I would've done it myself." he paused, turning his head to look at the man, "that would be bullshit."

bullshit. jaemin swore he almost threw chenle out of the car in the harshest way possible - clicking his tongue in pure annoyance, "yeah, it was just fine when he fucked my sister behind my back."

"i'm pretty sure they did not fuck."

if you didn't then why were you both half naked. in his car. at your backyard?

"i'm telling you, I saw it. she was literally on top of him and she was fucking moaning his name, chenle. that's fucking wrong." your brother spat while still not looking at his friend - eyes focused on the road.

chenle keeps going, "cut this off, jaem. you can't see her as a baby anymore. let her live."

jisung is indeed coming to your house again - sooner than you thought. but it did take some days for you to find out, tho. you brother wasn't the one who told you.

in the same day, the last messages jisung sent you before you went to sleep.

jisung ♡: dress up prettily for me tomorrow

jisung ♡: will you?

you: what??

you: you're coming???

jisung ♡: jaemin told me to go and yeah i didn't expect it as well

jisung ♡: dreaming of you again

jisung ♡: kissing your sweet lips holding you so close to me

jisung ♡: it'll be all mine princess

you: go to sleep ji

you: silly

jisung ♡: i'll show you what's silly tomorrow

—

the sound of the boys laughing and loud pitching talking in the living room did quite mess with your head, anticipating the moment when he comes. it's crazy how you got so dolled up for him only, he's the reason why you're even going out of your room this night.

if it wasn't for jisung, you'd probably just greet the guys and come back to your own quiet place, drowning in your thoughts, alone. just like you always used to do before he appeared in your life.

a knock was heard on your door just right after you finished your makeup. unexpectedly, you meet a very tipsy jaemin.

"what the fuck is this outfit?" he spats, crossing his arms in front of his chest - his body unbalanced. for a split second, you closed your eyes and thanked all the existing Gods under your breath. he's drunk.

you smiled, "felt pretty today. you smell like beer, don't talk to me."

"hey, hey, hey." he grabbed your arm before you could close the door and kick him out, "come say hello to my friends. don't be rude."

you fixed your hair and outfit and went to the living room, being find with chenle, jeno and donghyuck's figures sat around the big table, nestled with all the different kinds of drinks and alcohol.

your breath hitched when jisung was nowhere to be found.

after greeting the guys, you decided to wait in your room - not sure on how, or when will jisung get there and you'll finally get to release all of your wants. show him how much you miss him and vice versa.

not much time had passed before another knock was heard on your door. you were sprawled on bed, dim lighting decorating the ambient.

"come in."

you said that because you thought it was your brother. jisung carefully opened the door, eyes peeking first to check on you.

that scene truly felt like a movie. you slowly got up, a smile starting to pop up in your lips as you walked to him.

your voice trembling, "hi, ji."

you opened the door fully for him to enter your space, he wasted no time to step in and pull you into a hug.

a mess was happening in your head, so ridiculously dizzy from him - the masculine smell of his cologne filling your nostrils, his hands holding your body flush to him while yours gripped his black t shirt, so simple and casual but yet made him look so attractive.

or maybe that’s just because you miss him a lot.

jisung leaned away from your embrace, gently taking your hair out of your face while holding eye contact - hands flew to your hips.

"you look gorgeous. more than ever."

your arms secured their hold around his neck, feeling your cheeks burning red from his words, "just for you." you announced.

he nodded, "all for me."

you both smiled like two idiots in love as he leaned down to kiss you, mouths melting so sweet at first - tongues brushing here and there, hums being heard throughout the kiss, "so pretty in this dress." he mumbles in between.

his back hits the door as he closes it, left hand leaving your hips for a mere second just to lock it.  making absolute sure that no one will be able to interrupt.

jisung grabs a hold of your thighs to help you walk further into your room, so familiar to him.

all the times you've sneaked out, when jisung slept by and left jaemin's room in the middle of the night when he was in a deep sleep. all behind his back with so much carefulness.

when he lays you down he's quick to trail his wet kisses down to your neck, firm hands caressing your whole body, going up and down in motions.

you arch into him, playing with his black hair strands as his face rests on your chest, meanwhile his lips keeps smooching your hot skin.

you sigh in contentment, knees pressing together - trying to give him a sign that you're needy, so painfully needy for him.

"jisung i want- mhhm" your words get cut off by your own whine when his hand grabs the top of your dress to pull it down, hanging it just below your bra.

"don't want to take your dress off.. youre looking too beautiful like this." his deep voice quietly said.

you smile at his sweet comment, holding back all your whines combined with the feeling of his fingers messing with the lace of your white bra, throwing your head back with no shame when he pulls the fabric down to expose your breasts, still not taking it off your body.

"so pretty, princess. i could admire you all day."

cool air is fast to hit but it's soon replaced by jisung's hot mouth, circling your breast with his tongue, hand massaging the other while his mouth does wonders on your soft flesh.

when he reaches for your nipple you whine even louder, his saliva pooling and soaking your whole breast when he sucks it into his warm hot mouth, humming nonstop.

"you're crazy ji-jisung."

"should i stop?" he teases, leaning his mouth away from your nipple and replacing it with his finger, rubbing it.

"no for fucks sake.. but I'm trying so hard to keep quiet." your voice trembled slightly.

jisung looks at you then laughs, “they’re so wasted right now, no one’s conscious in that room, love.”

you pout at him, he softly traces your bottom lip with his thumb before kissing you again, “I promise you, it’s okay. but I need you to tell me it’s okay with you.”

his soft and caring voice did turn you on even more, it shouldn’t, but it made you wetter. eyes holding so much love and appreciation looking at yours - “I want this. I want you, ji.”

jisung smiles one more time, giving you a nod and resumed his work, mumbling a deep “fuck” under his breath when he tested the waters, hand went under your dress to feel your core.

he pulled the ends of your dress up to your stomach, your thighs ridiculously pressed together. you should be ashamed of how wet you were, but you’re not, not even a single bit.

he gives your thighs a caress, “let me spread them, hm?”

your breath hitches when he brings your knees to your chest, spreading you all open and full for him. jisung mentally coos at the scene in front of him.

just like your bra, white lace panties with a wet dark patch decorated in the middle, like a gift for him. it drove him crazy.

“did you miss me that much, princess?” you can only moan as response when he touches the wet patch with his finger before pulling the lace to the side, holding it in place with one finger, while his middle finger travels up and down your cunt.

wet, so fucking wet, “fuck. love, i might cum just by looking at this.” he cursed and cursed again, eyes wide open and looking straight at your puffy displayed cunt, so wet just for him. he knew that and so did you.

“oh fuck baby i can’t-“ jisung’s fingers spread you open to admire you better - in love, genuinely in love with how your pretty pussy shines for him, glistening and begging to suck him in.

he leans down fast enough to give your clit a quick kiss, “can’t stop thinking about how beautiful she is.” still caressing your core.

you moan his name desperately at his nasty but sweet comment, tons of whines and “jisung” ‘s leaving your mouth.

“ji please. want your fingers.” you manage to say.

“of course, gotta prep my beautiful girl.” he smiles, an expert finger circling your clit before diving down into your entrance. covered with slick, your cunt invites him just as soon.

experienced fingers pumping in and out continuously, you whine with your eyes closed at the sound of wetness.

jisung’s in complete awe, stoping his staring at your hole to kiss your face, first at the corner of your mouth, then at your lips, shutting your whines off.

“you’re perfect.” he leans away to say.

nothing’s more perfect in this world than the sensation of his long and thick fingers inside you, scissoring you and reaching the deepest and most sensitive spots ever. you’ll say that to him later.

you try to smile but you soon harshly bite your lip when he curled his two fingers inside, you yelped, “jisung! oh my god-“

he kisses you again, and again, until he’s satisfied and thinks you’re ready to take him. jisung’s fingers leave you empty, and you let out a cry - his eyes make their way to between your legs to see how you’re pulsating.

“never seen my princess this wet..” deep cocky voice says.

you reach out to take off your dress, “i’ve missed you.”

when your dress was discarded to the floor, he was quick to unbutton his jeans as they went to the same destination of your clothes.

you could see his erection through his boxers, and as much as you want to such him off right now, you’re needing him inside. now.

your panties were about to be discarded before jisung grabbed your hand and shook his head, “want them on, baby. s’ pretty. keep the bra too.”

knowing how he likes it with you, you turned around and pinned your front to the bed, arching your back and your ass in the air.

“fuck, just like that.” he pumps his cock at first, cooing you while you wait for him.

jisung’s hands flew to your back to arch it even more, then to hold your hips. he rubs the head of his dick on your entrance, how your pussy almost sucks him in just from the rubbing.

when he enters you, you let out a little too loud moan. hands clutching the sheets and tears filling your eyes.

he’s completely focused on how you keep clenching around him - the amusing view of your cunt sucking him all the way in, then out again.

your hips were pressed to his shaft, feeling him so fucking deep into your womb.

jisung coos again, “you don’t know how I’ve been dying for this.” he slaps your ass.

“jisung! jisung fuck, jisung.” you whine like a baby, lost in the pleasure. ass stinging from his big hand slap and cunt begging to be filled until you get sore.

“my love.” another slap, “fucking made just for me.”

his cock is so big and it leaves you like a babbling mess, so big that it almost hurts from how good it is, hits you in all places.

you both were getting closer, his thrusts started to get sloppier and messier, slower as he pulled away to release at your back.

your own release dripped down your pussy and thighs, while his hot cum painted your back down to your ass cheeks. what a scene.

“want them all to see this mess.. jaemin needs to see how you’re good to me.“ he admires the sight of your cunt clenching and unclenching around absolutely nothing but the air, “can’t believe you’re mine and no one can ever change that.”

you tiredly laid back on your back again, trying to fix your hair. jisung’s sweaty body joined you after tossing the dirty sheets aside, he breathes heavy, but still with that cute smile on his lips.

“do you think they heard something?.” you look up at him, voice low.

jisung thinks for a second, furrowing his brows, “i honestly don’t think so, baby. but you need to change these sheets..”

“of course i will, ji.” you laughed fondly. there’s still some questions hanging in the air, with what face will he come back to the boys?

“and if they ask you where were you this whole time and what were you doing…?”

“then i’ll just say that i was fucking the prettiest girl in the family and i don’t regret it.”

—

© 4chensungs

[sapphicmsmarvel]

Azriel: Pretty Boy

Azriel overhears y/n tell people her type is a pretty boy and az doesn’t believe he fits that.

Angsty yet crack.

---------------------------------------------------

Azriel was the spymaster, it was his job. He was good at it, he was proud of his job, he wore it with honor. 

But, Azriel wasn’t proud of spying on his wife. 

It was girls night at the House of Wind, he knew he wasn’t welcome as you were adamant it was just for you and the girls. However, he couldn’t help the morbid curiosity with what happened at girls' nights. 

As soon as he got in, he immediately regretted it. This was your trust and privacy, the girls and you deserved that privacy. 

He was about to turn around when he heard Mor ask: “So, Y/N, what’s your type?” 

He froze at the question, obviously he knew you loved him. But he never considered you having a type before him. 

“Azriel, obviously.” You said instantly, causing his chest to warm. 

“Yeah but like….if it wasn’t Az, who would you go for?” 

And there the warm fuzzy feeling went. He was going to kick Mor’s ass.

“You hoping I say you?” You giggled causing Feyre, Nesta, Elain and Amren to share their own laughs. 

Mor rolled her eyes. “A girl can dream.” She laughed. “But seriously, what was like…your dream type?” “You know my answer.” “Okay ignoring Az.”

“Good luck getting her to do that.” Amren snorted. “She had a crush on him since they met.” 

“Oh shut up.” You said with no real malice. 

He tried not to laugh, you were the only person to ever say something snarky towards Amren and get away with it. 

“It’s true, you’d constantly wax poetic to me about how dreamy he is.” Feyre laughed. 

No matter how many times Azriel had heard the story of your long time crush, it never got old to him. He was sulking during the time you two had met and he had no idea the beautiful woman that harbored feelings for him, which he still regrets to this day. 

“So, Y/N. Your type?” Mor, the she-devil asked. 

“Pretty boys.” You said with no hesitation. 

His stomach sank. Pretty boys? You liked pretty boys? But he’s not that?

He shrugged it out and left, thinking and contemplating the whole way home. He tried to brush it off and ignore it. But it was silently eating away at him. He knew in order to get the reassurance he needed wanted, he was going to have to confess he broke the one rule you gave him. 

Let’s just hope you didn’t castrate him. 

---------------------------------------

You came home around 3am. You were never out that late unless it was girls night. You shucked your sweatshirt off. Loving the fact that Azriel had stoked the fire in your living room. You saw him sitting on the arm of the couch, he must’ve known you were coming home soon. He always stayed up for you (despite you telling him not to) but he usually lounged in cozy chair by the fire. 

“Hello my love.” “Hey baby.” He said back. “How was girls night?” 

“Good! So fun and so very needed.” you chuckled. You had been so stressed these past few months. You looked at Az, who barely cracked a smile, “what’s up?” 

“I need to confess.”

“Okay…?” You looked very confused as your husband seemed uncharacteristically serious at the moment. 

Okay, it’s Az. He’s always serious but not with you. 

“I just wanted to talk.” “You’re scaring me baby.” You said quietly. Some past trauma from past relationships coming into your head about how you’d always feel ambushed when they would break up with you.

“I snuck into the House of Wind to listen on girls' night.” 

Your eyes widened. “Why?” 

He shrugged. “Curiosity.” He swallowed. “I just wanted to know what the hell you guys get up to. I was thinking I would come in on a random conversation but the one I heard has been eating at me since I left.” 

Your brows furrowed. “We didn’t talk about anything bad.” You struggled to remember anything serious or concerning for your husband to hear. Unless it was your friend's sex lives, that can be traumatizing. “You said your type was ‘pretty boys’. I’m not…that.” He fumbled for words. 

The tension in your shoulders and stomach released. You were upset he snuck in on a private conversation with you and your friends. However, you will talk to him about that later. But right now, the big baby needed some reassurance. 

“You know if you kept listening, you would have heard the rest of the statement.” 

He snapped his head up to you. “What?” 

“That I have the prettiest boy of all in my house. Except I would’ve accidentally lied because he was spying on us.” You raised a brow and pinned him with a look that both aroused him and frightened him. “But my point is, my pretty boy is my husband. And I wouldn't have it any other way.” 

Well now he felt silly. And yes he would use that word because you use it all the time and it has become part of his vernacular. 

“Can I hold you?” was all he asked 

“Oh baby, you don’t have to ask.” You said walking up between his legs. He caged you in, his knees hitting the side of your butt, arms around your waist. He put his head in between your tits, his chin resting on them and looking up at you. He was getting a foul double chin from you but he didn’t notice and you’ve been with him long enough to not care about that stuff. 

You cupped his cheeks. “You are my prettiest boy. I’m so happy to look at you every day.” You pressed a soft kiss against his nose. 

His cheeks turned crimson and he dug his head into your chest to hide. You smiled softly. 

You wound one hand into his hair to scratch his scalp, the other around his broad shoulders. 

“So you snooped when you weren’t supposed to and got your own feelings hurt for nothing?” You asked, smiling. 

He snorted from your chest. “I guess so.” 

“So what did we learn?”

“...to not assume.” He grumbled. 

“That’s not it.” “Don’t sneak in on private conversations.” “Especially when…” 

“When your wife tells you not to.” 

“And don’t invade my privacy. We may be attached at the hip but don’t invade.” 

“I’m sorry baby.” He said quietly, you felt it in the bond too. He meant it with his soul. 

He pressed a light kiss between your tits. You scratched his head. He practically purred as he gripped your lush hips tighter. Wrapping you so tight on his arms. It was home for the both of you. “You’re forgiven, pretty boy.” 

He may have pissed you off, but now you call him ‘pretty boy’ constantly.

[cc1306]

hopeless romantic! suna, who can’t stop zoning out, while you’re telling him all about the fight the twins got in during second period. he stares at you blankly, thinking about the way your nose crinkles from laughter as you’re talking to him. cute.

hopeless romantic! suna, who asks, “sorry, what were you saying?” in response to you waving your hand in his face and snapping him out of his daze. with a slight blush on his face, he turns his head, mortified that you caught him failing to pay attention.

“seriously…keep up!” you reprimand him with a half-serious frown and a pout, and he forces himself to pay full attention not wanting to subject himself to such embarrassment again.

hopeless romantic! suna, who stays up late that night facetiming osamu, as he rambles on about some argument he and atsumu got into earlier in the day.

“sunarin, pay attention! quit thinking about [name], i’m talking to you,”

“i wasn’t thinking about her,” he defends, knowing full well that he was wondering if you were still awake before osamu interrupted.

“right, and i’m not the better twin. you know, you should just confess to her before it’s too late. someone else might make a move before you do, then you’ll never get to be with her.”

osamu’s statement made suna think hard.

“…yeah well she doesn’t like me like that. we’re just friends ‘samu.”

“you two are insufferable. let me know when you grow a pair and finally ask her out,” osamu groans out, growing tired of suna’s crippling fear of rejection.

“whatever… im tired now, bye,” suna cut off osamu’s rant with a yawn, before he ended the call.

would she really go out with someone else?

today was the day. suna decided that today would be the day he put his fear to the side and told [name] how he felt. he felt his hands tremble every time she was near and his heart pound, as adrenaline surged through his body.

during your lunch break, you sat on the roof together, just the two of you alone. suna saw this moment as his opportunity, the perfect chance to try and confess his feelings to you. you were currently rambling to him again, telling a story he honestly tried to listen to, but it proved difficult considering his heart was beating out of his chest, as he thought of how you’d respond to what he was about to tell you.

“and then aran and kita told me-“

“[name], i-“ he interrupts you mid-sentence, but his voice got caught in his throat. he cursed himself for being so nervous, all he had to do was say the three words but nothing came out.

“yeah, what’s up?” you ask him, as you drink from your strawberry milk carton contentedly.

