#what if shes been in here this whole time

[ja3yun]

Devil's Corner || S.JY

racer!jaeyun x rival's sister!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, oral (f.rec), food play - lollipops, exhibitionism (kinda), terribly described racing scenes, mentions of past trauma, anything else lmk! wc: 18k synopsis: jaeyun goes by a lot of names - leader of the lucifers, your brother's biggest rival, the number one racer in the south&west, and your non-boyfriend. on his birthday, you go to the grit track to wish him luck, not knowing your relationship is going to change forever. a/n: hi! i am not officially back, i'm still taking a break but it would be so wrong of me to miss the loml's birthday (although i'm early) <33 this isn't exactly how i wanted this to turn out so i'm sorry if it's shit 😮‍💨 anyway, i'll be back soon hopefully bc it's almost my one year anniversary. comments/feedback/reblogs are all appreciated and i love you all so much! happy jake day when it comes <3

“You know I can’t be here, Ireh,” you say, casting a wary glance around. “If Yeonjun sees me, he’ll lose his mind.”

“Will you just relax for like half a minute, please?” Ireh sighs, her voice tinged with lighthearted frustration as she tugs you closer to the grit track, the sound of revving engines growing closer. “He’s probably busy preparing for the race. You know how seriously he takes this.”

You dig your heels into the ground, stopping both of you in your tracks. “Girl, please be serious. We’re practically on the track! He could spot me in a heartbeat.”

Avoiding your older brother isn’t really in your nature; you’ve always been inseparable. You and Yeonjun are like two cubes of ice that no matter how much you whack them, they stay glued together. He always protects you, teaches you the ropes on how to navigate life even though there is only 3 years between you, and you would probably class him as one of your best friends. 

Yet, he never wants you to come to his races.

Yeonjun is one of, if not the best illegal drag racer in the city. He’s built respect around his and his crews name - Thursday’s Children - TC for short. Initially, he loved bringing you along to the races, but that quickly changed the moment you caught the attention of the one rival he despises.

Ireh turns to you, exasperation etched across her features as she crosses her arms. “So, do you want to see your boyfriend or not?”

“He is not my boyfriend, Ireh,” you retort, huffing the words out for what feels like the millionth time. But she isn’t wrong - you are here to see the boy, and though typically you wouldn’t risk coming to the tracks and getting caught by Yeonjun, there’s a reason for the risk tonight.

“Oh? So what do you call a guy you’re so hopelessly in love with that you’re willing to betray your brother and sneak behind his back?” she counters with a teasing lilt in her voice. “Because you wouldn’t do that for a casual hookup.”

That’s also the kicker of this whole thing; since that day when you bumped into Yeonjun’s rival and the ban was put in place so that you never have to come into contact with him…you’ve actually been seeing him almost every day for the past seven months. Your boyfriend who isn’t your boyfriend? That’s Sim Jaeyun - the leader of The Lucifers, and your brother's arch nemesis.

It makes you recoil every time you think about betraying your brother, especially when someone slaps you over the face with it so blatantly the way your best friend does. It’s worse because as much as you downplay the relationship, you can’t deny that there is something so real between you both. As soon as you met him, you were instantly drawn to him - like a moth to a very dangerous and reckless flame.

To be honest, you vowed to stay away from any and all racers. Each of them is arrogant and too prideful, your brother included, but the more you spoke with Jaeyun, got to know him and all his quirks, you realised quickly that he’s the exception. 

Jaeyun is ripped straight from the pages of a romance book. At first glance, with his sharp smirk and the swagger that comes with being one of the city’s top drag racers, he gives off that classic fuckboy vibe - a bit reckless, untouchable, with that unbothered arrogance he uses to get under other crew’s skin. To a lot of people, he’s just the arrogant leader of The Lucifers, quick to brush off his competition like they’re nothing. 

But that’s only half of who he is.

When it’s just the two of you, you get to see a side of Jaeyun that he guards closely - trusting you with something he doesn’t share with the world. He’s patient and tender, his words soft and careful, and it’s almost startling how different he can be. He’s not performing or putting up walls; he’s just there with you, completely and wholly, in a way that’s so real it takes your heart a minute to stop making more space for him. If you were to say this to anyone else that knew him, or of him, they would laugh in your face - and Jaeyun would deny it in a heartbeat.

It wouldn’t be fair to say he hides his ‘real’ self from others because being the racer everyone perceives is also part of him. The intensity he brings to the track is genuine - it’s a part of his soul, he’s clearly passionate about it, loving the thrill and heat that comes from burning some rubber and shouting a big fuck you to his opponent. But with you, Jaeyun allows himself to be something more. He only shows the loverboy side of him in your company, being with you gives him a moment to embrace a side of himself that he sometimes forgets about.

Of course, he’s still cocky and boastful - he’s allowed to be; he’s really fucking good - it’s the main reason why he and Yeonjun are rivals in the first place. While TC rules the North and East of the city, The Lucifers hold ownership of the South and West, but both of them want to be on top - the best in the city, not just their turfs.

In Yeonjun’s eyes, the only one who could be deemed better than him is Jaeyun, and that’s a bitter pill to swallow. So he won’t swallow it, he’ll use it as motivation instead, to beat Jaeyun in ever way possible.

Shifting your focus back to Ireh and ridding your mind of the thoughts of the leaders, you shake your head and let out the fakest laugh you think you’ve ever heard spit from your mouth. “In love with him? I am not in love with him. We’re just, seeing one another, casual, y’know?”

Ireh holds that knowing stare on you as you stand there, your mind battling with itself like it usually does in moments like these, justification and excuses bubbling up. “Listen, you can keep him as your ‘not boyfriend’ all you want,” she adds with a smirk, “but you know that label isn’t hiding your feelings. It’s written all over your face -  even now.”

You’re an open book, what your mouth doesn’t say, your face certainly will and you’re more than sure it’s telling the story of your heart that you refuse to admit. For both your sake and Jaeyun’s.

“Whatever, let’s just go find him.” Rolling your eyes, you take her arm and lead her further into the pit of people.

It’s heaving with racers, pit lizards, and those just looking to have a good time and smell the fumes. The floodlights guide you to the edge of the track while you thread your and Ireh's way through the crowd, moving closer to the edge, where you get a clear view of the grit track. Out of all the places Yeonjun and Jaeyun race, this track has a special place in your heart. There’s nothing too fancy about it, but it does have one element that outdoes all the rest; Devil’s Corner.

Devil’s Corner is infamous, a steep turn that has racers pushing their cars to the limit. They either conquer the bend or be conquered by it. It’s a sharp, merciless curve that rises slightly before plunging down at a nearly impossible angle, leading straight into a narrow stretch and to the finish line. So many have tried to beat it or show off on it - you’ve seen more than one car flip or crumpling like a smooshed tin can. 

Luckily, both your brother and Jaeyun know exactly how to handle it, masters of their art being proven each time. You never have to worry about them too much when it comes to this track, they’re usually way ahead of whatever chump tries to race them, but a little flutter of anxiety will always be there.

You squint against the harsh glare of headlights, raising a hand to shield your eyes as you scan the crowd. Among the bustle, you spot Heeseung and Jongseong leaning casually against a car with the devil printed crudely onto it, looking entirely at ease in the chaotic scene. They’re two of Jaeyun’s closest friends and crewmates, so wherever they are, he’s usually not far behind.

Heeseung is the first to notice you, nudging Jongseong with a mischievous glint in his eye as he shoots you a welcoming look. The two of them are more than just members of The Lucifers - they’re practically family to Jaeyun, and in turn that makes them your number one hype men and the only others to know about your secret fling.

Squeezing her arm, you guide Ireh across the track and into red territory, smiling brightly and suddenly forgetting about the possibility of Yeonjun spotting you. 

“Hi, boys!” you greet them warmly, letting go of your friend to hug them tightly. “How are you feeling?” Both of them have races tonight, though you could never tell with how nonchalant they both look. Going against TC always has higher stakes, but they don’t seem fussed.

Jongseong pats your head and smirks. “We’re chill, it’s only Gyu and Soobin, hardly competition.”

“We are shocked to see you though, doesn’t little Junnie usually keep you in a cage when it comes to TC Lucifer races?” Heeseung nips in.

“Well, I had to come and-”

“Support the number one racer on his birthday,” a fading Australian accent interrupts your sentence, his hands gripping your hips and instinctively pulling you back into him, your ass pressing against one of your favourite parts of him. 

Jaeyun’s touch is intoxicating, a magnetic pull that has you leaning back into him without a second thought, any anxiety about Yeonjun’s lurking eyes now vanished. His hands drift up and down your waist, lingering over the curves he knows so well, savouring the feel of the skintight dress you’ve slipped into just for him. You can feel his gaze, possessive, admiring, and utterly absorbed into you as his fingers press against the sheer fabric at your sides, the warmth of his skin teasing yours through the thin material. He loves it when you dress up for him because he knows it’s only for him, not one of these other fuckers at the grit track gets to touch you the way he does, gets to see you the way he does. 

Instinctively, he dips his head, his lips grazing your shoulder, trailing upwards in a slow, lazy path that sends a pulse straight to your core. His mouth follows the line of your neck, leaving a trail of heat that makes you feel like the two of you are alone in the world, past all of the noise and chaos around you. When he reaches your ear, he nibbles down and whispers, “Hi, Princess.” It’s a greeting as much as a claim, you’re his princess.

You’re aware, somewhere in the back of your mind, that this is probably the most reckless thing you could do. Yeonjun could be here any second, his protective instincts would be kicking in if he caught even a speckle of Jaeyun’s hands on you. And yet, the thrill of it only makes you want to sink deeper into Jaeyun’s touch. He holds you firmly, his grip the only thing holding you up right now.

However, you need to let go, scared of the repercussions. It’s bad enough you’re even on this side of the track, let alone in the arms of The Lucifer’s leader. So you spin around, gathering your bones and standing upright, although they almost turn to jelly again as soon as you see him.

His hair is bouncy, parted down the middle with two strands falling effortlessly on his face, pointing straight to that perfect nose that you’ve had the pleasure of riding one or ten times. His lips are curled up in a small smile, so subtle only you can see before it turns into a full-blown smirk, his kissable lips so inviting as he bites into his bottom one. You love his mouth, everything about it; how it looks, the way it tastes, it’s magical skills when it’s in between your legs, all of it.

“Happy birthday,” you murmur, smiling so fondly at him that you know Ireh is going to have something to say about it later.

“Thanks. What did my girl get me?” he asks, leaning forward and ghosting his lips over yours, his bottom lip begging to be bitten and sucked on. Every time he calls you his girl, you swear you almost get down on your knees and begin to worship him. 

Maybe you’re starting to see what Ireh and his friends mean about your non-existent label and what it should be.

You resist the urge to just devour him in a kiss as you speak. “I can’t show you it right now, not here,” you tease, poking your tongue out to wet your lips.

“Yeah? What if I ditch this race and we go somewhere that you can show me?” His voice is low and inviting, every word dripping with promise. Jaeyun leans down, his lips hovering just inches from yours, his eyes gleaming playfully. His hands roam up your back, his fingers pressing just hard enough to make you shudder, his nails grazing your skin ever so slightly - a subtle incentive to consider his tempting suggestion.

Before you can even nod, though, Jongseong clears his throat pointedly, a slight smirk tugging at his mouth. “Actually, mate, you really can’t skip this one,” he says in a language you can’t understand, his tone heavy with meaning meant solely for Jaeyun.

Jaeyun’s grip loosens slightly as he pulls back, and you seize the moment to break from his hypnotic gaze, turning to face Jongseong with a raised eyebrow. “What’s so special about this race?” you ask, voice laced with curiosity. “What’s at stake this time, a car?”

High-stakes wagers are nothing new. Racers love to have some form of motivation and it’s not unusual for bets to involve money, cars, or something like territorial rights over parts of the city. And while you don’t know exactly what’s in play, the tension between Jongseong and Jaeyun suggests this isn’t just any race.

“Not a car,” Jaeyun begins removing his hands from your waist, and just in time too, because over the racer's shoulder, you see someone walking over with raw fury and intensity over their features.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Y/N?” Yeonjun spits as he approaches, his aura red. The last time you saw him this angry was when you accidentally mistook his MSCHF boots as funky vases and put the tulips that Jaeyun had got you inside them. Of course, he didn’t know they were from his rival, but you did just ruin his £300 shoes. 

Truthfully, they looked better as a vase.

Jaeyun’s hand still rests on your waist, firm and possessive, but you reluctantly take a step back, putting as much space as possible between you. You will yourself to look unfazed and relaxed, praying Yeonjun hadn’t seen Jaeyun practically dry-humping you just moments before.

Thinking on her feet, Ireh steps in, tossing a casual arm over Jongseong’s shoulder with a bright smile. “Actually, it’s my fault, Yeonjun,” she chirps, doing her best to sound apologetic yet unbothered. “I wanted to see Jongseong race, and I dragged Y/N along for moral support.” Her voice drops, filled with mock affection. “We’re dating.”

Everyone looks confused except Ireh, who is putting all those years bluffing to her parents about her whereabouts in the middle of the night to the ultimate test. They are easily fooled, but Yeonjun is not.

Glancing down at his ‘girlfriend’, Jongseong wears a look of uncertainty but also…happiness? You always suspected his crush on your best friend, this just confirms it. Like breathing, he slips into the role, slipping his arm around her waist and kissing her temple lovingly - he’s clearly taking this as an opportunity to be close to her.

Yeonjun’s lip curls as he looks Jongseong up and down with a mixture of disgust and disbelief. “Slim pickings around here, I guess. I didn’t think you’d settle for a shit stain on the sidewalk.”

Jongseong’s easygoing expression hardens as he holds Ireh close, offended and possessive. “Watch your fucking mouth,” he growls, his tone a warning.

Amidst the brewing tension, Jaeyun’s hand sneaks to find home on your ass, his grip firm and reassuring. He’s careful though, keeping his touch just out of Yeonjun’s line of sight, but you can tell he also doesn’t care, not really. He would fight your brother in an instant if it wasn’t for you asking him to keep it in check. No one ever tells Jaeyun what to do - not the authorities, not family, no one - but he’ll make the exception for you.

“Get off our side, Yeonjun,” Jaeyun finally interjects and pausing the bickering, his voice low and steady, clearly unbothered by the confrontation brewing. He removes his hand from you and he regrets it almost the moment it happens, wishing he could glue himself to you and always feel your warmth.

“Not until I get my sister back,” Yeonjun retorts, the words hang thickly in the air as the rest of The Lucifers gather around. 

Even the mere suggestion of you being taken away stirs something in Jaeyun, a slight tightening of his jaw, a flicker of protectiveness in his eyes. Now that he has you by his side, on his side both physically and literally, he doesn’t like you too far away.

But Jaeyun’s lips twitch into a mocking smile as he crosses his arms and hides his true feelings, eyes never leaving Yeonjun’s. “Take her back then,” he scoffs, tilting his head with an air of nonchalance that only stokes the fire. He turns to you, smirking and hiding that beautiful boy you know behind the arrogance of himself. “If that’s what she wants.”

The ball is in your court and you hate when people do this to you - making you choose - and this is the worst choice of all. Jaeyun is giving you the opening to stand up for yourself, something he’s been slowly but surely trying to help you do throughout the seven months of seeing him, but it’s so much harder than he realises. 

Betraying Yeonjun feels like tearing a piece of your soul away. The thought of hurting him, of driving a wedge between you twists in your gut. It’s not easy to reconcile the love you have for your brother with the undeniable connection you share with Jaeyun.

As the silence stretches, you take a deep breath, your heart racing. You glance at Jaeyun with sorrowful eyes, knowing you’re disappointing him with what you’re about to do. You take a step forward and stand by Yeonjun, looking down shamefully. You don’t dare look at the hurt in Jaeyun’s eyes.

And it’s there, only for you to see. He had truly hoped that this would say a big ‘fuck you’ and rid yourself of the shackles of Yeonjun’s overbearing brotherly role and claim the independence he’s been encouraging you to reach for. 

In all honesty, he has been respecting your wishes and he’s content with that, but he hates to see you battling with it so damagingly. Your anxiety gets the better of you sometimes, your brain whispering insults and what ifs while Jaeyun’s lips are on yours,l. It’s gotren so bad in fact that half of your secret meetups have consisted of you sitting in his lap while he strokes your back, whispering petal soft reassurances to calm you down from turmoil. 

Not exactly a five star date.

In some way, he wonders if the weight of it all is pressing harder now because you’re both crossing into a deeper territory of emotions that you can’t step back from.

“Ireh, don’t you dare bring Y/N back here again,” he warns your best friend, stepping in front of you, his way of protecting you but really he’s just locking you in the cage that he built. You can feel the heat of anger surrounding him and you feel ashamed. Not only are you in trouble but now your best friend is getting the blame for it. All because you can’t tell Yeonjun the truth.

Jaeyun pokes his tongue in his cheek and laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. He doesn’t say anything, but that’s enough to make Yeonjun tense once again, narrowing his eyes.

“You want to say something else?” your brother grits out, hoping that Jaeyun will bite his bait. 

Yet, Jaeyun simply raises his hands in a gesture of mock surrender, a playful smile on his face. “Nah, mate. I’ll save all my talking for out on the track, yeah?” The tone of his words is light but there’s an underlying tension simmering as he stops himself from saying what he really thinks. 

What he really wants to say is how fucking ridiculous it is to watch Yeonjun try to control not just your life but also those who have no obligation to bow to him. It’s clearly a trait of his - one he can’t get on board with.

However, the phrase ‘save all my talking for out on the track’ strikes you as oddly significant. You then suddenly remember Jongseong’s earlier cryptic warnings to Jaeyun about how he should stick around for the race and it all clicks into place. 

Your eyes widen as you search Jaeyun’s expression for confirmation, but he remains locked onto Yeonjun’s fierce glare, the two of them engaged in a silent battle of wills.

Pulling at Yeonjun’s wrist, you draw his attention back to you, though his gaze never wavers from Jaeyun. “You’re racing each other tonight? Why?” you ask, concern creeping into your voice.

Of course, it’s not uncommon for leaders of rival crews to face off in races; it happens all the time. But the stakes feel particularly high tonight, and a knot of worry forms in your stomach. They haven’t battled it out since that night you met Jaeyun and that almost ended with Yeonjun crashing and Jaeyun turning upside down. 

They have no limits when it comes to racing one another, and at the grit track, that can only mean bad things.

“Because Jaeyun here decided he wants this track to himself,” Yeonjun explains half-heartedly. 

The grit track is TC territory, placed technically within the east side of the city, but its location on the very edge of the west makes it up for grabs - if they can win it. For years, The Lucifers have wanted this spot, the leaders well before Jaeyun took charge could never do it. TC leaders make sure this is the one track they’re masters at, no one is ever able to beat them on it.

Jaeyun’s smirk widens, and he steps closer, closing the space between them. “The track belongs to whoever can handle it, not whoever sticks their name on it and hopes everyone just plays nice.”

“I’ve been handling it, in case you couldn’t see that,” he chides back, not appreciating the jab. “Your old leader Mingi couldn’t handle it against me, that’s the reason you became leader, right?”

Yeonjun’s smirk is cold, knowing that mentioning the former leader will get the reaction he wants from Jaeyun - and it does. Jaeyun’s easy smirk falters for a split second, his eyes darkening with a flash of barely concealed rage. Mentioning Mingi was a low blow, they both know it. 

Mingi is Jaeyun’s best friend and the night he tried to stake claim on TC turf, he ended up crashing the car, paralysing his body from the waist down. In truth, it’s the only reason Jaeyun is standing in the position he is right now, and he hates that fact.

He always admired Mingi as a leader.

Jaeyun’s voice drops, dangerously calm. “Say his name again,” he warns as the muscles in his jaw tighten. “But make sure you remember that if he hadn’t crashed because of your pathetic excuse of a trick, he would have this track, easy.”

Yeonjun’s smug grin only widens, feeding off the frustration simmering in his rival. “Is that right? Funny, because as far as I remember, it wasn’t foul play, he just couldn’t handle Devil’s Corner, and we all know what happened after that. Or maybe you’d like a reminder?”

The tension is suffocating, an invisible line drawn in the dirt between them, and everyone around senses that one wrong word could send it spiralling out of control. Jaeyun takes a step closer, closing the gap so that they’re nearly nose-to-nose. “You better watch your fucking mouth, you know what you did.”

You don’t know much about that night, neither of the men in your life wishing to utter a word about it, but all you’ve gathered from the rumours is that there are two sides to believe; one in which Mingi was simply reckless on the corner, a freak accident due to his negligence, the other? Yeonjun and his crew planted a spike trail on the road that caused him to flip over and roll down the hill. 

The rumours were never settled because the car took such a tumble that it eventually got engulfed in flames, the tyres melting and any evidence gone. It’s one of the biggest mysteries amongst the crews and only TC will truly know the truth, not that they would ever admit it.

Do you think your brother could do such a thing? Not in a million years, but you also know his competitive streak can cloud his judgment. Either way, you’re nervous about his and Jaeyun’s safety tonight.

Yeonjun’s expression hardens, dropping all pretences of mockery. “Prove it. I did fuck all, your pathetic excuse for a leader was just a shit driver that couldn’t handle the heat.”

The words are enough to push Jaeyun to the edge. His fists clench at his sides, but before he can lurch forward and connect his knuckles with your brother’s face, Heeseung pulls him back with a firm grip on his shoulder, speaking low and steady. “It’s not worth it, Jae. He wants you to lose it.”

“And I fucking will, the prick deserves it,” you hear him argue with his friend. It’s moments like these you wish you could just walk over to him and settle his nerves. Not in the Joey King in Kissing Booth way with the cliche ‘look at me, look at me’ vibes, but let him know that you’re there for him, that this urge to win and prove something might end up even more disastrous than Mingi’s fate.

While Heeseung and Jongseong tend to Jaeyun’s flaring temper, Yeonjun shifts his focus to you, his rebellious sister. “Seriously, Y/N, I told you to stay the fuck away from these races,” he has venom in his voice but that’s still lingering from the spout with Jaeyun. Towards you, there is affection and concern, his usual feelings towards you.

“I just…Ireh wanted me to come,” you lie, using the dark night and shadows from the floodlights to mask your growing nose. 

“Okay, fine. You still should have said no,” he rebuts, suddenly giving you a quick glance over, “And why are you dressed like that? You never dress like a track hopper.” 

It’s a little insulting, considering what you wear is none of his business, and that you actually do feel good in it.

You square your shoulders, meeting Yeonjun’s scrutinising gaze. “I wanted to dress up for once, alright? Is that such a crime?” you snap, your voice sharper than you initially intended. But something about his tone, so quick to judge, grates on you.

Yeonjun’s eyes soften just a fraction, and he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, Y/N,” he begins, his tone shifting to something gentler. “I don’t mean to give you a hard time. I just don’t want you getting dragged into this, especially tonight.” His eyes flick to the track, the pits where engines roar to life, and the crowd of people buzzing with dangerous energy as they wait for the next race. “You’re above all of this.”

A small pang of guilt tugs at you, but you hold your ground. “I’m not here to cause trouble, Yeonjun. Let me just stay to support you,” you lie again, stomach twisting as the truth sits, heavy and hidden.

Yeonjun narrows his eyes, not fully convinced but willing to let it go - for now. “Alright, but stay out of the pit. And if anything happens, you leave, got it?”

“Got it. I’ll keep my distance.”

Satisfied, he gives a brief nod, but as he turns back towards his car, guiding you over to the right side of the track, where you belong. You look back as you watch Jaeyun eye you up, saddened at your sudden removal, but expecting it nonetheless.

You guess you’ll just need to see him once this is all over, and both of them finish this race safely.

You hope.

_____

The sound of engines revving fills the night air as you stand on the edge of the track, patiently awaiting Jaeyun and Yeonjun’s arrival. Your nerves are unsettled and your mind is very much being represented like that one scene in Spongebob where he forgets his name and the little sponges in his brain scramble for the answer.

It’s been a long time since you felt this tense, you thought coming here and hiding would be the thrill of your night, turns out that was the most mundane - and unsuccessful part.

The crowd is bigger now, all revved up - no pun intended - for the race. The stakes are high, like really high and you can’t imagine what the outcome could possibly be. 

A thrill courses through the crowd, the anticipation tangible as Jaeyun’s car pulls up on the east side of the track - your side. While most of the TCs around you murmur, assuming he’s just trying to throw Yeonjun off, they couldn’t be further from the truth. Jaeyun’s tactic isn’t about intimidation; he just wants a final glance at you before the race begins, to see you in that dress that Yeonjun hates oh so much, and use it as motivation. He doesn’t want to show off per say, but if you’re impressed, it’s a bonus.

The intensity in his eyes across the crowd is unmistakable, and when he whistles, a slight, beckoning tilt of his head makes it clear he’s calling you over.

You look around to see if anyone noticed, and once you’re convinced they haven’t, you check your brother. Sure enough, he’s deep in conversation with his crew, oblivious as he checks his car’s setup. 

Is it stupid to go over and risk getting caught? Of course. But Jaeyun has a persuasive smile and dreamy eyes to match. So the next thing you know, you take a deep breath, slipping through the sea of people, and make your way towards Jaeyun’s car. His smirk widens as you reach him, his hand already extended to brush your arm.

But you swat it away, half playfully, half serious. “What are you doing?”

“What?” he asks, eyes glinting with amusement. “Can’t a guy get a good luck kiss from his girl?”

“Jaeyun, are you fucking crazy? Look who’s right next to you!” you hiss, gesturing towards Yeonjun, who’s still unaware, thankfully. You really appreciate his attention to detail in these moments.

“Princess, you’ve been sneaking around and bouncing on my cock for seven months now. If he hasn’t caught on by now, I doubt he’s going to. He probably doesn’t even care.” He says it so easily, like all of this has just been in your mind and not a real threat.

“Yeah? Tell that to the way he glared you down not two hours ago. Or did you miss the part where he wanted to tear you to pieces for even breathing next to me?”

Jaeyun barely flinches at the mention, a hint of a pout replacing his smirk. “Come on, it’s my birthday. Don’t you think I deserve at least one little kiss?”

“Didn’t you already use the birthday excuse to get me here?” you counter, eyeing him with a playful twinkle.

“That’s for attendance,” he teases, leaning closer to you, practically hanging out the window just for a taste of you. “Kisses are part of the package.”

Unable to resist the temptation in his eyes, you check over your shoulder one last time before leaning in, brushing your lips against his in what should be a quick peck for luck, but he turns into so much more. 

Jaeyun’s hand slides up to cradle your cheek, his touch warm and possessive. His thumb brushes softly over your skin as he deepens the kiss, ignoring the chaos, this stolen moment is the only thing that matters. His fingertips, rough from years of racing, contrast with the gentle way he holds you, drawing you further into him.

His tongue sweeps over your lips and you can’t help but groan and grant him access to your mouth, praying to the gods to get a taste of him. You’re greedy for him, ravenous almost, and he mirrors your need. If he wasn’t in front of at least one hundred people, including your brother, he would be dragging your pretty ass into this car and watching your tits clap in his face.

But then, like a bucket of cold water, reality hits as Jungwon steps between the two cars, flag poised for the start. You pull away reluctantly and savour the last few pecks Jaeyun plants on your puffy, lipgloss-smudged lips. 

Yeonjun snaps to attention suddenly aware of your appearnce and his voice cuts sharply through the revving engines. “Y/N! What the fuck are you doing?” he shouts, his tone edged with disbelief and frustration. “I told you to stay off the pit!”

You jump, instinctively retreating from Jaeyun’s side as you stammer out a response, just thankful that he didn’t seem to notice how seconds prior you were getting your tonsils tangled with Jaeyun. “I was just…I was wishing you good luck!” You walk quickly, rounding Jaeyun’s car, trying to ignore the lingering sensation of the kiss. But Yeonjun’s face is a mask of exasperation as you approach his window.

“Y/N, get back!” he orders, eyes widening as he glances at Jungwon, who’s counting down without a care in the world.

Only then do you realise you’re directly between the two cars, and neither Jaeyun nor Yeonjun seems willing to delay the race.

“Three!” Jungwon’s deep voice booms, the crowd roaring as the tension builds.

Your feet feel glued to the ground, panic swelling in your chest. You know that chances of you getting hurt are slim, but you’ve never been this close to the race, so close that you can feel the heat from their motors swirling your leg like those snakes on Lucy Grey.

“Two!”

Jungwon raises the flag, ready to unleash it. The cars tremble with power, the engines growling, but your brain’s too scrambled to make a move. Jaeyun sees your tense frame and panics for you, scared of even a scratch on you.

“One!”

Suddenly, you feel a jolt - a car door bumps against the back of your legs, and before you know it, strong hands grab your waist, pulling you backwards in a quick, fluid motion. You land on something soft, but before you even realise what’s happened, Jaeyun’s arm reaches across to steady you in the passenger seat of his car.

“Go!”

With a salute to Yeonjun that’s equal parts taunt and triumph, Jaeyun hits the gas, and the world blurs as he speeds off, leaving your brother gaping in stunned disbelief behind you.

The wind whips through the open passenger door as you scramble to sit upright, barely processing what just happened. You feel like you’re suddenly on a rollercoaster, the car's oomph causing you to stick to the seat like the Sticky Wall.

“Can you shut that, Princess? You’re letting a draft in,” he smirks, too pleased with himself.