“i…umm… i have something to tell you,”

okay yes, good start. just tell her.

“okay…should i be worried?” you ask, starting to get concerned about how serious suna suddenly became.

you thought he’d been acting strange the past week, like how he’s been zoning out recently when speaking to you, or just staring strangely. you’re getting the vibe that somethings wrong with him. maybe he’s sick? maybe he doesn’t want to be your friend anymore? you have no clue what to think, so you chose to hear him out.

“no…well, maybe.”

he felt his hands getting clammy and nervously rubbed them on his trousers. his eyes darted everywhere, looking at everything in the room except back at your own expecting pair. he realised he’d been silent for too long - he needed to say something now.

“i have to tell you how much you mean to me. you might not realise it, but i’m obsessed with you. i think of you before i sleep, and you’re the first thing i think of when i wake up. you consume me, and i don’t know what i would do without you,” he blurted out, speaking so quickly you wouldn’t have been able to keep up if you weren’t listening so intently.

you sat there, stunned in silence. of all things he could’ve said to you, you certainly didn’t expect this. he took your silence as a signal to continue his speech.

“i need you in ways that surely can’t be healthy,” he chuckled, releasing a nervous breath.

“i-“

“you don’t have to accept it. i don’t expect you to tell me you feel the same, but i’d wait forever for you. if you want to be just friends then we will. but you have to tell me what to do. i like you so much. you can say you hate me. you can say you don’t feel the same. just tell me the truth.”

he couldn’t muster up the courage to look you in the eyes, so he kept his gaze trained to the ground, staring hard at the laces of his shoes.

“suna..” you started, forcibly sucking in a breath of air since you felt like all of it had been knocked out of your lungs.

“that’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever said to me. thank you. i don’t now what i’d do without you either because i like you too,” you confessed as he rushed to hold you in his arms in a warm hug.

“thank God, i don’t know what i’d do if you rejected me,” he joked, covering up his anxiety with humour.

“i could never reject you,” you beamed at him in return. he felt his heart explode.

hopeless romantic! suna, who returned to last period that day with a smile from ear to ear, as he entered the classroom hand in hand with you by his side.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Just Giving In

Main Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, truth curses (with a silly twist!), light fluff, angst, smut (fingering, p in v sex, creampie, light sub/dom but like so light), love confessions, no use of y/n

Summary/Warnings: You're under a very annoying truth curse. The kind of truth curse that will kill you if one very specific, Dean-related truth isn't told. But apparently no one's allowed to just die in peace anymore.

Author's Note: It's amazing how I'm able to delude myself into truly believing that I'll actually write something short and only horny. No. We must write 3k of story and 5k of emotional smut. Enjoy!

Title from Never Let Me Go by Florence + the Machine

Word Count: 8.6k

It’s past midnight when you get back to the bunker. 

You were supposed to be back that afternoon, but certain complications arose, and you’re back now. You’ll have a long, sleepless night to come up with an excuse for why exactly you were five hours late, didn’t text Sam and Dean that you were going to be five hours late, where exactly you were in the first place, and why the car looks like that. Scraped and dented and wrecked, like it had been put through a meat grinder and spat out in a hunk of metal that somehow didn’t explode when you drove it. 

You’re glad you didn’t take the Impala. If Dean yelled at you right now, you might start crying on the spot. Thankfully—in what should be a rare stroke of luck, but feels like a dagger right into your stomach—Sam and Dean seem to have given up on trying to wait for you to come home, so you’re free to retreat to your room and cry in private, like any reasonable adult who’s probably going to die within the week would-

“You’re back.” 

A light behind you flicks on as Dean snaps from across the room, and you grimace as everything inverts. Dean did wait up for you, and that’s tiny and electric high that goes right up your spine. You’re also not lucky, but that just feels like a given at this point. 

You will not cry in front of Dean. You have spent the whole night repeating to yourself that, no matter what happens here, you will not cry in front of Dean. He either think nothing of this week, and it will fade into the distance as you figure this out yourself and he never knows, or he’ll look back on it with nothing but simple grief and anger, remember you fondly and furiously instead of as a weak, emotional, manipulative bitch. Remembers you as the person you’ve spent so long proving yourself to be, instead of the feral girl they’d found you as. 

It doesn’t make turning around to face him any easier. He’s sitting in his usual chair, glaring at you with his arms crossed, and there are bags under his eyes that you put there. A tight line to his lips that’s your responsibility, because you’d fucked up and he knows it. He always knows it. 

Because you fuck up a lot.

“Hey, Dean, what’s up-“

“What’s up?” He snaps, and you have to force your body not to flinch. “You’re crawling back here at one in the goddamn morning without ever, I don’t know, thinking to fucking call when you realized you’d be late, and you’re saying what’s up?”

You swallow. “I lost my phone.”

“You, fuck-“ Dean rubs his jaw with a hand, giving you a look of pure disbelief. “You could’ve borrow someone’s, or prayed to Cas, or just, goddamnit-“ he mutters your name, looking at you with an exhaustion that makes your gut flail. “Where the hell even were you?”

“Um,” you glance down at your hands. “Hunt?”

“Hunt.” His voice is flat, and you wince. “That’s all you’re going to say.”

You nod. “Rowena called me. Needed help with something.”

“And you just fucking went with her, without telling anyone-“

“I didn’t just go with her, I brought a gun. I was careful.” you try to stand a little taller, looking back up to Dean, because you need to sell your half-truth of a story and get out of here. Out of where Dean’s just right there, and it’s making your skin crawl and your blood cold and your eyes push out of your skull the longer you lie to him. “And I did tell Cas-“

“Son of a bitch, that’s not enough.” Dean groans, pushing out of the chair to glower down at you. It’s an intimidation tactic you’ve seen him use before, where he makes himself large and furious, almost beast like. Sometimes it makes him look bigger than Sam, and he only pulls it out when he’s furious, and demanding answers. You don’t think he knows that, when he uses it on you, it does not have the intended effect.  

“Dean-“

“Cas didn’t tell us.” Dean hisses your name, stalking across the room and getting far too close for your brain to function properly. “You need to tell us, because we were, I was-“ Dean cuts himself off with a grunt, his whole body rigid as he scans over your face. 

“I’m sorry.” You mumble, and it’s the truth, so it’s like clear, fresh water over your head and down your throat. “I didn’t mean to freak you guys out. I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal.”

“You didn’t-” Dean’s jaw is clenched, and his words seem pushed through his teeth. “Just go to bed,” he mutters your name, and you feel something in your chest snap. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

You nod weakly, and almost run away from him. But not to bed. You’ve already blown this up way too much to just go to bed. 

You go right to Sam’s room and bang on the door, keeping a careful eye over your shoulder for Dean to walk into the hall.

It takes a very long, tense minute, but eventually you hear a groan from the other side of the door, tired words muffled through the wood.

“Dean, she’ll be back, and you’re not helping anything-“ The door swings open to reveal a messy haired, bleary-eyed Sam, and he blinks at you with a frown. “Oh, you’re back. You should go tell Dean-“

“He knows.”

“Cool, that’s good.” Sam scans over you—bouncing slightly on your feet, every movement and breath feeling frantic and borrowed—and frowns. “Are you okay?”

“No.”

“Oh, uh, you need to talk about it-“

You don’t bother to answer, pushing past Sam into his room and dropping on the end of his mattress, watching him blink at you, his frown deepening every second.

“Yeah, you can come in-“

“Can you please close the door?” You whisper, like Dean might somehow hear from wherever he’d gone after your fight. 

Sam nods slowly, and the movement you hear the click of the doorknob, the words start to fall out of you like vomit. 

“I fucked up, Sam. I really, really fucked up, it’s bad, I’m fucking fucked-“

“Woah, slow down.” Sam moves across the room, running a hand through his hair. “Just, start from the top. Where were you-“

“Rowena called me for help. Some sort of coven drama, she said she needed some backup because her magic was weakened.” You take a long, shaky breath, unable to look anywhere but the corner of Sam’s carpet. “I told Cas, just in case it was a trap, and left. I owed her a favor-“

“Wait, since when did you owe Rowena a favor-“

“Mark of Cain.” You mumble. “I told her I’d owe her if she helped Dean. One favor, cashable on anything.”

Sam says your name slowly. “You didn’t need to do that, we would have figured it out. I mean, Dean wouldn’t want you to-“

“I know, I don’t need you to-“ You sigh, squeezing your eyes shut. “Can we focus on one stupid choice at a time, please?”

“Yeah, sorry, keep going. Why are you fucked.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, and decide to skip most of the details. Sam did not need to know about how the case was indeed at trap, or how you’d known it was a trap, but the favor had been a blood oath, so you weren’t able to run or call them. He didn’t need to know how you’d mowed down about five witches with the car—the sickening crunch still rattling around your skull—or how it wasn’t just blood and sweat on your brow, but something from an animal you’d really hoped you’d mistranslated from Latin. 

He just needs to know the reason you hadn’t killed Rowena when you’d escaped and taken out the rest of the coven. 

He just needs to know about the problem.

“It went to shit. Really big shit, Sam. I’m kind of… cursed.”

There’s a long moment of silence, and when you finally gather the confidence to look at Sam, he’s gaping at you, frozen in place.

“What do you mean,” his voice is low, every word slow and deliberate. “Kind of cursed.”

“I mean very cursed.” You mumble. “Really fucking cursed.”

“Shit.” He mutters, shaking his head. “I said you were probably fine, Dean’s gonna kill me-“

“No!” You stand up frantically, your voice almost a squeak. “Don’t tell Dean!”

“Why the hell wouldn’t I tell Dean?!” Sam snaps, looking at you like you’ve gone insane. “If you’re really cursed, we need all hands, and Dean-“

“He can’t know, Sam, please.” You might start crying, every word choked in your throat. “Don’t tell him.”

“I…” Sam trials off, his face dropping into a deep frown that seems to be mostly made of worry as he says your name. “What, exactly, is the curse?”

You sigh, hugging yourself as you speak. “If I don’t resolve my deepest secret, I’ll die.”

Sam blinks. “Like, die die? Death die?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” His eyes widen as the situation fully sinks in, his whole body going slack as he pulls the pieces together. “Fuck.”

You hum a soft agreement. “Fuck.”

“And why can’t I tell Dean? I mean, he’ll want to help-“

“You know why.” You whisper. “Please don’t make me say it.”

“Fuck.” Sam groans. “And you’d rather die than-“

“Yes.” You lower yourself down to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest as you stare ahead at nothing. “I’m sorry, Sam, I just. I can’t. I don’t-“ You taste the sting of metal as you bite through your cheek. “I don’t know what to do. I’m going to d-“ You cut yourself off with a choked sound, and hear the bed shift as Sam drops at your side and pulls you into a gentle hug.

“We’ll figure it out.” He mutters your name, and you make another weak, strangled noise. “I promise. You’re going to be okay.”

Over your first, weak sob, you don’t hear the door open. You only know it opens because Dean clears his throat, and your blood turns white-hot in your body, caught between embarrassment and nerves and a deep, soft and starved piece of your heart that’s trying to climb into your limbs and rip your body away from Sam’s to fly to Dean’s.

“Sammy, she-“ He cuts himself off as he sees you, and you die a little at how he says your name. Like he hates it. “You’re in here.”

You nod, keeping your face angled down, and you hear Dean shift slightly in the doorway. 

“Why are you in Sam’s room.”

There’s no good answer for that, and Sam doesn’t seem to have one either. There’s no plausible lie for why you’re on the floor on Sam’s room, why you’re sniffling, and why he’s hugging you that doesn’t sound insane. Even the truth wouldn’t exactly be an easy sell.

And it hurts. When Dean just sighs and grunts that he doesn’t want to know—that you and Sam can go back to fucking braiding each other’s hair or whatever—and stomps out of the room, it’s like a knife to your gut. But you can’t tell him. Not the truth. Not any of it.

So this will only be the first knife. And you’d worry about what you would be telling him when this was over—how you could possibly explain yourself—if you had any faith you were going to get out of this. 

But you don’t. The week crawls on, and it all only gets so much worse. Vague illness starts to feel like you’re being mauled from inside, and Dean’s anger turns to bullets.

You spend most of your days in the library with Sam, combing through book after book, looking for anything about how you can fix this, and every time Dean walks in, he looks like he wants to punch someone. Like he’s disgusted by your very presence where he can see you, like you’re a spider that’s crawled into his house and he can’t even stand the sight of you. 

“I’m getting dinner.” He snaps on the third night, and when you look up from your book—Sam standing behind you, having hunched over your body to read the passage you’d been pointing to—Dean’s jaw is clenched, his fists curled at his side. “Neither of you got groceries, so I’m ordering. What do you want.”

His voice is flat. It makes your chest feel like it’s being run over by a train.

“I’ll take whatever you get.” You offer him a small smile, because you can’t help yourself, and it just makes him glare more. “But can I please have a milkshake as well?”

Dean narrows his eyes at you. “You don’t know where the hell I’m going.”

“You’re going to the diner, Dean.” You shrug. “You always go to the diner.”

He grunts, something hot flashing over his face that you don’t understand. “Fine. Milkshake.”

He doesn’t bother to ask any follow-up questions. He doesn’t bother to wait for Sam to say what he wants. Dean just marches up to the garage, vanishes for an hour—the diner is ten minutes away, and you start to feel your stomach and heart twist the longer he’s gone—and returns with a slam of the door, throwing a salad at Sam and placing a burger and milkshake in front of you before stomping out of the library.

Dean got your favorite flavor. You hadn’t told him to, but he had.

It tastes like chalk. And you’ve never hated yourself more.

After that, he barely speaks to you. Just low grunts and glowers at you whenever you cross paths, his presence in the bunked suddenly scares. He’d usually sit with you and Sam while you read, cracking unhelpful jokes that make Sam roll his eyes and you giggle, but he’s just gone. Locked in the Dean Cave or the garage, shuffling around the kitchen with a sullen expression, swallowing his dinner whole and refusing to really even look at you.

It hurts more than any anger could. It’s lonely and cancerous the longer it goes on, because you’re still talking to and hanging out with Sam, but he doesn’t count. Your whole heart isn’t orbiting around Sam. The curse is completely indifferent to Sam. The curse doesn’t care when Sam grumbles or frowns at you. It cares when Dean hates you. You think it can feel that this won’t be resolved—because it won’t be, you grow more and more certain with every passing day that this is how you will die—and takes the opportunity to root deeper into your body. Every sneer or glare Dean gives you sits under your nails to claw at your skin. It covers you in sweat in the dead of night, and chokes you when you’re in the shower and the water’s burning your skin.

Sam keeps trying to convince you to just do it, just say the thing to Dean because the worst that can happen is that you’re heartbroken but alive.

“And I really don’t think it would even come to that.” He tells you from across the table at 2am, because you’re running out of time and sleep isn’t something you can even remember how to do anymore. “I mean, it’s Dean-“

“That’s the problem, Samuel.” You hiss. The curse has started to make you mean, and if you make it out alive, you’ll have to buy Sam a million bottles of hair gel to make up for what you’re putting him through. “It’s Dean. He already doesn’t like me-“

Sam frowns. “Why would you think that-“

“Because I’m a responsibility.” You’re spitting, and it tastes like venom. “I’m your kid shadow, I’m Dean’s kid shadow, I’m a burden-“

“You’re not a burden,” Sam says your name slowly. “To either of us. I mean, if what you said about Rowena is true, you saved Dean from the Mark-“

“That doesn’t count. That was just a deal I made-“

“A deal you made for Dean.” Sam’s pushing back. You wish he’d stop. “Most people in our lives wouldn’t have done that for us. And Dean doesn’t think you’re his kid shadow, by the way. I mean, I’ve only ever-“

“Sam.” Your voice is flat. A little broken. “Please don’t. Even if he doesn’t hate me, I- I just can’t-“

“But Dean-“

“Please.” You’re going to cry again. “You won’t convince me.”

Sam sighs, shaking his head. “Well, we need to try something. I’m not just going to let you die.”

You don’t think that’s up to Sam. You don’t think it’s up to anyone anymore. You won’t tell Dean, because you’ve scanned over book after book about spell phrasing, and decided that telling Dean wouldn’t even help. You had to resolve your deepest secret. Rejection that burns your heart to ash, that clouds your lungs and makes you cower and falter won’t be resolving anything, and then you’ll just die in more pain.

You let Sam convince you to try something. More for him than for you. You lock yourself in the bathroom and stare at your hideous reflection in the mirror—your skin a little sunken, your eyes lined with red, your lips raw from being chewed until they bled—and start speaking a whisper, because you can’t stand the sound of your own voice.

“I love Dean Winchester.” You tell yourself, as if you’re not so deeply aware of how your love is tattooed onto your every breath and heartbeat. “I love him. I am going to die, and I love him, and I am very-“ You choke slightly, your eyes stinging as the world blurs. “I am very, very sorry. Not for loving him, but for forcing him to be loved by me. I’m sorry I don’t know how to stop loving him. I’m sorry I’m leaving him. But I am not sorry for loving him. I… I spent a lifetime surrounded by cruel animals who called themselves angels, and he’s the only person I’ve ever- I could believe- I just-“ You drop your head, turning up the faucet to drown out every weak sob and apology. “I love him. And he… he’s too good be obligated to love me. So I think I’ll just…”

You trail off, and crumble onto the tile floor. When you dry your tears and yank yourself back together, Sam’s waiting for you a little down the hall. You shake your head, his shoulders slump, and that’s it. For Sam it’s not—he turns around and marches right back to the library—but for you, it is. You’re done. 

You’ll hole up in your room and die alone. Like how’d you’d been meant to all along, lent only a little bit of extra time by Dean saving you to begin with.

And that time had run out. So you’ll just go die alone.

lay flat on your bed as your vision starts to dance with spots, and spend your time trying to image what a heaven you’re not allowed into will look like. Cas has told you every person gets their own, but you don’t really want that. It sounds like more of your life, and it’s pointless to worry about because you’re headed nowhere but down, but you’d still rather spend eternity with someone.