But all you can do is stare back, aghast. “What the fuck, Jae?! This is not funny.”

“It’s not, you could have got fucking hurt,” he tries to play it off as a joke but you hear the seriousness in his tone. When you look at him, you also see the slight fear in his eyes.

Jaeyun knows it was stupid to drag you into his car, but he panicked, what else could he do? All the possibilities swam across his mind like a reckless current. You could have gotten scratched up by the grit, swooped under the tyres with the sheer power of the acceleration…or worse.

Not all of these scenarios make sense, but the fear of losing you makes him think even the impossible. So if he can save you even from probabilities, then he will.

You reach over and such the door, the wind making it difficult as he rounds a corner. Once it clicks into place, you relax a little, breathing out. It happened in such a blur that you can’t even figure out where on the track you are. All you know is that Jaeyun is first, and you’re stuck in this race whether you like it or not.

Without taking his eyes off the road or his foot off the accelerator, he reaches over you and grabs the seatbelt, fiddling with it awkwardly to secure you in. You hate to say that you’re looking at the veins on his hands as he unravels it, but you are. You could be helping him and saving him the struggle but it’s just too fucking delicious to look at.

That distraction is the only thing stopping your heart from leaping out of your throat.

“Did you really think dragging me into your car, going a million miles per hour and having to survive the grit track safer than me standing on the starting line?” you question him, disbelief and mockery in your tone.

Jaeyun furrows his brows and lets your words sink in. “Well…when you put it that way, it’s dumb,” he agrees, mentally cursing himself. “But if you think about it, now your brother won’t pull any of his tricks. Not with his precious sister in the car.”

Now that embarrassment for his rash decision is turning into pride. Maybe subconsciously he pulled you into his car as a safety measure, after all, can’t be too careful around a bunch of TCs; not when there is so much at stake.

“Really? I’m a reassurance? What if he’s already planned something and you’ve just brought me to my demise?” It hurts you that Jaeyun truly believes your brother is capable of dirty tricks, but then again, you don’t have one hundred percent faith that he wouldn’t pull something.

Jaeyun looks into his rearview mirror and sees Yeonjun hot on his tail, probably filled with enough fury to power his car without an engine. It makes Jaeyun nervous, both your words and Yeonjun’s gaining speed, but he masks it under a laugh.

“At least we would die together. What’s that song? To die by your side-”

“Is such a heavenly way to die, yeah, yeah, it’s one of my favourite songs,” you admit, heart blushing that he even remembered it considering his playlists contain an abundance of Justin Bieber and other generic pop acts - he’s not really one to appreciate the Smiths. “But I would rather listen to the lyrics than live it out, Jaeyun.”

“I don’t see a double-decker bus,” he looks at you for a split second but it’s long enough that you see the teasing glint in his eye that masks his genuine concern, and weirdly, it puts you at ease. He would never let anything happen to you, you know that deep down.

You let out a genuine laugh and whack his arm playfully. “You know what I mean, Jaeyun.”

“Princess,” he intertwines his fingers with you, a chuckle escaping his lips, “I promise, okay? You will get out of this car in one piece.” Jaeyun kisses your knuckles and it’s both stomach fluttering and impressive how he can handle a car going 80mph and still have time to dote on you.

The romance doesn’t last too long though, because he has to lock in and focus. Behind him, Yeonjun’s car looms closer, headlights glowing like the eyes of a predator. He’s tailing Jaeyun so closely that any error, even a slight miscalculation, could end it all in a brutal collision. Jaeyun glances at his rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of Yeonjun’s face, fierce and determined.

He figured your brother wouldn’t be in the best of moods with his act.

“You think that little gap’s gonna stop him?” you mutter, gripping the seat as Jaeyun expertly rounds another bend, tyres squealing against the track’s rough surface.

“Not a chance,” Jaeyun replies with a grin. “But it’ll take him a few seconds longer. Enough for me to play with.”

He shifts gears, feeling the engine’s deep growl as he powers down a straight stretch, his speedometer needle pushing higher. Yeonjun matches his pace, but Jaeyun, ever the strategist, swerves slightly, throwing up a cloud of grit in his rival’s direction. The dust storm is thick enough to obscure Yeonjun’s vision momentarily, forcing him to fall back by a hair’s breadth.

Jaeyun accelerates, barely missing a pile of tyres on his right. Just as he slips past, Yeonjun veers to the inside lane, attempting to pass on Jaeyun’s left. The corner’s coming up fast - a sharp, unforgiving turn with no forgiveness if they misjudge. Jaeyun catches on immediately, not giving Yeonjun the satisfaction. With a calculated flick of the wheel, he forces Yeonjun to either fall back or risk veering straight into the barrier.

Yeonjun, however, isn’t about to let him off easy. He falls back just enough to avoid a crash but quickly cuts to Jaeyun’s other side, inches away, daring him to swerve first. Their cars glide nearly side-by-side, matching each other’s pace in a tense, furious dance.

It’s so scary, being in the passenger seat of a car that’s almost buckling under the pressure of how fast it’s going. Of course, you knew this was not going to be like overtaking someone on the M8, but you sure as fuck didn’t expect this. The world is flying by you so fast that you can’t begin to comprehend how either of them even drives like this.

Your brother’s car pulls up beside you both and making eye contact with him is the worst thing in the world you could do. 

“Y/N, what the fuck?!” you lip read, unable to actually hear him over the roar of the engines. He blames you so easily -  even if it is 60% of your fault because you answered Jaeyun’s beckon - but it still makes you a little mad. 

Did you want to be dragged into this? Absolutely not. All you wanted was to kiss your pretty non-boyfriend good luck on his birthday, you didn’t need all these dramatics with it; you get enough fireworks in your belly from his pretty mouth alone.

The sound of the engine thunders louder, Jaeyun accelerating and pushing his car beyond its threshold as he glides through the race. It’s all pretty intense - and oddly fun - but it’s not about to be in roughly one minute. 

“Devil’s Corner’s up,” you murmur as if Jaeyun even needs the reminder. But he only nods, that familiar smirk dancing on his lips, a spark of something almost wicked in his eyes.

“I know,” he says with a determined grin, shifting gears smoothly as he sets up for the turn. “This is where your brother won’t risk it. He’s too careful with the track; it’s got him wrapped around its finger.”

“Everyone is careful around this part of the track…” you half express as a statement while also hinting that it could be a question, inquiring what Jaeyun could possibly do next. 

Your trail-off sentence steals his attention and he sees the query in your eyes. He inhales deeply before addressing the elephant in the car you’ve somehow given birth to. 

“Princess, do you trust me?”

“Of course, it’s the track I don’t,” you confess.

“Me either, but I gotta pull all the punches here; for the track, for the Lucifiers…for Mingi.” His voice cracks a little as he thinks of his friend, and the damage it caused him. 

Jaeyun's gaze hardens, fingers gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles whiten, as though he’s holding not just the car but every ounce of the Lucifier’s pride and promise he’s made as their leader. His mind is as sharply focused on Mingi as it is on the wheel, almost as if his friend’s presence is woven into every inch of the track ahead. There’s a weight he feels, a determination to make his best friend proud, to take the track that cost Mingi so much.

"Trusting me means sticking it out," he adds, almost like a dare. “You ready?”

You swallow, nerves bubbling as you nod, barely managing a steady breath. “Just…don’t do anything stupid, okay?” But even as you say it, you know Jaeyun’s already got a strategy, one as risky as it is relentless. He could fucking kill you right now and yet, you’re ready to put your life in his hands, because you know he’s never going to snap it.

Kind of like your heart.

Ahead, Devil’s Corner yawns open like a waiting trap, and Yeonjun knows it. You can feel the weight of your brother’s stare from the other car, his eyes sharp with worry and rivalry. He’s fought this corner countless times and knows that going at it full throttle will never end well. You catch the fleeting look on Yeonjun’s face - a mixture of fear, anger, and an unspoken warning. He’s petrified for you, not knowing how far Jaeyun will go to secure the win.

Yet, you couldn’t be calmer.

“Hold on, yeah?” Jaeyun instructs and you immediately obey, watching as the dial hits it’s peak, his car flying even further in front of Yeonjun’s.

“You need to slow down, Jae…” you warn.

“How about you put that trust into action yeah?” he snaps back, though his anger isn’t directed at you, he’s just nervously tense. Who wouldn’t be in a situation like this? So you don’t hold it against him. If anything, it just makes you want to take his hand in yours and offer him some semblance of comfort. 

But that would be silly right now considering there’s a death corner with you and his name on it.

As Jaeyun steers into Devil’s Corner, the entire car seems to tighten, every movement rippling through you as though you were an ant, squashed under the tyre. The pressure outside is immense, like a wall of wind trying to shove the car off the road. Inside, it’s nearly as suffocating, the tension compressing everything around you, even your heartbeat syncs with each vibration of the engine.

The curve is sharp - even sharper than you’d realised watching from the stands - and you feel the pull of gravity as Jaeyun doesn’t so much follow the turn as he cuts through it, daring the edge. Gravel spits and clinks against the sides of his precious baby.

Yeonjun is somewhere far back, but you can’t even think about him or his safety. The only thing consuming your mind is Jaeyun’s grip on the wheel and the creeping dread and exhilaration fighting for space in your lungs.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you convince yourself that it’s less scary to face it if you can’t actually see it - using the ‘if I can’t see you, you can’t see me’ childlike tactic to feel brave. And in the midst of it all, as the car feels like it’s on the edge of its control, you hear Jaeyun’s voice over the noise - a steadying presence cutting through as he senses your apprehension.

“Nearly there, Princess,” he mutters through gritted teeth, his jaw clenched and his heart holding still within his chest. Although he’s fighting the battle of fear and hope inside of him, his voice anchors you just enough to brace yourself.

The car rockets through the tightest part of the bend, wheels practically skating on the track's very edge - the same edge that caused Mingi his loss of legs. You grip onto whatever you can as Jaeyun’s knuckles whiten, his hands firm and controlled on the wheel. The tension in the car mounts like a coiled spring ready to snap, the corner pulling both of you, testing how far it can go before either you or the car breaks under pressure.

At last, you feel the tail end of the car swerve slightly as Jaeyun gives just enough leeway to keep control, and you can sense him gaining ground, just barely escaping the grasp of the turn. Devil’s Corner spits you both out onto the straight stretch and for a heartbeat, there’s only the muted sound of your breathing, mixing with Jaeyun’s, heavy and relieved.

Finally, you open your eyes to see the road unwinding ahead, straighter, safer, and almost welcoming after the chaos of the corner. Your pulse is still racing, but the danger feels like it’s finally behind you - or so you hope. Jaeyun throws you a quick, side-glance, his usual cocky smirk returned but softer, almost a silent acknowledgement of the risk he just took with you by his side.

He doesn’t need to say anything, but as he shifts gears, pressing down harder on the accelerator to widen the gap between him and Yeonjun, his smirk says it all: That was for Mingi, and for you.

Once he sees the finish line in sight, he breathes out and slaps the wheel harshly. “Fuck, yeah!” he hollers, a shit-eating grin plastered all over his face, victory secured and only a long stretch away. 

“Holy fuck…” you breathe out, chest heaving and eyes glued to the road in front of you.

“And you doubted me,” he feigns an upset pout and tilts his head in your direction.

“Well, you still have Yeonjun to deal with.” The reminder of your brother fast approaching doesn’t rock him, instead, he laughs.

Shaking his head as if Yeonjun’s trailing position is as much of an inconvenience as a bird shitting on his windshield, Jaeyun places a hand on your thigh and squeezes. “He’s still there because I let him be there. Can’t humiliate the guy completely y’know? He’ll be my family in the future.” 

Your mouth opens as you process his words, unsure if he even realises what he just said. It’s a pass-away promise of commitment, and considering you aren’t even officially dating, you would say it’s thrown you off of Everest and has your mind tumbling down after your body.

It’s probably best to bring it up later though, you don’t want to throw him off, especially considering he’s still going 50mph.

He smirks and revs the engine once more, pushing the car just shy of its limits. “Why so worried? I’ve got a perfect record of keeping you safe, don’t I?” He raises an eyebrow at you, his voice laced with that familiar teasing tone.

“Oh, you mean the ‘perfect’ record that almost just got me toppling over into the ditches of Devil’s Corner?” You roll your eyes, but a smile creeps onto your face.

“You’re alive, aren’t you?” he grins, then he pulls his attention fully to the finish line up ahead. It’s close enough now that the crowd is visible, and he salutes them with a quick flick of his hand. 

God, he’s so hot when he’s like this. How lazily arrogant his entire racing persona is. You adore his softer side, of course you do, but this side of him gets your own motor running.

Yeonjun, however, isn’t ready to concede. He surges forward, lining up beside you both in a final, determined push, his car engine roaring with a fury that sends chills down your spine. You see him shoot a glare, not just at Jaeyun, but at you as well. But Jaeyun merely returns the look, cool and unbothered, and then, with one final roar of his engine, he edges past the line first, a triumphant laugh escaping his lips.

Jaeyun’s car barrels across the finish line with a triumphant howl from the crowd, cheers blending with the echo of his engine as he cuts through the air, a living victory. The thrill radiates off him; he punches the air, letting out a victorious whoop as his foot remains steady on the accelerator. He finally glances over at you, his face alive with pure elation, his cocky grin fully in place. But instead of slowing down, he maintains his speed, the wind whipping through the car as you look back at the receding crowd.

"Wait - where are we going?" you ask confused, looking back as you pass by everyone and leaving them in the wake of victory.

Jaeyun flicks his gaze over, eyes dark with both mischief and longing. “I don’t know if you’ve forgotten, Y/N, but you still owe me my birthday present,” he says hick and low, each word like a steady drumbeat against your pulse.

You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep your own voice steady. “Don’t you want to celebrate with everyone? You just won the Lucifers the grit track and Devil’s Corner.”

He lets out a laugh, deep and incredulous. “Celebrate with everyone else? Princess, I’d be out of my mind to spend one more second without seeing what you have for me. I would be fucking insane, actually.” He eyes you hungrily, already imagining all the possibilities under your dress or up your sleeve. His tongue brushes his bottom lip in a glazing swoop, a promise lingering in his gaze that leaves your cheeks feeling warmer than they should.

He shifts gears, and you glance back to see the track and the crowd becoming distant figures in the rearview mirror, your brother among them. “Besides,” Jaeyun adds, leaning closer as he cuts through the night, “Do you really wanna see Yeonjun right now?”

“...No.”

“Good, then trust me.”

_____

The car halts, tyres crunching over gravel as you take in the scene before you. Below the dark sky, the city sprawls out like a tacky but beautiful Christmas night with glittering lights, each window and streetlamp reminiscent of a fairy light. Below, the river carves an almost silver line through it all, shimmering under the moonlight. It’s too beautiful for you to describe and give it the credit it deserves.

Jaeyun doesn’t speak at first. His hand finds yours, fingers slipping through as he releases a slow, steady breath. He wasn’t aware how badly his muscles were suffocating his bones until now. His thumb brushes over your knuckles, an absent yet soothing gesture, and he finally lets himself relax, the hard lines of his jaw softening as he looks at you. The moonlight catches his features, highlighting the relief etched on his face - a look so different from the racer who stared down Devil’s Corner only 20 minutes ago.

For a moment, you both just sit there, silently letting the thrill of the night settle. You turn to him, sensing his guard finally lowered, his eyes holding something warmer, deeper than his usual confident smirk.

“It’s so pretty here,” you murmur softly, nodding towards the city.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, bringing your lips to his hand and kissing your knuckles softly, the tingle from the spark shooting all over your body. “I’d say the view is pretty fucking perfect.”

A blush creeps on your face, his eyes glued onto you as he mumbles the words into your skin, each syllable fluttering to your heart. Of course, he means you. He has seen this exact city view a million times, often coming up here after races to cool off and regather himself. 

It’s the first place he drove to once he heard about Mingi.

It’s the first place he drove to once he met you.

It’s the first time he’s shown someone this spot.

Letting go of your hand, he quickly offers you a small smile before undoing his seatbelt. “C’mon, let's get a closer look.”

With that, you follow him and you both settle against the hood of the car, your shoulders brushing as you take in the sprawling lights below, wrapped in the quiet of the moment. The city glows, pulsing like a heartbeat, life so obvious yet subtle. You tilt your head toward him and nudge him softly.

“So,” you say, half-smiling, “how does it feel?”

“What?” 

“Winning the grit track.”

He shrugs, and his gaze becomes distant, falling somewhere into the night. The silence stretches on, but it’s comfortable, the city’s buzz helping to fill the contemplative silence between words. 

“I don’t care,” he murmurs, surprising you into a pause.

“What do you mean?” you ask, caught off guard. After all, this entire night was about winning the territory, claiming a stake over it and expanding the Lucifers’ ground. It sounds like a shitty action movie on Tubi now that you think about it, but that really is what the crews strive for. So for Jaeyun to say he doesn’t care, when he did what his past leaders couldn’t, throws you for a new one.

“The track…he can keep it,” Jaeyun says with a dismissive wave, almost as if he’s letting go of a heavy burden. “It was never about winning a stupid bit of dirt road.” He pauses, biting his lip as he searches for the right words. “I wanted to prove that TC had something to do in Mingi’s accident.”

The words leave his mouth in a rush, and you feel the weight of his pain and loyalty colliding in that confession. Jaeyun’s gaze stays trained on the city, brow furrowed, his jaw set, the ease on his bones only lasting the skip of a jump rope. 

He truly believes that Yeonjun was involved - that he orchestrated some plan to knock Mingi out. You’ve seen Jaeyun’s loyalty; you know Mingi is more than a friend to him, practically family, and Jaeyun’s heart has no room to consider the idea that Mingi could’ve just…lost control.

You scoot closer, placing a gentle hand on his arm, sensing how vulnerable this confession has left him. “Look, Jaeyun,” you start, hesitating. “I don’t believe my brother would do something like that. But just because you made it through Devil’s Corner safely this time doesn’t rule out anything, yeah? There’s still a chance he had nothing to do with it…but maybe he did.”

He looks at you, contemplation written in the lines around his eyes, but doubt remains.

“I just can’t accept that it was some accident, you know?” he finally says, his voice tight with frustration. “Mingi was solid. The guy could practically drive in his sleep, and suddenly he spins out there?” His shoulders tense as he talks, each word laced with an anger born of grief and unresolved questions. He wants answers, and you sense how deeply he’s embedded in this conviction.

“Okay, so what if…” You hesitate, not truly believing the words coming out of your mouth right now, but knowing Jaeyun needs something to hold onto his faith in Mingi. “What if Yeonjun did have something to do with Mingi’s accident? He could have been planning it tonight but called it off because I was in the car with you?” 

Biting the inside of his cheek, Jaeyun lets out a harsh laugh, but it’s not at you. “Then I could have got you fucking hurt, and what kind of man does that make me?”

It’s as if any reasoning or justification for his actions has suddenly all surged to his mouth and left a bitter taste, one that he finds hard to coat over with some mints. In his mind, he convinced himself for the moment that he was saving you, but in actuality, maybe he was just protecting himself. 

He could have lost you.

That though makes him stand up and walk closer to the cliff edge, not enough to cause you alarm, but enough that indicates he’s in the need of feeling free from his mind.

And that’s something you can definitely help with.

Pushing yourself off the car, you reach out to him, lacing your arms around his waist as you hug him tightly from behind. Instantly, he cups your linked hands in his and melts into you, closing his eyes in relief as you kiss his back ever so gently.

“We can’t know what happened that night, Jaeyun, no one ever will. But it’s also not your battle.”

“But I-”

“No. End of story.” You twist him around to face you, your hands dipping your hands into his back pockets. “Mingi and Yeonjun raced that night, the outcome was what it was, and we have to move on. The longer we sit in the past, in this mindset of what if and what could have been, you prolong everyone’s pain, especially yours. And I won’t sit back and watch you do it.”

It’s tough, and you wish you could have laid it all out a little more prettily, but a dagger of truth won’t sink into skin if it’s covered in padding and fluff. 

Jaeyun’s eyes portray a man trying to will himself to argue with you, that fight for his friend still very much alive. Yet, he knows you’re right. He isn’t helping himself by wallowing in the past, he’s only hurting himself and creating a deeper hole in his chest, one that is consuming him alive.

But no one has told him to get the fuck over it. Not until now.

“I know for a fact that Mingi does not want you dwelling on it, especially not tonight. You won the grit track, I’d say he’ll be over the moon with that, wouldn’t you?”

The last nudge is enough to make Jaeyun nod, a small smile creeping on his face. “Yeah. I saw him before the race and all he asked was ‘don’t fucking die and get us that track’.”

“See? You achieved both of those requests, I would say that’s worth celebrating,” you grin widely up at him, relieved to see his jaw loosen and shoulders unravel themselves. “It’s also your birthday…which is another reason to celebrate.”

Jaeyun checks his watch and sucks in a breath, his playful demeanour slowly coming back to the surface, much to your delight. “It’s actually past my birthday now.”

Widening your eyes, you drag his wrist to your face, reading the clock's arms as they disappointingly read 12:04am. The sadness is plastered all over your face, your eyes looking glassy due to both regret and the cold wind nipping them. 

Jaeyun immediately notices your solemn expression and pouts, holding back a laugh. “Princess, it’s okay.”

“It’s not. I didn’t even get to give you your presents.” You are never one for being late with gifts, in fact, you take birthdays so seriously that gifts are often in your friend’s hands early in the morning. Every birthday is precious to you, well, maybe not your own, but you love to make others feel appreciated and seen on the one day that is reserved for them. 

The racer looks at his watch again and reaches for the dial, twisting it back as the small arrow rounds anti-clockwise to the 11. Happily, he flashes the watch’s face in front of yours. “Look, now it’s 11:05pm. You have 55 minutes left.”

A laugh bursts out of you, the heartache over the small inconvenience now lifted by his antics. He always knows what to do, what to say, how to lift you up so easily, it’s his superpower. 

“Okay, which one do you want first?” you step back and place your hand on your hips, exhaling the drama from tonight out of your system. No more racing, no more brother, no more bad thoughts. Just you and Jaeyun celebrating the final hour of his birthday.

“There’s more than one?” he asks in a smug tone. 

“There are three in total. One is your main present and two are tiny little things,” you explain.

Nodding, Jaeyun feigns ponder as he taps his chin. “Well, I think I should save my main for last, so let’s start with the ‘tiny little things’” he repeats back to you, knowing that they won’t in fact be tiny, their significance probably vastly bigger than any other gift he has ever received throughout his previous 21 birthdays.

Holding up a finger, you tell him to wait before you open the right backseat door of his car and retrieve two carefully wrapped gifts. You put in far too much effort in folding each corner perfectly and twirling every bow to sit neatly, but looking at your work now, you can safely say it was all worth it.

Confusion crosses Jaeyun’s pretty face as he points to his car. “When did you sneak into my car and put them in there?” he asks with piqued confusion. He would notice bright yellow wrapping paper with orange ribbons in a minute, the colours bouncing so brightly off his black interior.

“I didn’t,” you shrug as you confess, holding out the two gifts. “I shoved them both under my seat when you paid for the gas yesterday.”

“Your seat, huh?” he repeats with a lace of amusement, taking the top box from your grasp.

“Well, do you drive other women about?”

“Don’t ask fucking ridiculous questions. You’re the only girl.” 

You curse your stomach for flipping out like it’s on an Alton Towers ride, the statement probably meaning nothing significant from his lips. He always says pass away comments like that, and each one you desperately try not to read into too much, your heart having a hard time already with calling this relationship between you both casual, never mind your brain popping up with conspiratorial thoughts that he could see you as something more than his non-girlfriend.

Gently, his hands peel the wrapping paper off, and reveal the first gift. 

“Lollipops?” he laughs out, though joy shines from his features. 

“Well I saw you were running low, and it is my fault you need to stock up on them, so…” you explain sheepishly, your foot carving out nonsense lines in the gravel.

Since you started hooking up, Jaeyun quit smoking. You hate the taste of the cigarette on his tongue and the smell of it in his car, and he caught onto that instantly. The way you would spray your perfume ‘randomly’ after he flicked the butt out his window, or how you offered him a chewing gum coincidently a few minutes before you climbed into his lap and licked into his mouth. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure it out. 

So he stopped. Cold turkey without a second thought. He still had the itch though, muscle memory constantly bringing something to his lips for a drag. That’s when you gave him a strawberry Chupa Chups and he never looked back. His dentist hates you for it, but his doctor couldn’t be more delighted. 

Taking a cola lollipop from the assorted selection, he unwraps it and places it into his mouth, humming as the beautiful taste hits his tastebuds. His tongue swirls the ball of goodness and he instantly smiles at your reaction, deciding to play on it.

You curse him, his smirk widening as he rolls his eyes and opens his mouth just wide enough for you to watch the cola lolly get coated in his saliva, his tongue enveloping it the exact same way he does with your clit when he’s buried face first between your thighs.

Squeezing your legs together in order to stop the flow of arousal from dripping down your leg, you thrust the other present into his chest, retrieving the box of lollipops from him in the process. The further these things are from his mouth right now, the better.

“Okay, now this one,” you urge, clearing your throat and hating the way he pushes the sweet to the side of his mouth, the stick pocking out the corner of his mouth like a toothpick. Somehow, it only made him hotter, like Heath Ledger in 10 Things I Hate About You.

God, now you’re even more horny.

Jaeyun nods and flips the gift over, inspecting what it could possibly be. But he’s never been good at guessing, so he quickly tears the paper off, a little more forcefully than the lollipops. A black box adds another layer of suspense and curiosity. “Did you get me a diamond necklace?” he jokes, but once he peels open the lid, nothing is funny anymore.

His eyes flicker between you and the gift. “Y/N…”

“It’s not much, I know. But I thought it was fun,” you explain, scared that it’s not enough.

Picking it from the box, Jaeyun inspects it carefully. To most, it’s just a keyring, but to him, it’s the most thoughtful gift he has ever been given. The mini replica of his precious car, clearly hand-decorated by you stands out - the red decals and perfectly selected interior act as a mirror to the real thing; even the license plate has his famous J4K3YUN etched into it. The black Honda Civic replica sits so tiny yet powerful in his hands. 

It was the first car he could afford. Everyone laughed at him - even Mingi - when he turned up to his first race. It’s a shitty little car with not much horsepower, but considering he was only seventeen when he started racing, he could hardly afford to put his student loan into a BMW or Aston Martin. Instead, he modified it, just enough to put his name out there.

His baby has never let him down since. All those times everyone has pestered him to trade her in have never crossed his mind. Even you know how much she means to him. Why else would you have given him an oversized keyring of it?

You know him, and that squeezes Jaeyun’s throat, stopping him from expressing thanks.

“If you pop open the boot, it has something inside,” you point out, excited. He’s made modifications to the real thing, but you got crafty with the mini-me.

“Can anything even fit in this?” he laughs but nonetheless, opens the boot - and it is not what he was expecting. 

The interior has been prettily painted pastel pink, with glitter and gems perfectly placed inside, crowding the minuscule space. The first initials of your names are enveloped in a shakily drawn heart. It’s pretty and so very, very you.

Jaeyun’s eyes sparkle in the moonlight and you interpret it as pure adoration, injecting some pride into your chest. He likes it - thank fuck.

“I thought it was fun, since y’know, on the outside you’re all tough and metal but inside you’re just a sparkly pink princess.” You place the lollipop box on the hood and step closer, inspecting your work once more - as if you haven’t been scrutinizing every detail of it over the past month. 

Throwing his head back in a laugh, he blinks away the joy in his tear ducts and nods, sighing out in defeat. “I’m not so sure ‘princess’ is the word I’d use-” he starts, only for you to interrupt.

“Oh, you are,” you insist, taking the lollipop from his mouth and placing it in your own, “You’re the prettiest princess to ever exist, actually.”

“I think that title is reserved for you, baby,” he grins fondly, eyes raking over every feature of your face as you savour the taste of the cola sweet. “Thank you…so much, Y/N, no one has ever gotten me something so thoughtful. I really love-...it. A lot.” His throat tightens, words tangling up in his chest, but thankfully, you don’t seem to notice

Nodding, you give him a soft kiss, careful not to poke him with the lollipop stick, before taking the gift back, carefully placing it and the lollipops in the car for safekeeping. “Now, do you want your big present?” You wiggle your brows and shut the car door, almost skipping back to your spot in front of him.

Jaeyun was so caught up with everything tonight that he forgot that this was the reason he whisked you away as soon as the race ended, at least, it was the shallow reason. The deeper reason is something he won’t speak out into the night air.

Placing his hands on your hips, glides his hands up and down your sides, the warmth from his palms blissfully welcome. You love this dress, the way you feel in it, how it makes you look, but it isn’t exactly good for fighting the nipping cold away, especially considering the wind is much thinner up on the cliff.

“My big present…” he repeats, bringing his face down to yours, his hot breath creating a rose tint along your cheeks. “I think I want that more than anything right now.” His confession is raw and more than surface-level lust. He has so many emotions running through his body right now, and he knows that your present is going to be exactly what he needs.

“You need to unwrap it then.” The smirk on your face is contagious and your voice is low. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what your gift is, but he’s in for a treat nonetheless.

Jaeyun does pause for a moment, his hands fiddling with your zipper at the back but hesitant. “I think my gift might freeze to death if I unwrap it here, don’t you think?” 

You hadn’t…thought about that actually. To be honest, when it comes to Jaeyun’s cock, that’s probably the only thing you think about. Rain or shine, snow or fog; if his dick is close to being inside of you, you’ll face any weather.

His fingers pinch the zipper and tug it down slowly, the winter air biting up your spine, but the shivers that are rippling through your body aren’t from freezing; the opposite in fact. The ghost of his fingertip creates a heated surge through your body, your skin igniting with pure desire. 

Pushing the dress off your shoulders, your tits are laid bare in front of him, nipples hard and much more delicous than any lollipop Jaeyun could ever suck. They’re perfect, so perfect that he has a hard time putting his love for them into words.

“No bra?” he asks cheekily, that cocky boy everyone loves swimming to the surface of the night. 

Shaking your head, you close your eyes as he cups them delicately. “Dress didn’t look right with it.”

“Is that the only reason?” Jaeyun’s thumbs flick over your hardened buds as he backs you up to the hood, you ass perched against the edge, a welcomed seat considering your legs could turn to jelly at any moment.

Truth be told, it was the main reason you didn’t wear a bra, with the tightness of the dress, it didn’t allow much more room for any extra padding. But you can’t lie and say that you also didn;t adorn one because it would save time.

“I’ll take your silence as confirmation, will I?” he murmurs, his lips grazing the hollow of your throat before travelling down, sending waves of warmth through you with each kiss.

You feel the cool press of the hood beneath you as he lifts you up to perch you, his mouth finally closing around one of your nipples now you’re at the perfect height, his tongue tracing lazy, agonising circles that make your breath catch. He shifts to the other, his gaze flicking up to meet yours as he bites gently, eyes smouldering with a dark intensity that only makes you want him more. 

With each flick of his tongue, your mind fogs over, the chill of the night air long forgotten. His mouth leaves a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses as he works his way down, fingers slipping under the fabric gathered at your hips, thumbs tracing soothing lines along your waist.

“Are these new?” he hikes your dress up so only your waist is covered and your new panties are on full display for him. It’s incredible how he noticed initially through touch alone, his mind cataloguing each thong, brief, and lacey panty you own. 

“Yeah, got them a few days ago.” You don’t need to tell him that you bought them specifically for his birthday, he will know just by the Ivory colour alone.

A playful smirk curves on his lips as he takes in the sight of your new lingerie, his fingers grazing over the delicate lace with a possessive tenderness. “I thought so,” he murmurs, voice low and almost reverent as his thumb hooks under the fabric, dragging it down with aching slowness, leaving your cunt exposed, yet you feel anything but vulnerable.

There is a thrill of anticipation that crackles between you as his hands linger, his thumb tracing a line along your thigh. You’re so consumed with how close he is to your heat that you almost miss his other hand coming up to remove the cola lolly from your mouth. 

“Open up,” he instructs, which you blindly follow, releasing the delicious treat from your mouth. “Good girl. Now, spread open for me.”

“Jaeyu-”

“It’s my birthday, Princess. I still have,” he checks his rewound watch, “36 minutes left, so until then, you gotta do what I say, yeah?” 

That sounds perfect to you if you weren’t aware of how much of a tease he is. He’s going to torture you on the hood of his car, you know it, but you relent anyway, giving him a sharp nod and breathing out slowly.

Your legs spread wide, your feet finding stability on his bumper. The compromising position could mean anything, your mind flashing with all the possibilities of what he could do to you.

And by fuck, does he have a sweet, sweet plan.

A glint of mischief flickers in his gaze as he tilts the lollipop, the cola sweet glistening in the moonlight as he brings it down to hover just above your entrance. The sticky sweetness clings to the night air, and you feel your body tense with anticipation, each nerve heightened by the thrill of surrendering control.

He runs the candy along your inner thigh first, slow and deliberate, leaving a faint, sugary trail that he follows with his mouth. The coolness of the lollipop contrasts sharply with the warmth of his breath, sending shivers skittering up your spine as his lips and tongue trace after, claiming every inch of sweetness he’s left on your skin.

Finally, he presses the lollipop between your folds, teasingly dragging it up and down without quite giving you what you need, his eyes fixed on your reactions, devouring every tremor, every bite of your lip and jerk of your hips as the lollipop circles your clit. The sensation is maddening, the blend of sticky from the sweet and your own juices only heightens the ache building within you, and he seems to revel in the slow, torturous rhythm he’s set. He wants to take his time.

The lolly ghosts your entrance before he presses it ever so slightly inside, your breath hitching at the unexpected sensation. His mouth follows close behind, claiming you with a slow, deliberate kiss that has your toes curling against the bumper, his tongue tracing the sweetness lingering on your skin.

A wave of heat radiates through you as Jaeyun continues his maddeningly slow pace, the lollipop pressed just at your entrance, teasing and coaxing you in a way that has your pulse racing, much like how it was when you were near death on Devil’s Corner. 

He dips the lollipop in a little further, the rounded edge pressing in just enough to make you gasp and claw at his car bonnet, and then he draws it back out, running it up and over your clit with agonising patience. The pressure of the sweet gliding over your most sensitive spot has you squirming, but his hands are firm on your thighs, keeping you right where he wants you.

“Hold still,” he murmurs, a wicked smile curving on his lips as he swirls the lollipop slowly, tracing lazy circles that leave you breathless. The candy, now coated in your own slick, sends shockwaves through you, and you feel yourself clenching, trying to draw him deeper, desperate for more. Jaeyun seems to notice, and he chuckles softly, his warm breath tickling against your inner thigh.

With one last, lingering drag of the candy over your clit, he brings it to his mouth, sucking in the mix of flavours. Your sweetness mixing on his tastebuds with the cola makes his eyes roll and contemplate opening up a business just for him that sells pussy flavoured lollies. Specifically, your pussy, of course.

“You’re fucking delicious, Princess,” he moans out, sucking the pop with fervour. You’re so jealous and you curse ever buying him them. But not really, the scene of his tongue lapping it up eagerly, mixed with the saliva that's glistening on his lips only adds a series of precious memories that you can happily store in your wank bank.

Threading your fingers through his hair, you tug at it just rough enough for him to growl. “Please, I’m trying to cum for you before your birthday ends.”

“Yeah?” he huffs out a laugh and tosses the almost obsolete lolly away, the stick hidden by the gravel that swallows it. “I can make that happen.”

“Good-”

“If you beg.”

You freeze, resisting the urge to tell him to go fuck himself. If there is one thing you hate most in the world, it’s begging for a man. You can submit to Jaeyun, sure, that’s easy enough. But there’s something so humiliating about having to plead for your own pleasure. He never makes you beg, usually too fucking impatient himself to play that game, so this is not exactly in your forte.

“I’m not begging. No way.” You cross your arms and shake your head adamantly. 

Jaeyun’s smirk widens as he sees your defiance, his gaze darkening with something that borders on both amusement and challenge. “Really now?” he murmurs as his thumb traces slow circles on your inner thigh, inching achingly close but not quite where you want him. “You’re gonna stand by that?”

His eyes roam over you, taking in the way your body reacts despite your stubbornness, and you can feel the tension building in the air as he leans in, his lips hovering just above your core, close enough for you to feel the heat of his breath. The anticipation sends shivers racing over your skin, but you keep your arms crossed, refusing to relent. 

“I know you hate it. You’re so powerful, baby. I adore that about you,” he continues in a low murmur, voice laced with a teasing edge, “But just once, for me?” He pouts, bottom lip overtaking his entire face and somehow making him look even more irresistible.

That fucking pout.

With a small laugh, he shifts down, pressing soft and tongue-focused kisses along your thighs, each one closer than the last. His breath is warm, and you can feel the control slipping from you with every careful movement.

“Fine,” you say finally, voice barely more than a whisper, “Please, eat me out.” 

“Come on, Princess. If you’re going to beg, I want to hear you properly.”

“Jaeyun,” you whine, already flushing up with embarrassment.

“How about,” his mouth places one feather-light kiss on your clit, a gasp of pleasure drawing from your lips, “I beg you to beg me? Then we’re both on the same boat.” 

Now, while you don’t like to beg, you love to hear Jaeyun beg. There have been countless times when you’re on your knees, much like he is now, and your mouth is a hairline away from his tip, and he’s thrashing under you, moaning out pleas and needs in a higher pitch, wanting nothing more than you to consume his painfully hard cock in his mouth.

Jaeyun doesn’t have humility when he is with you, he’ll scratch and claw at the bedsheets, whine out your name in desperation, and have you take full control if you want to. You wish you could be more like that, because fuck does it look beautiful, and you know he will love it if you’re a crying, pleading mess under him. 

It would be the perfect birthday gift, actually.

So with a heavy sigh, you close your eyes and clear your throat. “Okay. But only if you go first.”

Jaeyun smirks and rubs some heat back into your legs. With soft, kitten-like licks, he plays between your folds, giving you an inch of what's to come. “Princess, please beg for me. I’ve been such a good birthday boy, have I not? I need to hear you want me, the same way I need you. This pretty pussy deserves to be devoured, and I can only do that if you beg for it. Please, baby. Pretty please with a lollipop on top.”

God, he is so fucking good at it. Somehow he still sounds so strong and assured even when you can hear the cracks in his voice and the tremble on his lips. His hips buck the air, mimicking what he wants to do with you, his cock leading him, thinking with his second head.

Whimpering, you look down to see him adorning that pretty pout once again, and you crumble.

“I nod. Jaeyun…please make my cum on your tongue, let me give you the best birthday gift. I want you to lap me up and never stop, make you remember this birthday for the rest of your life. Please, baby.”

You don’t cringe, instead letting your desperation take charge, which gladly works. Jaeyun groans loudly at your filthy words as they echo over the cliff, giving the city indication of what’s taking place. His cock is so painfully hard against his jeans that he wonders if it has the ability to tear through the material like Hulk when he transforms. It certainly feels like it could.

“Good girl,” he praises, before giving you what you crave.

Connecting his mouth to your core, his skilled tongue has you keening, head falling back against the car hood as he licks a broad, firm stroke from your entrance to your clit. His lips close around you, his tongue flicking and swirling as he loses himself in the taste of you, his hands spreading your thighs even wider to hold you firmly in place.

He slurps and devours you, humming into your hole in pure lust. Jaeyun loves nothing more than being buried in pussy, he could spend the rest of his life between thighs, your thighs. The added tints of cola still lingering on your skin only heighten his arousal, the sweet tang mixture enough for him to dig his nails into your thighs and bury further in.

Arching your back, your thighs fight his grip as they try and clamp around his head, the way his tongue dips into your hole, rimming it with teasing strokes before shooting back in makes your head dizzy, the November air suddenly feeling like a July breeze - welcomed and just right.

“Fuck,” you hiss out as he bites at your folds, dragging the sensitive flesh between his teeth, another way of tormenting you yet giving you everything you could want. His bottom teeth drag up to your clit with his puffy bottom lip trailing behind it like a soothing balm. 

You’re starting to wonder whether it’s his birthday or yours.

With precision, Jaeyun latches onto your clit and suddenly, you’re seeing more stars in the sky, body lurching forward as you trap him there. The tension coils tightly in your stomach, and he takes his time, alternating between sucking and licking, bringing you right to the edge and pulling back just before you can tip over, savouring every second of your mounting need.

“Jaeyun, please…” you gasp, fingers threading through his hair, and he hums against you, sending a shudder through your entire body. 

“See? You can beg so easily,” he mocks playfully, smirking as your thighs act as earmuffs. Despite the barricade, he can still hear every plea and mewl that falls from your lips, indicating that you’re close.

So, he picks up the pace, his hands gripping under your ass to push you further into his face. His round nose nuzzles your nub as his tongue swirls around inside your cunt, the tip of his tongue committing every bump and nook to memory - not like he hasn’t already. He knows everything about you, that’s what happens when you spend seven months doting on and worshipping the same person.

Grabbing tightly onto his hair, you feel the knot in your stomach begin to pull apart, the threads of rope straining as your climax tugs. “I’m cumming…fuck, Jaeyun,” you warn, but it’s not breaking news to the man causing the euphoria. He’s licking, sucking, and biting with ferocity because he knows you’re falling apart

He hums against you, the sound vibrating through your body, his tongue flicking over you with such skill it has you trembling. “Come on, Princess. Let go for me,” he whispers, his words like a command, and your body is happy to obey.

And then, it hits you - the release crashing through you, sending shudders of pleasure through every nerve in your body. You can’t stop it, your back arching as you clutch at his hair, your thighs trembling as the wave washes over you, and Jaeyun doesn’t stop. He keeps going, worshipping you like he’s addicted to your taste, drawing out every last drop of your orgasm.

Your chest heaves and your body goes limp as he cleans your pussy, making sure he takes every drop of his birthday gift. You taste heavenly, your cum swirling in his mouth as he slurps and sucks, the shocks jolting up your spine each time he nudges over your clit.

Once your legs release his head, he glances up at you through his thick lashes, mouth covered in your essence. “Thank you, baby,” he praises, his chest filled with a cocktail of emotions, the first as foremost one being adoration. “With 10 minutes to spare too,” he laughs, glancing at his watch.

Jaeyun stands up, kissing you with passion. He transfers your juices onto your mouth and you groan at the taste. All those days of downing pineapple and cranberry juice always pay off. His tongue licks yours, taking over your entire mouth as he claims you. His lips are sweet but his touch is anything but, you know he’s desperate, if his actions weren’t enough, the painful bulge that’s bucking into your sensitive folds is enough to tell you.

Swiftly, your hands move to his buckle, undoing it amongst the breathtaking kisses. It doesn’t take you more than a minute to undo his jeans and push them just low enough that his ass is on full display and his hard shaft can spring free. His cock is so pretty, like a work of art; six inches of pure joy. You’ve lost count of how many times this cock has made you come undone, the curve of it hitting perfectly into your cunt, like it was made for you. In some ways, you think it is.

Spreading your legs once again, you wrap your hand around his cock, the heat from it a stark contrast to your still cold hands. The sensation elicits a hiss from the birthday boy, his lips pulling from yours as he looks down. Your hand just fits around his length, and that makes his tip twitch. He’s proud of his size, but somehow he loves it even more when in the clasp of your fingers.

You press it against your wet core and he loses any sense of control he had left.

With a primal growl, he grabs your hips and lines up at your entrance, not even bothering to tease you. Between your outfit, the rush of the race, your cries of pleasure from his tongue work, and the overwhelming tightness in his heart, he needs to be inside you. Now.

Jaeyun slides in fully with one thrust, both of you creating a beautiful harmony of moans that echo like a choir in the night. His cock fills you up to the brim, his balls sitting comfortably against your ass. You feel like fucking heaven, in fact, if he was to die right now, he would do so happily. Those pearl gates could only mirror the happiness and alleviation that he feels as he buried himself to the hilt inside your warm hole.

His forehead rests on your shoulder, his lips peppering a succession of kisses just above your collarbone as he begins to move his hips, eyes rolling to the back of his head with each bump of your walls hugging him.

“Jesus fucking christ, Princess,” he mumbles, officially lost in the act of pleasure. He’s not thinking about anything else, just how your wet heat feels enveloping him.

You can’t say your thoughts aren’t also only consumed by the tip of his cock poking your cervix so deliciously, his balls slapping against you almost mimicking a spank each time. His thrusts pick up pace and you both lose yourselves in one another, chanting praises and curses to convey your feelings.

Jaeyun’s hands roam over your body as his cock pounds into you, switching from holding your hips in place to kneading your breasts, each one serving their own purpose. He wants you still so he can keep hitting that perfect spot over and over again, the squishy spec in your cunt his main target, but your tits bouncing in the moonlight keep distracting him, his cock losing power as his brain gets clouded in the movements.

“You’re so beautiful, Princess,” he confesses, kissing the valley between your breasts. “So, so beautiful.”

Your heart hammers harder, the pulse resounding in your ear as you smile gratefully. “So are you, Jaeyun.” And you mean it. He’s the most beautiful person inside and out, you’re never going to meet anyone like him again, and that’s what terrifies you.

Jaeyun locks his eyes on yours, his hips finding a new determined rhythm. He presses his forehead against yours, nuzzling his nose with yours in a kiss. How is it possible to feel so adored and cherished by a man you have no label with? That’s the question running through your mind as you stare into his soul, begging for him to answer.

And in some way, he does. His pupils shine with nothing but your reflection, showing just how deeply you're ingrained in him. Though neither of you may voice exactly what this is, you both know it.

As you lose yourselves in each other, that familiar coil tightens low in your belly, heat pooling with a desperate need for release. You dig your nails into Jaeyun's shoulders and bury your face in his neck, signalling you're close.

Gripping your waist, he matches your rhythm, pushing you both to the edge—metaphorically this time, thankfully. He's already brought you close enough to danger tonight; there’s no need to test fate again.

"Come on, baby. Cum for me," he urges, jaw clenched as he holds back his own release. He’s never been one to finish before his girl.

With his coaxing and the delicious sensation of him deep inside, you reach your climax once more, this time more intense than you expected. You bite down on his neck to muffle your moans, and like a domino, he spills into you. 

His white ropes soothe your cunt, painting your walls with his adoration of you. The best decision you ever made was getting an IUD. You know it’s not full protection, but for the feeling of his seed filling you up like a cream piping bag, you’re willing to take the risk.

Jaeyun holds you close, his breath mingling with yours as both of you come down from the high, eyes blazing secret confessions into one another. The steady thud of his heart under your palm feels grounding, almost comforting in the quiet aftermath. You shift slightly, feeling his warmth begin to fade in the cool night air, yet he doesn’t let you go just yet, keeping you wrapped up in him.

“Happy birthday,” you whisper softly, letting your lips brush against his jaw, a faint smile tugging at your mouth. 

Mirroring your expression, he melts into your pepper kisses as you trail down his neck, paying extra attention to the skin you marked up with your canines. His large hands glide up your back and hold you close to him. “Thank you.” It’s simple, but he’s biting his tongue, the moment too perfect to destroy with his post-nut brain.

You sense his apprehension and lean back, gazing into his eyes and studying the specs of his brain that you can make out. “You okay? You’re usually cracking out a joke by now,” you ask playfully, but there’s an undercurrent of concern in your tone.

Jaeyun bites his lips together, preparing himself to possibly make the biggest mistake of his life. He pulls out of you, jerking his cock clean enough that he can get away with it, before tucking it back into his trousers. 

Oh no.

Your mind does everything to convince you that this isn’t going to end the way you think it will. The efforts to soothe your racing mind falter just at the finish line. This is it. He’s going to hit you with the ‘this has been fun but it’s not what I want anymore’ or ‘hey, so this was great but you’re not what i’m looking for’. Whatever concoction of those sentences he wants to spin, you know it’s going to hurt. You’re in too deep.

And you would much rather be humiliated with your clothes on. So you jump off the hood of the car, your slick glistening in the night lights like a snail trail. Suddenly, the acts you just took part in have turned from euphoric to sickly.

“Listen-”

“I meant it,” he interrupts, not even letting you end this before he can. “I really mean it when I say you’re the only girl for me.”

You’re waiting on the but, yet it never comes. Instead, he’s biting his lip nervously, looking at you but not into your eyes, his focus on your forehead like a sniper in the woods. And you feel like you’ve been shot, just not in the hurtful way you were expecting, it’s almost like you’re on the receiving end of a blank and the shock is ringing in your ears more than anything.

You stand dumbfounded, zipping up your dress at the back. “Huh?” It’s stupid and not what you want to ask, but your flabber has been gasted.

Jaeyun groans and rubs over his face. “I don’t want anyone else. And I know you’re annoyingly loyal to Yeonjun, but I can’t pretend that this isn’t more than what it is.” He steps forward and cups your flushed face, the cold now settling upon it once again. “I. Love. You. I have for fucking months, and…I don’t know, I can’t keep pretending I don’t.”

I. Love. You.

It’s such a simple and common phrase, yet hearing it in his accent, from his mouth, directed at you, you find it foreign. 

Jaeyun hates the silence that follows, the horns from the cars down below act like a mocking laugh to the moment. He knows its risky, confessing his feelings so bluntly, but if he had to keep them in any longer then he might have buried them forever and harboured an even deeper resentment towards himself and your brother.

“You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place, I get that. But can we call a spade a spade and admit that we love each other?” He insists, now finding his confidence. Go big or go home, he supposes. He’s convinced you love him too, you look at him the way he does you, and even if it’s only a tiny speckle of love that you hold for him, he needs you to admit it. For his sanity, and yours.

You can’t process a single thought beyond his words, their weight pressing down on you, making it impossible to breathe for a second. The world falls quiet around you, the buzzing city and distant hum of traffic fading as your mind hones in on his face, the intensity of his gaze, the subtle quiver of his lip as he waits.

“Jaeyun,” you manage, though it barely comes out above a whisper, “This isn’t…this isn’t exactly what we agreed on.” Stupid. Why the fuck are you saying that NOW.

“I know, but I also know you feel it too.” His thumb moves tenderly across your cheek, brushing over the spot where a tear might fall if you let it. “And if there’s even the slightest chance that you feel what I feel, I just need to know.” He pauses, his voice softening as he meets your gaze fully. “Because you’re it for me. I’m tired of pretending I don’t want to be with you completely. You deserve to be loved, and although I might not deserve to be the one to give you that, I want to try.”

You want to look away, to retreat and give yourself a chance to think, but his eyes are pleading with you to stay present, to face this. And the truth is, in some corner of your heart that you've tried to ignore, you know what he's saying is true.

But Yeonjun…If he finds out, he’ll never forgive you. It’s one thing to be in a fun fling with his rival, it’s another to be completely and utterly head over heels for the boy.

The silence is thick, but there’s an odd comfort in it. You reach up, covering his hand with yours, grounding yourself in his warmth. “I don’t want to lose you,” you murmur, voice trembling. “And I…I don’t know how we’d make it work without hurting Yeonjun.”

Jaeyun’s grip tightens, his confidence anchoring you. “I’ll make it work. I’ll do everything to make sure he accepts it. I’ll step down as the Lucifer’s leader, I’ll get on my knees and beg, baby I will do whatever it takes to get him on our side. I don’t want to come between you both, I know how precious he is to you, and you to him,” he pauses, breathing out and collecting his thoughts before he goes on a desperate faffing rant, his point losing focus. “I love you, and that means loving every part of you.”

“In the car…” you begin, voice unsure, “You said something about how Yeonjun would become your family, you meant-”

“Yeah, listen. Don’t freak out about that. I was jumping the gun with that one…but I mean, is it so unplausible? For us to be together? To imagine a future with you?”

“There’s a big difference between jumping into dating and leaping into marriage, Jaeyun.”

“Okay? So we’ll hold back on the leaping for now,” he laughs, pressing his forehead to yours, “but tell me you’ll jump.”

His breath mingles with yours, warm and steadying, grounding you in a way that makes your hesitation falter. "Jaeyun," you begin, your voice so soft it barely carries the weight of what you’re feeling. "It’s terrifying to even think about, you know that, right? Yeonjun is…he's been there my whole life, my protector, my brother…you’re asking me to risk that.”

"I know." He cups your face, his thumb tracing slow, tender circles along your cheek, calming and reassuring. "And I wouldn't ask you if I didn’t believe with every part of me that we’re worth it. But I’m not going anywhere until you’re ready; whether that’s now, or tomorrow, or a hundred years from now. I’m in this, Y/N. All the way. I just need you to say yes."

Your lips part, the words catching in your throat, suspended between the comfort of safety and the thrill of the unknown. Slowly, you reach out and lace your fingers through his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "Alright," you say, a tremor of nerves mingling with the glint of determination in your eyes. "I’ll jump…but you’d better catch me, Jaeyun."

A grin breaks across his face, and for a moment, everything else fades away; the rivalry, the fear, even Yeonjun. It’s just you and him, exactly how it should have been from the beginning.

"Always," he whispers, voice filled with quiet conviction. Then he closes the distance between you, sealing your promise with a kiss that’s soft, lingering, and brimming with all the words neither of you dared to speak out loud.

But maybe it’s time you do

“I love you too, Jaeyun,” you confess, eyes boring into his heart.

His eyes widen for a split second, and you see the disbelief flicker across his face, not quite sure he heard you right. But then his gaze softens, and a smile breaks across his face, one so genuine and unguarded that it sends warmth flooding through you. His hand tightens around yours, squeezing his happiness into your veins and bones.

"You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that," he murmurs, brushing his thumb over your knuckles with a tenderness that leaves your heart aching. “I fucking love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.” He chants, kissing all over your face, causing you to scrunch up and laugh, attempting to push him away but failing - not that you’re going to complain about that.

There’s a sense of relief, a lightness you haven’t felt in so long, as if all the weight of secrecy and uncertainty has lifted. For once, you’re not worrying about the consequences, about what could go wrong or who might get hurt. Right now, it’s just you and him, and the truth laid bare between you.

“Yes, okay, we love each other! Enough!” you giggle between his million and one kisses.

His hand comes up to cradle your cheek, his fingers grazing your skin with reverence. “I’m never letting you go now, you realise that, don’t you?”

You nod, a smile creeping across your face, and pull him in for another kiss, this one filled with the promise of everything that lies ahead. “Oh I know. Just wait till I tell your crew,” you laugh, pushing him away. “‘Oh, Y/N, I love you sooooo much. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me-'”

Your imitation is cut short, his hand flying over your mouth as he suppresses a laugh, trying to portray fear that isn’t truly there. “C’mon! You can’t ruin my reputation like that,” he whines, giving you that signature pout. 

“Oh but I will-” Without warning, he picks you up, tossing you over his shoulder as he carried you to the backseat. “Jaeyun! Put me down!”

“I’m going to fuck every word and thought out of that pretty brain of yours so you never utter my soft side to a soul,” he playfully jabs, opening the backseat and tossing you inside.

“Well…I have a lot of thoughts…and words,” you reply, biting your lip as you settle across the seats, legs already accommodating for him.

“Then it’s gonna be a long night. I suppose I’ll need to turn my clock back some more, don’t you think?”

____

perm taglist: @immortalvee @sunpov @heeseungspookie @strawberrysavi @monstanctiny21

@diorsyun @heexzbae @yzzyhee @baekhyunstruly @zeeloveshee

@haechonly @berryblog @no-mannerism @jaehoonii

@notevenheretbh1 @shawnyle @addictedtohobi @jiminie-08

@emberuby @nctislifue @lilyuwon @skzenhalove

@heeshlove @idkdykilr @chocminteu @y4wnjunz @rikibun

@ivesti @parksunghoonsgf @branchrkive @brownsugarbaybee

@xxbluestrifexx @bambangan @iluvikeu @deobitifull

@yawnazzz @st1llm0nster @woorcve @heeseungsbm

@star-hoon @heelee-01 @wonnienyang @alternativelix

@ikeuverse @dollyyun

[savanir]

A sister's love

The justice league hurriedly responds to a call for backup at a little in the middle of nowhere place by the name of Amity Park. 

The situation had seemed so simple. 

A Star Sapphire had suddenly shown up on Earth which isn’t immediately cause for concern but she was unidentified, so a lantern was definitely going to have to look into it if only just to make sure that nothing bad was going on. There are two planet side green lanterns, Simon and Jessica. So they responded to handle the potential situation. 

Things rapidly spun out of control when they realized it wasn't just a Star Sapphire. 

"I hate to say this but we're gonna need backup" Simon tells Cyborg, "the Star Sapphire has brought something with her. My first guess was a white martian but..." The other one can do some manner of density shifting, and he can go invisible, but they know ways around that. Whatever this one is doing isn’t that though.

"Why isn't this working!?!" Comes Jessica's slightly panicked voice in the distance, "he keeps just going through my creations! dammit, think think Jess" She tried to contain him with a flamethrower construct but he just ignored it, like he’s seemingly ignoring everything else she’s throwing at him.

"Our constructs have zero effect on the other one, the alien, meta? man I don’t know he’s human shaped" 

"What is the situation other than the two hostiles?"

"Uh we got some government agents who are retreating because of the Star Sapphire wrecking their stuff. And the civilian people here seem to be falling under her influence, so she must be human. She's from here, she needs emotional connection to pull that stuff off."

The people are furious, the violet glow around them clearly indicates that the girl is using her ring to amp them up but if Simon didn’t know any better he’d say this was red lantern stuff.

Well there are more ways to whip people up into a frenzy, by hurting their loved ones for example.

There is a brief moment where it can be heard that Simon and Jessica try to get into a more advantageous position. 

Simon grunts, "dammit, those agents seemed to have weapons that actually worked on the other guy but the Star Sapphire used her violet constructs to shield him and destroy their guns and we've been struggling since" this whole situation stinks, he has a weird feeling about all of it.

"Simon this is really really bad, i can't keep restraining all these civilians, we're running out of energy fast!"

Cyborg tries to get a visual on the situation from his position in the Watchtower while he’s notifying any league affiliated heroes who are nearby and available. 

But all of a sudden he realizes there is just nothing, just a big lap of void where the two lanterns are supposed to be, there is no cctv footage, no cell towers, no internet connection. Just what the hell is going on here.

Then the audio transmission starts to violently crackle.

A new voice laced with static can suddenly be heard, "There you two are"

"Shit"

"Is the justice league coming yet? Are they finally going to do something?" the staticy voice continues.

"Stay back you-"

"Or maybe they still need more of a reason to act" 

The audio cuts out. 