One person. You’d like to spend eternity with one person. 

The same person who had somehow gotten into your locked room, and is snapping your name as he stands at the foot of your bed. You’d be angrier he’d just barged in if you could remember how to be anything but in pain. You’d snap back if your mouth knew how to be anything but numb. 

“Dean-“

“What the fuck are you doing.” Dean hisses, and you close your eyes, the light suddenly painfully bright. “What the hell is wrong with you.”

“Nothing.” You whisper, and he scoffs. 

“Nice shot, sweetheart. I’m not an idiot.”

“I don’t think you’re an idiot, Dean, I just don’t feel well.”

“That’s fucking bullshit-“

You sigh. “It’s not. I’m sick.” 

There’s a moment of silence, then, “how sick.”

“Fever.” You mumble. “Stomach bug. Maybe the flu. You should probably leave-“

“No,” he grunts, and you hear his steps. He’s coming closer, and your skin might be boiling off your body. “I’m not leaving you-“

“It’s not leaving if I ask you to go.” You mumble, and you can feel the heat of his body off to the side, can hear his breathing—maybe even his heartbeat—and it’s making everything worse-

“I’m not going.”

“Dean, just, please-“

“No, I’m sick of you fucking ignoring me, and I- I don’t even care what’s going on with you and Sam-“

You frown. “Nothing’s going on with me and Sam-“

“I have eyes,” Dean sneers your name, and there’s a tone in his voice that’s almost wounded. “You were hugging in his room, you’re always fucking whispering and hanging out-“

“That’s not-“ You swallow, dragging your eyes open to find him glaring down at you. He looks wounded too. “It’s for a case.”

“What case? A case that I’m not allowed to know about? Because that’s not a case, sweetheart, that’s a secret-“

You almost throw up, just from that word. “It’s- I’m not keep any secrets, Dean, just please go-“

“No!” He’s almost shouting, and the sound is like a cannon into your gut. “I don’t know what the hell is up with you, but you’re suddenly putting yourself in danger, and stuck to my brother, and you’re not talking to me anymore-“

“You’re not talking to me, Dean.” You whisper, his gaze burning you right down to the cavity of your chest. “I’m always in the library-“

“Yeah, I know, with Sam.” Dean scowls, and you’re too tired to think almost anything, but that’s strange. Dean never says Sam like that. Like it’s a horrible word. 

“It’s not a big deal,” you say, watching Dean carefully. “He’s helping me with something-“

“Something I can’t help you with?”

You blink, ready to lie and say no, but your mush of a brain doesn’t appear to be up to that task. “No.”

Dean’s brow furrows slightly. “So I could help you.”

“I-“ You feel a stab in your intestine, and your voice grows hoarse. “Please don’t ask me that.”

“Why-“

“Because I- Just go away, Dean-“

He shakes his head, saying your name in a stern, unwavering voice. “Could I help you-“

“N-“ You swallow a groan as your lungs contract, and this is dangerous. You’re too far gone to lie anymore, and that’s the only chance you have. If Dean keeps poking at you, you’ll tell the truth. You can’t tell the truth. “Please just leave me alone-“

“I’m not leaving you alone.” He snaps, dropping onto the side of your bed to prove his point. “You never left me alone, with the Mark-“

“That’s not-“ You can’t swallow your next sound of pain, or the whine that leaves your throat when Dean’s hand grabs your thigh. “Dean, please go-“

“Do you want me to go.”

“No.” You say it before you can think, and hate that the pain over your muscles lessens when Dean stays, and when his hand starts to rub slow circles. “But you- you have to-“

“I said I’m staying.” He grunts. “And you’re not changing my mind, sweetheart. Tell me what’s wrong with you.”

“I did.” You whisper, closing your eyes again. Looking at his handsome, annoyingly determined face isn’t helping anyone. “I’m sick.”

“Fine. What’s making you sick.”

“Curse.”

Fuck.

Dean’s silent for a long moment, then-

“What the fuck do you mean, curse.”

“Me.” You mumble. “Curse on me.”

“And how did a curse get on you-“

“Rowena.”

“That fucking bitch.” He mutters, and you feel his grip on you tighten slightly. Almost protectively. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me-“

That was probably a rhetorical question. Your sudden truth-telling streak doesn’t seem to care at all. “I was worried you’d hate me.”

“I- what?”

“I was worried-“

“I heard you,” he grunts. “I just, why the hell would you ever think I’d hate you-“

“Because I suck.” You whisper. “And I can’t- I don’t deserve you.”

Dean’s silent again. You wish he’d stop doing that. “You think you don’t deserve me?”

You nod, barely a movement at all, and Dean groans. You’re still not strong enough to look at him.

“Sweetheart, you- I’m not-“ He cuts himself off, his hand resuming his circles, you’re not sure he knows he’s doing it. “I’m going to ask you something, and you need to tell me the truth. Got it?”

You hum. Like you’d even have a choice.

“What will cure the curse.”

“I need to,” you try to fight down the words, but you’re light-headed and faint and Dean’s hand is really warm, so you fail. “I need to resolve my deepest secret.”

“Oh.” He pauses. “What’s your deepest secret?”

You’re going to bite off your tongue. And when Dean says your name again, his voice a little rougher, it drags your eyes open to stare at him. Watching you with a focus you can feel in your bones, that’s prying the truth out of you, and he’s just looking at you and you can’t do this-

“Dean, I-“ You digs your nails into your skin, something flashes in his eyes, and you can’t look away. But you can’t stop yourself either, and if you have to watch Dean’s disgust, that might kill you right here. “Please turn around.”

He frowns. “What?”

“I need you to turn around.” You whisper. “Please.”

He nods slowly, twisting away from you, and it’s like a green light to your stupid, traitorous mouth. The words fall out of you like vomit, and if this is the end, at least it might be fast. 

“I love you. I’ve loved you for years, and I’m sorry, but I can’t stop, and I don’t want to stop, and I love you. Only you. Just you. Can’t remember how to love anyone else, because I love you. I love your jokes and your grumpiness and how protective you are because you make me feel safe, and I love that you’re kind of a dork and a loser but you’re also so hot, I love your voice and your face and your hands, and I and I want you in a, um-“ You squeeze your thighs together, staring at the suddenly rapid rise and fall of Dean’s back. “A way that I shouldn’t talk about-“

“How do you want me.” He grunts, his voice low and a little gruff, and you can feel the heat in your cheeks.

“On me.” You whisper. “In me. I want you on my face and in my hands and fuck, I want your inside of me. But I also want to wake up next to you and hold your hand and fall asleep in your lap, and fuck-“

You cut yourself off with a whine as something sharp hits your right in the heart, and Dean’s silent. He’s not turning around, or leaving, or doing anything but sitting and breathing for so long, for too long-

“You-“ He shakes his head slightly, and you could swear he’s leaning slightly backward. “You want me.”

“Yeah, I- yes.”

“You love me.”

“Yes.” Too late to go back now. “I love you, Dean.”

“Why- why didn’t you tell me?”

He sounds broken. He sounds sad.

You’re so confused. It’s almost enough to distract from the pain racking your whole body.

“I- I didn’t think you’d-“ Not care. Dean couldn’t not care. He cares too much. “I wasn’t sure what-“

“What I’d say?”

“What you’d do.”

“What would you-“ He’s definitely leaning back. He’s closer, too. “What would you want me to do?”

“What would I want?” 

Dean nods.

“I- it doesn’t matter-“

“Yes it-“ He sighs, twisting around to face you. You can’t read the expression on his face. It’s lost and it’s afraid and it’s… hopeful. There’s this small light that’s so deep in his eyes that seems like real, true hope. “Please,” he mutters your name, and you might be melting. “Just, entertain me. What would you want me to do?”

“I’d want to tell me you love me.” You whisper, and if this curse is going to kill you, you hope it does it now, right before you lose all your dignity forever. “Like I love you.”

Dean shakes his head slightly, and your heart might be splitting in half. “But I- I tried to kill you-“

“The demon tried to kill me. That wasn’t really you-“

“Yes, it was-“

“No.” Your voice gains a little strength, and you push up on your elbows. “You saved me, Dean. You rescued me from the angels-“

“Anyone would’ve done that-“

“But they didn’t.” You snap. “You did. And I don’t love anyone, I love you.”

“That’s-“ He groans, his voice growing hoarse. “You- why?”

“What do you mean, why-“

“Why would you love me? I mean, unless this is some sick, fucked up prank-“

“It’s not a prank-“

“Well why?” He shouts your name, and he looks distressed. Like this is shredding him apart. “Why the hell would you love me-“

“Because I like loving you.” You grab his hand, his own panic starting to set into your own body, making this all the worse. “It feels right. And I- I know you don’t love me-“

You’re not sure what’s happening. Dean’s hands are cupping your face, and his mouth is on yours, and he tastes like whiskey and coffee and pecan, and you feel okay. You really feel okay. All the pain and sickness is dissolving from your body, and Dean is kissing you. Kissing you with an unforgiving, demanding desperation, his tongue down your throat and his body lowering down over yours, pinning you to the bed as he groans against your lips.

The sound jumpstarts something in you. Your arms wrap around Dean’s neck right before he can pull away or hesitate, and you throw everything he’s silently offering you back to him. Biting on his lower lip and wrapping your legs around his torso, grinding up into him as he makes a deep, satisfied noise and moves one hand to wrap around you waist, holding you steady against him as he rises up, moving you to stay in his lap.

“You’re, shit.” Dean lets out a low chuckle, pressing a small, gentler kiss to the tip of your nose as you breathe in ragged time. “You’re such a fucking idiot, sweetheart.”

You lean back to frown at him. “No I’m not-“

“Yeah, you are. But I am too.” He sighs, dropping his head to the crook of your neck and speaking against your skin. “Seems like we’re made for each other, huh.”

“Dean, I-“

“Wait, just-“ Dean kisses up the column of your throat, ending right behind your ear, and his voice a low sound that falls right down into your core. “Gimme a second.”

“Dean-“

“Please,” he mutters, and when you pull back he looks nervous. It’s strange, but adorable, and you nod. He needs a second, you’ll give him a million. Anything to keep him here a little longer, to keep the ebb of the sickness going. 

“Okay.” You whisper, and—taking the biggest gamble of your life—lean forward to kiss him again. Just a light, almost innocent press of your lips to his. He tenses, his arms around you tightening, and you’d have panicked if it didn’t seem like he was clinging to you. Like he was afraid you were going to vanish. 

“I- uh,” Dean says your name slowly, and it’s odd. You’ve heard him say it exactly like that a million, but this feels deeper. Like a prayer. “I lo-“ He cuts himself off, his brow drawing tightly together, and you can feel your heart in your throat. Set to either explode or move into Dean as you hold your breath. “You. I- you- it’s- fuck.” He scowls, and you offer him your gentler smile, running a hand over the soft stubble on his jaw, even as you feel your blood start to go cold again.

“Dean, you don’t have to-“

“Yeah. I do, I-“ He catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles and speaking against them as if he’s trying to tell your body more than your mind. “I love you. A lot. So stop being cursed.”

You stare at him, your voice barely a breath. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Did it work?”

It did. The curse seemed to vanish the moment Dean kissed you—like it knew that what he was trying to tell you before he even said it—but now the world is just color and light and Dean. It’s enchanting. He’s enchanting. He’s all genuine and powerful focus on you, and. worry that makes you feel warm, and love you can suddenly see everywhere on him. You don’t know how you missed it before, because it’s in his eyes and coating his lips and in every flex of his body around you. It would knock you down if he wasn’t holding you. 

“Yeah.” You smile at Dean, and his own mouth tugs up slightly. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He shrugs. “Any time. I, uh, sorry about getting pissed about you and Sam.“

“It’s fine, I-“ You paused, frowning at him. “Were you jealous?”

He scowls, his cheeks turning a little red. “Obviously.”

“Of Sam-“

“You were really close with him all the time.” Dean snaps. “And I- you seemed pissed at me, and super stressed, and usually you’d come to me for that stuff, but you were hugging Sam and talking to him instead of me-“

“Because I don’t love Sam. I love you, that’s why I told you-”

“I didn’t fucking know that.” He grumbles. “I- Sam doesn’t know everything about how I feel about you, but he knew enough, and I- I thought you were choosing him- And I- You’re not my girl but you felt like my girl and I didn’t-“

“Your girl?” Your face splits into a wide smile, and some of the tension seems to leave Dean as he nods. 

“Yeah. If you want.”

“Yes.” You squeak, and Dean’s hand starts to run slowly down your thigh. “Yes, please.”

“You sure?” He raises his brows, and it’s really hard to think when he’s so close, and this is suddenly overwhelmingly real. He’s really broad and warm against you, and he’s really touching you, and he said the thing but that doesn’t mean-

“Yeah, but are, are you sure-“

“Baby, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” He drawls, and you swallow as he leans in closer, his nose bumping yours. “And I’d be very happy to prove that.”

“Prove it?” You whisper, your eyes trapped onto his glimmering, darkened ones. “I, um, that, how-“

“However you’d like,” he says your name with a smirk, and it’s amazing how any all insecurity he had only a minute ago seems to have vanished. “You wanna tell me how’d you want me to prove it? Or do you need some suggestions?”

You might be drooling. “Suggestions, please.”

Dean hums, holding you carefully as he rises on his knees, bends you down onto the mattress, and starts to trace slow, taunting hands over your body.

“We could start slow,” he mutters, playing with the hem of your shorts, broad fingers brushing over your skin. “I could take my time with you, sweetheart. Do the proper thing, take you out to dinner and movie, wait until the third date to give you everything-“

“No!” You yelp. “Not slow-“

Dean’s hand slides under your shorts, his palm resting right over your already sore pussy, and he chuckles at your high gasp. 

“Alright, baby, not slow.” He leans down to pull you into a long, slow kiss, smirking against your lips as you start to grind into his hand. “But we’re going on a date. I’ve had years to plan it, wouldn’t want all my hard work to go to waste.”

You nod a little stupidly, your nails digging into his arm braced near your head. “How- what do you mean years-“

“You’re not the only one who had that at first sight thing.” Dean mutters, shaking his head slightly. “I’ve lost sleep over you, baby girl. We’re going to do this right, no witches involved, but,” he drops his head to kiss right behind your ear, humming as a high moan escapes your lips. “I’ve got a million things I want to do you, and fuck me if I’m going waste time not doing them.”

“Yeah, good, do that-“ You gasp as Dean’s thumb finds your clothed clit, starting to draw firm, fast circles around it. “Shit, Dean-“

“That’s my name.” He growls in your ear, flicking against you and smirking at your high whine. “C’mon, sweetheart gotta get you ready for me-“

“I, I’m ready-“

He chuckles. “No, you’re not. Wanna make you feel good, not break you.”

“What if, fuck-“ You feel a brief, sharp moment of cold air as Dean pulls your shorts and panties down, shoving two fingers into your cunt. He’s watching you so carefully, like he’s studying your every hitched breath and blurred gaze, smirking as he begins to slowly move inside of you, scissoring and crooking and pushing in deeper every time-

“What if what, pretty girl?” He teases, his pace increasing slightly. “Use your words.”

Your back arches off the bed as Dean re-angles his hand, pressing his palm to your clit and starting to rub strong, sharp circles as his fingers reach a blissful, almost painfully good pace, but remain too shallow to hit that sensitive spot deep your cunt and send you over the edge. “What if I want you to break me?” You gasp, your arm wrapping around his neck as he groans, dropping his brow against yours. “Please, Dean-“

“You, fuck-“ He grunts your name, and you feel something prodding at your inner thigh. “Not now, baby, need to be gentle-“

“No you don’t-“

“Yeah, I do.” Dean’s movements still as he rises on his knees over you, and you’re pretty certain the authoritative thing is supposed to be stern and intimidating, but it’s mostly just making you grind on his hand and reach up for him pathetically.

“Dean-“

“Listen to me.” He snaps, grabbing your wrist and pinning it to the mattress, sighing as you moan again, squeezing around his fingers, still in your cunt. “Fuck, you nearly just died-“

“I’m okay now.” You whisper. “I feel great. I feel, fuck Dean, I feel so good-“

He hisses as you spread your legs, writhing on the bed for anything, at this point you’ll take anything Dean offers you-

“Fuck yeah, you do.” He mutters, his fingers starting to pump slowly again, scanning over your body with an almost awestruck expression. “Bet you feel like heaven, baby girl, but we need to go slow. I promise I can wreck you later, but today-“

“Slow.” You sigh, and he nods.

“Slow. But,” Dean’s free hand starts to trail under your shirt, palming at your breasts, rolling your nipples between calloused, strong fingers. “Doesn’t mean we can’t take care of you, sweetheart. I’m going to fuck this tight little pussy, still going to get you fucking cockdrunk. Okay?”

You nod, your eyes slightly glazed over, and Dean bends his fingers deep inside you, right one that spot, letting out a low gasp as you whine.

“Say okay, sweetheart.” He grunts, his hand moving from your breast, over your neck, to your mouth, pressing his thumb on your lower lip until it parts. You moan against him, your eyes fluttering slightly, and you’re already too high, too needy, to do anything but listen.

“Okay.”

“Good girl.” He coos, slowly pushing his thumb between your lips, his nostrils flaring when you start to suck on him with an abandon. “Fuck, so good, I can’t wait to ruin you, baby, you’re never gonna even think about another cock-“

You haven’t thought about another cock in years, and you haven’t even seen it yet. But Dean’s thumb is bumping the back of your throat, so all you can do is moan, give him your best pleading look, and let your head fall back as Dean’s fingers finally move inside of you, pushing and playing on the spot until your orgasm washes over you in bright waves of good. So good. Just, fuck, he’s good-

Dean’s thumb pulls out of your mouth with a pop, and he wipes a little bit of spit off on your upper lip before lowering his mouth to yours, this kiss far too soft and gentle for how you think you might die if he doesn’t fuck you now.