"Jessica! Simon! Come in!" ... "Shit!" 

Cyborg finally gets a clear picture with the satellite cameras and now sees the entirety of Amity Park has been covered with a crystalized violet dome. It’s then that he remembers the story Hal told quite some time ago now about a Star Sapphire who managed to put a whole planet into love stasis.

They are gonna need more help with this one he thinks.

Meanwhile Jazz is still shakily trying to figure out how her new pink powers work, now that all the fighting is over (for now), the GIW forcefully expelled from Amity, and the two Justice league people captured and restrained.

Everything happened so fast, one moment the GIW had knocked out her brother and were forcefully taking him away and while she saw them drive off (she was pretty sure she was screaming) a pink thing just froze her in place, She was pretty sure someone said something about “great love in her heart” and then she was… well she was flying and- and there wasn’t really any time to question things then so she may have kinda gone and ripped into the van that had Danny.

She’s pretty sure she healed him, and then things just completely spiraled out of control from that point on. and now she’s here.

She’s pretty sure this is crazy villain behavior, she’s going to get put on some sort of watchlist and then she’ll never get to be a psychologist but it’s fine.

Her little brother is safe, that’s all that matters. And she will keep it that way.

[ellecdc]

The Bolter

Sirius Black x fem!reader who meet again [5.5k words]

prompt: poly!wolfstar or just Sirius x reader in which they were friends with benefits but it was obvious they loved each other even though they acted like they weren’t. Then, reader finds out shes pregnant and before telling them, they do something stupid. so reader runs away for a few months. When she comes back (only bc she had to for some reason) shes like 6-7 months pregnant

CW: secret pregnancy, angst, FWB to strangers to lovers, second chance fic, post war trauma, both Sirius and reader are meeesssssssssssyyyyy in this! I don't approve of what they've done but I understand it

“So…she’s coming back?” Sirius asked cautiously, focusing more on the condensation pooling on the coaster underneath his pint than the concerned gazes of his two best friends. 

“Well, I don’t know if she’s coming back, but she’ll be here for Harry’s birthday.” James mollified, sharing a nervous look with Remus.

“Right.” Sirius murmured around a swallow; throat tight and dry though neither the pint nor the pitcher of water in front of him looked as though they’d be able to help him with the matter. 

“Are you going to be alright?” Remus queried, and Sirius offered him the most arrogant scoff he could muster; he missed by a long shot.

“Of course I’m going to be alright.” He huffed. “Why? Can’t two friends see each other after five and a half months of silence?” 

“Sirius-” James started, but Sirius carried on. 

“She’s the only one who’s been silent, you know?” Though he knew that they did indeed both know. “I’ve tried. I’ve tried reaching out.” 

“Pads.” Remus offered consolingly, looking frustratingly like he was going to reach a hand out to Sirius as if he were some over tired toddler on the brink of a meltdown.

“Stop, no I- I’m fine, honest.” He insisted as he took a steadying breath. “I- you… talked to her, then?”

James and Remus shared another look before James allowed the segue. 

“Mostly by owl, but she has spoken on the phone with Lily a few times.” 

Sirius nodded as he considered this; considered the number of owls Sirius had sent that had gone unanswered - perhaps even unopened if the silence meant anything at all.

“She’s…okay?” 

Remus let out a sigh as he shot Sirius a tight smile that looked more like a grimace. “She’s…vague.”

“She doesn’t share a whole lot.” James agreed. “Says she’s fine, things are good. Mostly asks about…all of us, Harry.” 

“She’s still staying with that great aunt,” Remus added, “helping her with the property.” 

“She seeing anyone?” There was no point in pretending that wasn’t the most pressing matter in Sirius’ mind; of course it was. And as angry and bitter as the idea made Sirius, it would have been his own fault, his own doing. He had no one to blame but himself. 

And he’d have to live the rest of his life knowing he was the one who let you slip away - pushed you away - right into the arms of someone else. 

“Not that she’s mentioned.” Remus responded honestly; he couldn’t say for sure that you weren’t, but if you were, you clearly hadn’t said anything about it. 

“Right.” Sirius offered shortly. 

“Pads, I…we would understand if it's too hard for you to see her. If you can’t come-”

“Don’t be daft.” Sirius scoffed deploringly. “I’m not going to miss my godson’s birthday. If anyone should be missing it, it should be her; I’ve been here for the past four and a half months, she’s the one who fucked off for good.”

“Sirius-”

“I don’t understand why you had to invite her!” Sirius shouted then, startling even himself when he realised how breathless he sounded all of a sudden. 

James smiled at him sadly; Sirius wished he’d stop doing that. “We wanted all of Harry’s uncles and his aunt to be there, Sirius…it’s important, yeah? We…we almost didn’t get this chance.”

Sirius could feel a wicked migraine coming on; between talking about you, the close calls and the fact that the group of you were all alive following the war by nothing but chance, and the fact that the person Sirius was most angry with was himself, he downed the rest of his pint and flagged the server in favour of having to look at the pitiful gazes being shot at him by Remus and James.

Sirius couldn’t tell if he was eager for Harry’s second birthday or dreading it. But like it or not, Sirius was going to be seeing you again. 

It had felt like a good idea at the time.

It felt beyond foolish now, but it had felt like a good idea at the time. 

*ೃ༄.ೃ࿐

“Sirius, we just won. We just won, why do you have to leave now?” You practically begged as you followed Sirius through his flat. 

“Because if I don’t get out now, I’m going to be stuck here for eternity.” He all but spat at you as he shoved articles of clothing into his duffle rather haphazardly. You felt like grabbing the bag from him and folding them properly if the act wouldn’t leave you feeling like you were aiding and abetting his abandoning you.

“But what about James? And Remus? What about Harry? You fought this war for them, and they for you - we just got them back!”

“And they’ll be here when I’m ready to come home!” Sirius shouted; turning to look at you with wild, red rimmed eyes. 

“What about me?” You asked quietly, hating how small you sounded.

“What about you?” He asked; face falling painfully neutral. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought he was occluding. 

“I…I don’t know.” You started awkwardly, shrugging one shoulder. “I thought…maybe we’d have a chance now. To try?.”

“Y/N.” Sirius sighed as he rubbed harshly at his eyes; entire being oozed exhaustion at having to have this conversation with you. “Have I not been entirely clear about what this was between us?” 

“Right.” You agreed quickly, biting roughly on your lip and looking anywhere but at him as he let his hand fall away from his face. 

“It’s…it’s not you, doll-” but even your humourless scoff didn’t derail him “I’m not the kind to settle down and be content I- I wouldn’t be enough for you.”

“I’m not asking you for any more than what we have, Sirius-”

“Yes you are.”

“-I just want you to stay.”

“That’s too much for me.” He stated; his voice never raised though he may as well have screamed it at you. “I cannot sit here and play house, I cannot be that guy for you.”

“Cannot or will not?” You asked quietly, regretting the question the second it came out of your mouth and he looked at you with nothing but pity in his eyes. 

“Y/N…”

“I’m sorry I asked.” You let out with a chuckle as you harshly wiped tears from under your eyes. 

“It’s…it’s not forever, yeah? I just…I can’t see myself being happy here…not right now, at least; not for a while.” 

“Where will you go?” Your voice grated painfully as it came out, but you tried to keep an air of nonchalance about you. You wouldn’t look at him, but you could see his shoulders shrug helplessly. 

“I don’t know…everywhere. Anywhere.”

Anywhere was better than stuck here with you, apparently. 

“I hope it’s nice, wherever it is.” You offered, and you found that you meant it. As much as it hurt to say, you really, really meant it. Sirius had been fighting and running his entire life, and he finally won. If he wanted to celebrate his victory by taking off to be that rich, vague uncle who popped by with lavish gifts every so often, who were you to deny him? 

You loved him.

You were in love with him.

You loved him enough to let him go. 

*ೃ༄.ೃ࿐

He had sent James a postcard a few weeks later. Turns out he started in the South of France; his family had a home there that had been left untouched by the war, and Sirius was going to start by figuring out what to do with the property. 

And you? Well, you found out you were pregnant. 

You suppose it was a small mercy that Sirius wasn’t here to know; you’re sure it would have hurt more hearing him tell you he was leaving if there were two of you he couldn’t find it in him to love. You would have hated it even more if he felt trapped into staying with you just for this.

But all this meant was that you couldn’t stay, either. 

You supposed that was alright, though; the life you wanted to build here was with Sirius. You loved your friends, but you had a little one to think about now, too. 

You made up a story about a great aunt needing help tending to her property and wishing to be closer to your relatives now that you could be, now that it was safe. No one questioned it, likely because Remus had done the same following the war; moving back home to help his dad and ailing mother tend the property in whatever ways he could. 

You found yourself a little cottage, you wrote to the boys and had the occasional phone call with Lily, and you grew.

It had felt like a good idea at the time. 

But now you were almost six months pregnant and returning home for the first time since you moved to celebrate your nephew’s birthday with all of your closest friends, the love of your life whose child you were carrying, and none of them knew. 

You wondered if you should even go, but the thought of missing out on sweet Harry’s second birthday that the lot of you almost never got the chance to see made your throat constrict with tears you refused to shed since the war. 

You wondered if you should tell everyone before you arrived, but the thought of them all discussing you and your pregnancy without you being there left you feeling small and ashamed. 

You wondered if you should tell Sirius, but you looked over at the stack of unopened letters he had sent to you in the past four months - the first thin, perhaps a postcard, the second and third were thicker, the fourth was by far the thickest (like he had drafted an autobiography that he wanted you to proofread for him), the fifth was similar to the second, whilst the sixth (the last) couldn’t be more than one page - and wondered how the hell you’d even start that conversation after all this time.

Hey, remember me? Yeah, the bird who caught feelings during our friends with benefits situation that we both agreed would remain platonic amidst a battle for survival and then begged you to stay with no success? Well, whilst you’ve been off probably shagging every beautiful woman across the British Isles, I’ve been pregnant. Right, with your child. How was France, by the way? 

You swallowed around your gag reflex and groaned at your image in the mirror. You put on a pair of gingham pants with the baggiest band-tee you could find, planned on sucking in the best you could if anyone (when everyone) insisted on a hug and hoped to every deity that they all just assumed you’d been eating really well since the end of the war. 

You smoothed the fabric over your bump one last time before you left - looking at the proof that, if nothing else, you were protecting more than just yourself, and you let that be enough - before you grabbed Harry’s birthday present and called for Potter Manor, throwing a fistfull of floo powder into your fireplace and travelling by way of the flames. 

You could hear Harry squealing in delight in one of the adjacent rooms as you stepped into the floo reception room at Potter Manor; a smile taking over your face uninhibitedly at the sounds of the people you loved more than life itself, happy and celebrating.

How could you have gone so long without this? 

“Y/N!” Lily shrieked as she made for you, and you sucked in before returning her hug. “Merlin, you're glowing! Where’s your aunt's place again?” 

“Erm. Killarney.” You offered; not entirely untrue - you did have an aunt in Killarney. 

“Well,” she let out with a breath, eyes turning a touch glassy as they darted across your face, “it seems that Irish air’s been for you.” 

You smiled back at your friend before pulling her back in for another hug. “I’ve missed you, Lils.”

“Don’t let it go so long next time, yeah? We can come to you, too; I’m teaching James how to be a muggle, and Harry’s only had the odd burst of accidental magic yet. We could play the part in front of your aunt.” 

“I’d love that, Lily.” You responded earnestly. 

“Y/N!” James hollered then before you were being bodily tackled by the former quidditch chaser, a brief flash of anxiety at his hold around your stomach abating only when he relinquished his hold on you. “Where in the sodding hell have you been!?”

“Killarney.” Lily answered for you. 

“I love Killarney!” 

“Have you ever been to Killarney, Prongs?” Remus asked then, appearing in the door as he leaned against the archway. 

“No! But I love it there! I just know it!” 

“Hey Moony.” You greeted, quickly accepting his open arms and breathing him in.

“We’ve missed you.” He murmured into your hair, and you couldn’t help the traitorous hitch in your heart that he might’ve meant-

“Uncle Pafoo!” Harry squealed, suddenly standing right underneath you. 

“That’s right, Haz!” The voice that haunts your dreams called out. “Auntie is here!”

“Hullo, Harry!” You cheered as you picked him up, sucking in before settling on your hip. “Happy birthday, little dude.” 

“Am two!” He announced as he held up four fingers. 

“You are two! Way to go!” You laughed. “Is everyone here?” You asked the room, shooting Sirius a tight smile so you couldn’t be accused of hostility when your heart stuttered for an entirely different reason. 

He looked tired - a bone deep tired that no amount of sleep could rectify - and the bags under his eyes seemed to be chronic. But he was still so beautiful; his hair had grown slightly longer since the last time you’d seen it, the last time you’d run your fingers through it, the last time you’d brought sheers to it, and he donned more than a few new tattoos if the few you could see were enough to go by. 

You had to look away.

“Reg’s going to be by after work; his part-time student called in sick so he needed to be there to close the shop himself. Thankfully, they’re only open in the morning on Sunday’s.” Remus explained kindly.

“Good, it’ll be nice to see him.” You offered, and the room fell slightly awkward.

“Uncle Pafoo, aeroplane?” Harry asked then, and whatever exhaustion seemed to be plaguing Sirius vanished as he beamed at his godson. 

“Absolutely, little man!” He agreed, holding his arms out and taking Harry’s weight from you.

“Do you want something to drink, Y/N? Wine? Beer, Cider? Juice? Water?” James rapid fire, causing Lily to groan. 

“We just got her back, Potter. Do try to control yourself.” 

“Water would be great, Jamie. Thank you.” You laughed, following the group into the open concept kitchen-to-living room. 

Save the fact that you and Sirius seemed to be doing acrobatics to avoid each other, you were almost stunned at how easy and natural being back here felt. Regulus returned and the two of you shared friendly jibes, Lily caught you up on all of the drama at the Ministry, James strong armed you into agreeing to join them for their next pub quiz night, and Remus said that your old professors all wished you well. 

You loved your cottage - the home you’d built for yourself and your little one - but you found yourself feeling homesick for here, and you hadn’t even left yet.

You were leaning on your elbows against the kitchen island, watching Sirius and Regulus pretend to be knights in shining armour as they fought off a fire breathing dragon (Harry) to save the princess (James) when Remus appeared beside you and mirrored your stance. 

“It’s not the same without you, you know?” He murmured then. 

“But they seem to be alright.” You responded simply, and Remus allowed the two of you to fall into silence for a few beats.

“How far along are you?” 

You stood up straight and turned to stare at him in horror, only to see him smiling kindly at you. 

“How do you-”

“Lycanthropy - I could smell it on you.” He said with an embarrassed wrinkle of his nose. “I knew Lily was pregnant before she did.”

You shushed him and looked over your shoulder to ensure no one else could hear you.

“Come.” He said with a sigh, gently taking you by the elbow and ushering you out of the sliding doors to the back yard and closing it behind the two of you. 

“Remus-”

“Is it his?” He cut you off; his face held no judgement though perhaps just a touch of concern. For you or his best friend/virtual brother-in-law, you weren’t sure.

“Yes.” You whispered, not bothering to clarify who he was talking about; you both knew. 

Remus simply nodded as he looked you over. “Is that why you left?”

“He left first.” You hissed petulantly.

“He left you, but you left all of us.” Remus countered somewhat sternly. “Besides, I didn’t ask about him; is this why you left?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” 

“Because, Remus!” You shouted, tears flooding your vision as you turned to look at him. “Because he didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want me. I wasn’t going to force him to come back just because… just because.” 

“Don’t you think he should have been able to make that choice for himself?” Remus asked gently.

“He chose! He did choose! He told me he couldn’t play house, he told me he couldn’t be this person for me. I loved him enough to accept that. I loved him enough to let him go.”

“Loved?” Remus asked with a tilt of his head. “Past tense?” 

“Remus.” You groaned. “Please.”

“He came back for you, you know.” Remus pointed out. “He left you, you left us, but he came back for you.” 

“Stop it.”

“It’s true, Y/N.”

“And so what if it is?” You nearly sobbed. “So what if he did, Remus? What can I do? I can’t go back in time and change my mind, I can’t go back and fix this. He made choices, I made choices, and here we are.” 

Remus heaved a sigh and looked at you sadly. “I don't think either of you realise that your choices don’t have to remain permanent; there can be an expiration date on them.” 

You were catching your breath from your mini temper tantrum when you heard the glass door slide open, both you and Remus turning to see Sirius standing there almost shy - far shier than you’d ever seen him before.  

“Just talk to him? Okay? You..don’t have to tell him now, just…talk to him.” Remus whispered before heading towards the door, clapping Sirius on the back before disappearing back into the house. 

“Hey.” Sirius offered cautiously after a few beats of silence, coming to stand beside you as the two of you looked over the railing of the patio to the rest of the manor grounds. 

“Hey.” You returned dumbly, clearing your throat before continuing. “You…you look good, Sirius.”

Sirius scoffed, and you could feel your shoulder rising before you saw him smirk at you - if not somewhat sadly - cutting you a playful glare from the corner of his eye. “Did you take up lying there in Ireland?” 

You let out a breathy half-laugh. “I’m not lying.” 

“Then you need glasses. I look like shite.”

“You look tired.” You amended. 

“I’m exhausted.” He agreed, and the two of you lapsed into silence. 

“You look good, though.” He continued. “Healthy.”

You hummed in agreement. “Funny what not having to run on rations and broken hours of sleep on military cots does for a person.”

“Why haven’t I heard from you, Y/N?” He blurted then, turning his entire body to face you. 

“Sirius, I-”

“Everyone else has. You’ve spoken to Lily on the phone. James and Remus have gotten letters. Even Reg got a postcard for his birthday.” 

“I’m sorry.” Was all you could manage to say.

“I wrote to you.” He continued. “Letters, a lot. Did you get them?”

You nodded your head yes shamefully.

“Did you read them?”

You felt your heart splinter at how hopeful and heartbroken he sounded over it. You felt like scum of the earth when you shook your head no, and he let out a sigh.

“I guess that makes me feel a little bit better, then.” He said as he lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. 

You found yourself taking a step away from him when you asked “why does that make you feel better?”

He let out a humourless laugh that forced smoke from his lips. “At least now I know that my begging for a second chance, begging you to come home, professing my love for you isn’t what kept you away.”

“Sirius-”

“I messed up, Y/N.” He declared earnestly. “I…I was fucking scared, terrified. I’d spent so much of my life living with one foot on the threshold of hell that after the war, I didn’t know how to live amongst the undead.”

He took a moment to catch his breath as if he’d run all the way here just to tell you something. “And I ran. I bolted, I…”

“You left.” You finished for him. 

“I left.” He agreed. “I… I didn’t know, Y/N.”

“Didn’t know what?” You asked as you choked back tears.

“Didn’t know what I had, or what I wanted. Or that I had everything that I wanted.”

“And you do, now? You know what you want?” You asked, and a look of determination painted his features as he met your gaze head on.

“For my entire life, I had never known what family meant, so I wasn’t even aware that I’d created my own with all of you until I’d risked it all. I was so sure I didn’t want to be like my parents that I never realised I may actually…want to be a parent someday. I was so sure I didn’t want to be my father that I never realised I actually did want to be a partner someday. I was so certain I’d never know what true love felt like that I didn’t even realise I had it right here all along with you.” 

“Sirius-”

“I messed up. I left. But what I don’t understand is why you did. Or why you stayed away.” He took a step towards you with his cigarette long forgotten in one of his hands, the ash threatening to burn his fingers before you plucked it and stubbed it out on the stone railing. He barely flinched. “Why’d you go?”

“I didn’t want to sit around and wait for you, Sirius. I- it hurt, I was hurt. And then-”

“I’m sorry.” He offered quickly, but you shook your head.

“I’m not telling you this for you to be sorry, I just-”

“I came back for you.”

“But it wasn’t just about me anymore, Sirius!” You shouted then, and you watched his brows furrow before his face fell in horror. 

“You’re seeing someone.” He asked, though he phrased it as more of a statement; like he’d been expecting it.

“I’m not seeing anyone, Sirius.” You sighed.

“Then why’d you leave? Why’d you stay away?”

“Because I’m pregnant.” You blurted, and Sirius fell silent. “I’m almost six months pregnant.”

“Six-” He started, eyes falling to your stomach still hidden behind the baggy article of clothing before you smoothed the fabric over your ever rounding bump. “Six months. Six…”

You let him do the maths in the head as he stared hard at your stomach like he was sitting in divination and it was a crystal ball that might just give him the answers if only he stared at it long enough.

“It’s mine?” He finally concluded.

“Yes.” You whispered.

“It’s mine. You’re pregnant, it’s mine.” He murmured, before his eyes met yours again. “You’re pregnant with my child?”

“Right.” You agreed, and he crumpled to a heap on the floor. 

“Sirius Orion Black,” Sirius heard Remus hiss, clearly hovering somewhere over him, “I swear to Godric if you do not wake up and eat some of this godsdamned vanilla cake you bought, your brother is going to skin you alive.” 

“It’s true.” James agreed from somewhere on Sirius’ other side. “He actually ran to the store when he found out you bought vanilla because he knew Remus wouldn’t eat any of it. Remus is going to get his chocolate cake, and you’re going to get egged.” 

“Shut up.” Sirius hissed as he scrunched his eyes closed. “Fuck.”

“How do you feel, mate?” James asked rather jovially as he clapped him roughy on the shoulder.

“Like hell.”

“Why’s that?” Remus joined in.

“Because I was in the middle of a dream and you sods woke me up going on about cake.” He muttered as he opened his eyes, realising then that he’d been propped up on a number of cushions in one of Lily and James’ spare rooms.

“S’he awake?” Lily whispered, and Sirius craned his neck to see you and Lily poke your heads into the room.

“Oh my gods.” Sirius breathed as he sat up, likely far too fast for someone who fell unconscious mere moments ago. “Oh my gods, you’re actually here?” 

“Did you hit your head, mate?” James asked as he prodded at Sirius’ head, causing Sirius to swat his arms away as he shifted towards the edge of the bed.

“You’re here.” He whispered as you slowly made your way into the room.

“I’m here.” You offered cautiously, eyes darting around at your oldest friends like there might be some secret threat lurking in the room.

“You’re pregnant…” He tried then, punching the air right out of Lily and James who both spun to stare at you in shock.

You smoothed the fabric of your shirt over your midsection again to expose a very obvious (now that everyone could actually see it) baby bump. 

“Oh my gods!” Lily and James chorused, causing Remus to snort.

“You knew, didn’t you!?” Lily accused Remus who held his hands up in surrender. 

“Only when she walked in, and not a second sooner.” 

“With my child.” Sirius continued, and you nodded at him. 

“Y/N.” Lily winced. “You-”

“You sodding scared me!” You shrilled then, grabbing one of the throw pillows James had dumped onto the ground to make room for Sirius and swinging it at him.

“I scared you!?” Sirius shrieked right back, much to the delight of Harry who started banging on the throw pillow that had landed beside him. 

“I thought I killed you!”

“Oh, well I’m terribly sorry that finding out the woman I’ve been in love with for years and pining hopelessly over for months - who was missing for all intents and purposes, may I remind you - is pregnant with my child happened to be a little shocking.” Sirius sneered sarcastically. 

“Well I only went ‘missing’ because the man I’ve been hopelessly in love with for years and pining hopelessly over for months took off an-” The abrupt end of your statement nearly gave the room whiplash as you cut yourself off mid sentence and stared at Sirius like you’d never seen him before. 

“What…what just happened?” James whispered carefully.

“Years?” You whispered then, and Sirius hated every version of himself that deigned to let you go without knowing just how loved you were.

“Probably when we were still just cosmic dust.” Sirius smiled sadly. “I’m sorry I didn’t always realise, I’m sorry I didn’t make sure that you knew.”

“I take it to guess there isn’t an aunt in Killarney?” Lily offered then, smiling kindly at you when you turned your attention towards her.

“No, I- I think there actually is an aunt in Killarney, I just don’t live with her.”

“Where do you live?” Sirius asked eagerly, wondering if you could hear it in his voice or even see on his face just how desperate he was to know everything about you.

“Near Tintagel.” You offered abashedly as Remus slapped his hand on his thigh.

“You minx!” He scolded you. “You lived basically across the channel from me this whole time!”

“I hope it’s nice, wherever it is” You offered him then, smiling through your tears as Sirius swallowed around his bile threatening its way up his oesophagus.

“I hope it’s nice.” Sirius blurted suddenly, and Sirius thanked the heavens for Remus John Lupin who seemed to understand that the conversation delved beyond the need of an audience, scooping Harry up and closing the door behind Lily, James, and himself to give you two some privacy. 

“It’s nice.” You offered wetly. “It’s quiet.”

Sirius hummed in acknowledgement. “In Tintagel, near Merlin’s cave?”

You laughed, which saw Sirius smiling. “I’m not right in Tintagel, just outside. My neighbours are mostly sheep.” 

“Does it have a picket fence?”

“To keep the sheep out of my garden.” You nodded with a smile.

“Flowers; lots of them.” Sirius deduced, you nodded again though Sirius watched your smile falter.

“You’d probably hate it.”

“Are you there?” He asked quickly.

“Well, usually, yes.” You offered, and Sirius shrugged easily.

“Sounds as though it might be my favourite place in the world, then.” 

The next breath that left you shuddered on its way out, and Sirius finally stood and met you in the middle of the room; close enough to touch but not daring to. He hadn’t earned that right yet. 

“Take me with you?” He all but begged then, and your face crumpled in misery.

“Sirius, I don’t want you to follow me because you have to, I-”

“I don’t have to though, I know I don’t; I know you’d never make me.” He assured you then, lifting a hand but pausing to wait for you to nod at him before he placed it on your upper arm. “The letters, Y/N, I- I’ve been looking for you for months.”

A sob tore through you as you lowered your head, and Sirius allowed himself to catch it in his free hand. 

“I don’t want you to feel bad; I’m not telling you so that you feel bad, love.” The endearment falling off his tongue so easily now that he had you in his arms. “But I need you to know that I want you - any of you, all of you - and have for a very long time.” 

“It’s just…you said-” and Sirius knew exactly what he said; he had played that conversation over and over and over in his mind until he found himself sick over it more than once. But we waited for you to tell him anyhow; he’d always wait for you. “You couldn’t settle down and be content, you couldn’t play house; you weren’t that kind of guy.” 

“I know, doll. I know.” He whispered. “I…I didn’t think I was capable of it. I didn’t think I deserved everything I wanted and I knew that you deserved better. That you deserve better.”

“But?”

“But I’d be happy to spend the rest of my life trying to prove you otherwise; trying to give you everything you deserve.”

“Sirius…” You sighed, and Sirius could see your walls cracking. “I…I’m-”

“Take me home? Please?” He begged then, words interrupted by a sob of his own. “To Tintagel, to Killarney, to bloody fucking Azkaban or the bottom of the sodding ocean, I don’t care where it is just as long as it’s with you, please. Please.”

Your hands landed on Sirius’ chest and he was sure you could feel his hummingbird heart beating under your fingertips. He only hoped you knew how it beat for you. 

“Please bring me home?”

James didn’t know if he could consider this a success or not. 

His motivation was not singular; it was a ‘hit two fairies with one gobstone’ sort of scenario, so to speak. Was his son turning two? Indeed he was! Was James throwing a party for said son’s birthday? You’re damned right he was. But was it also a really good excuse to force two of his idiot best friends into the same room again? Absolutely.

Except James seems to have gotten slightly more than he bargained for; Sirius falling unconscious in his childhood backyard, you sobbing into Lily’s shoulder out in the hallway as he and Remus tried to bring him back from the dead, Remus sneering at a slice of birthday cake like it personally offended him and Regulus threatening to defend his boyfriend’s honour, and - apparently - a new niece or nephew coming in the next three-ish months. 

But when he looked over to see you and Sirius emerging from the spare room - both of your faces tear stained and puffy from the grief and torment you no doubt put yourselves through - hands intertwined between your bodies and your hand resting protectively over your growing bump, and a spark in Sirius’ eyes James had thought he lost in the war but now realised he only lost when he lost you…

…yeah, James figured he could probably consider this a success.

[hannieehaee]

Please i just want to read a smut about having a rough sex with hoshi because he's jealous when he heard his gf got confessed by her male friend. 👉👈 (It would be nice if he won't stop even if you cry in pain, saying that it's a punishment) (Just skip this if you're uncomfortable..)

18+ / mdi

content: jealous!soonyoung, smut, established relationship, he acts a little toxic but not that much, rough sex but completely consensual, afab reader, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 1807

a/n: thank u for the request!!

masterlist

"babe, can i borrow your phone? i left mine in my gym bag and i'm too lazy to go get it," soonyoung mumbled as he laid down on your lap, hair being played with and thoroughly comfortable.

"yeah, here," you handed it to him without much thought.

neither of you had a tendency to go through each other's phones, but you had exchanged passwords and were very casual about picking up the other's phones whenever you felt like it. there was too much trust between you to really overthink these things. which wad why you had no issue giving him your phone while he didn't have his own at hand.

soonyoung laid there for a while, perusing instagram and other social medias while you read an ebook, holding it with one hand while playing with his hair with the other. you didn't pay much mind to him while you entertained yourself with your story, and the same could be said about him.

the calm silence accompanied by some show playing in the background was interrupted mere minutes later by a characteristically loud gasp from soonyoung.

"babe, who the hell is this loser?", he asked, rushing to sit up beside you and showing you your phone.

"hm? who?" you barely looked up from your book as he pressed to your side.

"some loser. cooper," he huffed.

on screen was a conversation he'd seemingly pulled up, with the name 'cooper coworker' displayed at the top. it took a few seconds for it to dawn on you what you were looking at.

"oh. that's just my coworker. why? what'd he say?", you didn't care too much about the conversation, but you were slightly curious as to why soonyoung had pulled it up. it wasn't really like him to check your messages.

"the notification just popped up so i went on it, sorry," he was sheepish about it before fully handing you the phone, letting you take a look at the conversation in question, "but, uh, what does he mean by this?"

there were a few prior messages to the newer ones, which were all from different time stamps and very tame in nature, usually just being shift trades or confirmations about work projects. the final few were the ones soonyoung had accidentally intercepted before you could check.

from: cooper coworker

hey can we talk about what happened the other day?

the first one was tame enough, suddenly reminding you of what'd happened a few weeks back, but the poor boy practically vibrating next to you made you opt to keep reading before clarifying the situation to him.

from: cooper coworker

i just wanted to see if you'd reconsider. i'd really like to take you out

i felt like you were just dismissing me with the whole boyfriend thing. i asked belinda and she said she's never seen you with any guy

anyways my offer for dinner's still up if you wanna

it amused you for the most part. the original interaction had been so tame and forgettable you'd completely disregarded the whole thing as soon as it happened.

cooper wasnt someone you saw on a daily basis, so his name hadnt registered when soonyoung had told you who the message was from. when he came up to you to ask if you'd like to have dinner, you were slightly surprised, not entirely sure of who he was. the easiest thing to say in response was that you had a boyfriend and werent interested (which was very much the truth). he had simply nodded in response and mostly taken it like a champ.

you wish you could say that his insistence surprised you, but it was a classic guy move. to act nonchalant at rejection only to come back ten times as insistent as before.

the situation made you wanna roll your eyes and just block him, but you guessed that maybe soonyoung would want an explanation sometime soon before his entire body combusted. the sight was cute, at least.

you sighed, "it's just some guy from work who asked me out, soonie. nothing too important."

that wasn't enough for him.

he whined, nudging your knee as he put the phone down, "what does he mean by 'the whole boyfriend thing'? what, do you work with this loser? who does he think he is? i'm your lockscreen, what the fuck is wrong with him? should i go talk to him? i'll do it, babe, just-"

"soonyoung! it's fine. i'll block him if it makes you feel better. i never talk to him anyways. everyone else at work knows i have a boyfriend. it's just some stupid guy. no threat whatsoever," you reassured him.

that seemed to calm him down momentarily. his breath evened and his rambling halted. he remained quiet for a few seconds before speaking up again.

"that's not good enough."

"what?"

suddenly he got up, grabbing your phone in one hand and your arm with the other and leading you out of the living room. within moments you were in your room, being pushed towards your bed and losing your balance and falling onto it.

"soonyoung, what the fuck-"

throwing your phone onto the bed, he approached you, telling you to keep facing forward as he pushed you further onto the bed. undoing his sweats as he approached you. his tone had been cold and entirely void of emotion, causing your brain to go numb and follow along with his instruction. you'd been too distracted by the removal of your own sweats to hear his following instruction, causing him to harshly pull you against him to get your attention before repeating himself.

"w-what?"

"i said, text him. tell him you're not interested and block him."

that was easy enough.

you reached over to the phone he'd thrown onto the bed and opened it back up, searching for the conversation in order to draft up a message.

but before you were even able to start, a huge distraction entered you.

immediately upon penetrating you, soonyoung went at it like crazy. it was like he had zero concern for anything other than fucking his entire essence into you.

you screamed out at the sudden intrusion and continued to gasp and mewl at the consequent thrusts into your hole. your hands shook as you gripped onto the phone, elbows hurting from putting your weight on them in order to hold onto the phone.

but soonyoung didnt care. no, on the contrary, any time you'd scream out his name, he'd go even harder, fingers surely bruising your hips due to how harshly he held onto you.

"i don't see you texting him, baby," he huffed in between thrusts, "need me to dictate it to you? brain too cockdrunk to think?"

he was mocking you, but he was right. you were usually nicely moist for him, but the moment he threw you onto the bed, it was like your mind was taken over by a docile and horny version of yourself, making you lose any ability to think for yourself by every passing moment.

unable to respond properly, you nodded, moving to try and type whatever he'd tell you to type.

"tell him to never contact you again, or else your boyfriend might get mad, okay, baby? tell him, fuck, tell him you already have the perfect guy taking care of you every night," he groaned in between thrusts, huffing and puffing at how tight you'd get for him.

you typed up the message to the best of your ability, surely getting a ton of typos in the process but not caring enough to correct them. this guy was nothing compared to soonyoung, especially not in this moment. the message in itself was slightly embarrassing to share with some random coworker, but your brain wasn't working properly at the moment.

hitting send, you thought that'd be the end of it. that now you'd be able to enjoy soonyoung's cock in peace. except that bastard replied immediately, and soonyoung managed to catch it from behind you.

suddenly, he started hammering even harder into you, genuine anger filling his veins at the response you'd received.

from: cooper coworker

lol that sounds kinda toxic. u deserve better than that guy

"'toxic'? did he just call me toxic?," he gaped between gasped breaths, "block him," he demanded, "block that fucking dumbass, i- fuck, i'm gonna-"

that's when he started going as hard as humanly possible, still letting out expletives against the coworker you'd forgotten about the moment you'd gone back home that day to your soonyoung. it hurt, but it hurt so good. it was the most pleasurable pain you'd ever felt. surely it'd lead to traces of pain after the fact, but it all felt worth it as soonyoung hammered into you with all strength available in his body.

"h-hurts, soonie, it's too much ..." you managed to sigh out, arms giving out under you and head pressing onto the mattress.

the comforter under you quickly became damp with a mixture if tears and drool, but you were too brain dead to process it.

"no, baby, this ... this, fucking shit, is to show you that you're mine. that no idiot guy can even think of, shit, fuck, of looking your way," he practically growled.

his labored breath accompanied by his broken sentences told you all you needed to know. you were about to be filled up by his load and there was nothing you wanted more. you'd never been claimed by someone in such a way and the euphoria that came with it was addictive.

with more curses and filthy expletives, soonyoung filled you up. his warmth inside you led to your own orgasm, making you completely fall onto the bed the moment he pulled out and took away his hold on you.

you didn't have any time to whine at the loss before he reappeared and began hastily cleaning you up, laying you on your back so he could kiss your cheek as he wiped at the drool and tears drying on your face.

when you opened your eyes, you found a completely different image of the soonyoung who had just defiled you to hell and back. staring back at you wad a hamster-faced cutie with some sort of worry in his eyes. his smile was sheepish and his movements way softer than usual. you couldn't left a giggle leaving your lips, which in turn caused him to relax and chuckle back.

"uh, sorry about that. just- uh, i got mad, i think ... at him! not at you! you're perfect," he rambled on in usual soonyoung fashion.

he was the cutest thing ever.

"it's okay, soonie. i'm not mad. feel free to do that again any time you want," you sat up to give him a kiss, earning a happy hum from him.

"oh, ah, yes. noted."

[cressidagrey]

It's a Love Story - Chapter 6

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

DEFINETLY NSFW! Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible.

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

For somebody that filled her romance novels with plenty of smut… Sky wasn’t exactly as experienced as one may expected. 

Actually…she was woefully inexperienced.

There had been Admon…and Admon it had been.

The rest of the stuff in her books…well, that was just her fantasy wildly spinning stories about how sex should feel. Informed by plenty of books she had read, other authors, and of course…there were the two people that got to read every book she wrote before it was published: Orla, her publisher, and her friend Ressina, who was nice enough to take the pen to every thing she wrote that was woefully inaccurate. 

Because nothing ever felt to her like she portrayed it in the books.

Maybe that was normal. Maybe it was because of course her books portrayed something…better than reality, an escape from it. But still…sometimes Sky had just wondered…

As Azriel carried her towards the bedroom, Sky couldn’t help but feel a flutter of nervousness in her stomach. It wasn’t that she didn’t want this, she did, more than anything. But the truth was, she was…nervous.

She had written about this moment countless times, had described it in vivid detail in her novels. But now that it was actually happening, she felt…insecure. What if it wasn’t as good in real life as she made it out to be on paper? What if she did disappoint him?

(Sky knew that she had disappointed Admon numerous times…that she seemingly had never been enough for him…had been so bad at it in fact that he had instead slept with her sister…which was a whole other kettle of fish that she really didn’t want ot think to close about right now.)

Sky tried to push those thoughts aside, to focus on the here and now. 

Azriel was here with her, he wanted her just as much as she wanted him. She could feel it in the way he held her, the way he looked at her. And yet, that nagging feeling of doubt still lingered.

And then there was the fact while he had admitted to sending his shadows to search for her… Sky was still keeping a rather big secret.

“Az…Azriel…” she said hesitantly.  “There…there is one thing you should know about me.”

Azriel paused, setting Sky down on the bed gently before turning to look at her. 

"Go on," he prompted her gently, taking her hand in his as he sat down next to her and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You can tell me anything, Sky." She believed him. he wouldn’t judge her. She was sure of that as well. 

“You…You k…know how…how I…I write… ro…romance no..novels?” Sky asked him, biting her lip.

Azriel nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Yes, I do," he said, leaning in closer to her. "You told me.”

“I…I am Sellyn Drake,” she blurted out.

She had never outright admitted it to another person. 

Ressina had been the one who had send off her first manuscript to be published…and Orla had met with her…these were the two people in existence that knew that Skylar Alden was also Sellyn Drake. And Skylar had always been comfortable with keeping it that way. 

There was no need to tell anybody else. 

Which was why it worked so well, that Ressina was an artist and could paint the bookcovers for her. No need whatsoever to let anybody else see the hesitant first drafts until she was sure this was where she wanted to go. Just Ressina. Just one of her very few friends. If not her only. 

Azriel stared at her, his eyes widening in surprise. "What?" he asked, completely taken aback. "You're...Sellyn Drake?" There was no…outright disbelief in his voice, just shock. 

*We know! We made Master read your books!* the shadows cooed. *Lady Death, The Priestess and The Shopkeeper love them too!*

She had no idea who any of these people were but…

Azriel's eyes widened even further as the shadows spoke up. "You...you knew about this?" he asked them, turning towards the shadows in disbelief. "You knew. That’s why you gave me her books to read!”

This was just getting better and better.

Sky, who had been watching Azriel and the shadows’ exchange with a mixture of nervousness and embarrassment, couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. 

“Do…Do they always…” she couldn’t even put it into words. 

Azriel sighed. “They like to meddle,” he said darkly. “And this time they were particularly persistent.” He shot a reproachful look at the shadows, who cowered a little under his gaze. "I won't lie, they did manipulate me into reading your books. And when my shadows do something they are rather...convincing."

She swallowed. 

“Did…did you…li…like them at…at least?” Sky asked hesitantly. 

Azriel hesitated for a moment before answering. 

"I...I did," he admitted earnestly. "Your writing...it's brilliant, Sky.” Her heart soared at his words. She treasured them, hoarding them away like a dragon. But he wasn’t done. “The characters, the emotions, the way you make the reader feel everything...it's incredible. I couldn't put them down."

Sky grinned at his words, feeling a swell of pride in her chest. "I…I'm glad you..you li…liked them," she said softly.

*Master especially liked the…*

“Shut. Up.” Azriel snapped, his ears reddening and Sky started laughing. She could just about imagine what the shadows wanted to tell her at that moment. 

Azriel groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I'm going to kill them," he muttered under his breath.

"They…they are ju…just try…trying to help you, aren't they?" she asked softly, squeezing his hand in hers. Only now she noticed the violent scars that marred them, the texture of raised and bumpy skin…but she didn’t care. Not one bit.  

*Of course, we are,* the shadows said, like any other idea was simply blasphemous. *We gave Master the best information we could. So that Master would know what you like.*

Sky probably shouldn't find it as adorable as she did. But the lengths they had gone to...the way they had made Azriel read her books so that he would know what she liked...nobody in her life had ever gone to these lengths just to find out what she liked.

"I swear I am not a total creep," Azriel told her with a grimace.

Sky laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. "No…no, no, you're not," she assured him, squeezing his, hands gently. "I…I ac…actually think it's… quite… sweet. In a weird, sli…slightly invasive kind of way. But sweet nonetheless."

"I think you are the only female that could possible think that," Azriel muttered, glaring at the shadows that didn't seem apologetic in the slightest.

Sky grinned, leaning in closer to him. "It’s… endearing,” she finally settled on. “Maybe even a lit…little bit charming," she promised him earnestly.

Azriel looked at her incredulously, his expression softening a little. "You're not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?" he asked her.

Sky shook her head. "No. No, I'm not," she said, her voice unwavering. "I…I mean it, Azriel. It iss actually really sweet that you would go to… such lengths just to try to un…understand me better. And you ad…admitted to it. And not just after the mating bond was accepted but within hours of meeting me." 

Azriel didn't keep it a secret, even when he could have, and she would have been none the wiser. 

"I don't know what I ever did to deserve you. But I'm not going to question it," he whispered. 

She swallowed. That's what she was thinking. The exact same words. 

Sky pulled him down, letting his forehead rest against hers.

"I know that...that I am supposed to cook you something...but how disappointed would you be if I gave you one of those caramel bonbons in my purse to accept the bond instead?" she asked him softly, meeting his gaze. 

His eyes widened and he stared at her in pure, undiluted wonder. 

"I could not possible be dissappointed by whatever you offered me," Azriel whispered. "But...are you...are you sure?"

"I am being utterly selfish," she whispered. "Yes. I want you." She didn't care that people would have thoughts about it...that she was rushing into this. 

They were probably right. 

But Sky really didn't care. Sky only wanted him. Sky was ready to throw caution overboard and rush into this headfirst without a thought about the consequences, if that meant that she would get her mate.

"Then let's be selfish together," Azriel whispered.

With shaky hands she reached into her purse, finding one of the caramel bonbon she kept in there...unwrapped it out of the paper and then...then she offered it to him, lifting it to his lips.

Azriel looked at the bonbon, then at her, and for a moment she thought he would say something. But then his mouth opened and he took it from her hand... He chewed it, swallowing carefully, his gaze never wavering from hers. For a moment, they stayed suspended in that moment of tension, the only sound their breathing. And then, he leaned in, closing the distance between them, and kissed her as if she was the most precious thing in his entire world.

A Mating Frenzy had always been protrayed as animalistic in every book she read. So of course, Sky had written the exact same thing.

But it wasn't...not really.

Not for them. 

And being with Azriel was also a far cry from being with Admon...mostly because then it had often been...embarrassing and painful. 

Admon had always found something to criticise on her body...foreplay had been nonexistent, even when she had tried...and while he had been more than willing to use her mouth to find his own pleasure he had never returned that favour.

With Azriel it was different. Every touch, every caress, every kiss made her feel things she had never felt before. It was like her body was coming alive for the first time.

All her senses were heightened, every nerve in her body singing with pleasure, and Sky couldn't get enough of him. She wanted more. No, she needed more. As Azriel trailed kisses down her throat, she arched her back, pressing herself against him, her hands roaming over his body, exploring every inch of him that she could reach.

"Can I...Can I touch your wings?" she asked breathlessly, not wanting to...cross some unsaid line.

"Please," Azriel breathed out. "Yes, Sky, please." He lifted his wings, extending them out behind him, giving her free rein to touch and explore to her heart's content. As Sky's fingers brushed against the contours of his wings, Azriel let out a low, guttural moan, his wings twitching and shuddering at the sensation. They were massive and pitch black.

"They are beautiful," she whispered, running her hands over the silky black skin, feeling the warmth radiating from them.

He shuddered at her touch, his wings arching and trembling beneath her gentle caress. he leaned his forehead against hers as he gently tipped her back against the bed and she went willingly, wrapping her hands over the gleaming talons at the tip of his wings as she kissed him.

Azriel growled softly in response, his hands sliding up beneath her dress, opening the lacing in one fluid motion. As the dress fell open, revealing her body beneath, Azriel pulled back for a moment, looking down at her with dark, hungry eyes. "You are so beautiful," he breathed, his gaze roaming over her body.

She didn't even have the time to feel self-conscious, not when she was drowning in the waves of desire that shot across their bond from him. Not when her whole body seemingly trembled against his and she kissed him again, opening her mouth to his tongue.

He slipped open the dress and she opened her mouth, halfway ready to tell him how he could get the corset she wore off, but he already opened the lacing. "Why?" he asked her softly, as he saw the red indents left on her body, and she grimaced.

"Claire," she whispered.

She wore corsets usually for support, because her breast could get heavy and painful without the proper support...but she never laced them as tightly as she did when she saw her family. Or her sister. Then she pulled them tight, trying to squash her body to be something…something her family could stomach, something they maybe wouldn't comment on...she always failed.

Azriel hissed softly, his fingers lightly tracing the red marks on her skin. She knew that they looked horrible, and yet he looked...angered? Almost furious. His expression softened as he looked back into her eyes, his fingers gently tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "Why would you do something like that to yourself, Sky?" he murmured, his eyes searching hers. "You are beautiful. You don't need to change anything about your body." He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to a particularly hard imprint the corset had left.

Sky swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in her throat as emotion welled up in her chest. No one had ever said something like that to her, had ever made her feel like she was good enough just the way she was. She opened her mouth, trying to speak, but no words came out. Instead, she just nodded, feeling a single tear slip down her cheek. Azriel wiped it away with his thumb, his other hand coming up to cup her face tenderly.

"You are perfect," he whispered, pressing his lips to her forehead. "Just the way you are. Don't ever let anyone make you feel otherwise. Not even your family." Sky leaned into his touch, closing her eyes and just focusing on the closeness, the warmth, the feeling of being cherished and protected.

With every word he spoke, she felt a weight lifting off her shoulders, her fears and insecurities melting away. She realized that maybe, just maybe, she had found someone who truly saw her, the real her. Who accepted her exactly as she was, flaws and all.

It was so easy to sink into that. So easy to trust him. So easy to just kiss him, as she pushed the shirt he wore over his shoulders...to feel acres of gold skin, dotted with scars and dark markings...to bare him for her view and see how utterly gorgeous her mate was.

He growled softy as she ran her hand down his chest, tracing the scars that marked his skin. His body was a tapestry of pain and survival, yet she wasn't deterred. She only found him more beautiful for it.

"Mine," she whispered, pressing her lips to his chest, to one particularly nasty scar. "All mine." She could feel his heart pounding beneath her lips, the steady beat matching the rhythm of her own heartbeat. Her hands trailed down his chest, his stomach, until she reached the waistband of his trousers.

It was so easy.

So easy, to shed clothing until they were bare...so easy to press against him and feel warm, perfect skin...so easy to relax underneath him as he stretched over her...so easy to simply cup his face as she kissed him...as her legs wrapped around his hips and he groaned and she whimpered as she felt him...hot and hard and huge, pressing against her...She was dripping wet without him even laying as single finger on her beneath the waist.

Azriel didn't look unaffected, his breath coming in ragged pants, his eyes fixed on hers as they were blown wide and dark with want. He didn't move, didn't kiss her, didn't pull her closer. He only waited. Waited for her. 

"I need you," she whimpered. "Please. Please, Az." He let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a growl, his hips rocking gently against her, teasing them both with the heat and friction between them.

Nothing hurt. Nothing ever even threatened to hurt...Even as she could feel him notch against her there...even when she could feel herself lewdly stretched open on his cock...

It was so soft and gentle and sweet and…

It was everything Sky had ever wanted. 

Not the rough kind of fucking...not the animalistic coupling she wrote half the time...but she had wanted this. She had wanted sweetness and adoration and...love...and to be wrapped up in her mate's arms like she was a precious, precious thing. She had wanted whispered praised against her skin and to be touched like she mattered...

"Sky," he whispered, his hands running up her side, his touch was soft and soothing, worshipping her body. He kissed her, slowly, deeply, and there was something...almost overwhelming about it.

About the way he made her feel. The way he made her feel loved and adored. The way he made her feel cherished. Her hands wandered up to his back, tracing the muscles shifting beneath scarred, scarred skin.

She could feel him trembling, feel the tension in his body as he held himself back, but still, he moved in slow and gentle thrusts, taking his time. He worshipped her - every little gasp and moan, every curve of her body. He traced her shape with his fingertips and lips, exploring her as though he was trying to memorize every inch of her body.

She didn't know how long they stayed that way, their bodies as one, but Sky didn't care. She was surrounded by him - the heat of his skin, the sound of his breath, the way he whispered her name like a prayer. Sky could feel the love and devotion pouring through the bond, washing over her in waves, and she knew that this was exactly where she was meant to be. With him, in his arms, completely and utterly whole.

It nearly came as a shock as she came.

A breathless moan fell from her lips as her orgasm rushed over her, her body arching as she called out his name. He kissed her through it, murmuring praise against her lips as he held her close, his own release following soon after.

They stayed there for a moment, tangled together, both of them breathless and sated. Azriel's wings slowly wrapped around them, cocooning them in a warm, protective embrace that made Sky feel safe and cherished in a way she had never experienced before.

***

There was not one inch of his mate's body that wasn't utterly beautiful. From the tips of her arched ears, to her beautiful eyes...to the swell of her breasts and the dip of her waist and the soft flesh of her belly and the flare of her hips...she smelled so good too...especially now that their scents had started to mix, and he could breath in caramel and hazelnuts and cedars and the sweet, beautiful scent of happiness as she laid underneath him. His head was bedded on her stomach, as she drew short fingernails through his messy dark hair. He nearly wanted to start to purr as she scratched at his scalp.

Azriel felt...content.

More content than he ever remembered feeling. He was wrapped up in her, his mate, with her gentle hands in his hair, and he felt utterly and completely at peace. He didn't care if they never moved from that bed again. He didn't care if the world outside their little cocoon burned. So long as she was by his side, he was content. He had never felt like this before. He had never felt this...happy. This...whole.

"I need to go feed Hector," Sky told him softly, trailing her fingers through his hair.

"Can I just have the shadows kidnap him and bring him here?" he asked, not wanting to move.

"You can't go kidnapping my cat, Az," she chided him gently, but even as she said the words, she didn't stop drawing her fingers through his hair, and Azriel didn't move. He was far too comfortable.

"Why not?" he complained.

"You'll terrify him," she said with a laugh. "Besides, do you have cat food here?"

"I'll have the shadows find some Tuna," he mumbled.

"Do…Do they just ac…acquire whatever you tell them to?" she asked him with some amusement. 

And lots of things he didn't tell them to, as well. They thought he didn’t know. 

Azriel raised himself on his forearms, looking down at Sky with a glint in his eye. "You have no idea how many things I've acquired that way," he told her with a grin.

She lifted her hands, cupping his cheeks and pulling him down towards her, resting her forehead against his. "You're a menace," she murmured against his lips.

"Your menace," he replied, kissing her softly.

Sky smiled, a warm, slow curve of her lips that made his chest feel tight. "Mine," she agreed, her voice soft. "But no kidnap…kidnapping my cat. He's at home."

"We could make this our home," he protested softly. "Move in with me."

Azriel had no fucking clue what was even coming over him. They should have slowed down, stopped to think...but neither of them seemed to want to.

They just…they seemed utterly content to crash through what other people considered a normal timeline and just be together right now. 

He just wanted to be near her. He wanted to share a life with her, a home. He wanted to curl up with her in front of the fire on a cold winter's night, and spend lazy Sunday mornings in bed with her. He wanted to take her flying, and watch as she wrote and listened to her read the words she wrote. 

And he wanted - Gods, he wanted her to want that too. He held his breath as he waited for her response.

For a moment, she was silent, and Azriel wondered if he had stepped too far, asked too much too soon. 

But then, Sky smiled again, her eyes sparkling with emotions. 

"...Al…Alright," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll…I’ll move in with you." 

Azriel couldn't help but grin as he pressed his forehead to hers. "Really? You mean it?" he asked, still unable to believe his ears.

"Really," she echoed with a laugh, before her expression turned serious. "But I…I have one co…condition." 

Azriel raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue. "What is it?"

"If I move in with you..." she began, wrapping her arms around his neck. "All my books need to come to," she told him seriously.

Azriel laughed, leaning back in to kiss her softly. "All your books can come, if that's what you want," he said. "As long as you're here, I don't care what else you bring."

And then the shadows unceremoniously dumped a screeching demon on the bed with them.

Sky let out a surprised yelp as Hector landed next to them with a thud, quickly scrambling away from the cat - and from under Azriel's weight. Azriel, for his part, sprang up, his wings flaring out in alarm. For several long moments, the three of them just stared at each other. Hector, his mismatched eyes glowing, his fur puffed up to twice it’s normal size, and Sky, her expression a mixture of surprise and affection as she looked at her pet. Finally, she cleared her throat. "Well, that's one way to introduce the two of you. Az, meet Hector."

...Gods, the shadows had really not been lying when they said that the cat was the ugliest thing they had ever seen.

Azriel slowly lowered his wings, eyeing the creature that was half-cat and half-demon. "He...looks like he wants to kill me," he said slowly.

Sky laughed, reaching out to scratch Hector's head. "He's just grumpy because he got teleported here so suddenly," she told him. "And he's not used to strangers." Hector's fur slowly flattened, and he began to purr, rubbing his head against Sky's hand. "Besides, he'd never hurt anyone," she added, looking up at Azriel with a smile.

Somehow Azriel highly doubted that.

Sky picked Hector up, cradling the cat in her arms as his purring grew louder. "See? He's not so bad," she told Azriel, moving towards him, and Azriel had to resist the urge to back away. "Hold out your hand, let him sniff you. He just needs to get used to you."

Azriel hesitantly held out his hand, trying his best to ignore the way Hector's eyes seemed to glow with an eerie light. After a moment, Hector moved forward, sniffing at Azriel's hand. Azriel felt the soft brush of whiskers against the palm of his hand, and Hector nudged his head against him, purring louder.

"See, he loves you!" Sky said enthusiastically

Azriel let out a laugh, slowly scratching the top of Hector's head. "I think he's just trying to lull me into a false sense of security before he scratches my eyes out, you know."

She rolled her eyes, "You are the most handsome cat I know," she cooed at him. "And you won't ever scratch out Azriel's eyes. No, you won't.”

Azriel would not quite go as far as describe the cat as handsome...but then...his own scarred hands weren't particularly beautiful either.

So Hector and him had that in common.

And the fact that they both wanted to cuddle with Sky. Actually, he was pretty sure that the cat hated him just for taking away his monopoly on that.

But Azriel would have shared a house with the King of Hybern if that meant that he got to have Sky in his bed.

She smiled at him, her eyes warm and adoring. "I knew you two would hit it off," she said, holding Hector in the crook of her arm. The cat stared at Azriel for a moment, as if sizing him up, before leaping off Sky's lap and disappearing under the bed with a soft patter of paws. "He'll warm up to you eventually," Sky assured him, but Azriel wasn't so sure about that.

He pulled Sky in closer to him, slipping back underneath the sheets with her, kissing her forehead. "I'll win him over, eventually," he promised her. At least, he hoped he would - he didn't particularly enjoy the idea of having to wake up with his throat being sliced open by an angry cat.

He would buy that damn cat all the Tuna in the world if that made Sky happy.

[writingwarmupsofthedamned]

My maid’s hands trembled as she brushed my hair. 

“I can do that myself, really. It’s fine,” I said, taking a sip of my tea. I tried to make my movements smooth so as to not spook her, but the gold-rimmed teacup probably cost more than my entire village back home, and it was hard to treat it casually.

“Oh, no, Miss. Sorry, Miss. I’ll work faster, Miss.” Her voice was barely louder than a whisper. I watched her through the mirror, her gaze fixed steadily on my hair. She had yet to meet my eyes since I’d arrived the evening before. 

I forced an easy smile. “Take your time. I’m in no rush to get to breakfast. I’m not even sure why I’ve been invited, if I’m honest.”

The brushing continued, slower but less shakily than before. There was a careful deliberation to it, the kind I’d seen in alchemists carrying explosives. 

“We’re all just honoured to have you here, MIss.”

I wanted to scream, but the shock of it might kill the girl. She looked barely sixteen and I wondered if they’d sent her because she was the youngest and everyone else had refused. That happened, sometimes, though mostly households tried to send their best- if they didn’t quit at the very request. 

She began to braid my hair. I watched in the mirror as her hands gently weaved everything into place. She was using the technique that was currently fashionable at court, which was strange for a country girl. Perhaps the mistress of the household was particularly fashionable, or perhaps it was the girl herself. 

“Do you do the mistress’s hair as well?”

“Yes, Miss. I did it this morning.”

“What’s she like? I must confess I don’t know much about the Stormfells. I am mostly here at the King’s suggestion. They are cousins, I think?”

“Yes, Miss. He comes here with his entourage sometimes. My mistress is a very proper lady, very honourable, very good.”

Utterly useless adjectives.

“Twyla, may I ask you a blunt question?”

Her hands faltered but she did not look up from my hair. “Of course, Miss.”

“What is it you’re so afraid of that you think I might do?”

She dropped the braid and finally looked at my face, her eyes wide. “I...”