“Look so pretty, cumming on my hand.” Dean moves to the shell of your ear, his growling promise sending a shiver up your spine. “Bet you’ll look prettier fucking squeezing my cock.”

You barely have time to whimper when Dean yanks his fingers out of your cunt, rolls you over so you’re straddling his torso, and raises you up by your hips before pushing you right down onto his dick. You don’t even remember when he took off his pants, or where your shirt went, but those are worries for someone who isn’t being split open on Dean’s cock. Who doesn’t have him drawing small circles on their inner thigh, or isn’t being held up by his hand on their waist.

But you do. You have Dean everywhere, real and warm under your hands as you grip his shoulders, bumping deep against your cervix as he lets you adjust to the size of him, one broad finger reaching down to press—light and taunting—on your clit, and groaning as you squeeze around him.

“Shit,” Dean grunts your name, looking up at you under hooded eyes in a way you don’t think anyone’s ever looked at you before. As if you’re somewhere they’d always expected to be, and they’re still in awe that you’re there. “Gotta be careful, want this to-“

Dean cuts himself off with a hiss as you grind on him experientially, clenching again as he hits that electric spot deep inside you. He grabs you firm by your hips, stilling your every movement as he gives you a stern glower. 

“You need to listen.” His voice is gravely and lower than you’ve ever heard it, and you’d do whatever he told you to, but that doesn’t mean you can’t whine and scratch lightly at his chest. 

“Dean, move-“

“You gonna listen?”

“Yes, just, fuck-“ You gasp as he pulls you up with barely a grunt, slamming your right back down with a roll of your hips. 

“Want you to feel good, baby girl, but you need to be careful,” Dean drags one had down to squeeze your ass, his hand still on your waist drawing light circles around your clit. “Or next time might be more than wrecking.”

Your moan is vulgar and shameless, and you’re more than ready to devote sleep to figuring out what more than wrecking will look like, but right now you just fucking need this. 

“Need more, Dean,” you whisper. “Need it so bad-“

“I know, sweetheart.” He mutters, trailing his hand up your stomach to squeeze your breast, groaning when you squirm around him. “Think you’re ready to ride this cock? Think you can handle, shit-“

You’d stared to move the movement he’d said ride, rolling your body and arching your back, dragging every bit of confidence you have to grind down onto Dean’s cock, your nails sinking into his abdomen.

“Fuck, yeah.” Dean’s voice is a breath under you, and when you scan over him, he lookslike he’sa little wrecked himself.His eyes on yours are hooded and low, his voice dripping with that same dominating confidence, but something more delicate in the way he’s touching you. Not as if he’s afraid to break you, but afraid you’ll shatter him. 

And you did that. You wrecked Dean. And that lights a wildfire in your gut, running through your nerves until they’re sensitive and bare, and into your brain until it’s all just Dean.

You start to move. Slowly at first to test the waters, but—when Dean just groans and ruts up into you—quickly picking up pace until you’re bouncing on Dean’s cock, your thighs squeezing his torso and your clit rubbing on his abdomen, his ever grunt and hiss and bruising grip just making your need grow bigger as you slam him onto that deep spot-

“Shit, I’m- Slow down-“ 

Dean’s hiss is low, and you immediately obey, changing to long, slow movements as Dean hums. 

“There you go baby, such a good girl.” His hand moves from your ass to your lower back, rubbing soothing patterns as he praises you. “You’re so hot baby, fucking ruined on my cock-“

You make a high, breathless sound you don’t recognize, moving your hips in a circle to try and chase more friction, and Dean chuckles.

“You alright up there-“

“Good,” you moan, your eyes fluttering shut to try and focus your all on Dean beneath you. “So good, Dean, feels so good-“

“Need a little more?”

“Yes-“

“More descriptive than that, sweet girl.” He teases, and when this is done, you’re going to kill him. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to-“

“You,” the word falls out without thought, because most of you belongs to Dean. “Just you, only need you-“

“You love me?” Dean’s voice is low, and when you open your eyes to look at him, there’s a small chink in his armor. You don’t know if you pried it open, or if you’ve just never noticed, but you can see right into him, and he still doesn’t really believe that you love him.

And that’s the only thing you’ve ever really know. You loving Dean has been the only truly certain thing in your life, because Dean’s a given and loving him feels like breathing.

So you smile at him, reaching forward to cup his face, and tell him with everything you have, hoping he can hear how the words are in time with your heart.

“I love you,” you whisper. “And I’m yours.”

He blinks at you, shaking his head slightly even as his dick twitches inside you. “You don’t need to be, it’s- you know, dirty talk-“

“I know.” You shrug. “I’m still yours.”

Dean’s nostrils flare, and you know you’re not getting control back from him for the rest of the night.

You’re fine with that. Dean starts to rock you back and forth around him, letting you just fall into and around him, and your lost to any world that isn’t Dean. Isn’t his hand splayed on your lower back or his fingers digging into the skin of your hips and ass. Anything that isn���t his cock hitting part of you that you didn’t know existed and filling you up so much you’re not sure how you’re ever going to manage being empty again.

You don’t think you will have to manage. Dean’s holding you like he’s trying to brand himself on your body, like he needs you feel him for the rest of your life. And you will. You’ll feel the bliss Dean’s drawing from your body that’s better than any heaven you could have imagined, rising slowing below the surface, ready to burst at any moment.

You’ll hear him too. Hear every deep noise of his own pleasure, hear the slapping of his skin on yours, hear his low praise echo around your head and ribs for the rest of your life.

“You’re mine, baby girl.” He growls, the sound rumbling in his chest and rolling right into your pussy, making you throw your head back with a breathy whimper. “Fuck, you’re so hot riding me, feel so good around me, tight and warm-“

Dean cuts himself off with a hiss as you reach behind your body, your hand finding his balls to squeeze lightly. 

“Goddamnit, sweetheart-“ He groans, jerking slightly inside of you. “Fuck, keep doing that, so fucking needy for me, fucking soaking this cock-“

You grind around him, and his pace starts to lose rhythm. Even after he swats your hand away you know he’s lost his own self-control, and fuck he looks hot without it. Starting to rut up into you in uncontrolled movements, pulling you to pieces with a lustful, ardorous gaze and brutal pace and strong hands, moving back to your clit and rolling it between his fingers-

Your mouth falls open in a silent, needy cry of pleasure as your orgasm bursts over you. It’s not sudden, but you couldn’t never anticipated the power of it—like someone had doused you in gasoline that smells like whiskey and fruit, lit a match, and turned to into a star—or how it rides on and on, never seeming to crest or crash as Dean slams home inside of you, warmth coating your pussy and running down your thighs as he moans your name. 

Dean helps you float down to earth, leaving careful, deliberate touches on your skin and humming as his knees rising up to support you. You watch his gaze rakes down your body, lingering on where he can see himself spill out of your pussy, and moves to slowly drag through the mess, gathering some on two fingers before rising them up to your mouth. You open without hesitation and his throat bobs, his cock twitching inside you as you lick his release off his hand, your eyes never leaving his wide, reverent one.

“Son of a bitch.” He mutters. “How the hell did I get so lucky?”

You let out a soft laugh. “You stole my line.”

“Nah.” He shrugs, tracing a hand over your cheek. “You could have anyone you want, baby, but you’re here, with an asshole like me-“

“You’re not an asshole.”

“Yeah, I am.” He shrugs, like you can’t see how his own words pierce him through that chink. “Shit, I just accused you of sleeping with Sam-“

“And I’ve been lying to you for years.” You lean down, resting your chin on his chest, giving him your widest smile. “Neither of us are saints, Dean. And I happen to be the right kind of fucked up to let possessiveness hot.” You pause, giving him your best stern glare. “To a degree. I will slap you the next time you accuse me of fucking Sam.” 

Dean laughs, his around wrapped—gentle and relaxed—around you. “Yes, ma’am.”

You hum, resting your head to the side, and you might be here for a hundred years. Time blurs and slows until it’s just Dean’s heartbeat near your ear, his thumb tracing a pattern on your arm, and his face buried in your hair. The end of the world might have already come to pass when his hand moves to your chin and he angles your gaze to his, and you wouldn’t really care. You’re still where you need to be.

“Would you,” he lets out a slow breath, all his cocky arrogance gone, his eyes on yours nervous. The hope is back, but it’s wrapped in soft fear. “I’m not good at- shit-“

He’s going to hurt himself, and you take pity on him. You lean does to press a sweet kiss to his mouth, letting your tongue trail over his lips, and rising back up with a small smile.

“Can we go on a date, Dean?” 

He chuckles, nodding. “Yeah. Whatever you want, baby girl.”

Your smile strains at your cheeks, because you only want Dean. 

And you’ll have to write Rowena a thank you note, because you finally have him.

End Note: Me make a story with no prior lore challenge: impossible

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Taglist

@artemys-ackles @ambiguous-avery @nightxcreature @sthefferrete @lyarr24

@deansbbyx @bakugotypecrashout @foolinthera1n @globetrotter28 @lordofthunderthr

@youdontknowe @nyrtopia @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @panicking-outside-the-disco @elle14-blog1

@impala67rollingthroughtown @dumb--blonde @itsdearapril @apobangpo-0613 @alwaystiredandconfused

@arcticwisteria @generalmoonpolice @foxyjwls007

[brucebocchi]

Ranking 2024 anime, Pt. 5: #10-1

hey, this post is also available on my ko-fi, so please check it out and consider tipping/donating as i do this for free and am currently between jobs. you can find part 1 of the list here, part 2 here, part 3 here, and part 4 here. all of my seasonal reviews are on my ko-fi and under my anime reviews tag, mixed in with my occasional musings. thanks!

And we are in the home stretch! I didn't want to split up my top 10 like last year, so it took a couple days to get it all together. Thanks for your patience.

​As you may have noticed, some of these reviews are longer than others. I've reviewed most of these shows before, so I didn't want to be too redundant while talking about shows I've already reviewed. You can, of course, go back and read my initial reviews in my previous seasonal roundups.

Also, I just wanted to quickly shout out a few shows that I haven't watched much or any of, but would likely have placed well in these rankings, namely Dead Dead Demon's Dededede Destruction, YATAGARASU, the Spice and Wolf remake, Orb: On the Movements of Earth, Sound! Euphonium's third season, and the late Akira Toriyama's SAND LAND and Dragon Ball DAIMA. I only have so much time in a day, week, month, and year, but those series have been on my radar and I do intend to pick them up sooner or later.

But for now, let's focus on what I did watch. Off we go:

10. Blue Box

This is a slightly biased placement on my end because I picked up the manga this year and quickly fell in love with it, and I’m just happy that it got a faithful, well-made anime adaptation. If you have an issue with that, I’m gonna let you in on a little secret: This whole list is biased. It’s MY list, after all.

After an uneven summer output between My Dear Friend Nokotan and Suicide Squad Isekai, WIT Studio is in full form adapting Kouji Miura’s gorgeous high school sports romance. Rising first-year badminton player Taiki has a huge crush on his basketball star senpai Chinatsu, who practices in the same high school gym he does. He’s happy enough to keep a friendly distance as they improve at their respective sports, but that distance is closed significantly when her parents go abroad for work and she ends up moving in under the same roof as him. The spirit of competition is in the air, and is that a whiff of romance I smell as well?

The reason I felt the need to call out my own bias at the start is because Blue Box’s debut cour is, on balance, probably just “pretty good,” but I was just so overjoyed that this anime even exists that I was willing to overlook the early story’s growing pains. Taiki, of course, is the POV character for most of the first cour, and most of the romantic tension we see so far is entirely from his end as he swoons and huffs and goes into cardiac arrest over any and every gesture Chinatsu throws his way. You know, teenage boy stuff. There have been criticisms that Chinatsu doesn’t get much interiority for a bit and that she’s a bit of an enigma in terms of her role in the central “romance,” such that it is so far, which is a valid criticism of a lot of shonen romance stories. I’m generally of the mind that these things are more potent when the object of the protagonist’s affection is treated as more than a puzzle for him to solve, but I think Blue Box does a fine job of establishing what Chinatsu means to Taiki before we do indeed begin to get a feel for how she operates and what she might think of him. If you found that part a little maddening early on, trust me when I say it’s worth sticking it out.

Regardless, the character writing is what made Blue Box such a hit in Weekly Shonen Jump. Taiki is a flat-out good kid, if a little naive, and his boundless determination to achieve and exceed his goals in both badminton and romance makes him easy to root for. Chinatsu is fairly taciturn, as mentioned, but that’s by design; she’s a notoriously difficult person to read, as even her friends and teammates note that they can rarely decipher what she’s thinking. She’s still an effortlessly charming character, and it’s not hard to figure out why Taiki’s got it so bad for her. The real highlight of the series, though, is Taiki’s classmate and longtime friend, Hina, a rhythmic gymnast and an absolute troll. She is an absolute delight in every scene she’s in, whether she’s knocking Taiki’s knees out from under him, focusing on rehearsing her next routine, or prying into Taiki’s love life and realizing that, oops, she really cares about him too. Hina is wonderful and I just want the best for her.

Characters this likable will need the voices to match, and I am over the moon about this show’s casting. Shouya Chiba is tremendous as Taiki, in a far cry from his Epic Based Stoic Chad role as Ayanokoji in Classroom of the Elite. Every line read for Taiki sounds exactly as gung-ho about sports and devastatingly down bad for his crush as you’d expect of a hormonal 15 year old. Reina Ueda is terrific as the soft-spoken Chinatsu, but I’m looking forward to hearing the always-delightful Xanthe Huynh (Haru in Persona 5, Marianne in Fire Emblem Three Houses) take on the role in the dub just as much. Akari Kitou channels much of the same gremlin energy she did for KamiKatsu to portray Hina’s mischief, and I look forward to hearing her nail Hina’s excellent upcoming character moments. And although it’s a secondary role, the casting I was most excited to hear was Chiaki Kobayashi (Mash in Mashle, Stark in Frieren) as Taiki’s teammate Kyo. Kobayashi’s languid tsukkomi affect was exactly what I had in mind whenever Kyo would put Taiki’s lovelorn antics into stark relief in the manga. It’s like he was born for the part.

This show looks tremendous, perfectly adapting both the soft, doe-eyed character designs from the manga as well as the lower-detail gags. The pastel color palette and gorgeous lighting effects are exactly what I was hoping for while reading the manga.  If I have any complaint, though, it’s mostly that I want to see more of the sports action. The granular details of the badminton matches and basketball games are hardly the focus of the story, but the action panels are usually the best part of Miura’s art in the manga. Shot-for-shot, it certainly does hew close to the manga presentation, but it’s mostly a racquet swing or close-up jump shot followed by an onlooker’s reaction. I’d have liked a bit more follow through. The CGI used for background competitors can get a little distracting after a while, too, but it’s easy to forget about.

Blue Box is continuing into 2025, and I’m waiting for every new episode with bated breath. If you liked the first cour enough but still have doubts, trust me when I say it just keeps getting better. I look forward to coming back to the second half of this season in another year for my victory lap.

9. Girls Band Cry

This is one of the most inventive girls-band anime out there, certainly the most so since that one from 2022 that I swore I wouldn’t bring up by name. Gorgeous 3D-CG animation, stirring original music, and a compelling cast of characters combine to make Girls Band Cry even more than the sum of its parts.

More than anything, I think what makes Girls Band Cry a terrific showbiz series is that it depicts the uncomfortable reality that a lot of artists are just flat-out unpleasant people and often don’t mesh well with one another. Protagonist Nina is messy, stubborn, and angry at the world and her parents and will not hesitate to make it your problem. She butts heads with her friends and bandmates at any provocation, but stubbornness is a major driving factor in the plot: Each of the five members of Togenashi Togeari has something they’re trying to move on from with their music, and while they each have an opinion on how to get there, they do come to realize, after a lot of silly yelling matches, that they want to do so together.

As a vehicle to push Girls Band Cry and Togenashi Togeari as a real-world multimedia experience, this show is a success. It’s a terrific-looking show in ways we rarely see outside of Studio Orange productions (and allegedly Love Live! Sunshine!!, which director Kazuo Sakai also had a hand in); the 3D computer-generated character models and animations are terrifically expressive and lively, and creative visual effects add a compelling sense of synaesthesia to Nina's emotional highs and lows. The voice cast, all pseudonymous contest winners, are also the real-life band members, and they fully nail both elements of their roles. TogeToge’s music in the show is terrific, and as an already-existing Gorillaz-esque virtual band, I’m excited to dig into their back catalog.

Girls Band Cry finally got an official English translation, so there’s no longer any excuse to sleep on this one. It’s funny, it’s heartfelt, and above all else, it fucking rocks. Don’t let this one fade away just because you might’ve missed it when it aired.

8. Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End, second cour

When I ranked the first cour of Frieren as the best anime of 2023, I wrote:

The debut season of Frieren will continue into 2024, and if the quality remains a constant, it could very well be one of the best anime of next year too. It has remained as MyAnimeList’s top-rated anime ever for its entire run, warding off the legion of Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood fans. Frieren deserves it.

A year later, it is still MAL’s top-rated anime, and by a healthy margin. Another 12 episodes aired to kick off 2024, and it was indeed one of the best anime of this year as well. I stand firm in my convictions that not only is it one of the best anime of the decade so far, it’s one of the best anime I’ve ever seen.

I really shot my wad by praising Frieren so profusely midway through its run, to the point where I still don’t really feel the need to add much more here. The second cour mostly focuses on the First Class Mage exam arc, allowing us to learn more about the present state of magic in the modern day and adding some much-needed depth to the cast. It continues to strike a lovely balance between the quieter moments and bonkers action sequences, as well as the more serious moments with laugh-out-loud goofiness. It may be a lesser arc in this story, but it would be a standout in so many others.