“Please.” 

“They say that you turned the Duke of Bradywaithe into a beast and cursed all of his staff to be objects. I don’t want to be a footstool, Miss.”

Twyla’s eyes filled with tears. 

Oh.

I opened my mouth to correct her, to set the story straight, but, catching sight of myself in the mirror, I stopped. I was dressed in a beautiful silk gown in a lavish bedroom the size of my whole cottage. Being feared was dreadful indeed, but it was certainly better than always being hungry.

“I promise you, I won’t turn you into anything. Especially not a footstool.”

“Thank you, Miss.” 

A slight tingle of guilt crawled up my spine as she went back to styling my hair, but I shoved it down and took another sip from the gold-rimmed teacup.

You are the most influential and powerful person in the kingdom. Even the royals walk eggshells around you at risk of offending you. The thing is, you have no idea what you’re doing or how it has gotten to this point, but you’re in way too deep now and you have to keep the lie going to survive.

[p0orbaby]

The Lion in the Jungle Shows No Shame

summary: you go into labour

warnings: some minor mention of contractions but that’s it

a/n: rich!reader is me; not the rich part, but the so over everyone part

word count: 1.7k

-

The boardroom at the training ground is frigid, an oppressive sort of sterile, painted in a corporate beige so calculatedly devoid of warmth it borders on offensive. The colour has clearly been chosen by a committee, signed off by no less than five department heads, all with the express goal of sapping any ounce of levity from the room. The walls bear only the club’s logo in gleaming gold, catching the light like a freshly polished trophy, austere and daunting. You’re seated at the head of the table in a chair meant to look sleek and modern but which you’ve always thought resembles a throne, albeit a minimalist, joyless one. You take pride in this spot, preferring the vantage point of a monarch observing her court, where each word, each glance can be read as an unspoken directive. A panel of finance officers sits to your left, expressionless and obedient, while the marketing strategists and department heads to your right wait, perched on the edge of their seats, eager to impress, or perhaps, not be dismissed. You’ve made your mind up on all of their fates already, but they don’t need to know that.

You sit back, legs crossed, and let your gaze drift to the person currently holding court—a sponsorship officer droning on about a potential partnership with an energy drink. The whole affair is tedious, but you feign interest, allowing only a flicker of annoyance to register as you twist the cap of your Montblanc in slow, deliberate turns, a small, repetitive comfort amidst the boredom. The sponsorship officer is yammering on about margins and high-profile market share. You nod, keeping your expression intentionally neutral, a carefully cultivated mask of polite detachment.

Nine months pregnant isn’t ideal, but that doesn’t mean anyone gets a pass. If you’re still here, they have no excuse for underperforming. You’ve kept every meeting, every review, every grueling evaluation on schedule, so there’s no room for them to slip up. Your presence is a reminder that leadership doesn’t come with compromises or concessions—not even now. Alexia might have opinions about it, but she knows better than to question your commitment. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

Then, there’s a twinge—a faint prickling in your lower back. You tell yourself it’s nothing, just the sort of trivial discomfort you’ve brushed off for weeks now. You shift slightly, adjusting in your seat. Subtle, hardly noticeable. But someone—some unfortunate junior in marketing, possibly fresh out of his MBA programme and clearly untrained in discretion—glances over. He catches it, the flicker of discomfort. There’s the faintest suggestion of concern on his face, a furrowed brow, a hesitant question half-formed before he thinks better of it.

Good.

You meet his gaze and reward him with a smile—half genuine, mostly a warning. He gulps, as if he’s swallowed something sharp, and turns his attention back to his notes.

Then the pain intensifies, sharper this time. It tightens low and fierce, radiating like an overstretched muscle, and you have to will your expression to remain steady, blank, entirely unaffected. Your eyes fixate on the PowerPoint slide, as if by staring hard enough you can dissolve the discomfort into the soulless white glow of the projector. But no, it’s there, settling in like an uninvited guest who intends to stay.

The marketing intern glances up again. This time, he actually manages a look of pity. He’s hardly subtle about it. You almost laugh—almost—except the contraction twists hard enough to force you to hold your breath, and your fingers press a touch too hard against the table.

The finance officer drones on, oblivious, his voice a steady monotone against the quiet hum of the air conditioning. Someone in the corner clears their throat. The sound cuts through the room like a scalpel.

“Ma’am,” he says, hesitant, looking anywhere but at you. “If you’d like to take a break—”

You wave him off with a flick of your wrist. “I’m perfectly fine. Let’s keep this moving, please.” Your words are clipped, precise, the kind that leave no room for doubt. You feel the weight of the room’s collective discomfort settle around you, like fog gathering, thick and stifling. The intern looks at you again, wide-eyed, uncertain, and you catch his gaze with a look so cold he almost recoils.

“Of course,” he mumbles, fumbling with his laptop, frantically tapping keys as if the sheer speed of his typing will save him from your wrath.

The next contraction slams into you with a ferocity that makes your breath hitch. A sharper, hotter pain spirals down your spine, and you grip the edge of the table, harder this time. The finance officer is rambling about revenue share and high-growth potential, but his words are disintegrating, merging into the mechanical hum of the fluorescent lights overhead, until they’re nothing but a dull, meaningless drone.

“Ma’am?” The intern speaks again, tentatively. “Are you sure you’re… alright?”

You turn to him with a look that could shatter glass. “Do I look unwell to you?”

His face drains of colour. “No, of course not,” he stammers. “Just… checking”

There it is again, that shift. It’s slight but palpable, a crack in the air. Power slipping. The assistant to your left, normally so silent and obedient, dares to glance your way with what might be concern. Another staffer coughs, hiding his expression in a notebook, though you can see his eyes darting nervously across the table. They’re all shifting now, uncomfortable, glancing at each other in a silent exchange, a web of tension growing thicker with each stolen glance.

You grit your teeth, willing the pain to dissipate, willing them all to get back to their work and stop—just stop looking at you like you’re some fragile artefact about to shatter.

Then, your assistant, Julian, a man so dependable you’d have trusted him with your life savings, makes the first move. He stands, smoothing his tie, clearing his throat in a way that’s maddeningly self-assured. “I think we need to get someone,” he says, his voice gentle but insistent, like a fatherly reprimand. “Just… in case”

Your eyes narrow into slits. “Sit down,” you say, your voice a low, dangerous murmur. “Now”

He hesitates, and the silence stretches, taut as a wire. Then, inexplicably, he defies you. “I’m calling Alexia,” he says. His voice is barely above a whisper, but it cuts through the silence like a blade.

The shock is visceral, immediate. You can feel it rippling through the room, see it in the furtive glances darting across the table. You, the unassailable chief, suddenly vulnerable, and worse, defied. You hear murmurs, soft but unmissable, as if they’re collectively holding their breath, waiting for you to explode.

Alexia. Coming here. The idea sends a fresh wave of mortification rolling through you, sharper and hotter than any contraction. Alexia, with her bluntness, her inability to mince words. She’ll walk in here, she’ll see you, and she’ll say exactly what she’s thinking, in front of everyone.

The finance officer clears his throat again, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “Maybe we should… reconvene another time?” He avoids your gaze, wisely. His voice is tentative, as though he’s testing the air for danger.

“Absolutely not,” you bite out, voice like ice. “We’re finishing this meeting. Right now”

But it’s too late. The tension is too thick, the unease in the room too palpable to ignore. You can feel their eyes on you, hesitant, searching, a quiet mutiny blooming under their skin, as though you’re something fragile, a rare beast they don’t quite know how to handle. You grip the edge of the table again, willing the pain to subside, to vanish, anything to regain control of the situation.

Then, the door swings open, and there she is: Alexia, in her training kit, her hair damp with sweat, her eyes blazing with a fury so palpable it sends a ripple of shock through the room. She locks eyes with you, her expression a lethal blend of exasperation and concern. The silence deepens, everyone watching with barely concealed curiosity.

“You’re still here,” she says, each word clipped and loaded, a statement more than a question. It lands like a slap.

You force a smile, though it’s tight and strained. “I’m fine”

She sweeps a gaze across the room, her eyes taking in the faces of your subordinates, each one frozen in various states of unease and fascination. When she looks back at you, her expression is a mix of incredulity and… pity. She almost smirks, as if to say, Look at you now.

“You’re in labour,” she says, loud enough for everyone to hear, her voice filled with a quiet, unmistakable fury. “And you’re… what? Leading a meeting?”

You can feel the weight of their stares, the barely-concealed smirks, the disbelief. You, their fearless leader, brought low, bossed around by your own spouse in front of them. You can already hear the whispers, the knowing chuckles that will ripple through the ranks for weeks, the stories that will morph and grow.

“I really don’t think this is necessary,” you manage, but your voice is weak, a mere shadow of its usual authority.

“Necessary?” Alexia repeats, crossing her arms. “You think it’s not necessary to go to the hospital when you’re about to give birth?”

Someone stifles a laugh—an intern, no less. You shoot him a look that promises retribution, but it’s lost amidst the pain that surges again, more intense, unrelenting. Then, Alexia’s arm is around you, firm yet gentle, steering you toward the door with a resolve that’s unyielding.

You give one last, desperate protest. “There’s no need to make a fuss. Really, I—”

“Enough,” she says, and her voice is a balm, a force, something that both steadies and infuriates you. Her arm around you is warm, grounding, and for a moment, your frustration melts, replaced by something softer, something you won’t allow yourself to name.

As Alexia guides you out, you catch a final glimpse of the boardroom, your staff looking back at you with expressions ranging from bemused pity to unspoken amusement. You know, with chilling certainty, that this will be the story of the month, if not the year. But with Alexia’s arm wrapped around you, her presence beside you, that irritation begins to fade.

The door closes, sealing you from their whispers, from their smirks. Just this once, you let it go.

[impactrueno]

Beetlejuice clearly wasn't interested in Lydia when they met, so when do you think he actually fell for her? Was he so impressed by Lydia defeating him that he developed a little crush?

i think this might be the biggest thing i've been turning around in my head since the sequel dropped. how did bro get to this point. i need to know. you weren't like this where we left off, what happened during that huge time gap????

this is where canon ends and conjecture begins, you just have to theorize and fill in the gaps yourself with whatever makes the most sense to you, which is what i've been trying to do this whole time. so please bear with me here.

i don't know how much i want share or save for my comics because i don't know how much he would actually reveal about this but whatever we ball

edit: ok so i scrolled back up to this after finishing writing this and as it turns out i have no self control and i ended up sharing everything that crossed my mind. craziest stream of consciousness i've ever written down. strap on and keep your limbs inside the ride at all times. whatever. we BALL.

let's review their first encounter from his point of view:

you're hired to scare the deetzes, right? so you do just that. excellently you might add. just when you're about to terrorize their teenage daughter, barbara banishes you and the party is over. what fucking losers right? you get the sense that adam and barbara care about this girl so you make some remark about her and it pisses them off. haha. also whoa where did this place come from? damn adam, who could've guessed he had it in him. you forget about everything else and dance your way to dante's inferno room.

after spending a respectably tasteful evening with those ladies, you're chill now. relaxing under your little sun lamp to work on your tan.

someone walks in looking for adam and barbara. don't they know they're dead?

"are you a ghost too?"

"i'm the ghost with the most, babe."

hold on a sec, who's even—

...well hey. it's the girl.

the girl who can see ghosts, and she's talking to you.

target acquired. this one's your ticket out of this hellhole.

"you look like somebody i can relate to," you tell her. relate how? doesn't matter. you're ensnaring her with your affable demeanor like you always do, make people feel like you're pals with them first and foremost. she seems like a nice girl, so this should be easy. you tell her upfront that you want to get out of there and you need her help to do so.

"i want to get in," she says.

whoa there.

what? she wants to get in? she says that in response to you saying that you wanted out. she really has no idea what it's like on the other side, huh. but shit, that kinda stops you in your tracks a bit. this girl wants to die. this young? that's not right. makes no sense.

"...why?"

she just looks at you and says nothing. jesus. ok maybe it's none of your business so let's back it up. you're losing control of the conversation and you're on a mission here. you figure if she helps you get out, you might as well talk her off that ledge or show her how shitty it is on the other side or somethin'. frankly, you can't afford to care right now. you're not entirely sure why she thinks things would be better on the side you're so desperate to get out of, but alright. doesn't matter, right now you gotta get her to summon you. so you begin your little game of charades.

after she correctly guesses your name and almost says it a third time, she recognizes you as the snake that terrorized her family. god fucking dammit. you're losing her. you're getting impatient. your affable act is over. "nah...i want to talk to barbara," she says and now she's REALLY getting on your nerves because fuck barbara, fuck adam, you're SO CLOSE to getting out and you're not gonna let this go now, go go GO GO SAY IIIIIIITTTTTTT

adam and barbara walk in because of course they do. womp womp

ok well that didn't work, but you're not gonna give up so easily. sooner or later another opportunity will come and soon you will be free.

wait why are they moving the model— where are they taking it—

ooohhhhh. business meeting. get a load of these yuppies, trying to turn winter river into a town-sized Ripley's Believe it or Not. a talking marcel marceau statue? and you thought you were a con man. no wonder the deetz girl wants to die, it's bleak as hell here too. but if you get out...you can fix that. hell, you can fix anything.

these bozos are here to see some ghosts, but the girl says they're not going to show up unless the fleshbags stop making a mockery out of the whole thing and that maybe they can all live happy together in the house. ain't that sweet.

of course no one's taking her seriously. she's a kid, what does she know, right? they'd rather listen to the most obnoxious guy in the room (besides yourself) who has no idea what the fuck he's talking about, but somehow, he's got his hands on the handbook.

the girl panics, then immediately says completely deadpan "wait, what am i even worried about, otho, you can't even change a tire" and you're surprised they didn't hear how hard you cackled at that.

despite all that, they seem to have started a séance with their old wedding clothes. bad news for the maitlands. they're about to be dead-dead. the girl cries for them to stop, and these guys are just sitting there scared shitless. you're hearing everything. you knew a new opportunity would arise, so you wait, because this is the part where people remember how good at your job you are. they always do.

she knows you can help. you're the only one who can help. so here she comes. those wedding clothes give you an idea. plan B is now in motion.

well well well.

look who came crawling back.

she asks for your help, and you're happy to oblige, under one condition of course. after all, you don't do anything for free, and she's the only one who can help you with your problem. how serendipitous.

once again, you lay it on her, straight up. you want out. and a way to do it (thanks adam and barbara for the reminder) is through marriage with a fleshbag. you need to get married. a green card marriage, if you will.

she's immediately disgusted by the idea. you don't take that personally, of course, because it doesn't matter. she's just a kid and it's not a real marriage. she just happens to be unlucky enough to be the only one around who can assist you with this, the poor girl. it's a marriage of convenience—or rather, inconvenience—and you're not planning on sticking around because you will get the hell out of there as soon as you can. so there shouldn't be a problem, right? besides, does she know how many women would kill to be in that position? she gets to brag about it to her friends, what's not to like? it's a totally even deal.

the clock is ticking and the maitlands aren't getting any younger. she agrees to the deal. you win, at last.

she already knows what to do, so you sit there patiently with a shit-eating grin on your face, awaiting the three little B words. gloating.

Beetlejuice........Beetlejuice...........Beetlejuice.

it's showtime.

this is your favorite part. you love a dramatic entrance. you decide to show the deetzes and their greedy friends the circus they so wanted to turn this town into. horrible as you are, you're also pretty damn good at calling out other people's horribleness, and you do love an ironic karmic way of dealing with someone. for example tubby here thinks he can escape, but not before you change his sleek black suit into a tacky white leisure suit. the horror! this is why you're a professional at this.

you effortlessly end the exorcism and the maitlands are saved. a little pruney right now but they'll be fine. everything is taken care of, you have fulfilled your end of the deal like you promised. only one thing left to do.

"shall we?"

there's really no need to make a whole show out of this, but you're a showman first and foremost and as a 𝒥𝓊𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝒶𝓁𝓊𝓂 you'll be damned if you're not gonna let yourself have a little fun with this. everyone looks terrified. this is why you're a professional at this.

witnesses and reverend in place, you can finally begin the ceremony. you're having fun, yes, but let's try to pick up the pace a bit, okay? the closer you get to your goal, the more impatient you get. the girl isn't finding any of this very funny at all and she protests. the maitlands butt in and are now kind of twisting your arm a bit, but you deal with them harmlessly, until they get on your last nerve so you send adam to the model and barbara to saturn. all of this after you honorably fulfilled your end of the bargain and saved the day. jesus christ, are you the only one with some integrity around here or what.

you forget the stupid ring. shit. you're pretty sure you have it on you somewhere, ever since you chopped up delores into pieces for poisoning you. you kept her ring finger as a trophy and as a reminder to never get married again, and yet here you are, but desperate times call for desperate measures. finally, you find the ring (still on her severed finger) and hastily tell your new bride-to-be that delores meant nothing to you. in case she even cares. she doesn't seem to. not even a chuckle? oh well.

almost done with the ceremony. almost there. you're holding the girl's hand with an iron grip to keep her in place as you're about to put that ring on her finger. "i now pronounce you, man and—"

a tiny car crashes against your foot and it catches on fire. you scream. a fucking sandworm crashes into the room through the ceiling. everyone screams. you scream LOUDER.

you're sent back to the afterlife waiting room.

not your first rodeo with a sandworm, but that doesn't make the experience any less shitty. the real annoying part is being in the waiting room again. this could take ages. you're number 9,998,383,750,000 and they're serving number 3 right now. you trick the guy next to you and steal his ticket (number 4) but he's not too pleased about that, so that didn't work.

a long time sitting here it is, then.

movie ends, credits roll.

for reference, that was 1988. winona ryder was 15 when they were filming in 1987 so while lydia doesn't have a confirmed age, i think we can safely assume that she was the same age as winona at the time.

36 years later, it's 2024. or 34 years later, it's 2022. we don't know the exact year because while bob's in memoriam credits scene says 2024 and all the interviews talk about how 36 years have passed in universe as well, there's this other one tiny detail.

jeremy's death passport says he died on march 11, 1999. jane butterfield says he died "23 years ago," putting the movie in 2022. they did film it in 2022 so the math is mathing correctly there. given that the in memoriam scene was more of a joke and jeremy's passport is a canon prop in the movie, i'd say 2022 is the canon year the movie is set in. (small sidenote; the passport also has the roman numerals DCLXVI which is 666. cute detail i loved it)

in the sequel, beetlejuice says lydia has been ignoring him for 30 years. i always thought that was curious because outside of this claim, they always specify how many years exactly have passed since. he doesn't say 34 or 36, he says 30. and for his degree of obsession (and the fact that he remembers exactly how many times he's watched The Exorcist) i think he would be counting even the days so i think he did really mean 30 years. so this would mean at least 4 years passed between getting sent back to the waiting room and the beginning of his stalking.

AND NOW that we established all that, we are finally getting to the answer to the question, "when and how did this all start?"

so okay, he spent a while in the waiting room. a lot of time to think. probably replaying the events at the deetzes' in his head over and over, how he got here, where he fucked up, what's he gonna do once he gets out. cursing the maitlands for ruining his plan when he was soooo fucking close. wondering what ever happened to lydia deetz.

lydia deetz, the young girl who told him she wanted to die.

...

is she alright?

i don't think he's capable of feeling guilt, but we can probably argue that he's not entirely heartless. what she said about how she wanted to "get in" must've stuck with him from the way he reacted when she dropped that bomb. she never showed up in the waiting room so he knows she didn't follow through with that. still, he used a vulnerable young girl for his own selfish gain. ironically enough, he knows exactly how that feels, because he also got tricked into marriage and got used for someone else's gain. the difference being that he dealt with that shit with an axe.

much much much to think about for mr. juice.

after years of ruminating in that waiting room, he's finally out and back to the regular day to day afterlife. definitely gets chewed out by juno, maybe forced to do community service or labor or what have you, he basically just needs to clean up his act now. this freelancing shit is becoming more trouble than it's worth anyway.

he's still wondering about lydia deetz. should he check in on her? maybe he should, he's too curious now.

at this point, lydia is now about 19-21 and in college. maybe he manages to sneak into the model one time she's back home for the holidays or something. and oh my god would you look at that, what a beautiful young woman she's grown into. she's radiant. she's happy. she's no longer that gloomy suicidal kid he met in the attic. seems like what she said about the deetzes and the maitlands sharing the house did come true after all.

that's nice. very sweet. good to know.

maybe he wonders if she remembers him and tries to get her attention somehow, give her a little scare for old times sake or whatever. for a brief moment it seems like she saw something and her expression changes, but she shrugs it off and continues on chatting with her two sets of parents. no such luck.

oh well. curiosity sated! and beetlejuice goes back home and doesn't return.

until the next time he returns.

and he keeps coming back to check in on her, telling himself he's just making sure that she hasn't killed herself or something. and he's not above admitting that with every year that passes, she keeps getting more beautiful. and to think they almost got married, huh.

he constantly tries to get her to notice him somehow, and sometimes she almost does, but ultimately he never really succeeds beyond making her do a double take. very rarely she does catch a glimpse of him. he's seen her mutter to herself that she's just seeing things and she seems a bit frightened every time this happens, but there's nothing to fear, honey, it's just good ol' beetlejuice. he won't lie, he gets a bit of a rush every time and it makes his dead heart beat faintly. he's gotten this far, he can't just stop now. in his mind, this has become their little private game of cat and mouse, where the mouse ignores the cat. but aren't they cute? he thinks they're cute. this is not creepy at all!

before he realizes, he's already learned everything about her. he knows about richard and even watched their wedding from afar like a loser. he knows she gave birth to a healthy baby girl named astrid. he knows they have a blast on halloween. halloween is lydia's favorite holiday, and his too. sometimes he can't help but see the three of them happy together and think it could've totally been him. even if he and richard are nothing alike (in fact could not be more opposite) and the circumstances of their unholy wedding were nothing short of grim and a farce. but in his mind, he's starting to convince himself otherwise.

maybe it's his jealousy speaking, but lydia doesn't seem to be that happy with richard despite everything. even though richard is like, the perfect guy. then one day his suspicions are proven correct: neither of them knows why it happened, but after having a long and emotional talk (that he watched with a bucket of popcorn) they decide to get a divorce. he pumps his fist, feeling victorious for some reason. sure he's a little sadistic at times, but why is this giving him so much glee?

the divorce is hard on lydia's kid, who was always more attached to her father, but they still spend a lot of time together. sometimes the three of them, since richard and lydia kept things amicable after the divorce. lydia tries to move on and see other people, but each relationship fails before it even starts. mostly because she keeps holding back and so fails to connect with anyone else, but also sometimes because, well, he can't help himself but to scare them away from her from time to time. it's fun. in his mind, he's just being protective of her, as a gentleman should for a lady.

then richard dies. fell into a piranha infested river from the looks of it (he saw him at immigration one day, don't ask what he was doing around there, force of habit after constantly making sure lydia hasn't killed herself yet.) it's devastating for both lydia and astrid, straining their relationship even more for the next few years as they both try to cope with the loss. the shock proves to be too much for lydia, so she goes to a survivors retreat to work through her trauma, both from richard's death and "unresolved feelings."

then lydia, at her most vulnerable, meets rory.

beetlejuice was able to clock him immediately. a textbook manipulative opportunist, he himself knows the tactics very well. swoop in to "help" someone in a vulnerable position, pull the wool over their eyes and begin taking control so you can get what you want out of that person.

he wouldn't admit it, but this really irks beetlejuice. you know when you see someone who reminds you of the worst parts of yourself, so you despise them? yeah. he's been there, and he's also been him.

but rory is somehow even worse than beetlejuice. see, rory is her manager, and boy does he manage to get on his nerves. he takes her phone. he controls what medication she takes. he blames and guilt trips her about every mishap that HE causes, making himself look like her benevolent savior and making her feel like she would be lost without him, confusing her with his psychobabble. on top of all that, he's forcing her to do this hacky show called Ghost House where she "hunts ghosts" or whatever. the houses he's been helping newly-deads with in his day job as a bio-exorcist (now with a fleet of employees,) she's "hunting" those ghosts now. it's so dumb. it never works. beetlejuice doesn't even know what the hell she's doing, she's phoning it in most of the time and she knows she's become a sellout. what happened to that "strange and unusual" girl who stood up for her ghost friends when those suits wanted to profit off of them back in winter river?

he needs to bring that back. he's the only one who can.

in his mind, beetlejuice has already rewritten the events that transpired. in his mind, lydia has been his wife this entire time, it's just, y'know, one of those open long distance relationships and she doesn't always remember him, but that's okay. in his mind, they share a psychic bond that allows her to sense his presence or see him in her dreams from time to time. he's got nothing to be jealous about, because other men can't compare. no one else can match what they have.

sure, part of him knows he's lying to himself a little bit. but he's already clung to this idea; these past 30 years wouldn't make sense otherwise. he's in love with lydia deetz. this isn't insane of him to say at all. and if it is, well, you know what they say, love makes you do batshit crazy things.

it's not that complicated, no matter what they say you'll never meet another me it's not that difficult to get my head around i'll never meet another you

the end

don't trick me into writing a fanfic again

[0mg-bird]

Lover’s Rock~ S. Reid

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Summary: Spencer isn’t the only one that stands out in the crowd, but maybe that’s a good thing, because that’s what leads him to you.

Warnings: I didn’t really proof read, I’ll do it later lol. 18+ content towards the end. Um Reid is such a dweeb and adorable???? Fluff, mentions of alcohol and embarrassment. Reader is so twee (can we bring twee back or no?) idk she makes questionable fashion choices.

Really, this wasn’t your thing.

The bar scene, the club dresses all the girls where, the high heels and the whole game of cat and mouse that all the guys want to play. But you’re here, you made an effort to appease your best friends who claim you have no social life.

The entire night so far, they watched you strike out with the guys they motioned over because in their mind, you’re desperate and lonely and lame.

Okay, maybe that’s more of your headspace than theirs, but they’ve been offering you pity glances this whole time.

You’ve made a decision a while ago that maybe there was no romance out there for you. You were just born with some aspect that made normal, sane guys physically run away, and maybe that’s fine. You were really good on your own. And it never did feel right when you had a guy, if it didn’t feel like the movies, it wasn’t worth it.

Right?

Okay, maybe you should settle, at some point, you’ll be too old to marry and you’ll just keep working, with no real life and take care of Shelly, your goldfish. Maybe it won’t be perfect, but it’ll be someone to share things with.

You let out a huff and watch the ice melt in your drink, not bothering to smile when your friend tells you to brighten up.

Normally, you’re a ray of sunshine, but something about getting rejected four consecutive times is raining on your parade.

An entire bar full of happy people in their element, and it’s just you, sticking out like a sore thumb, especially when your friends go dance with a few guys they hit it off with.

Too busy looking at the buckle on the ankle strap of your heel, you are sinking somewhere in your mind, to a place where you aren’t listening to cheap song lyrics of and realizing that table is stickier than you thought.

“Where’s Reid?”

“Reid.”

“Spencer!” Penelope smacks his shoulder, pulling him from the trance of his eyes on the book pages.

He looks up from the corner booth, seeing his team has returned with drinks.

“Are you seriously reading right now?” Morgan criticizes, placing a beer in front of the younger agent.

Spencer doesn’t know why he does this, beer tastes like a plowed hay field in his opinion. But he takes the drink in gratitude and before he can explain that he was just trying to finish the Russian publishing of ‘Crime and Punishment’, Morgan rips the book from his hands and tosses it to Emily for safe keeping.

“I- what was that for?” Spencer questions with a unjust squeak, feeling rather sad.

“Look around, kid, do you see how many fine ladies are here? You don’t need to be sitting here with your nose between the pages of Little Women.” Morgan states as a matter of fact.

“Yeah, nobody puts baby in the corner.” Penelope agrees.

With an airy scoff, Spencer looks to the other members for help, but they all seem to side with Derek.

He gains a defeated frown.

Spencer didn’t want to be here in the first place, now he’s being forced out into the public to socialize. There has to be a law against this, he knows there’s not because he knows everything, but he is certainly going to try and create one.

“Oh come on, Spence, why don’t you try to get a date?” JJ asks, meaning well, but the laugh that comes from Emily makes him want to recoil.

“C’mon, I’ll help you.” Morgan offers, pulling him from the booth seat.

“Yeah, that never really works well when you try to be my wingman, you usually end up with all the phone numbers.” Spencer claims, pressing his lips into a line.

But like some mock savior, Morgan stands behind Reid as they wait by the bar.

“What about her?” Morgan would point out.

To which Reid would respond with some variation of ‘she’s too much’ or ‘she definitely has a boyfriend three times my size’.

After fifteen minutes of this back and forth, Morgan is seriously regretting he forced the hermit out of his shell.

And that’s when a rowdy group finally leaves and clears the path of vision to you.

Still sat at a high table with one leg crossed over the other, you wiggle your foot as you doodle on a drink napkin.

Reid misses whatever Morgan says, and in that air of silence, the agent follows the vision.

“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere.” Derek chuckles, clapping Reid on the shoulder. “She’s pretty. Go talk to her.”

“What?” Reid looks away. “No, no, I don’t want to disturb her.”

You let out a very bored sigh.

Derek’s brows furrow. “I know you’re some boy genius but you really are dumb sometimes. Everything about that girl is screaming ‘put me outa my misery’.”