If I haven’t been clear enough, I remain over the moon about Frieren. The second cour looks and sounds just as incredible as the first, and this show’s success should serve as a reminder to the industry that investment in quality pays off. Madhouse knows they have a banger on their hands, and if the next season can maintain this level of production value for the major arc that is still to come, Frieren may very well earn GOAT status. Even if another season somehow never materializes, I’ll still be talking about this season in five years when it comes time to talk about the best of the decade. Watch this goddamn show.

7. A Sign of Affection

For all the romance anime and manga I consume, I’ve shamefully been lacking on the shoujo/josei front. I really gotta fix that. If reading more shoujo was what spurred Yukinobu Tatsu to make DanDaDan, then who knows what it might do for me? A Sign of Affection isn’t my first shoujo, strictly speaking, but it does feel like one of the first I’ve seen of the good old-fashioned flowery romance type.

What a gorgeous show. A Sign of Affection looks terrific, sounds terrific, and above all feels terrific. This is just a lovely, fluffy romance with low stakes and easy payoff; just two pretty people getting to know each other and learning to overcome their differences. It’s low on gimmicks and plot contrivances, and for as much as I like romcoms and romance stories with a unique bent, I love a good straightforward romance just as much sometimes. Everyone looks beautiful and likes each other and Jesus Christ look at the lips on these boys. There’s even a double-date to Costco, and what better depiction of marital bliss could there be?

I’m still pleasantly surprised at how this show handles the main character’s disability. Protagonist Yuki’s congenital deafness isn’t a single-note character quirk or a plot device to make her seem helpless; it simply is. It’s a part of her life that serves as the lens through which all of the people in her life see and treat her, and it leads to the only thing that resembles a major conflict in the show. Itsuomi, the main romantic interest, doesn’t baby her or walk all over her; he instead gently tests her boundaries while learning to accommodate her in a way to ensure her comfort. Her childhood friend Oushi, on the other hand, is very jealous of this development because he seems to feel entitled to her just because he did the bare minimum to accommodate her. The circumstances aren’t common, of course, but it’s a good lesson for a shoujo to have: Don’t settle.

My praise for A Sign of Affection mostly boils down to “it’s just really nice,” but it does “just really nice” so goddamn well. It’s fluffy, it’s comfy, it’s cozy, all of those adjectives that would set off my fight-or-flight response if I heard them from someone else, but I was enthralled by this show week in and week out. I can’t believe I neglected to start reading the manga, and I’m gonna have to get on that ASAP because I can’t wait for another season.

6. The Apothecary Diaries, second cour

I found myself more intrigued at The Apothecary Diaries at the end of 2023 than most other shows I’d watched that year. I grew more and more invested in the idiosyncratic Maomao as she investigated mysterious ailments and navigated imperial palace politics, all the while being a lovable little shit. 

Before I’d realized it, though, the 2024 half of its run knew it had its hooks in me and took me for a ride. What looked at first like a series of one-off puzzles quickly began entangling into a much larger mystery, rapidly gaining momentum until exploding into a massive emotional payoff. So many of the small details in what you assume are episodic mystery-of-the-week mini-stories become relevant in unexpected ways and draw you in ever further. I adore this kind of lowkey long-term storytelling, and for it to be part of such an appealing package is basically catnip for me.

For as gorgeous as The Apothecary Diaries can be visually, sonically, and sometimes even emotionally, it’s worth mentioning that this show is also hilarious a lot of the time. Maomao is on permanent goblin mode whenever she isn’t carrying out official business, and any time the palace officials have to rein her in is a delight. The push-and-pull between her and Jinshi is endlessly entertaining to the point where I can wait forever for that payoff if I have to.

I neglected to read the Apothecary Diaries manga after the first season went off the air (though I nearly bought all of it sight unseen), and with the second about to drop, I guess I’m holding off for another six months. Can’t say I mind, though. I’m along for the ride and I want this show to keep surprising me for as long as it can. This is easily one of the best anime of the 2020s so far and I’m gonna be there front row center for every new episode.

5. Bang Brave Bang Bravern

People say “peak fiction” too goddamn often these days. Not that it was a meaningful term to begin with, but it’s been memed to hell and back and is mostly just thrown out ironically to mock garbage writing. To be honest, I’m not above it myself, but I prefer to ascribe it, even jokingly, to stuff that can only truly come from a brilliant and/or deranged mind. Preferably both. Peak fiction, to me, is the intersection where talent meets insanity, no matter the degree of either.

Bang Brave Bang Bravern is peak fiction.

I gushed about this show after the winter season, and I almost don’t want to say anything further about it, mostly for two reasons: Firstly, because I don’t really want to give the game away any more than I already did back in April, and secondly, because I think it may have permanently burrowed into a specific part of my brain and then melted it. All I’m left with is “this show fucking rocks, dudes rock, you need to see it, it’s peak, don't ask questions, just watch it.”

Indeed, Bravern is the Dudes Rock anime of the year, and an essential piece of Dudes Rock media. It’s Top Gun with aliens and a giant talking robot. And the robot wants to fuck his pilot. This show is loud, horny, stupid, and self-aware, combined just so into a cocktail of legitimate brilliance that is, for better or worse, unlike anything I’ve seen before or since. Nearly every single episode had me clawing at my hair and shrieking “WHAT THE FUCK AM I WATCHING,” and that is the highest praise I can give just about anything.

I might be overselling it just a touch, but Bravern is just as earnest as it is utterly wild. It’s an intentionally hilarious show, but it means everything it does and says. It’s a love letter to mecha anime and tokusatsu, and with its top staff sporting Gundam and Macross bona fides, that love oozes into every aspect. The mechs, both manmade and alien, all look tremendous, the music is a throwback to the goofy bombast you’d find in series like this as far back as the Showa era, and the ensemble cast outside of our silly leads are just as gung-ho and serious about Saving The World as you’d find in just about any other mech show. Anything that can be this goofy with a completely straight face is going to hook me in.

All in all, Bang Brave Bang Bravern is hypercompetent lunacy with heart. Call it weaponized genre awareness if you must, but it knows exactly what it’s about, grabs you by the collar, and takes you for a ride, all while doing badass tokusatsu poses and calling out special moves with silly names. This is legitimately what fiction is all about. 

Also, if you don’t like Lulu just because she screeches a lot, you’re a weakling. Gaga-pi, motherfucker.

4. The Dangers in My Heart, season 2

This was a series whose first season was conspicuously absent from my 2023 rankings, but I caught up shortly after finishing that list in order to catch up to the second season. I’d watched a glut of slice-of-life romances in 2023 and figured I could afford to miss this one. I’m overjoyed at how wrong I was.

To paraphrase the second season’s exceptional OP, The Dangers in My Heart is indescribably beautiful. As I said with A Sign of Affection, I love me a straightforward anime romance, and this middle school slice-of-life is just that: Underdeveloped edgelord boy ends up making unlikely friends with, and falling for, the cheery popular girl in his class. This is easy wish-fulfillment on paper, but that’s hiding the trick: Kyotaro isn’t gonna get anything he wants by keeping his quills out for anyone who comes near, and he has some growing up to do if he’s ever gonna get what he wants.

Season 2 picks up right where the first left off, with Kyotaro’s arm still broken from his family trip and Anna feeling guilty because she thinks her distraction was what led to the injury. Right out of the gate, we see the care these two have developed for one another: Anna wants to help while he can’t do his own schoolwork, while Kyo is quick to try to cheer her up when she no longer feels like she’s able to. Already we’re seeing Kyotaro’s character development coming to light: The Dangers in My Heart isn’t a story about a Nice Guy getting the girl just by being there; it’s a story of self-improvement, of trying to become the type of person whom your crush would want to fall in love with. For a story about and ostensibly marketed to early teenagers, that’s a good lesson to have, and I absolutely devour stories like that.

As can be the case with plenty of adolescents, most of the conflict here is internal. Kyotaro spent the early part of his middle school education keeping a safe distance from everyone in order to avoid getting hurt, and as you can imagine, that did a number on his self esteem. Though he’s mostly kicked the chuunibyo mindset, Kyo still prefers to keep his distance, less because he doesn’t want to get hurt, but now because he doesn’t want to hurt anyone else. Specifically Anna. So much of this story is about him learning to be okay with letting people in and not just falling in love, but making friends and becoming somebody whom people just want to be around. It’s a chuuni rehabilitation story. You love to see it.

With all due respect to mangaka Norio Sakurai, the biggest surprise that came from reading the manga was how much better the anime looks than its source material. The anime looks tremendous in its own right, but compared to Sakurai’s doodly, occasionally messy style, the love put into the show stands in stark relief. Characters, backgrounds, and lighting are all soft, squishy, and warm, almost like the entire thing was run through the filter through which only a 13-year-old in love can see, even as a little edgelord. Little flourishes in the environment and music highlight the minute but consequential motes of progression in Kyo and Anna’s relationship. The OP ended up shaking out as my favorite of the year, even with 2024 being bookended by Creepy Nuts bangers. It’s that special to me.

And just like that, The Dangers in My Heart went from “eh probably not for me” to “yeah this is one of the best anime of the decade so far.” It’s a simple slice-of-life romance on paper, almost literally so in the manga, but this is a transformative adaptation. There’s much more of the story to tell, and I wouldn’t complain about more, but as it stands after two seasons, The Dangers in My Heart is damn near perfect as it is.

3. Oshi no Ko, season 2

Another year, another season, another top-four finish for one of the best manga adaptations I’ve ever seen. 

The anime adaptation of Aka Akasaka and Mengo Yokoyari’s showbiz-revenge manga made shockwaves last year following its thunderous feature-length premiere, and its source material made even more waves due to some questionable plot developments that fortunately went nowhere. Doga Kobo was undeterred by any negative attention brought to the brand, though, and pressed forward into the next arc with a level of swagger you rarely see brought into an anime’s sequel season.

The 2.5D stage play arc in Oshi no Ko’s manga wasn’t my favorite, but it was one that you could tell just from reading it would translate well to the screen. Even then, I wasn’t prepared for just how hard Doga Kobo would go in adapting it. Character animation is sumptuously fluid, color used to amazing effect, and personal expression bursts forth into impressionistic abstraction to such a degree that it made manga artist Yokoyari cry. Everyone looks and sounds incredible beyond any way I could’ve imagined from reading the manga, which, at the risk of sounding defensive, is still very good as a whole.

This being a story largely about the music industry, the music remains as on-point as ever. It’s too soon to tell if the second season’s OP/ED pairing tops the instantly-iconic “Idol” and “Mephisto” from the first, but these are no slouches. This season’s OP, “Fatale,” is a whiplash-inducing banger by Tatsuya Kitani and idol Kento Nakajima, performing under the collaborative name of GEMN (itself a relevant name to the show; twins without the i/Ai, DO YOU GET IT???) with visuals that might actually top those of Idol. The new ED, “Burning,” is Hitsujibungaku at their fuzzy, 90s-style alt-rock best, and it takes on a brand new meaning by the end of the season. Of course, there’s also the story-relevant music; while the bulk of the season focuses on the stage play, the last few episodes give us a glimpse into the pop music process, with the season capping off with an in-universe music video that, while not sonically my exact cup of tea, features 90 seconds of some of the best-looking dance animation I’ve ever seen in my life. That’s a flex if I’ve ever seen one.

And just like the first season, the second capped off with an announcement that Oshi no Ko will indeed be returning for another season. At this rate, and with the anime’s success, they will adapt the entire work, which will raise some eyebrows. I’m not going to litigate the manga’s later controversial developments nor its widely-panned ending, but if Doga Koba was able to handle everything that came before those things with such aplomb, I have faith that it will at least be done well.

2. DanDaDan

I want to preface this by saying that I agonized over whether this or the final entry is my anime of the year. I’m comfortable with what I chose, but if I’m being realistic, DanDaDan is basically 1b. This is a masterpiece already.

Although the source material was a bit of a cult hit until this year, DanDaDan came with a considerable amount of hype. If you were even peripherally familiar, it wasn’t hard to see why: Yukinobu Tatsu’s art is absurdly detailed in almost every panel, character designs are easily recognizable (one of the leads dressing similarly to a Persona 3 character was fortuitous for the anime to drop in the same year as Reload), and so many bizarre things happen in the plot that relaying them to anybody who wasn’t already familiar would make their brain briefly touch the void. Above all, though, Science SARU was tabbed to animate it, and any project by them is immediately worth your attention.

Sure enough, DanDaDan made an instantaneous splash, its first episode adapting the manga’s bombastic, twisty 63-page opening chapter nearly beat for beat. I’m not gonna “don’t look it up, just go in blind” this one, but almost too much happens for me to properly detail it all without just writing a complete synopsis. It boils down to “lonely nerd boy believes in aliens, angry kogal believes in yokai, it turns out both are real and now they have to deal with it.” It’s silly, it’s wild, it’s action packed, and if you can stomach the sexually-compromising alien abduction of the girl, you’re along for the ride.

I’m not gonna harp too much on that last point. It does stink that the female lead, Momo, is stripped to her underwear for the sake of alien sexual “research,” but said aliens get their comeuppance before anything happens to her. It’s still not great, and it’s not the last time female characters are portrayed in their underwear, but I do promise it’s for story reasons, it takes a backseat to the onscreen action and is pretty clearly not done for the sake of fanservice. I know such things can be beyond the pale for some people, but if you think you can compartmentalize that, I recommend you watch the first episode with that caveat in mind and decide from there. You may be pleasantly surprised.

DanDaDan is effectively two stories at once; on one side, we have Momo and the boy, Okarun (a nickname Momo devised for him to preserve her own sanity), gaining wacky supernatural powers in order to fight back these occult threats and regain what was stolen from Okarun from his first encounter with the unexpected (IYKYK). Because these threats can come out of nowhere, their daily high school lives can completely pop off without warning. On the other side, we have quieter slice-of-life tension as Momo and Okarun get to know (and frequently misunderstand) each other and realize they are completely and hopelessly head-over-heels for one another.

Surprise, motherfucker: DanDaDan is a romcom.

Yukinobu Tatsu, formerly an assistant on the first saga of Chainsaw Man, long struggled to get his own work serialized. At his editor’s urging, he read something like a hundred manga for inspiration, including several shoujo romance series. That research shows through in DanDaDan; although the bonkers action sequences and off-the-wall monster designs are what draw in readers and viewers alike, what’s kept this many people along for the ride is the beating heart just barely under the surface in the form of the romantic tension between Momo and Okarun. It’s easy to write this off as some “lonely nerd gets the cute gyaru just by being a Nice Guy” wish fulfillment, but that’s not really the case here; Okarun was a weird little twerp right from the jump. Similarly to Kyotaro in the aforementioned Dangers in My Heart, Okarun believes early on that he’s nowhere near Momo’s league, completely unaware that she quickly grows to actually like having him around, so he puts in the effort to become a more well-rounded person so that he can be confident enough to be seen next to her. He also just wants Momo to think he’s cool, and she thinks that’s adorable. And she’s right! These two are cute as fuck together.

So you come for the wild action and stay for the tremendous character dynamics. It should go without saying that Science SARU nailed all of the above, but I’m gonna say it anyway. Reading the Manga+ comments on each chapter as I read through the manga, readers were begging a top-flight battle shonen studio like MAPPA or WIT to pick up the series, and I think these fans got more than they bargained for. Masaaki Yuasa hasn’t been in charge of a series at the studio since Eizouken, or anything they’ve put out since Inu-Oh, but his influence is all over their recent works, including last year’s fellow top-three series, Scott Pilgrim Takes Off. It’s beyond impressive how, much like Scott Pilgrim, this series manages to maintain the source material’s art style while still looking very much like a Science SARU anime. Everyone is bouncy and malleable as their moods dictate, line weights are wildly varied, and action animation is kinetic and unpredictable. Each fight with an alien or cryptid is awash in eye-searing color or eerie greyscale. The music is a boatload of fun as well; even putting aside the Creepy Nuts OP (banger after banger after banger from those dudes) and Zutomayo ED, regular proceedings are punctuated by a wildly varied score, from funk to folk to an insane chase scene set to an electronic mashup of the “William Tell Overture” and the can-can. Everything about DanDaDan keeps you guessing.

I was looking forward to DanDaDan enough that I went to the theatrical premiere of the first three episodes and was sufficiently blown away. If you’ve seen the show, it shouldn’t come as much of a surprise that it looks and sounds incredible in a cinema setting. I left the theater positively buzzing, telling anyone who’d listen that they had no idea what was coming, but even knowing the entire story, I wasn’t prepared for more of what was to come. The literal next episode after what I’d already seen in the theater had one of the most bonkers action setpieces I’ve seen since Gurren Lagann, and just four episodes later an unbelievable emotional gut punch, prior knowledge of the manga be damned. Every single aspect of DanDaDan as an anime was given the same level of love and care that Tatsu put into his own work. It’s one thing for an anime adaptation to be faithful to its source material, and another entirely for it to elevate and transform it. DanDaDan is somehow both.

If there’s anything that held this back from being the anime of the year, it’s that this season kind of just… ends. With the 12-episode runtime that was given to the debut season, DanDaDan ends its first run right after the beginning of the manga’s next arc, which feels bizarre. There’s no resolution, but there’s no real cliffhanger here either. Which I kind of get, the story is driven by a constant forward momentum, but a little warning that the season was ending would’ve been nice. It’s only a six month break until the show comes back, but judged on its own, the way this season ended left me feeling a bit cold and the season itself feeling incomplete. Even shows that have year-long breaks between cours rather than seasons tend to put some kind of cap on each individual run, but DanDaDan just kinda left the toilet unflushed, and next to it a Post-It note promising to come back later. For something this lovingly crafted, that seems like a bizarre oversight.

That was hardly enough to temper my enjoyment though. Anything this well-made is deserving of the attention and success it’s attained, but to have this story, with these characters and this level of bonkers action made this well, is just an embarrassment of riches. And God help me, I’m shamelessly greedy. July can’t come fast enough. I need all of it.