Spencer tilts his head slightly, watching you rub your eye and then frown at the way you smudged your already smudged eye liner.

“Okay, maybe you’re right.” He nods. “But…what do I say?”

Derek grins. “Compliment her, ask if she wants another drink, strike up a conversation. It’s easy, man.”

Spencer gets an uneasy feeling in him, but he still braves through it. “Easy for you, maybe.” He mumbles before running a hand through his hair and takes a step towards you.

“Go get her, tiger!” Morgan encourages.

When he returns to the team with the happy news, Penelope asks if Spencer’s gonna do good.

“Oh, definitely not, we’ll be lucky if he doesn’t trip over his own feet on the way over there.” Derek answers, laughing.

But Spencer makes it to you without a stumble, yet his whole plan leaves his mind when he gets to you.

You’re gorgeous, too pretty for him.

“Nice legs.”

Did he just say that?

You look up at him upon hearing his voice, your wide eyes confused.

“I’m sorry?” You question, not sure if you heard this stranger correctly.

He’s a rather handsome stranger.

“No- I mean I like your legs- tights! Not your legs, you have nice legs of course but that’s not- your tights are nice- cool! Different?”

Oh god, he should just walk away now. He’s already messed this whole thing up and surely you think he’s an idiot.

While he’s got an embarrassed look on his face, you look down at the red lace tights you wear under your skirt, something your friends questioned as a fashion choice.

“You really like them?” You ask, voice soft to his ears.

He stops his rambling.

“Yeah, of course I do, I think they’re cool.” He smiles softly.

You can’t help but grin bashfully.

“Every guy I’ve talked to tonight thought they were a little weird, but that’s okay, I kinda like weird.” You admit, watching as he shakes his head.

“People say my socks are weird all the time, don’t feel bad.” He comforts, pulling the material of his pants up so you can see his mismatched socks with funky colors and prints on them.

“Those are cool.” Your approval eases him, giving him just enough reassurance that you aren’t going to scream for help in the next two minutes.

“I’m Dr. Spencer Reid- sorry, force of habit, uh, just Spencer. I-I’m Spencer.” He introduces with the smallest of wave.

Still smiling more than you have the entire night, you greet him. He repeats your name like it has some special meaning, and you’ve never loved the sound of it more.

“I was going to get a drink, what are you having?” He asks, looking at your sweating glass. “Vodka soda? Cherry sour?”

You blush. “It’s actually a shirley temple…I just ate all the cherries out of it already.”

Without hesitation, he nods. “Okay, I’ll be back.”

He leaves you at your table, and then your brief moment of sunshine is clouded once more by doubt. What if he doesn’t come back? What if he drugs your drink and then you wake up in an alley somewhere, missing your wallet and phone and your tights that he thinks are so cool?

This was a bad idea. Dating isn’t for you. He seemed so nice and he’s so attractive but that should have been your first red flag and-

Oh. He’s coming back.

With two shirley temples.

He places them on the table and waits for you to grab one, then he grabs the other and takes a sip.

“You mind if I sit?” He asks.

Feeling a little silly for assuming he was out to maim you, you nod.

“I seriously doubt my friends remember I’m over here, so feel free to stay.” You joke at your expense.

He sits across from you, sparing a glance over his shoulder at his team who make it very obvious that they’re staring.

You study his profile, a shaggy haircut that falls across his forehead, all tousled in an effortless way. His jaw line is defined, round brown eyes that flick back to you. When he catches you looking, he grins once more.

It’s never been so…easy, having a ‘get to know you’ conversation. Questions come without second thoughts, you find yourself laughing, actually laughing.

Playing with your straw, you try to calm your facial expressions, your cheeks are starting to hurt from beaming so much.

“So, Dr. Reid, huh?” You ask, making him let out a small huff of embarrassment.

“That’s what the PhD’s say, yeah.” He scratches the back of his neck, suddenly feeling really dorky about his immense amount of education.

It’s not dorky to you. Every guy you’ve talked to tonight dropped out of community college because ‘it didn’t align with their career paths’ of selling protein smoothies or working in some ‘underground’ record store.

But here Spencer is, explaining he’s on the behavioral analysis unit for the FBI and he tells you about all the degrees he has. All you can think about as he talks of universities and the academy is, knowledge is such a sexy look on a guy. Sure, you’ve never really liked the underachieving stoners, but usually you’ve been with guys who seem to say “you like school?” when you talk about working towards your Masters degree.

“Wow.” Is all you can say for a moment, clearly shocked and, well, impressed. “I really wasn’t expecting that.”

“That’s what most people say.” He nods, picking the cherry in his drink out by the stem and offering it to you.

By your thankful eyes batting up at him, he’s tempted on going behind the bar and bringing you all the maraschino cherries they have. He quickly turns the conversation around to focus on you so he can focus on something other than the stained color on your lips.

“What about you? What do you do?” He asks.

Compared to his job, yours seems too normal, too mundane. You almost want to avoid the question, never once have you been unsatisfied with your career but now you can’t help it. What if Spencer doesn’t like you because you don’t work for NASA?

That’s ridiculous, because to Spencer, your job makes his adoration grow.

“Oh, I’m just a teacher.” You say, fiddling with a stem in your mouth.

Spencer gains a soft smile. “You could never just be a teacher, teacher’s are important. Well, unless you’re a sucky teacher.”

His joke earns a bubbly giggle and he decides he’d like to hear that sound forever. It’s moments like this that he’s glad to have an eidetic memory.

“I don’t think I’m a sucky teacher so that’s good, my students seem to like me.” You state, pushing your hair behind your ear and dropping the knotted stem onto a napkin.

Spencer finds himself leaning a little closer, body naturally gravitating to your pull. “What do you teach?” He asks.

“I work for my schools gifted children program, so I basically teach kid geniuses advanced core curriculum because they’ve tested out of their normal classes.” You chuckle, oblivious to the way Spencer’s heart warms.

He remains quiet for a bit too long, just staring at you with an honest look, one that makes you feel like you’re turned inside out and bared for him. The panic rises again, you think you must have said something to ruin it.

“I know it’s nothing special-” You begin to say.

“No.” He interrupts, a sure tone. “I-I think it’s great. Really, that’s not an easy job.”

Deep breath out, you’re put at ease.

“I constantly have imposter syndrome, these kids are twelve and bringing up philosophies and mathematical formulas I have to go home and study because I haven’t even learned them yet. Honestly, sometimes I don’t even think they need me there.” You joke lightly, half meaning it but masking that slight insecurity by finishing off your drink.

“They need you.” Spencer assures, an expression showing he’s never been more sure of something. “Believe me, you’re probably the only person they see in a school day that understands them.”

Brows creased, you shake your head, holding his rather intimidating gaze for such puppy dog eyes.

“What makes you so sure?” You question.

Spencer takes in a breath. “Because I know what it’s like to be twelve years old and telling a grown adult about Fermat’s Last Theorem.”

Sometimes, the world has a funny way of putting two people together. For years, you’ve wandered through life and on a random Friday night, feeling a little flushed from the Summer air, here is Spencer Reid, the man of your dreams.

Your friends left some time ago after you assured them you were fine to be left at the place you were just complaining about being. You don’t mind being left with Spencer, in fact, you’re dreading the time you have to go home because it means this moment is over.

“I really would like to live in New York.” You exclaim, somehow have fallen into the rabbit hole of dreams for the future.

“New York’s really cool!” He agrees. “Did you know that they have a homicide rate of 4.48 percent right now? It’s been declining since the nineties.”

You must make some sort of surprised face because his eyes go wide and he quickly tried to recover his odd statement.

“Sorry, my job isn’t really full of happy statistics. But mostly we just find dead prostitutes in alleys in New York.”

His blushed cheeks make your heart flutter in its beats.

“I’m glad I’m not a prostitute.” You giggle, making him chew his bottom lip for a moment.

“Yeah, I’m glad you’re not either.”

By the time the team gets their coats back on with the intention of heading home, they look across the room to see their quirky doctor friend is partaking in very friendly body language.

“Oh my god, look at him.” Emily laughs. “He’s finally using that big IQ of his.”

Penelope, who comes to hold onto Morgan’s arm, grins rather proudly. “It’s like a butterfly finally coming out of its cocoon. It’s…beautiful, actually.”

Derek laughs down at her. “I think that last long island ice tea was a bad idea. Come on, baby, let’s get you home.”

“Good luck, my fine friend.” She calls in the general direction of you and Spencer, but the two of you don’t notice.

JJ ties her hair up and starts to take a few steps forward.

“Where are you going?” Penelope questions.

“To let him know we’re leaving?”

“No!” The team seems to exclaim, all shouting that she cannot disturb the moment Spencer worked rather hard to get to.

She just holds her hands up in defense, then follows after Emily as they leave the bar.

Spencer of course notices the way Prentiss leaves him with an encouraging thumbs up. It makes his get a little bashful, but he nods a goodbye and watches the door shut once more. His attention is brought back to his hand on the table, well, more to the way your pinky brushes against his. You continue to talk about mutual interests and what your apartment in New York would look like, a slight ramble to you that shows you’re very aware of the slight contact.

With some kind of placebo courage he can’t even blame on alcohol, he lets his fingers crawl between yours like that’s where they belong.

The team would definitely laugh at this teenage display, but to the both of you, it’s the perfect amount of reassurance, soft enough to not be too scary.

The attraction is there, Spencer forces himself to profile it just so his negative thoughts can’t prove him wrong. You’re smiling at every word, your eyes seem to stay dilated and focused on his, and he isn’t sure if you even realize the way your heel brushes his ankle every so often.

His profile, often never wrong, is what helps him reach across the slight space to tuck your hair behind your ear so casually as he tells you about his minuscule music taste.

After a few flirty comments, you force yourself yo look away from him just so you can het your breathing under control. Upon this action, you read the watch on his wrist and a frown sets on your lipstick stained lips.

“I should go home before it’s too late to walk.” You sigh, not wanting this moment to end.

He nods. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Those round eyes he’s starting to really adore look up at him and you chew your lip, almost like you’re waiting for him to do something. Say something.

It takes him entirely too long to figure out what to do. Morgan would be ashamed.

“C-Can I walk you home?” He asks in a rush and in eagerness.

You nod like that’s the best idea you’ve ever heard.

That’s how it leads to you leaning against him like it’s something you do often, walking in step as you ramble on and on about what you have to do to get your classroom ready for the new school year. He listens without annoyance like most guys would, then tells you about books he has that he thinks you might enjoy, books he could part with so you could give them to the students whose reading levels are above what the school provides.

He’s so caring and considerate, making sure he walks closest to the street, lets you be off in your own world and makes sure you don’t run into anything as you constantly gaze up at him. All the way to your building and up the stairs to your apartment door, the two of you are as comfortable with each other like two old friends would be.

That’s what makes your head spin. You just met Spencer and already feel like he’s been in your life for hundreds of years.

You pull your keys from your purse, you unlock the door but don’t make a move to open it.

“I’m really, really, happy that I met you.” You whisper to him as he slightly crowds your space in the door way.

“I am too.” He agrees, heart beating a little faster as your hand presses gently to his chest.

Don’t be crazy, you just met her, she doesn’t want a stranger trying to kiss her, tell her good night, call her tomorrow, maybe you can plan for something next weekend-

His thoughts don’t stand a chance when you wrap your fingers around his tie and gently tug him to your lips.

It’s smooth and warm and has your eyes shutting and your lungs exhaling. His gentle hand cradles your face while the other flexes against your hip.

It just feels so…

So right.

With the slight tilt of your head, the goodnight kiss deepens, you’re molded against him.

His lips part, coaxing yours to do the same, and the feeling of your tongue against his has you slightly teetering backwards. You lean against the door for support, hands roaming into his hair.

You’ve been wanting to run your hands through it all night.

He’s desperate in his movements, like he’s a starved man and you’re enjoying every second of it. His thumb runs over your jaw, you’re pushing away any space between you.

When you decide you’re going to pass out from the lack of oxygen, you pull away, sucking your bottom lip to savor the taste. Spencer still holds your face in his large hands and matches your shallow pants.

It’s all so much. You’re hot, brain a little foggy, but still so sure of this situation.

And you soon find yourself saying something you’ve never ever said after just meeting a guy.

“Do you want to come inside?”

Spencer seriously thinks he misheard you.

“Yeah- yes. Yes, I do.” He nods.

A laugh escapes your lips, one he swallows up as he embraces you once more, trying to help you open the door. His arm around your waist makes sure you don’t stumble and fall as the two of you finally get inside.

He looks around the space. “I like your apartment, it’s nice.”

“Thank you.” You mumble against his lips, pulling at your jean jacket and tossing it to the couch.

It’s dark, causing you to back into a side table. The both of you laugh, but neither of you bother to reach for the light switch.

You guid him towards your bedroom, pushing him through the ajar door. The open window leaves the room painted in a low light, the breeze is cool as you clumsily fall onto the mattress with him.

“I never do this.” You state, a huff leaving your lips as he rolls you onto your back.

“I don’t either.” He agrees, mouth wandering down your jaw to your neck.

You fiddling hands make a home in his hair. “Like I really don’t do this. I don’t even go to bars, let alone take home strange men- not that you’re strange. But don’t think I am a casual hookup girl, because I’m not, I just- there’s a connection, right? I’m not alone in this?”

He pulls away, looking down at you with a loopy grin. “You’re rambling, that’s a sign of nervousness.”

“I am nervous!” You exclaim with a breathy laugh. “You’re just…you’re really great.”

His thumb traces your bottom lip. “You’re really great too.” He whispers. “But we don’t have to do anything.”

“No!” You say a little too boldly. “I mean, no, no I want this. Do you want this?”

With a nod, he assures you. “I want this too.”

Maybe you should be more shy and self conscious about this, but when he’s being so kind, all your nervousness leaves. The two of you stumble through the awkward bits with laughter and jokes, and it makes you realize that something so serious doesn’t have to be so uniform.

Really, you’re having more fun than you’ve ever had.

“Spencer?” You gasp, dangerously close to falling off the bed at how the two of you have rolled around.

“Yeah?” He asks, head buried in your neck, trying not to get too ahead of himself as he continues his deep pace between your legs.

“You’re kinda pulling my hair.”

Immediately he moves his hand, apologetic.

Hands dragging up his chest, you try to shimmy away from the mattress ledge. Spencer notices the tragedy that’s about to strike, opting to back off of you completely so you can readjust.

You gasp at the loss of contact. “A little warning next time would be appreciated.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He stammers, gripping you in a feverish way, mouth back to yours.

You don’t exactly know how you ended up on top, but you look at him slightly frightened eyes.

“Is this a no?” He questions, only concerned with making you comfortable.

He’s the complete opposite of selfish, he proved that the second he started you off with his tongue against your core.

“No, not if you like this? I just…I don’t know if I’m good at this.”

He nods in understanding. “Okay, no problem.”

You protest as he goes to move you. “Can I try? Will-will you help me?”

God, he could marry you.

“Yeah, of course sweetheart.” He whispers, kissing you gently.

The butterflies in your stomach are all twitter pated.

Or maybe you’re just extremely turned on.

Spencer is a great teacher, it’s you who jumps the gun at things.

“There you go, angel, slow.” He breathes in your ear, finger tips pressing into your hips as you slowly push down, letting his tip enter you. “Just go really slow, okay?”

You try to do as he says, easing him into you slowly, but by some urge to rush satisfaction, you sink all the way onto him without warning.

“Fuck! That wasn’t slow.” He grits, a hoarse moan escaping from the back of his throat, his grip on you almost bruising.

“S-sorry.” You try to say, but the sheer pressure you feel at this sudden angle has you shuddering and crying out softly. “I’m an overachiever.” You try to joke.

“Holy shit, you want an A+ or something?” He chuckles, trying to calm himself down, running through mathematical formulas in his head so he doesn’t finish just like this.

“Spence, I need- it’s a lot, I need-” You whine out, not having the heart to feel embarrassed for sounding so needy.

“I know, I know. Fuck, do you have any idea how good you feel?” He questions, swallowing hard as he guides your hips forward slightly.

“I can’t really think at all when you’re sitting in my cervix right now.” You claim, quickly overwhelmed by pleasure as you find a rhythm against him.

Sucking on your throat, he mutters something you don’t care to listen to.

“This is- is it supposed to be this good?” You moan, trying not to dig your finger nails into his shoulders.

“I think we just fit perfectly.”

With each movement, you become more comfortable and confident, soon that friendly softness is replaced by lustful roughness. Through it all, Spencer remains caring, even when you tell him he can be a little rough with you.

Never in your sex life have you wanted more and more, even when it finishes.

Even after the two of you can’t find the strength to pull any more orgasms from each other, you lay beside each other, Spencer hasn’t bothered to pull out of you yet, perhaps he’s too spent.

“So.” You clear your throat, tracing his features. “How do you want to play this?”

He hums, dragging his fingers up and down your side. “What do you mean?”

“Guys usually leave after this stuff, right?”

His brows furrow, anxiety comes to ripple through him. “Do you want me to leave?”

Staring at his tired eyes, you shake your head. “No, I want you to stay. Forever. I’m thinking about chaining you to the headboard.”

He chuckles. “I’ll save you the effort, I will gladly stay.”

A sweet smile is returned to him.

At some point, the two of you clean up and fall asleep the second the sheets are pulled over you.

Spencer is convinced it’s all a dream until he wakes up to the sun warm over his skin. He rubs his blurry eyes and rolls over in the bed that is not his, met with your bare back. Slowly, he reaches for you, kissing your shoulder to rouse you.

His phone, still in the pocket of his discarded pants, rings again and again, forcing him to retrieve it in his boxers.

Of course it’s Hotch.

Of course he needs to get to the office. On a Saturday. After the night he just had.

“I should call the authorities, there’s a cute intruder in my room.” Your sleepy voice says from bed. “Oh wait…you are the authorities.”

He likes the way you can make yourself giggle.

“I have bad news.” He says, tracking down his clothes. “My boss just called me in.”

He hates the frown you have.

“That’s a very unfortunate thing.” You nod.

He buttons his pants, then slides his shirt on as he comes to your bedside.

“I should get going so I can go home and change.”

His warm hand presses to your cheek.

You turn to kiss his palm. “Is this goodbye?”

“No. Definitely no.” He assures. “I’ll call when I can, okay? Maybe we can get dinner or something?”

You could sigh heavenly at the way he’s just so dreamy.

“That sounds nice. I’d kiss you but I might have morning breath.” You smile.

He kisses you anyway.

And after leaving the team waiting in the round table room, he appears refreshed and in a very good mood.

He takes his seat, all eyes on him.

“Sorry I’m late, good morning.” He clears his throat.

“Good morning indeed.” Morgan chuckles, sliding him a cup of coffee.

“You okay, Reid?” Rossi asks, eyeing the agent.

“I’m great.” He smiles.

“Is that a hickey?” JJ exclaims, reveling in the way he quickly grabs for his neck, only to realize she’s joking.

“Real mature.” He mutters, knowing the entire day is going to be jokes made at his expense.

He doesn’t mind though, not when he knows his reward for all of this is you.

[leandra-kinard]

I'm in no way invalidating this post, as I assume it's US-centric. But it's a stark reminder how vastly different the work cultures are there and in Germany where I live and work.

Yes, you don't have to tell your boss everything, and in some instances it's a good idea to say less, but if you have any kind of long-term illness or condition, it actually is a good idea to talk about it with your boss (and HR + the work's council, if you have one). Good employers in Germany will then do their best to accommodate for your needs so they can keep you and make things work out for you. They tend to have a more long-term mindset where they want to help the employee get better or find better ways to be a happy (and yes, with that productive) employee.

That's not always the case either; especially internationally operating corporations here are a bit more cut-throat, so it's a good thing to know the company's mindset well, but it's a tendency.

Also, there are actual laws that prohibit them from firing you for something like that. There are limits, for example if you're actually sick (off work) for too long repeatedly with no prospect of improvement that can be a just cause for termination, but the employer has the duty of proof in that instance. If they cannot prove that your absences are too detrimental to the company's well-being for them to tolerate it, you can sue for reinstatement or damages.

At my current company, I've been immensely lucky, because even for German standards the mentality there is extraordinarily understanding and supportive. When I told my boss that I was burned out and had to take a week or two off (on fully paid sick leave, mind you), he said "Two weeks might not be enough. Take as long as you need." So I took four.

I was in the process of switching departments, so I had a conversation with my next boss too and asked if I could work from home completely for a while. He seemed very understanding, and I then told him the whole story - because he also needed to have some kind of prospect and know how long it was gonna take etc - so I said I was in the process of being diagnosed for ADHD and that I just couldn't manage also having to go into the office.

Now that I have the diagnosis and will soon hopefully get my meds, there's that prospect, and we said for now, I was gonna come in one day a week (usually 2 is mandatory) for a while until I feel ready to be there two days again.

That was only possible because I explained what was going on with me; the transparency also gave the employer a positive outlook and a feeling of trust, and when your company's mentality is built on those kinds of values, it makes for a million times more pleasant AND productive working environment. I mean, just by how this all was handled I do feel very loyal to my company now. (I'd be stupid to leave, frankly, lol).

And from many other cases I know how they reacted too. A colleague had to stay at home because she had pregnancy complications - no problem. Another one sometimes has to leave early or work from home because she has frequent and heavy migraines. Sometimes people have to do the same because of something to do with their kids. Everyone is usually fully transparent about it and it really helps create an atmosphere of openness and trust.

TL;DR: Err on the side of caution, yes. But do inform yourself of your legal rights in your country, and the mechanisms in such situations. Suss out the company's approaches to various issues and know their policies. Sometimes, when the outside conditions are in your favor, being transparent about your situation can be the better choice.

Hey here is your friendly reminder to not tell your nice boss stuff.

I’m at the executive management level for my very small company and I have 4 people who report directly to me. I am a nice boss. I’m friendly with my employees, I treat them like professional adults, I actively try to create a positive work environment, and I mentor them and make sure they’re advancing in their careers. I do my best to shield them from the rest of management doing stupid shit. My employees like working for me.

The other day one of my employees came to ask if she could change her hours on Mondays. I said yes immediately because it’s helpful for me to know when she’s here and when she’s not, but as long as she gets her work done I don’t care when and where she does it. She then proceeded to tell me that it was so she could attend therapy and like … I will never use this information but … as a general rule don’t fucking do that.

Do not tell your employer shit about your mental or physical health except for the bare minimum needed to request a reasonable accommodation. Even your nice boss can fire you, even your nice boss can unfairly change your working conditions, and even your nice boss at some point is probably going to face pressure from their superiors.

I’m not saying don’t trust your boss with anything ever. I’m just saying that anytime you are in the workplace you need to keep your private information private. You can still have a good relationship with your boss. Your workplace can still be pleasant. But if it ever feels like disclosing private information is required in order to have a good relationship with your boss, please see that as a red flag.

[koobiie]

bestowing my highest honor as an artist to ffxv (drawing the characters in fun outfits)

thoughts under the cut

RREAAAGHHHH SO EXCITED TO BE DONE WITH THIS!!!!! it took me forevarrrr but i soldiered through as an act of love. now excuse me. yap time

OKAY SO the concept behind this was originally specific fashion subcultures for everyone!l ike noct emo ignis dark academia etc. but then decided i didnt want to pigeonhole it all and just freestyled outfits i thought would look nice on everyone

noct - i do think noct would still be emo-ish but also opt for comfy baggy stuff a lot. something you could just fall asleep in on the spot. note the details of bass pro shop shirt (of course) XV necklace, little moon + stars accents, carbuncle + fish keychains. i also wanted his metal band logo shirt to spell LUCIS but i forgor some letters but its not very readable anyways

ignis - ignit ooohghh ignos ignaurs. sorry i made him serve so much cunt it will happen again. i drew him first cause that kind of inspired this whole thing i love him so bad if i didnt draw it id explode. not much detail to note except his collar pins are like his double blade thingies

luna - lunaaa the concept was “clean girl aesthetic” idk if that happened but im actually really happy with how it came out! might be my favorite of the bunch just because she looks so pretty and happy. your honor she should have been able to just be a normal girl and just. chill

prompto - prompotoooo i had trouble picking his vibe!!! my first thought was techwear?? because weeheeeehee he loves tech and well... you know... but then i realized i didnt really like the look of anything i saw + it was so bulky and dark and serious for him! ending up going with some more youthful and baggy. i was considering something more loud and colorful but ended up not going with it. i feel like in canon he'd be too nervous to have such a flashy fit and would want to just look "cool" to fit in with the boys lol. itty bitty details here - chocobo keychain, pompompurin and bi miku buttons, and his lanyard is kings knight themed! i also thought it was funny to write LUCIS on his shirt like you know those shirts that just say BROOKLYN or TOKYO or SAN FRANCISCO and thats it. thats what its like

gladio - okay i know this is going to sound like a lie but im not horny for gladio like at all, hes my least favorite, i think he's just alright. but also i KNOW in my heart of hearts that he would LOVE being a leather daddy and so i had to make it happen. main detail to note here is that his tank top has the motifs of a cup noodle! i didnt know what else to add cause you know.. hes the cup noodle guy.. but also i didnt want it to be so in your face about it with a big as logo so kept it subtle!

(side note the leather daddy gave me an idea for a post where its like noct and prom go to a gay bar all nervous but then they run into gladio and its like "p: GLADIO YOURE GAY?" "n: nevermind that PLEASE dont tell ignis we snuck out" and then ignis walks up and theyre all like WHAT THE FUCK!!!! caption would be "the gang finds out theyre all bisexual." probably wont draw it but i think its very funny lol)

iris - iris my sweetheart.... definitely leaned into the scene vibes here and also that one image of the blonde emo anime girl. details here - of course the moogle big ass backpack and keychain (can you tell i love keychains), but also her buttons are an iris (the flower) and also a crown with hearts (haha symbolism)

anyways oh god i didnt mean to write an essay down here. usually i keep this in the tags but this time i just had Too Much To Say. can you tell i put a lot of thought and love into this . anwyays. *walks off into the sunset and fuckig dies*

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 27 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley is required to travel for a week, and both you and he are exhausted. He's hoping this will mean fewer deployments in the future, but in the present, he's going to need to remember where his responsibilities lie.

Warnings: Angst, adult language, lactation kink, body image, fluff, smut, DILF Roo

Length: 3900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Once again, your parents extended their stay to spend more time with Rose, but when they finally flew back to Maryland, it felt strange to be on your own with your daughter. You and Bradley fell into a regular routine once more, but it took him days before he came clean about being stressed out. When he got home late from work to find you on the couch feeding Rose, you could tell by the set of his shoulders that he'd had a long day.

"Can we talk about some things?" he asked, bending to untie his boots. You'd been wanting him to confide in you for days, but you were already exhausted again from the late night feedings and had pushed the comments Bradley made to Jake to the back burner.

"What's on your mind?" you asked, secretly pleased that he leaned down to give you a long, needy kiss, complete with his big hand on your neck, before kissing Rose as she ate. It had been a few days since you and he were intimate, and your body was already responding to him as he dropped down on the couch next to you.

"Can we just move to La Jolla? Nothing stresses me out when we have copious amounts of champagne and oral sex."

You laughed at his unexpected response as he ran his rough fingers along Rose's fuzzy hair. "Don't forget about the seafood platters."

"Sweetheart, I'll never forget about the seafood platters," he promised, turning to look at you as his head sank back against the couch. "Your mom and dad are serious about moving out here."

Your smile started to fade away. "Yeah, Roo. They are. And I thought you were pleased by that fact."

"I am." His brown eyes remained fixed on yours. "I am. I told you I was. I want them close, but not too close. Like, I don't want them next door where they can hear me call you my filthy little slut or something."

"Bradley," you said, laughing again as he took Rose in his hands to burp her.

"They don't need to know the ins and outs of how you call me Daddy while you're gagging on my cock either." He kissed the baby on her forehead. "Sorry, Nugget. I'll teach you one day how babies are made, and you'll probably cringe the whole time."

You sighed and reached for Bradley, cupping his jaw in your hand and stroking his mustache with your thumb. "My parents are seriously getting their house ready to sell. So just give it to me straight."

He nodded. "I don't want them over here all the time, okay? I love them, I really do, but they take over our house when they come. And even though we finished the attic so they could have a place to stay when they're here, Rosie can move her bedroom up there when she's older. So it wasn't a waste of time since the contractor saw your tits."

"It was a photo of my tits! I didn't just whip them out for him to see!" Now Bradley was laughing as you said, "It sounds like you're worried about having some boundaries if my parents become our new neighbors."

"Yes," he replied, nodding as you ran your fingers along his jaw. "That."

"I'm sure we can have a conversation with them and address all of your concerns." Rose seemed to be done burping, and you were treated to the view of Bradley cuddling your four month old against his chest. "Now, can you tell me what else made you have a bad day at work?"

"What makes you think I had a bad day?" he asked, placing soft kisses on Rose's cheek. "I could never have a bad day when I get to come home to my girls." You sighed as he ran his nose along her hair and inhaled deeply before he met your gaze. "Okay. It's not the end of the world, but Mav informed me that I need to take a trip to the Naval Airstation in Fort Worth. I don't really have any details yet."

"Okay," you replied softly, finally voicing what had been on your mind. "Well, maybe Rose and I can come with you for a few days? I can't remember exactly how much vacation time I have left, but it could be fun. And you did say the next trip should be for the three of us to enjoy together."