1. Delicious in Dungeon

At the end of its run midway through the year, I declared Dungeon Meshi the best anime of the year up to that point and that I’d be impressed if anything would manage to overtake it. Though the other two entries in my top three made extremely strong cases, nothing else quite hit the spot and nourished the soul quite like Dungeon Meshi.

Barely a year removed from one of 2022’s best anime, Cyberpunk Edgerunners, Studio Trigger kicked off 2024 with another Netflix original, this time with its first proper manga adaptation since the studio split from Gainax a decade prior. It seemed an odd fit at first to have a studio known for wacky, hyperkinetic action productions like Kill la Kill and Promare to adapt this quirky fantasy dungeon manga, but hey, they also did Little Witch Academia. It turned out to be an odd fit, but in the best way: Dungeon Meshi is pretty offbeat as it is, so for it to get picked up by one of the more oddball prestige studios ended up making a tasty stew.

I struggled to elaborate on what makes this show so good after each of its cours, and six months later I remain a little lost for words. It’s an exceptional story adapted exceptionally well. Between the characters, the story, the setting, the emotional stakes, the comedy, the highs and lows, they nailed it all. Trigger just gets it. Even when characters go off-model for the sake of an intentional animation quirk, it still has that inimitable Trigger charm to it. It sounds just as good as it looks, too: The orchestral score highlights the quieter, sillier moments just as well as the tenser action setpieces, the foley work behind the dungeon’s bizarre and varied flora and fauna is immaculate, and the cast is perfect in both Japanese and English (I rarely ever say so but seriously, shout out to the dub).

I’m just as sick of saying “this show speaks for itself” when I have trouble finding the words as you probably are of reading it, but I have little else to add here. I’ve written plenty already. Just go watch it. This is already one of my favorite manga ever, and by the time the series wraps up at the end of its second season, it will easily end up as one of my favorite anime ever.

[chronically-ghosted]

Despite 2024, we still made it to 2025! Now let's celebrate that accomplishment!

Thank you to everyone who submitted to celebrate this fandom and the wonderful people in it! Fandom is about community, and we are nothing without it. I got the warm and fuzzies reading through all the lovely submissions so I hope you feel it too! Happy New Year!

🥶 nominate a person who made the year extra special

🌟 @cavillscurls nominated @kiwisbell 🌟

and my shoutout goes to the very special @kiwisbell. not only is she the most trusted beta, kindest friend, and brilliant writer, but most recently (and excitingly) the greatest collaborator and writing partner. meeting her—and meeting her in PERSON this summer—remain the highlights of my year. i’m not going to go into my dissertation on the importance and special nature of internet friendships, but just know that the light, creativity, and openness she brings to this fandom and to my life are things i will never take for granted. i am certain our next year will be better because she’s in it! I LOVE YOU.

(this is the attached photo and i HAD to include it 😭)

🌟 @bitchesuntitled nominated @beefrobeefcal 🌟

Hooooly shit. What can I say about Kiki that I haven’t already told her?! She is an amazing human being and I aspire to be like her. She is so kind even when others are not so nice. She’s one of the most creative people I know and I absolutely love when we get on a tangent in ALL CAPS ABOUT AN IDEA. She is so willing to help anyone and everyone- whether it’s a fic or a moodboard or you’re just feeling down in the dumps about something! I think she is one of the best people in this fandom and I am so glad to have her in my life ❤️ Also just a bit of a personal story to show the kind of person she is, when I was first getting sober I was worried about how I would handle July 4th because as an American it’s a very ‘Merica fuck yeah! Let’s drink! holiday and she checked in on me multiple times during the day and let me just ramble to her about different things so that I wouldn’t be tempted to drink 🥰❤️🥰❤️ So yeah, she’s a good egg.

🌟 @sixhours nominated @bumblepony 🌟

Hello m'dear, I have an entry for your end-of-year celebration. 🥶 I wanted to give a shout-out to @bumblepony who, in addition to being a talented and prolific fic writer, has commissioned sooooooo many artworks for other TLOU fanfic writers this year (myself included). She's a gem, and this fandom is so fortunate to have her. 🥰

🌟 @bluestar22x nominated @trulybetty and @morallyinept 🌟

Can't narrow down my pick for this to one, so @trulybetty and @morallyinept are both getting nominated. Both have been so kind and supportive of me and both are super talented writers. Thank you both for your kind words and sharing your wonderful fics.

🌟 @i-love-movies nominated @thegreenkid2 🌟

I nominate @thegreenkid2 with whom I had so many lovely chats about Pedro and movies in general sometimes for hours and very late into the night. I really enjoy geeking out together over so many different things.

🌟 @sp00kymulderr nominated @dieterbravobrainrotclub 🌟

Every member of the brainrot club, for being feral and silly and fun and thoughtful and insightful in so many ways. For making my year extra special. For making so many fun memories, and helping to lighten the mood. For your dedication to the man that is Dieter Bravo.

☃️ your favorite line of fic that you wrote this year

🌟 @bluestar22x - The Outcast

Favorite line: Guiding you into your future, like you had guided him home.

Fic: The Outcast

What makes it special to you: It's hard to pick one line from a fanfic I wrote this year, but I do love this line that ends my story "The Outcast". It's the first favorite line I thought of because it's simple and calls back to how it began. The fic is very themed around finding/discovering what you need with the help of another person.

🌟 @bitchesuntitled - Xerox

Favorite line: Jamie lets out a pathetic, “Oh d-d-dear,” sounding almost identical to Piglet from Winnie the Pooh, and audibly gulps while furiously nodding his head.

Fic: Xerox

What makes it special to you: I knew from the moment I started writing this story that I wanted Xerox!Pedro to be this inexperienced bumbling idiot and thinking about him stuttering out an “Oh dear” like Piglet cracked me up so much 🤣 It still makes me laugh whenever I see it/think about it

🌨️ your favorite memory from fandom this year

🌟 @sp00kymulderr had a favorite memory with @chronically-ghosted

We created the Dieter Bravo Brainrot Club in January 2024 and it has been easily my favourite place to hangout this year. I'm so glad that it exists, and I want to shout out: YOU, Taylor. The Dieter brainrot would not even exist without you. I love how we have spent so much time together this year spiralling over That Man. I love that I got to read so many of your wonderful fics about him, and scream about him with you. I love that we created a space together for others who feel the same way. I love being your friend.

🌟 @i-love-movies had a favorite memory with @miss-mandalorian

This fandom gave me a lovely friendship with @miss-mandalorian which I cherish very much even though a big ass ocean lies between us and we have yet to meet IRL. She just recently set me the most lovely gift. 💖

🌲 your favorite piece of media you made for fandom this year

🌟 @i-love-movies is super proud of:

Gladiator 2 South Park! Pedros

"I made this set of Gladiator 2 South Park! Pedros. I haven't posted a lot of South Park! Pedro this year cause I didn't feel very creative. This one sparked some of my creativity again."

[susiekern]

16. the one with the boys

a/n: after two important chapters, I present to you: this fucking thing

warnings: swearing

word count: 1.096

masterlist

previous | next

“Are they mad about it?”

“Nah, Toge almost cried about me getting a girl faster than him, but Yuta and Cho are actually pretty chill about it. They know it’s serious and all.”

“Shit, it’s so weird when you say it’s serious.”

Megumi’s eyes move towards you, giving you the meanest side eye in history. You’re on your way to one of the bars, so you can meet the rest of the Fallen, or more like just Megumi’s friends. It’s been a few days since you officially started dating, the right way this time, and it was his idea, believe it or not. The three of them are the closest people in his life, besides you and Yuji, and he wanted you all to meet and get along. You know Yuta, obviously, but you’ve only heard stories about Toge and Choso.

“I’m kind of nervous. What if they don’t like me?” Saying that, you furrow your brows. Megumi sighs and squeezes your hand tighter in his own.

“I couldn’t care less. Besides, Yuta already likes you, Choso is as chill as it gets, and Toge’s been following you on Twitch for the past few months. But don’t tell him you know that; he wanted to act all cool around you or something.” He says with a smirk. “And I’m not with you to show you off, they could hate you, and I wouldn’t give a fuck.”

Your smile is back on as you get on your toes to peck his lips. Before you pull back, one of his hands is on your neck, keeping you close and deepening the kiss.

“We’ll be late, Megs.” You laugh quietly, but that doesn’t keep the black-haired man away from you.

“They’re constantly late for rehearsals, I don’t care.” He murmurs, relishing your taste for a few more seconds. When he finally lets you go, your cheeks are blushed, and you have that glint in your eyes he loves so much. “If you hate them, you can just talk to Yuji or tell me, we’ll go home and watch that weird show of yours.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

He opens the door for you, following close by as you enter the bar. It’s the middle of the week, so it’s relatively empty, which makes it much easier to find a booth occupied by the boys. The sight of Yuji’s pink strands soothes your nerves a little. He’s talking with Yuta and a black-haired man with a dark streak running through his nose bridge who must be Choso. There’s also Toge, you assumed, his white hair making him stand out from the group. He’s also the only one who’s not dressed in dark colors, with the pink t-shirt (that’s weirdly almost the same color as Yuji’s hair) and light jeans on. His focus is on his phone, tapping fast on it, until he notices you two coming their way.

“Gumi! Finally, I can’t deal with another minute of their boring shit.” Toge puts his phone down on the table and gets up to greet Megumi with a typical manly handshake and back pats. His brown eyes then land on you, and he smiles. “And you must be y/n?”

“Be nice, Toge. She doesn’t know how weird you are yet.” A much taller figure appears behind him, the man you recognized as Choso, based on Megumi’s stories.

“You don’t need to spoil it for her then, gosh. Give a man a chance.” Toge sighs and moves a little, so Megumi and Choso can greet each other. “The tall emo is Choso, I’m Toge, as you probably know already.”

“Nice to meet you both. Y/n y/l.” You offer them a smile and a polite head nod. Before you can say another word, there are warm arms wrapping around you, as Yuji almost jumps your way.

“Finally, a crossover episode.” He grins, squeezing your body and pulling you to the leather couch, where you quickly greet Yuta. Thankfully, without any awkwardness. You haven’t seen each other since your little date, only exchanged polite texts where you thanked him for the evening, not expecting that the next time you’ll meet will be like that. With you, meeting your boyfriend’s friends. The universe has a weird sense of humor, you have to admit.

“I’ll do that, and you all will see. It’s a new way.” The evening is going great; it turns out they’re all as welcoming as you could ever ask for, and it’s not long before the conversations are flowing naturally.

They share a few funny stories about Megumi, asking you how you’ve met Yuji in exchange; Toge admitted to following you, to which Choso reminded him about the time he called you a “twitch baddie” in their group chat. You’re really enjoying this. Megumi is by your side all the time, keeping a hand on your thigh or at the small of your back, smiling almost constantly. It eased his mind to see you getting along with his friends, something he was anxious about, even if he’d never admit it. He doesn’t keep a lot of people close to himself, so the sight of you joking around with his support group warms his heart in a way.

“Toge, I guarantee saying random food items won’t make you popular among the girls.” Yuji is shaking his head, barely keeping the laugh in. For the past few minutes, Toge explained his brilliant plan to the whole group, and you weren’t sure if you should laugh or cry.

“It works for him!” The white-haired man says offended, brows furrowed as he looks around, looking for any support but meeting none.

“It’s a guy from an anime. He has a magic tongue, and you think it’s about saying salmon all the time?” Megumi lifts one brow before taking a sip of his drink.

“First of all, he’s a cursed speech user, he doesn’t have a magic tongue. And second, I even look like him!”

“When was the last time you looked in the mirror?” It was Choso’s time to stick a pin in. “If you look like him, then I look like the blood guy you talked about yesterday.”

“Yeah, I’m with Cho on this one, you don’t look nearly similar.” Yuji nods, eyeing his friend up and down.

“Just admit you all hate me.”

“Easy. But when did we start playing truth or dare?” You almost choke hearing Megumi’s words.

“Shit, and you say Nobara’s rude.” He rolls his eyes as you murmur, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“She is. You just don’t notice it anymore.”

tag list (lmk if you wanna be added!): @nytylie @fresa-luna @syrooo @zaranobiyuyu @jvpit3rr @pandabiene5115 @good-mourning0 @pearlydays @irwinchester @pxppetmxster @ivydoesit23 @zayuriluvs @applepi25 @s777athv @estella-novella @wgafa @pookalicious-hq @lovely-maryj @briezy04764

[msschemmenti]

under one roof 🏠

an installment in the girl next door universe

summary: an unwelcome guest pushes JJ and Emily to ask their girlfriend to move in with them.

a/n: just had to work this into the girl next door universe somehow– shoutout to my fav-- @nikoniclove -- for inspiring me to use my lived experiences in this one. that being said, this is essentially based loosely on a true story. dropping this here while i work through the last chapter of girl next door.

Y/n’s lease was ending pretty soon and she was pretty much all set to sign for another year. Yes, she’d been officially dating Emily and JJ for about 8 months now, sleeping with them for longer, and knowing them for almost a year and a half. This was definitely the longest she’d waited in a relationship to move in but this was also the first relationship she’d seriously been in with an established couple. So there was a bit more to think about when establishing new living arrangements. As of right now, she liked her space, and JJ and Emily hadn’t outright asked her to invade their space so she wasn’t pushing it. Even if most of her things were over there and she spent almost all of her time over at their place. But at the current moment, she really saw no reason to give up her space just yet– until there was a reason.

“Hello,” Y/n sang down the phone as she turned her vacuum off to answer the call. It was the first Saturday of the month and she always used this time to clean. JJ and Emily had been gone for the last week in Nevada and had returned late last night after Y/n had fallen asleep. Per their agreed-upon routine, the morning call was expected by now. What wasn’t expected was the sheer panic and chaos that filtered down the line. There was some frantic breathing, what sounded like moving furniture, and maybe even a battle cry of sorts.

“You have to get over here,” Emily spoke grimly, fear clear in her voice.

“It’s 7:35 am, there’s no way you wanna have sex right now–” Y/n started with an exasperated sigh.

JJ’s voice was next, “I mean if there’s a will there’s a way. But that’s not what we called for. We really need your help.”

“Oh hush, you,” Y/n chuckled at the older woman’s words but got serious at Emily’s fearful wiper. “Now, what’s the deal sugar booger? Are y’all finally reorganizing your office or something? Or going through Em’s shoe closet?”

Emily huffed indignantly, “No, we were trying to have a sleep in but there’s something in here with us.”

Y/n’s eyebrows rose in confusion as she slipped into a pair of shoes by the door, “What do you mean something is in there with you? If there’s a person in your house right now, I think you’re both well within your right to shoot ‘em.” 

“Not someone, something. It won’t stop whining and I’m not going to see what it is. But I need it gone now.” Emily practically whined. 

JJ’s voice sounded from farther away, “We’re in the bedroom and Em won’t let me open the door to see what it is. Whatever it is, has to be up here with us. It sounds pretty close.” 

“Right right, I’ll be right there,” Y/n replied fighting to contain the laugh fighting to break through. As she headed for the door, she thought enough to turn back for a broom and then headed to her girlfriends’ house to hopefully save the day. Letting herself in and disarming the alarm, the professor scanned the first floor for signs of anything out of place. She’d been in and out during the week to retrieve certain things and she’d even popped in to clean a bit while they’d been gone. Everything seemed in order as far as she could see but just as she made it to the second floor she heard a whaling whimper from the hallway. 

“There it is again!” Sounded behind the closed bedroom door. Y/n shook her head and turned her head down the hall. The sound was familiar enough for her to recognize it was an animal, probably a baby, and they were most definitely in distress. She saw a flash of gray fur skirting across the hall to hide behind an end table and sighed. 

“Okay don’t freak out,” Y/n called through the door. 

“Too late!” Emily groaned. 

“What is it?” JJ opened the door a crack. 

“I think it’s a baby squirrel.”

“A squirrel?! Do you know how many diseases they carry?” Emily all but shrieked from the bedroom. 

“I definitely think I said ‘don’t freak out’ Em and it sounds like you’re freaking out, dear.” Y/n chastised through the door as she watched the squirrel duck its head out to look at her. 

“How else should I act while you’re out there with a wild animal? I don’t understand why you’re so calm right now.” Emily replied, her brown eyes appearing in the crack in the door.

“I’m calm because I know how to follow instructions, unlike you. I also have a bit of experience evicting scared baby animals. So you’re in luck.” Y/n grinned up at the older woman through the cracked door. Emily huffed in annoyance as both JJ and Y/n laughed and her brown eyes disappeared from the doorway. “I’m gonna open this window and go look for a box. Make sure you keep your door closed so it doesn’t confuse it for an exit.” JJ saluted through the crack and watched as the younger woman got to work. She turned to face Emily and fanned herself a bit. 

“Gotta say– she’s sexy as hell when she’s all Bossy Steve Irwin.” JJ hummed flopping on the bed dramatically.

Emily, completely ignoring JJ’s libido-driven musings peaked out the window impatiently. “All I know is if she gets that squirrel out of here– she’s never going home.” Over the last few weeks, both JJ and Emily had found themselves lamenting about how great it felt waking up to Y/n every morning. How right it felt when having work to make dinner or breakfast in their kitchen. How easy it was to start putting her things away in their closet. How well she fit into their lives. Obviously they knew she lived about as close as someone could without living with them, but every morning they spent without her only made them want her there all the time. So while they’d been heading back from Nevada they both decided they’d plan a special date to ask Y/n to move in once her lease was up. But apparently this little intruder was shaking things up.

JJ laughed, “I thought we were going to plan a whole thing? A little squirrel’s got you ready to abandon all that?”

Emily shrugged, “Absolutely. If she gets that thing out of here, I’m never letting her go.”

-

It was about thirty minutes later when Emily and JJ’s bedroom door creaked open. “You can come out now, your squirrel problem has been solved.” Y/n smiled leaning against the doorframe. 

“Our hero,” JJ was first on her feet and draping her arms around the younger woman eagerly. “Our very bossy and sexy hero.” 

“Bossy, sure. Sexy? Jen, I’m in bunny slippers and yoga pants right now.” Y/n rolled her eyes but leaned into the older woman’s body. 

“Bold of you to assume that I wouldn’t find your bunny slippers and yoga pants extremely sexy. Especially after you saved poor Emily from having a heart attack.” At the mention of her name, Emily scoffed loudly and made her way over to both of her girlfriends. She wrestled JJ’s arms away from Y/n and pulled her into her side possessively. 

“You’re sure it’s gone? Not just hiding somewhere in the house?” Emily asked, lips pressed against the younger woman’s temple. 

“Yep, Tracy the squirrel is back outside where she belongs.” 

“You named it?” Emily asked incredulously. 

“Yes, Tracy was struggling to get out the window so I ended up luring her into a box and took her out by the tree in the backyard. Her mom came out pretty quick and snatched her up so I think you’re all good.” Y/n motioned toward their bedroom window before reaching to pull JJ over to her other side. 

“Well, what if there’s more? Or if this Tracy you speak of comes back? What are we supposed to do then?” Emily hypothesized. She locked eyes with JJ over the professor’s head and winked discreetly– keying JJ in on where she was going with all of this.

“Yeah,” JJ piped up. “What if they come back and bring more? What do we do then?” 

Y/n looked between them both curiously, “Call me the same way you did today? But I doubt they’d come back. With the way Em was acting, I’m sure Tracy’s already warned all the squirrels in the neighborhood against breaking into this house.”

“Ha ha ha, you’re so funny.” Emily rolled her eyes and pinched Y/n’s side affectionately. “Seriously, the time it’d take you to get over here could be detrimental to one of us. The squirrel could bite one of us.”

“What? It took me maybe 2 minutes to get over here…” 

“Too long, we can’t risk it. We need you closer, right Em?”

“Absolutely. I was thinking right about here.” Emily said pulling Y/n toward the bed and pushing her to sit at the edge. Y/n eyed both Emily and JJ suspiciously and paused at their hopeful expressions.

“Is this y’all asking me to shack up?” 

“God, how old are you? That saying is at least 60 years old.” JJ teased. Y/n scoffed and readied herself to respond to the blonde’s words but Emily sent them both pointed looks. “Yes, we’d like to shack up with you,” JJ confirmed. 

“We know your lease is up in a little bit and it’s not like you don’t spend most of your time here anyways. And who will protect us from the animals outside when they break in?” Emily reasoned logically. 

Y/n fought the laugh that sat at the back of her throat as she pretended to think over Emily’s words. “Hmm, sounds like y’all have really thought this through. I mean with the animals and all.” She rubbed at her chin in thought a bit longer, really milking the pause for as long as she could. By now the women knew her well enough to know she was prone to be more dramatic, and after the first couple of seconds, JJ’s lips twitched up in a knowing smirk. Once Emily’s face mirrored JJ’s the younger woman dropped the facade and grinned. “Alright, I’ll be your live-in animal control. My favorite form of payment is kisses.”

“Well, I personally think it’s time we compensate you for your work–” JJ started already moving to rid the Y/n of her top. But when Emily leveled her with an unimpressed look she hurried to amend her statement. “And celebrate this milestone in our relationship!” 

[bunnyluvx]

spending rainy nights with you.

featuring: vlad dracula tepes x gn!reader.

summary: you're reading late at night, and your husband grows impatient waiting for you.

warnings: minors and ageless blogs dni regardless of content.

tags: fluff | one-shot | vampire! reader | established marriage | clingy! vlad | you fight like an old married couple (you are an old married couple)

a/n: HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!! finally a new fanfic after 4 months. i'm really proud of this one so i hope you all like it! thank you to everyone who gave me advice, i really needed it. i appreciate you all so much! p.s i made the dividers featured, so please do not use them.

date started: 5:02PM, december 31st, 2024. date finished: 5:56PM, january 8th, 2025.

ib: @creativepromptsforwriting ♡ | wc: 2.9k | ao3

Darkness cradles the Earth in a loving embrace while the clouds cry. The moon cannot give its glow for beings below, and the stars are unable to watch the wonders of the night unfold for long without the clouds covering their view. It has been this way all evening, rain pouring down anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour, stopping for around the same amount of time before starting again. The plants and animals of the forest are grateful for the sky's nourishment, and the clouds feel so encouraged by nature's gratitude that there are no signs of this pattern letting up anytime soon.

You appreciate the weather, too, for it is perfect for reading. At the moment, you find yourself sat in one of many libraries in the castle. The rocking chair that you find yourself in is rather comfortable, and the book in your hands pulls you further into its story with every word you follow. In your most comfortable nightwear with a blanket on your lap and a cardigan around your shoulders, not many other things come to mind when you try to think of a better way to spend your evening.

"I'll be to bed soon, dear. I'm almost finished with this chapter." Your voice breaks the comfortable silence and echoes across the wooden shelves enveloping you in your little corner to reach the ears of the rather large man that is making a very poor attempt to hide.

Standing not far from you, partially behind a bookcase, is your husband, Vlad Țepeș. You've felt his presence for the past few minutes, deciding that you would wait for him to speak first, but as quiet lingered in the air, you quickly realized that he wasn't going to announce himself. Your history with Vlad goes far beyond your marriage, for the two of you were some of the first vampires to ever walk the Earth. You were good friends for a very long time, and to save the novel-worthy story, you found each other after many years of being separated and romance fiercely set ablaze. No divine being could send you someone that's close in comparison to him, and he could say the same about you.

There are a few more moments of silence before you feel wind hastily rushing against the back of your neck, followed by large, strong arms tightly wrapping around your shoulders and cold skin resting right where the air had just wafted past you. Many would find it hard to believe that Count Dracula is a clingy lover, but this behavior is of no surprise to you. For as long as the two of you have been together, Vlad has always craved closeness. When he is without you for a certain period of time, he searches the castle to take his rightful place by your side once more. He didn't have to look for long tonight, for he knew exactly where you were.

You have been obsessed with this book that you found in the library, and while he is glad that you are enjoying it, it is taking your attention away from him. This is not something that pleases Vlad very deeply, so he is planning on making some changes tonight. "You've been in here for hours. Come to bed, now." His deep voice comes with a rumble from his chest, tone composed of a gentleness reserved for you alone.

His plea does not go unheard, for you know that all he wants is for you to snuggle up with him and doze into night's comfortable slumber together. Fondness takes hold of your heart as a small, tender smile curls onto your lips. It's difficult to refuse him such an innocent ask, but it is just as difficult to pull yourself away from the narrative in your hands, so you assure your beloved, "There isn't much left. You'll be alright a few minutes more."

This earns a disappointed groan from Vlad, burying his face further into your neck. "How much more is there?"

You tilt your head and take each remaining page between your fingers until you find the next chapter, and when you find your answer, you tell him, "Three pages."

Another groan grates from Vlad's throat, prolonged from the previous one as he nestles impossibly further into your skin with his large frame leaning against the back of the wooden chair. "Remind me why we sleep at night." Your darling requests, peaking up at your face.

"Hey, you don't have to sleep at night if you don't want to. It was your idea to change your sleep schedule so that we could match," You grant Vlad his request and recall the commitment that he made to sleeping throughout the night so that the two of you would be able to be together when the sun comes up.

You have preferred day to night for as long as you could remember. You have no reason for favoring daytime other than feeling that the Earth is so much more lively and bright. The plants are so vibrant beneath the sunlight, and there are so many things that you want to experience that you wouldn't be able to otherwise. Vlad always knew that you enjoyed day more than night, therefore adjusting your sleeping schedule accordingly; As a result, Vlad told you that he was going to start sleeping through the night too. At first, you were a bit worried about such a major change to his routine, but he insisted that he wanted to see the world through your eyes. This has been the arrangement ever since, and you cannot help but feel so smitten by the idea that he is willing to introduce such adjustments to his agenda in order to be with you.

With this transition in his life, Vlad knew that he was going to be groggy. While he has a substantial amount of energy compared to most vampires, this does not exempt him from needing the same amount of sleep. Have no doubt when he swears that there is nothing that he would change about dedicating himself to your lifestyle. You were right when you said that it was his choice, but unfortunately, it does not cure the fatigue that he often finds himself with when he stirs from his night's rest.

In attempt to adjust to the pattern he promised you, he likes going to bed early. Vlad tries to be tucked in anywhere from seven to nine P.M, and typically, you are by his side. You go to bed around the same time that he does, if not a little later, so when he was preparing himself for bed without you, he got worried. He figured that you would come to bed soon, so he laid down in attempt to fall asleep. As the hours ticked by with still no sign of you, he became restless, eventually making the decision to go look for you.

A defeated huff leaves Vlad's lips as he rests his forehead against the back of your neck again. One of many reasons why he fell in love with you was because of your smart mouth, and you pick the most bedeviling times to use it. "I know that," He mumbles lowly, peaking back up at you before resting his chin on your shoulder and closing his eyes.

"You know that I can't sleep without you. Please, come to bed." The count pleads again, sweeter this time.

You almost give in to his honeyed words, their innocent warmth daring to bewitch you. Nevertheless, you keep your composure while your eyes remain on the page before you, as they have throughout the entire conversation, "You will be just fine, dear. Only a few minutes longer."

Vlad has learned much about patience in his life, especially when he found you again. All good things come to those who wait is something that the dark-haired vampire has commonly watched play out, so normally, this wouldn't be the end of the world for him. He would do naught more than pout and refuse to detach himself from you until you came to bed. Tonight, however, Vlad will not be indulging in your distractions. Quick to stand, sending a blast of wind against your back once more, the count steps to your side before lifting you up into his arms. You yelp at the unexpected change of location and almost drop your book in the process, barely being able to catch it by its spine before holding it closed to your chest and leaning against your husband. "Vlad!!" You exclaim, laughter tickling its way from your lungs moments after.

"No. I have had enough. You are coming to bed with me." The vampire declares as he begins to make his way towards the library's exit.

"Vlad, put me down!!" You demand, only moderately annoyed with him as you flail in his grasp in attempt to escape, "Right now!!"

"Nope. So sorry, my dear, but your book is going to have to wait." Vlad proclaims, lips tilting upwards in a cheeky grin as his head turns to the side so that radiant red eyes can meet yours, "Your husband requires your attendance to the nightly snuggle session. You're late."

Any attempts you're making to escape the security of this man's arms are greatly failing you, so you decide to admit defeat now rather than later. His strength serves well, and while you are grateful for it most days, this is a good example of the cons of being married to one of Earth's most powerful vampires. He can, and will, wrangle you around whenever he pleases. Your bottom lip pokes out from its place as you lean against the man's chest, determined to uphold your front of unwavering stubbornness.

Amused by your dramatics, Vlad rolls his eyes playfully and allows them to close while a chuckle vibrates up his chest and past his lips. He opens them again to admire your sullen expression, musing, "Oh, come now. I can't be that bad of a cuddler since you're pitching a fit."

Your pout is quick to dispel from your face, a long sigh expelling from your lungs just afterwards. You avoid eye contact as you agree with him, "No, you're not."

Another chuckle escapes the mouth of your lover, a sound that you are secretly glad to hear that reassures you that he isn't taking you seriously. He draws you closer to his chest as he softly murmurs against your forehead before placing a kiss to it, "Don't worry, you can read more tomorrow."

You sulk and avoid eye contact for a bit before dropping the act. It wasn't much longer before you arrived into your shared bedroom, the door coming open to reveal a sight that has grown comforting to you over the years. The room is decorated primarily in red and black, as you both adore the colors, but there are a few distinct shades around too which sets apart your individual styles. Assorted trinkets rest across dressers and shelves from the many travels that you two have taken over the years, gifts and ornaments that you've made for each other through a plethora of shared anniversaries that always bring a smile to your face every time you pay mind to them.

Variously styled mirrors, decor, and paintings hang on the walls. There is no real purpose for the mirrors other than to enhance the elegance of the room, as they are too high for both you and Vlad to see anything from. The paintings, however, hold much importance to both of you. Each illustration that lays across your walls tells a story from one of your memorable moments together. Vlad personally hired the best artist he could find to perfectly capture your most treasured experiences, and whenever you are having a bad day, all you have to do is look up to brighten your spirits.

Your husband walks over to his side of the bed and holds you above the center before dropping you onto the soft surface, causing you to puff out an exhale before your laughter sings into the air. You lay yourself across the bed and remain still while Vlad adjusts the canopy draped over the wooden post by his pillow before he launches at you. With no time to move away, he plops over your stomach, the impact of his weight causing you to wheeze. You look down at him with an astonished grin on your lips as he lays in momentary silence before lifting himself off of you to settle onto you comfortably. You sit up and adjust all of the pillows behind you before leaning back against them, prying your book open again before it is promptly snatched out of your hands and slammed onto Vlad's nightstand. You laugh and try to reach for it, imploring for its return, but that is quickly shut-down by the vampire hovering above you, "No. Sincerest apologies You'll get it back tomorrow."

Slowly, he stations himself on top of you with his head against your abdomen just under your chest. He is mindful of your body language to ensure your comfort, and when he descends his full weight with no awkward shifting or complaints from you after a few minutes, he concludes your contentment with the position and nestles his head against you with closed eyes. Your arms lift as he gets himself cozy, and once he relaxes, you wrap your arms around his shoulders while your fingers begin to comb through his hair. A smile graces the vampire's lips as your touch serves to soothe all worries away from his mind.

You cannot stop the smile that grows onto your own face as you watch his lips curl up. No soul, alive or dead, can say that they have experienced Vlad Țepeș' joy the way that you do, and for this, you are grateful. Vlad has spent so much of his life keeping up a cold, merciless profile for all vampires that dare to step to him, but charades with you are unnecessary. All of the walls that he spent centuries building are torn to shreds in your presence, and no matter his methods, they could never withstand your blinding iridescence. There is comfort in your arms that he has never found in another, and this tranquility that he has the luxury of being the only person to experience is something that he holds close to his heart. This is not something that you do knowingly, for it is who you are. You are a constant source of peace that quells the ever-roaring fire in his soul to a quiet crackle. You are what inspires him to be curious about the world, you keep his thirst for knowledge abundant with your differing perspectives, and he firmly believes that your ideas could change the world.

It's truly a shame that your eyes cannot convey the amount of love that you hold for this man, but they are doing their best. Your gaze displays your overwhelming adoration for him, and he surely feels how loved he is. When you look at him, Vlad knows that he is admired in every way he never dreamed of. Your eyes do not have to meet for him to know that you look at him like he is the greatest thing in the world, and that is all you could ever wish for. You finally decide to break the silence after watching him rest for a bit, teasing him, "Is this going to be your spot for the night?"

Any thoughts that Vlad was having before you embraced him have completely vanished. Now, it's just you, him, and your warm bed. All he can muster out is a low, "Mhm."

You giggle as you recognize his sleepiness and lift your legs slightly, asking, "Then can we at least get under the covers so that we don't freeze to death?"

A lazy, amused smirk curls onto Vlad's face at your suggestion, his nostrils flaring in a huff. "I'm not even sure that we can freeze," He admits.

You chuckle and move your hands from his hair onto his back to pat it. "Well, I don't want to risk finding out. So come on."

An agitated groans leaves your comfy husband before he begrudgingly eases himself off of you so that you could get under the covers. The two of you adjust the pillows to their normal spaces and you shake off your cardigan to toss it aside before you slip your legs beneath the sheets. A corner of the sheets lay open, and you lift them up to welcome him inside. Vlad's lips form a gentle smile, and his eyes soften affectionately at the sight before he climbs into the covers and rests himself back on top of you. Your fingers return to threading through his hair, a blissful sigh respiring from his lungs as he resumes a comfortable position. You look down at the top of his head with the same benevolent expression that you wear every time that you look at him, and your voice comes out soft when you say, "Goodnight, my dearest. I love you."

The words that you tell him every night are words that he could never tire of hearing. When you say it, he knows that you mean it, and it fills him with ease to know that when you wake up in the morning, he will get to hear you say it again. "Goodnight, my darling. I love you too." Vlad returns the sentiment, falling into an inescapable slumber with you not far behind him.

@BUNNYLUVX ,, all rights reserved. do not copy/plagiarize any of my works or submit it into ai. any and all support is appreciated! <3

[familiarscars]

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 28

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

Sydney, May 18, 2022.

NOAH

"Your call has been forwarded to voicemail..." the automated voice announced for the eighth time in under five minutes.

I paced back and forth, fists clenched, gripping my phone with such force that it wouldn't be long before I wore a hole into the floor. My impatience gnawed at me as I failed to get through again. I raked my fingers through my hair, exhaling a heavy sigh.

We had been away from home for five months, touring non-stop. Five months away from Los Angeles. Five months since I had last heard from her. Five months of her ignoring every attempt I made to contact or reconcile with her. It felt like a game—a twisted game designed to drive me insane by vanishing completely from my sight.

"Try her phone again, please!" I said, my voice trembling with exhaustion, my chin jutting toward Jolly as he pulled his phone from his pocket. He’d always been closer to her, and lately, I was clinging to the thin hope that he might have better luck reaching her.

“We’ve tried, Noah. She still won’t answer,” Jolly reminded me, his tone calm but firm.

I shook my head and lowered my phone from my ear, pressing my lips together.

“We’re going home tomorrow. You’ll have your chance to talk to her face-to-face,” he said, stepping closer and patting my shoulder.

“I don’t feel right…” I muttered, swallowing the tightness in my throat as I turned my gaze to the window. “Something feels wrong.”

“You’re probably just anxious. How about you get some rest? Lie down, try to sleep. I’ll keep calling her and let you know if I hear anything. But you need to rest.”

There was no order in Jolly’s voice, no harshness—only concern, evident in the lines of his forehead and the tightness around his eyes. I nodded faintly, giving him a small, strained smile to reassure him enough to leave me alone in the room again.

Empty and jagged.

I knew this wasn’t guilt—not the kind that gnawed at your conscience. I didn’t regret anything I’d done so far. My conscience was clear. But still, I felt it—something was missing.

The truth is, we’re never satisfied with anything.

We tie our happiness to external things, believing that once we achieve certain goals or acquire what we desire, we’ll finally cherish those accomplishments. We put our ambitions above logic, battling tirelessly until we reach them. But when we do, the thrill of victory dulls the joy of having won.

That was how I felt.

Even though I had accomplished everything I’d set out to do, I still felt hollow—like a tree trunk eaten away by termites.

“Your call has been forwarded to voicemail…” The voice interrupted my thoughts again as I collapsed into the chair by the window. “Leave your message after the tone.”

“I haven’t seen cloudy skies and drizzle the same way since you left, little storm. Today, more than ever, I woke up thinking of you, with a feeling that claws at my chest with every breath. Every day in a message like this, I tell you how much I miss you, but today it feels unbearable. I’m sorry.” I sighed.

I breathed deeply, my eyes drifting between a blank spot on the floor and the fogged window, blurred by the rain.

“If your plan was to punish me, congratulations—you’ve succeeded. I haven’t stopped feeling like a worm since the moment you walked out of our house on a day just like this.”

I inhaled sharply, dividing my gaze between the rain-washed glass and the suffocating silence on the other end of the line.

“I feel like something’s terribly wrong. I can’t explain it, not to anyone. But you’d understand. It feels like a part of me is dissolving, and I can’t put it back… just a gaping, hollow hole left behind.” My head tilted upward as I whispered, “I’d leave you alone forever if I could hear your voice just one last time. Even if it’s to call me selfish or tell me to disappear from your life. Not that my promises have meant much lately.”

A notification buzzed, cutting me off—voicemail full.

My breath quickened. Fury rose inside me like a storm, and I launched my phone against the wall. It shattered into fragments, leaving a jagged hole in the dark paneling. The sound of impact was deafening, but I barely noticed.

I sprang to my feet, adrenaline surging. Rage coursed through my veins as I tore through the room, toppling my desk, sending my laptop crashing to the ground. Glass splintered into sharp shards, scattering across the floor. I grabbed them and hurled them at the mirrors, cracking the glass until my reflection was a distorted mess of fractures.

I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. It felt as though the world was collapsing, and I was determined to bring it all down with me.

When the storm passed, I stood amid wreckage, my chest heaving, my hands slick with blood from the shattered glass. I slumped onto the bed’s edge, gripping the mattress so tightly my fingers pressed through the fabric.

The door creaked open. In my peripheral vision, I noticed curious heads peeking in. Gerard stepped forward, closing the door behind him, leaving the others outside. He weaved his way through the glass-strewn floor, his eyes locking on mine as my grip on the mattress tightened further.

“You’re paying for the damage,” he said, his tone flat. “Every cent the hotel charges for this mess.”

I shrugged.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” Gerard asked, grabbing a few shirts from the back of a chair and tossing them into my lap. “We’ve got a show in a few minutes and an interview on the way. Now’s not the time for tantrums.”

“I’m not feeling well.”

Sometimes, a single event sets off a chain reaction. The stress of not hearing from her had worn me down completely.

I wasn’t just tired—I was spent, hollowed out. Every show over the past five months had drained me, each performance pulling the worst out of me. I was exhausted, and there wasn’t much left to give.

I just wanted to go home. I had an almost delirious urgency to go home.

"Did you see a doctor?" Despite the concerned tone, he had little real interest.

"Yeah, after I got sick during last week's show. He said it’s something like burnout."

Gerard sighed, his shoulders slumping.

I nearly jumped when he sat beside me on the edge of the bed, placing a hand on my shoulder. If he was tense, his presence made me twice as uncomfortable. I caught a glimpse of his empathetic expression out of the corner of my eye.

"Noah, I’ve known you long enough to think of you as a son..."

"Think of?" I raised an eyebrow, skeptical.

"It’s normal to feel tired. You’re working hard—onstage, offstage, promoting the new album. Look, the band is growing the way you always wanted, making new strides every day... This isn’t the time to lose steam." His voice was low, deliberate, as if weighing every word. "This dream has always been more yours than anyone else’s, hasn’t it? I’ve always noticed you’re the one who puts in the most effort."

"I disagree."

"She may be a good singer, Noah, but she’s never been a real professional. She never treated the band as a priority, never made it her life’s purpose. She’s always been more concerned with pleasing you. I never got involved because I’m not here to give relationship advice. My job is to focus on your career. But now the inevitable has happened. Your personal life is bleeding into the stage." His words felt like a blade carving into my skin.

Confusion must have filled my eyes. I turned fully toward him, studying his face. He wasn’t angry—nor did he wear his usual smirk of indifference. That only made the conversation feel even more surreal.

"I was your age once, and I loved someone so deeply it felt like the rest of the world didn’t exist. But looking back, I don’t think it was worth it. You know why? We wanted different things. She believed she had the right to suffocate my dreams. That’s what happens when you put people in places they don’t belong." Gerard took a deep breath before continuing. "I don’t think her distance is a coincidence. You should see it as a reason to move forward."

No. No. Not even close.

"You don’t know us—not enough to compare my story to yours!" I snapped, rising to my feet. I grabbed clothes and belongings from the mess around me, stuffing them into my bag. With every piece I collected, the tightening in my chest worsened.

He spoke about her decision with such conviction that it gnawed at me, as if he knew something I didn’t.

"I know enough to say this is the smartest decision she’s made in years. You both function better apart, and more importantly, the band doesn’t suffer." He shrugged. "Frankly, I’d suggest we keep the lineup as it is now, but I figure you’d make that a headache, just like these past five months chasing after her!"

"Do whatever you want with the lineup. I’m taking the first flight back to Los Angeles."

"If you can afford the cancellation fee for the show, you’re free to go wherever you want, darling!" He mocked, wagging a finger. "I’ve already lost enough covering for one absent member. You won’t make it two!"

I could afford the fee by now, but one thing held me back—I wasn’t alone.

The band was bigger than my whims. It wasn’t fair to drag my friends into my chaos.

"I’ve tried putting a sliver of sense into your head, but if you insist on this path, that’s your problem," Gerard muttered, standing and dusting invisible specks from his hands. "Just get the job done. I don’t care how much you cry backstage..."

He moved toward the door but paused next to me, leaning in with a smirk, his voice dripping with mockery.

"And unlike her, I’m not worried about how you’ll handle this pathetic heartbreak after the show."

The punch I delivered struck before he could retreat. My knuckles collided with his face in one swift, solid motion.

Gerard staggered backward, and I pinned him against the wall. He licked the blood from his lip as I shoved my hair out of my eyes, my chest heaving with fury.

"Don’t ever talk about her like that again," I growled, leaning so close I could see his eyes widen. "You can hate her all you want, but you’ll swallow every insult. Because the day she walks away for good, I’ll be next. Without her, there’ll be no album, no tour, no shows—nothing to keep padding your bank account. So don’t you ever speak about her like that again!"

His brief smirk faded the moment I jabbed my finger into the fresh cut on his jaw, pressing into the tender skin.

"You don’t know me, baby. Not even close," I whispered, shoving his face away with enough force to send him stumbling into the door.

Gerard straightened his posture, took a breath, and left.

Alone at last, I leaned my forehead against the wall, the weight of it all finally crashing down on me.

After the show, I refused all fan photos. I didn’t stay to watch the other festival bands with the guys, didn’t record any interviews, didn’t say goodbye to anyone. I simply grabbed my things from the hotel and rushed to the next flight home. No layovers, no delays, desperate to breathe in the familiar scent of my city. As soon as I got off the plane, I kept trying to call her over and over as I waited for a taxi, but every attempt ended in silence.

That drive from the airport to home had never felt so long.

When I finally arrived, sitting still inside the car on the other side of the street, I noticed the closed windows and the pile of letters in the mailbox. Dry leaves scattered across the porch. I tried to push the thought away, but the signs were clear—maybe she hadn’t left the house in days.

Because of me.

Each step along the short path to the porch tightened the ache in my chest. A hundred terrible ideas raced through my head of what she might have done to herself, alone in that empty space. I quickened my pace, hesitating only a moment before forcing the door handle until it gave way.

Silence.

Everything was exactly as I had left it before I traveled. Clothes still lay draped over the sofa, and the plants on the table were wilted. But something stood out—her shoes weren’t behind the door, and her jackets weren’t hanging on the rack.

If I had felt anxious and agitated before, this realization only made it worse, my heartbeat thundering so loudly I was sure it could be heard from across the room. Dropping my bag, I bolted up the stairs to the second floor and into our bedroom.

The bed was made, everything in its place. But something felt wrong.

The closet held only my clothes. None of hers. The shelf beside it was empty of everything but my shoes. I blinked several times, stumbling backward, my feet weightless as I moved toward the bathroom. The counter beneath the mirror, where her makeup, perfumes, and hair products had once cluttered the space, was bare. Nothing remained but a toothbrush and toothpaste.

"No... no, this can’t be..." I whispered to myself.

I tore through every corner of the house in a frenzy, my throat burning from the lump I fought to keep down. I didn’t want to cry. Her suitcases were gone. There was no trace of her—no sign that she had ever shared this space with me.

Pacing the floor with my hands tangled in my hair, I let the most painful tears I had ever known flow freely. I hated myself for this. It was all my fault. I had been the one to turn my back on her, to sweep her aside like she didn’t matter.

But I never imagined I’d come home to an empty house.

I felt it. The street stretched endlessly, each step echoing in the hollow silence of the night. Low fog clung to the sidewalks, and the cold air tore through my lungs. I walked as though I were the last person alive, revisiting places that had once been ours, chasing even the faintest flicker of clarity.

The park where she laughed at my terrible joke and made the world feel lighter. The café where she dared me to abandon my habits and try something new. The bridge where we swore we would never be just another passing moment in each other’s lives.

Now, all of those places were as empty as I felt.

My mind was chaos. Every time her image surfaced, it felt like the noose around my neck tightened a little more. I was drowning, spiraling into a despair without end.

Then, an idea flickered to life.

"Why didn’t I think of it sooner..." I whispered, my voice barely audible.

I broke into a run. My body protested, but I didn’t stop. Her old house. The one she left behind when we decided to build something together. Maybe—just maybe—she had gone back there.

When I arrived, the sight of the familiar façade hit me like a punch to the gut. It was like confronting a ghost from my past, only this time, it felt far too real.

My ragged breathing filled the silence as I stood before the door. The house seemed smaller than I remembered, compressed by time into something stifling and suffocating. My hands trembled as I reached for the handle. I forced myself forward.

It was unlocked. The door creaked as it opened, the sound cutting through the heavy stillness of the night.

And there she was.

For a moment, my vision blurred as my mind struggled to reconcile the image I had held of her with the person standing before me. She was in the hallway, a living shadow, likely coming to see who was at the door.

Her sweatshirt hung too loose on her thin frame, swallowing her frail shoulders. Her hair was carelessly tied back, and deep shadows under her eyes marred the face I had once memorized. Her lips, once vibrant, were pale, drained of life and color.

She looked like a distorted version of herself.

Her eyes met mine—wide, guarded, and wary, like a cornered animal. My chest clenched.

"You left." My voice broke, a mere whisper, but heavy with anguish. "You left, little storm..."

She didn’t move. Her gaze drifted over me as though deciding whether I was real or just another ghost haunting her mind.

"You shouldn’t be here, Noah." Her voice was cold, fragile. The pain she tried to hide was as plain as the exhaustion etched into her face.

"Not supposed to be here?" I repeated, my voice catching in my throat. "You just left—disappeared—and wouldn’t answer my messages, driving me insane these past months. How do you expect me to..."

I stepped closer, unable to hold back, and cupped her face in my hands. Her skin was ice-cold, sending a shiver down my spine. She didn’t react. Her eyes darted away from mine, refusing to meet my gaze for more than a fleeting second.

"You can’t do this to me." My voice cracked. "You can’t leave me alone in that house."

She stirred, trying to pull away, but I didn’t let go.

"Look at me." I begged, my voice thick with emotion. She didn’t budge. "It was just a stupid fight like all the others, wasn’t it? You’re coming home, right? We’ll work it out like we always do, and everything will be fine… won’t it?"

She sighed, weary, as if the weight of the conversation was too much to bear.

"For God’s sake, answer me!" I tightened my grip before loosening it immediately, horrified as she shrank further into herself, shame radiating from her every movement.

My hand fell to my side. I watched as she rubbed her face, as if trying to erase me from the room.

"I know I messed up, okay? I know I disappointed you, acted like an idiot. But I need you. I can’t do this alone." My voice broke, my last defenses crumbling. "Come back home. Please."

She shook her head slowly, resolutely, without ever meeting my eyes.

Then I saw them.

Bruises. Faint at first, shadowy traces through the sleeves of her sweatshirt when she raised her arms. Some purple, others faded to yellow.

I didn’t think.

I grabbed her arms, panic surging as I held her frail body. She didn’t resist. She couldn’t even slip from between my fingers.

"Who did this to you?" I demanded, barely able to keep my voice steady, my eyes roaming from one mark to the next. I pushed her sleeve higher, finding more bruises staining the delicate skin of her arm.

Then I saw the cut.

A deep, vertical gash, a row of stitches trailing along it in mid-healing.

The world went cold.

"What happened?" My voice rose, frantic, my heart thundering as I grabbed her shoulders. "What happened to you?"

"Answer me!" I shook her, my desperation pouring out.

And then she smiled. A weak, hollow curve of her dry lips.

"You already know the answer."

"Me?" I whispered, my own voice foreign to my ears. "It doesn’t matter." I shook my head fiercely. "We’re going home. We’ll talk there."

I fought to control the tremor in my hands, my dry throat constricting as I began grabbing whatever I could find. A bag. A pair of shoes. Anything that belonged to her—anything that proved she still had a place with me. My mind raced, a blender of jagged thoughts spinning wildly out of control.

But her words stopped me.

"This is my home now."

I froze, the weight of her statement crushing every thought that tried to form.

"No..." The word slipped out, broken, more to myself than to her. "No, it’s not. It can’t be."

I ignored her and continued gathering her things, convinced that if I just kept moving, we could fix it.

"We’re going home. Now." My voice was firm, a brittle mask over the chaos inside.

"No."

It sliced the air like a blade.

I stopped, a bag still clutched in my hand, and turned to face her. She stood with her arms crossed, her posture rigid, as if trying to shield herself from everything I was unleashing.

"I’m not going anywhere, Noah." She swallowed hard, her gaze fixed on the floor. "You told me that time alone would help me think. And I did. I think we..."

"Don’t finish that sentence!" I cut her off, my heartbeat spiraling.

"We’re not working anymore, Noah. We’re out of sync, and as much as I’ve tried to be someone worthy of you, I can’t keep pretending." Her voice wavered, her tears falling freely now. "These years haven’t healed me. I can’t change. It’s not fair to keep you tied to someone like me."

I stood there, her words echoing inside me like a verdict.

"No..." I whispered, the denial a plea. "Don’t do this."

Tears burned my eyes as I took a step closer. "Please, little storm... don’t leave me."

She looked away, wrapping her arms around herself like a fragile barrier.

"You don’t understand, Noah. This isn’t healthy for either of us anymore."

"Don’t say that!" The shout ripped from me, raw and agonized. "You’re all I have! I need you!"

The words tumbled out in sobs, the anguish clawing through my chest like poison. My legs gave way, and I leaned against the doorframe, my heart racing too fast, too hard.

"I know I screwed everything up..." I choked, fingers running through my hair. "I hurt you. I was selfish. But tell me how to fix it. Just tell me."

She wept, and it destroyed me.

"It’s not about fixing it." Her words were knives, each one sharper than the last. "It’s about what I’m doing to you."

"Turning your back on me will destroy me!"

"I’m not turning my back. I’m giving you a chance—to be so much more than I’ll ever be. I can’t keep you chained to someone marked by her past, who ruins everything she touches." She shook her head, despair dripping from her voice. "Look at me, Noah. I’ll never be more than this."

"I don’t care!" I shouted, my face wet with tears. "I don’t care about any of it. I just want you."

I couldn’t hear her anymore—not her words, not her reasoning. All I felt was the gaping wound in my chest, bleeding out with every breath.

"You love me, right?" I whispered, the words a trembling breath of panic. "Tell me you still love me."

"Noah..." She shook her head, her eyes even more filled with tears, clutching her chest as if each word tore her apart from the inside, as if avoiding my gaze would somehow ease the pain.

"ANSWER ME!"

She hesitated, and that single fraction of a second was enough to send my world crumbling further.

"If you loved me, you wouldn't be saying this. You wouldn’t be leaving me like this!" I pressed forward, my voice sharp and desperate. "You would try one more time and finally understand that I chose to be yours despite your flaws. I didn’t care about your past, I didn’t care how far apart our dreams might have been—I just wanted to be yours..." I argued. "I don’t care how far we are from perfect. I never wanted to give up on you."

She turned her face away, tears streaming down her cheeks as she slowly shook her head.

"Tell me you still love me," I repeated. "Little storm."

"I... I don’t love you anymore, Noah."

Everything stopped.

The sound, the air, the ground beneath my feet. Just an all-consuming, deafening void. A chasm opened inside me, dark and endless, swallowing everything I knew.

"No..." I whispered, shaking my head as my throat tightened to the point of pain. "That’s not true. You can’t even say it looking me in the eyes."

She didn’t respond, and the silence that followed was worse than any words she could have spoken.

My legs finally gave way, and I collapsed to the floor. The hardness of the ground didn’t matter—nothing mattered. I buried my face in my hands, the sobs tearing through me like a storm I couldn’t weather.

She was there, only a few steps away, but it felt like she was already a million miles from me.

I had lost her.

⭑ @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard ; @iluvmewwwww75 ; @anarchydomainglory ; @foliosgirl ; @lacy1986 ; @chey-h ; @supersquirrel1996 ; @zozaline​ ; @just-randomm-stuff ; @do-it-jakey-baby