Bradley shrugged and immediately said, "Fort Worth in August? Baby Girl, it's going to be miserably hot. I know you, for some reason, miss the east coast humidity, but this is going to be gross. Ask Jake about it, he's from that ridiculous state."

You couldn't believe how quickly he shut it down. "It was just an idea," you mumbled, watching him snuggle the baby. "So you wouldn't have to miss Rose the whole time while you're away."

His head tipped back as he sighed. "I'm taking this new position so I can hopefully deploy less often and be here more later on. Even if I have to start working longer days, a week or two away from home is nothing compared to five months."

You bristled. "I understand that, Roo. We've talked about this so much. But maybe try to be a little bit more patient with the idea of my parents moving here so I can have a support system when you're busy?"

When you stood and rushed toward the bedroom, Bradley was right behind you, hand reaching out to grab your shoulder while he still held Rose tight. "Are you mad at me?"

Your stomach roiled with irritation, annoyance and disdain. You hated when you got like this, because he was the one who could bring out the best and also the worst in you. "I don't know."

-------------------------------

You were kind of quiet at home. Bradley hated it. You were a bit more vocal during sex, but that certainly didn't make him feel any better about the rest of it.

"I have my dates for Fort Worth," he informed you when he strolled in from work with some yellow flowers and a new book for Rose. Today was important to him. He wasn't sure you'd remember why, but he still wanted to acknowledge it.

"When?" you asked, continuing to make dinner while he looked around for the baby. "She's napping in her crib," you added, seemingly knowing he always wanted his daughter nearby.

"Second week of August," he replied. "So, pretty soon. But just for a week." You nodded as Bradley walked closer, and he realized what you were cooking. "Marry Me Rooster?"

"Yeah." Your voice was soft as you looked at him over your shoulder. You were also still wearing your khaki uniform, and he could tell you were tired. He was tired, too, but he wanted things to feel more natural around here again. He didn't want to accept that this was just how things would be now when the two of you were taking turns getting up with Rose all the time.

He wished he hadn't made such a fuss about your parents, because he really did love them, and it would be nice to have some help occasionally. And now he felt like you were continually annoyed with him, and he had to figure out a way to fix this.

Your voice broke into his thoughts. "It's kind of a special day?" 

You sounded unsure. Like you thought maybe he didn't remember. But a smile immediately found his lips, and he gestured to the flowers. He should have known you'd remember. You remembered everything. You just made him a seafood platter to celebrate Carole's birthday the other day.

"I proposed two years ago." You visibly relaxed at his words as you took the flowers in your hands. He stroked the diamond ring on your finger as he said, "I couldn't wait another minute after I found this in the storage unit. I needed you to wear it. I needed you to say yes." You melted into his arms, and he kissed your forehead. "Can I go ahead and propose something else right now?"

You nodded and hummed, lips brushing the scars on his neck. "I'm just happy you remembered."

"Sweetheart, I remember everything," he promised. "And I propose that we plan a trip for the three of us before the year is over. We can go anywhere you and the Nugget want."

Your eyes lit up as he cupped your perfect cheek in his hand. "I have so many ideas, Roo."

"I knew you would. Can I make another proposal?" When you raised one eyebrow, he whispered, "How about we mess around before Rose wakes up?"

He was already wrapping his arms around you, turning you toward the hallway when you said, "But what about dinner?"

"We'll be fast," he replied confidently, turning off the stove burner.

"You're never fast! You like to linger!"

"It's a new era, Baby Girl. The mom and dad era. I'll learn how to be quick so we can finish before she wakes up."

This was the closest thing to a true quickie Bradley had experienced in a long time. Maybe ever. You were pushed up against the wall just inside the bedroom, belt jingling with your pants down around your thighs. He was going hard at a nice, steady pace with his hand inside your bra. Your warm milk dripped between his fingers and along his palm as he whimpered. 

"Oh, I love this so much," he whined as his other fingers found your clit. "I'm not happy about making this quick. I might need more later."

He could already hear Rose getting restless in the nursery down the hallway, her soft cries ramping up as Bradley slammed his cock into his wife. He wanted to make sure he got you off before he was done, but then you went and said something so hot, he knew he wasn't going to be able to hold on much longer. 

"I could always nurse you later if you want."

When he came, his vision flooded with dizzying color. Bradley lapped your milk from his hand, moaning your name as his hips eventually slowed. Rose was wailing now as you bent down to pull your pants up, cum dripping down your inner thighs as you looked at him with a little grin.

"I take it you're interested in my offer."

"Absolutely," he rasped, pulling his pants up so he could go say hi to his daughter. "If I ever say no to your tits, something is definitely wrong, Baby Girl. That would be your cue to take me out back and finish me off." You laughed when he said, "Happy engagement anniversary. I'll go take care of the Nugget."

-----------------------------

"When's the wedding?" you asked Jake as you dropped your tray next to his at lunch. He was eating the most delicious looking burger and a slice of pizza, and your soup and salad looked pitiful next to them. Seemingly no matter what you did, you'd stopped losing weight since the baby was born, and right now you were so exhausted, you couldn't even think about starting an exercise regimen.

"We've been engaged less than a month," Jake drawled, shoving some of the accompanying fries into his mouth. "Maybe some of us can wait a little longer to get hitched than your husband could, Angel." You rolled your eyes dramatically at him, but you were fighting a smile. "I'm trying my best to make sure that everything is in order for Jeremiah, if I'm being honest."

"Like what?" you asked, blowing on a spoonful of your soup.

Jake heaved a deep sigh, dragging a fry through ketchup. "He already calls me 'dad'. His speech was delayed, but it was still one of his first words, probably because I was around so much. I want to make sure Cat's ex doesn't get any rights, and if that means I need to hire another legal team before we get married, then so be it."

Tears stung your eyes as you patted his cheek gently. You knew you were lucky that you and Bradley were together and that he would do anything to take care of his child, but right now you were just so happy for Jeremiah. "He's such a sweet kid, Jake. And you love him so much."

"I do," he replied before taking an enormous bite out of his burger. You let him chew in silence while you picked at your lunch. Right now, you really wished Bradley was here, but the chances of him showing up were slim when he was out shadowing Maverick again. He was leaving in a few days for Texas, and you were feeling pretty emotional. It would just be you and Rose at home for a whole week by yourselves.

"Well, if you're looking for a nice venue, I know a good parking lot."

Jake barked out a laugh. "There's too much sentimental Bradshaw bullshit in that parking lot. No way I'd be allowed to get married there."

Then Cat showed up, and Jake's attention immediately shifted to her. You poked your salad around on your plate, wondering why you were so damn tired. You still had four more hours of work to get through before you had to pick Rose up and make dinner. Maybe you could just get pizza. But you shouldn't. But it sounded so good as you watched Jake eat his. But your hips and belly were already so big, you couldn't let yourself.

Your afternoon was filled with checking code that someone in Annapolis had entered, and they'd done a really shitty job. When you left your office, your eyes were tired, and you could feel yourself caving. You ordered a pizza and picked it up on your way home with Rose. Then you ate half of it on the couch while you fed her. And when you were done, you really wanted to cry, because you didn't know why you couldn't control yourself right now.

"I'm starving," Bradley groaned when he walked in. "You got pizza?" he asked, shoving two slices stacked up on top of each other into his mouth and moaning. Then he dropped down onto the couch and polished them off while you switched Rose to your other side. "I need to remember to pack my dress blues for Fort Worth."

"Why?"

Bradley shrugged and reached for the next slice. "Apparently, there's some sort of reception for the aviators that are selected for Top Gun in the fall. I don't know how much sway I'll have, but I'm really hoping I can pick some good ones for the next generation of the program since I'm aging out."

"You're not aging out, Roo!" you gasped. "You chose a different career trajectory!" 

"I mean..."

"Stop. You're not old. Don't even try to tell me you're old."

"I'll be forty soon."

"You're thirty-eight."

"That's almost forty."

"You look like a DILF."

He reached for the last slice of pizza, folded it up and ate it while he reached for Rose. Like usual, she curled up on her father. Her features looked so much like his, but he was always the first one to argue with you about that, so you said nothing while he chewed up his food.

"I need you to help me pack for hot as hell Texas. I'm thinking just shorts besides my flight suits and uniforms?"

"I'll help you as soon as Rose goes to sleep for the night."

Bradley took the reins for the rest of the evening while you tried not to fall asleep before the baby. That was much easier said than done, but at least Bradley supervised tummy time while Tramp licked Rose, and then he gave her a bath. He read bedtime stories and changed her into pajamas so you didn't have to, gently setting her in her crib before joining you where you sat in bed yawning.

"You okay?" he asked, brushing his lips along your cheek before heading to the closet to start pulling out clothes to pack.

"Yeah. I just wish I didn't order the pizza, because it's empty calories, and it probably made me feel worse and more exhausted in the long run."

"But it was delicious," he muttered, piling up some of his favorite tropical print shirts. "Be honest, how many of these do you think I'll need?"

You snorted. "Unless every night is happy hour at the Copacabana, probably none. But knowing you, I'd pack at least two."

"See, you understand," he muttered with a smile as you chose two of your favorites and handed them to him. It was strange watching him load things into a duffle bag for something other than a deployment or special mission. You knew exactly how long he'd be gone. You knew it was just for a week and that he could FaceTime you and Rose whenever he wanted to, but it still felt like you were sending him away.

"We're going to miss you." 

He immediately tossed the bag onto the floor and joined you in bed. "Don't cry, Baby Girl," he whispered, swiping at tears you hadn't realized were already filling your eyes. "I'll barely be gone at all. And I don't even have to finish packing tonight. I can do it later."

You nodded and let him envelope you in his warmth. That's how you eventually fell asleep.

----------------------------------

"This sucks," Bradley said for probably the hundredth time in the past hour. Standing at the curb at San Diego International Airport with a beautiful wife and a beautiful daughter, being forced to leave them for a week, was actually awful. He didn't want to go. He wanted to continue to cradle Rose against his chest with his arm wrapped around you until he missed his flight.

"You have to go now so hopefully you can do this less frequently in the future," you whispered, voice shaky with emotion. You looked really tired, and Bradley knew you wouldn't get much of a break this week. That's why he'd arranged for Nat to check on you at home a few times whether you wanted her to or not.

"Count on it, Sweetheart," he murmured, placing kisses to Rosie's soft hair as her little fingers poked at the insignia pins on his uniform. "And I need you to be a perfect Nugget for Mommy. I'll call later tonight after I get settled in the barracks."

"Okay." Your voice was muffled as you buried your face against his neck. "I love you."

"I love you both," he promised, collecting his final kisses from Rose before buckling her into her car seat in the back of the red Bronco. Then he got a particularly filthy kiss from you that left both of you grinning before you started to shove him toward the airport entrance.

"You need to go or you'll miss your flight. And then Mav will be on my case about it."

Before he ducked inside, he cupped his free hand to his mouth and shouted, "I love you!" He watched you blow him a kiss and then pull away from the curb before he headed to the counter to drop off his bag. 

He hated traveling like this, in his uniform. It felt like everyone milling around, trying to check their bags, was looking at him. He was only wearing it today, because he wasn't sure what to expect when he arrived at a base he'd only visited one time years ago. The last thing he wanted was to seem unprepared in front of an admiral, so he wore his khakis as a precaution.

"Lieutenant Commander. Where are you headed?" asked the airline agent when she looked at his pins.

Impressed, he replied, "Dallas-Fort Worth."

She took his duffle, wished him a good flight, and then Bradley slept for the entire time he was in the air. Maybe you weren't the only one who was exhausted, because the nap seemed to do wonders for him. He woke up feeling rested, and just as soon as he sent a text letting you know he landed, he was off in search of a rental car.

To his absolute delight, all he had to do was ask nicely and flash his most charming smile, and he was handed the keys to a brand new, black Bronco. It was a model year newer than your red one back at home, and he was excited to scrutinize all of the little differences as he drove it around for the week.

"Don't like the lack of a car seat," he muttered, tossing his bag onto the backseat where he was so used to seeing Rose's infant carrier. 

Was he really that guy? Did he already miss his kid enough that he had to open up the photo gallery in his phone and scroll through a few pictures before he could drive away? Apparently he was, and it made him ache to be away from her. This was so much worse than going to La Jolla without his daughter, because right now, he had neither of you.

When his stomach started rumbling for dinner, he drove to the barracks and showed his identification, only to be told his room wasn't ready yet. So he went right back out to the Bronco in search of dinner. He knew the name of a tavern popular with officers in the area, so he typed it into his GPS and headed in the direction it told him. He had to laugh, figuring he was about to walk into the Lone Star version of the Hard Deck, but that's kind of what he wanted right now. Dinner somewhere that felt comfortable if not familiar.

"Oof." It looked like a dump compared to his bar at home, but it seemed popular, and he was hungry enough that it didn't matter. When he walked in, he took a quick survey of the space before grabbing an empty stool at the bar. He ordered your favorite beer and a sandwich and took his phone out, careful not to set it on the bar in case the owner was part of some sort of association along with Penny.

He tried reading an article, but he felt as though he was being watched. Bradley tried to ignore it, fairly certain he didn't know anyone on base here, but the feeling nagged at him while he ate. The twang of music playing on the jukebox was distracting, but not distracting enough. When he finished his food and wiped his mouth with a napkin, he picked up his bottle and drained the rest of his beer while he glanced around. 

Then he saw a young woman in a flight suit playing pool not too far from his spot at the bar. Her bright blue eyes were focused on his face, and her lips curled into a grin before she bent to sink her shot. Her patches told him she originated from Virginia Beach like he did, and that her call sign was Indigo. As Bradley turned, ready to sign his bill and leave, he saw her approach out of the corner of his eye.

"Can I help you?" he asked, turning her way again with one eyebrow raised. She was attractive, even up close, and he remained silent while her gaze traveled from his face down to his chest where his name tag was displayed. Then she gasped in delight.

"Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw," she said, eyes snapping back up to meet his. "All the way from Top Gun. I've been waiting to meet you for weeks, Sir."

------------------------------

Well, I hope BG is having a nice time at home without her husband. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@solacestyles

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@shanimallina87

@ccbb2222

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@horseslovers2016

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

@yuckosworld

@daggerspare-standingby

@nessjo

@trickphotography2

@lyn-js

@furiousladyking

@godsfavoritebabe

@bethabear12

@halo-mystic

@sherlockstrangewolf

@theamuz

@khaylin27

@glenpowellluver

[luvergirl-866]

something like love

part - 4

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 5.3k

c/w - language, small amount of angst, some hurt/comfort. also kinda problematic paige but i get her

a/n - guess who’s endo cramps are killing her!! that’s right, me! fml. as usual this is unedited but i’ll come back to edit later! also, i changed paige’s step-dad’s name from tim to dean because i remembered that azzi’s dad is named tim and i felt like that would be confusing lol. also, thank you so much for all the fic recs i got! i’m so excited to start working on them :3

They’re ten minutes into the thirty-minute car ride and nobody has said a word. Country music is playing quietly over the radio, and Dean and Amy keep glancing at each other. But the awkward silence is deadly.

Nobody spoke earlier, either. After Paige dropped the bomb. It was silent for a good minute before Dean had coughed loudly and turned back to the car, getting wordlessly into the driver’s seat. Amy stared at them for another minute or so, giving them no clue as to what was going on in her head other than her ears, which rapidly turned bright red. Finally, she’d shook her head and said, “We will talk about this when we get home,” before following her husband into the car.

As soon as they were both out of hearing range, Paige had sagged, and Azzi’d looked over at her, concerned. Usually, she’d lay a hand on her arm but she wasn’t sure if Paige wanted to be touched, especially by her, so instead she’d said, “Remember, we can leave anytime.”

Paige had nodded stiffly. And then, without looking at Azzi, she’d gotten into the car as well, leaving the door open for Azzi to follow suit.

And now they’re on the road, Paige and Azzi sitting in the back seat like two little kids in trouble. Azzi wants to go on her phone to avoid the awkwardness but her parents raised her to be polite, no matter the circumstances, so here she sits, stiff and awkward while she rides in this car that smells new and fancy and she hates it.

Chancing a glance over, Azzi sees that Paige is still staring out the window, the same thing she’s been doing the whole car ride, and Azzi hates that, too, because Paige only ever gets quiet when she’s bone-tired or truly upset. And Paige got a pretty good nap on the plane.

Based off the way she acted to Azzi’s words before they got on the road, Azzi’s pretty sure she’s doing that thing where she shuts people out because she’s mad or on the verge of tears or thinking too hard. And when she does this she can get mean, because she’s trying to protect herself, and it comes out all wrong.

She’s always done this, been reluctant to open up about the hard stuff, shut out the people who care about her. She and Azzi have talked about it a lot. She once admitted that Azzi was the first person to get her to actually talk about her feelings. But despite Azzi’s way with Paige, and despite the fact that they just get each other in a way no one else ever has, they still have their flaws. Azzi still doesn’t always know the right thing to say. And Paige still gets mean.

This fact keeps Azzi glued to her seat, thinking sidling closer and trying to comfort her best friend would only end badly. Azzi acts like she has a tough skin but often, the things Paige says when she gets like this cut deep, and it ends with both of them hurt. She’s scared to add a fight between the two of them onto whatever will surely go on with Paige and her parents later. So she stays put, even though every bone in her body is telling her to make Paige better.

Azzi has only managed this for maybe five minutes when she glances over again and notices that this time, Paige’s hand is splayed over the middle seat, fingers tapping anxiously, almost like she’s subconsciously reaching over. And that sight alone is enough to get Azzi sliding over, moving Paige’s hand so she doesn’t sit on it. Dean looks at her through the rearview, but Azzi pretends not to notice.

Paige doesn’t look over when Azzi settles in beside her. But she does reach blindly for her hand before taking it and placing it in her own lap, playing with the fingers nervously. Azzi breathes in relief. Paige hasn’t rejected her outright—she can’t be too upset. At least not yet.

They sit like that for the remainder of the ride.

When they pull into the driveway, Paige gives Azzi’s hand a squeeze before subtly shaking herself out and exiting the car. Azzi follows, afraid to be alone with Paige’s parents for even a second.

Before Paige can close the door, Amy calls, “Bring your bags into your room, Paige. And when you’re done come down and talk to us in the kitchen.” There’s a weighted pause. “Alone.”

Paige doesn’t answer, just slams the door shut. Azzi winces.

Azzi doesn’t say anything while Paige opens the trunk, or when she starts aggressively pulling their things out, or even when she slams the trunk shut. No, Azzi keeps her mouth shut, wanting to allow her best friend to seethe in peace, but when Paige slams into her shoulder when she passes her, Azzi doesn’t want to let it slide. “Ow! Paige, what the fuck?”

“Get your bags,” Paige responds gruffly.

Okay, so it’s gonna be one of those times. Perfect.

Despite not wanting to, Azzi does as she’s told, gathering her bags and following Paige to the front porch. She tries not to think about how usually Paige would’ve carried her things for her.

Paige opens the door without a word and they walk inside. The house is nice, open, smells of cedarwood. Paige doesn’t give Azzi a chance to look around, though, instead walking briskly to the staircase, lugging her shit upstairs with impressive strength, and Azzi thanks God she’s in such good shape because she’s practically jogging by the time they arrive at a room at the end of the hall.

“Paige—“ Azzi starts to stay, but Paige cuts her off by throwing her own backpack off her shoulder and dropping her suitcases, as if she’s trying her hardest to make as much a ruckus as possible.

Azzi places her things much more nicely on her usual side of the bed, eyeing Paige cautiously the entire time. It’s the only reason she’s able to catch her before she leaves, anticipating her movements just like she does on the court and darting between her best friend and the door, blocking her.

For the first time in nearly an hour, Paige looks her in the eye, and there’s fire there. “Move, Azzi.”

“No.”

“God,” Paige sighs, “seriously, don’t piss me off. Get outta my way.”

“No, Paige,” Azzi repeats, keeping her feet planted.

Paige stares at her and then shakes her head. “Why are you being so fuckin’ annoying?”

“Don’t,” Azzi says, trying to stop her before she gets too fired up, but it’s already started.

“No, Azzi, you don’t,” Paige snaps. “I knew you were gonna get like this, do your fuckin’ peace and love shit that you think will solve everyone’s fucking problems.”

Azzi swallows hard. It’s been years since Paige went on a rampage like this, and she opens her mouth to stop her, but is quickly interrupted.

“It doesn’t solve anything, dawg. It actually makes shit worse, because it’s so motherfucking annoying having you acting like everything’s fine when you don’t even know.” Paige shakes her head, taking a step towards her. “And that’s the thing, is you really don’t know but you wanna pretend like you do. You don’t know what it’s like to have your mom fuckin’ leave you for some fuckass guy, for her to have new kids outta state and raise them to be hateful just like her. Just like him.”

At this point, Azzi has tears in her eyes, and she attempts desperately to swallow them down. “Did you forget that my dad fucking left me when I was a baby? I’ve never even fucking talked to him, Paige. He doesn’t want shit to do with me.”

“That’s not the same and you know it.” Paige sends her a withering glare, so different from the way she usually looks at Azzi. “You have Tim. You have your mom and your brothers and they all love you so fucking much.”

“You have your dad!” Azzi responds, throwing her hands in the air. “You have Drew, you have Alora!” A tear escapes, against her will, and she wipes it furiously away. “You have me, Paige,” she says, more quietly now. “I love you so fucking much. So you don’t get to take this shit out on me and say mean things to hurt my feelings. That’s not—it’s not fair.”

As soon as she sees the tears welling in Azzi’s eyes, Paige softens, her shoulders slumping, eyes turning on her with guilt rather than venom. “Az, don’t cry.”

For some reason, this makes Azzi more mad, and she turns away to face the door, always having hated crying in front of others. “Well if you say mean shit to me, I’m gonna cry, Paige,” she mumbles, though there’s not much fire to her weak, shaky tone.

“Hey, no, you’re right,” Paige reaches for Azzi’s shoulder, trying to turn her around, but the tears have started now and they’re not going to stop anytime soon so Azzi stays turned firmly away. “Azzi, I’m sorry, I didn’t—“ Paige cuts herself off on a sigh. Her hand falls off Azzi’s shoulder, and for a second Azzi thinks she’s going to walk away, but then a pair of arms wrap tenderly around her waist and Paige’s chin is wresting on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—I was wrong for that, I shouldnt’ve said any of that shit.” When Azzi doesn’t respond, instead burying her face in her hands to try and hide what she’s sure is an ugly cry, Paige squeezes her tighter. “Azzi, please don’t cry, I’m really sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry, for real. I didn’t mean any of it, I was just so scared about my parents and I took it out on you, I fucked up.”

Azzi nods into her hands, taking a deep breath to try and stop the embarrassing flow of emotion. “I know, Paige,” she tries, but it comes out sort of as a whimper and this only makes Paige circle around to stand in front of her, full-on hugging her now, burying her face in her neck and rubbing her back soothingly.

They’re silent for another moment before Paige says, “I’m serious, Az. I didn’t mean any of it.”

Azzi knows this, fundamentally, but there’s still a part of her that sort of cracked at hearing her best friend tell her that she was annoying, that her efforts to help always fall flat. “You shouldn’t have said it, then,” she stutters, letting Paige hold her close even as her face doesn’t come out of its hiding spot.

“I know, I know, I shouldn’t have. You’re the only person who can ever make me feel better and I—fuck. Azzi, I’m sorry, I can’t believe—I never wanna hurt you.” Paige lifts her head out of her neck to nuzzle into Azzi’s hair, pressing a kiss to the spot just behind her ear. “Never wanna make you cry.” She plants another kiss there, and Azzi’s breath hitches. From the crying or from something else, she doesn’t know.

Sighing shakily, Azzi finally pulls her head out of her hands to look up at Paige, placing her hands at her chest almost as if she’s about to push her away. She’s sure her mascara is ruined by now but she can’t bring herself to care too much. “It really hurt when you shoved me outside, too.”

A pained expression flits over Paige’s face, and she nods, looking almost sick. “Fuck. I’m—I’m sorry, Azzi. I’m so sorry. Is your arm okay? Does it still hurt?”

Azzi can’t take the guilty look on Paige’s face and shakes her head no. It doesn’t seem to relieve much of anything.

Breathing deeply, Paige closes her eyes and then leans her forehead against Azzi’s, bringing her hands up from her waist to stroke over her tear-stained cheeks. “I’m sorry, baby,” she whispers, and Azzi’s knows that the nickname wasn’t a slip-up this time, wasn’t just a habit from their pretending. “I’m really fuckin’ sorry.”

And with that, Azzi isn’t mad anymore. Her feelings are still hurt and the things Paige said are still going to replay in her head for quite some time, but at least for now, Azzi just can’t be mad. Because Paige is going through something she could never imagine going through.

“I’m sorry, too,” Azzi breathes, and Paige rears back, but before she can protest, Azzi says, “about your parents. About this whole…situation.” She looks down at her hands on Paige’s chest, and, deciding she won’t be needing to push her away anymore, she slides them up to her shoulders. “It’s shitty and you’re right, I don’t know what it’s like to be in your position.” She shrugs, swallowing back the last couple tears that threaten to fall, trying to regain at least some of her composure. “I’m going to be here for you, okay? I always am.”

Paige nods. “I know you will.”

“And that means,” Azzi goes on, “you can’t do this again. You can’t take it out on me. You can’t push me away. Because that makes it really fucking hard for me to help you, and I want to help you.”

Paige nods again, more solemnly this time, moving her hands back to circle her waist. “Yeah, yeah, I know, and I’m so sorry for—“

Azzi holds a hand up to Paige’s lips, effectively shutting her up. “Okay, stop. I accept your apology, I promise. Just, show me you’re sorry and don’t do it again, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Paige says. “‘Course.”

“Good.” Breathing mostly even now, Azzi pulls Paige in for another hug.

With a heavy sigh, Paige hugs her back. “We’re in it together, hm? From now on, together.”

Azzi rests her cheek on Paige’s shoulder, the weight of her arms around her, the feeling of her skin and bones, so familiar. “Yeah. Together.”

Paige pulls back just enough to look at her, and when Azzi reciprocates, she’s uneasy to find that Paige is giving her that same new look. The perplexed, maybe enthralled?, almost worried look that has taken over her face more often than can be explained ever since the first time after their kiss. Azzi really wants to work out what it means.

But, as always, Paige corrects herself and it’s gone as fast as it arrived. “We’re good?”

Azzi nods, smiling softly despite herself. “Yeah, P. We’re good.”

—————————————

Paige has been downstairs with her parents for nearly an hour.

From what Azzi can hear from her spot at the top of the stairs, it doesn’t sound to be going too well. The three of them keep going from yelling to whisper-yelling to yelling again, and Azzi swears Amy has cried like five times at this point.

When Azzi hears Dean say, “We just don’t allow sinners in this house, Paige,” and Paige snap back, “Do not use God against me right now!” Azzi figures it might be time to intervene.

Trying to come up with something quickly, she pulls out her phone and dials Paige’s number. She hears Paige’s phone ring downstairs, and the three of them go quiet before Paige says, “Just—one second,” and then there’s a click on the other line and she’s answering. “Um, hi?”

“Pretend I’m your dad,” Azzi says, hoping she’s not on speaker.

“What?”

“Just pretend I’m your dad, Paige. Seriously.”

“Uh, okay.” The line gets a little muffled and Paige says, “It’s dad.” Azzi can hear both Amy and Dean let out audible groans downstairs.

“Okay, now tell them that I—your dad—am offering to fly you home.”

“I…wha—“ Azzi can tell Paige wants to argue but can’t with her parents right in front of her, so instead she sighs and the line goes muffled again. “He’s, um, he’s offering to fly me home.”

Azzi only has a second to hope and pray that Amy shares Paige’s competitive nature before Amy is saying, “What? You told him about this?”

“No,” Paige answers, “he just knows how you’re like now. And he wants Azzi and I to have a good summer, not a shitty one with shitty people.”

“If you want to go back to your dad’s, go,” Dean says, and Azzi’s heart sinks. Maybe this won’t work.

But then, bless her evil, horrible soul, Amy is stepping in. “No. Absolutely not. I will never hear the end of it if we send you to your father after inviting you over. We just…” Amy sighs, and Azzi thinks she can hear her start crying again. “We want what’s best for you, Paige.”

It’s silent for a moment. And then, “Let me be happy, Mom. Let me see my siblings. Let me and my girlfriend have a good trip with y’all.”

Dean interjects. “We really don’t believe in this kind of stuff.”

“I don’t care,” Paige replies viciously. “I love Azzi. It doesn’t matter that she’s a fuckin’ girl. I…” Paige pauses, quite abruptly, and Azzi wonders if something happened. But then she hears a heavy inhalation and a quiet, “I love her, Mom.”

Azzi knows it’s for the act, but she can’t help the way her stomach somersaults, hearing the words she’s always wished Paige would say.

“And it doesn’t matter what you think of it,” Paige continues. “I’m happy. My faith is strong. And what goes on between me and God isn’t your fucking business.”

“Language,” Amy says immediately. But then it’s silent for another weighted moment and Azzi can imagine Amy and Dean sharing that knowing, judgmental look of theirs. Her heart races while she waits for a consensus, and she’s sure it’s 100 times worse for Paige. But after a few moments, Amy says, “Tell your father that you’re staying here with us. Your siblings will be home tomorrow morning. The four of us adults have a reservation at a restaurant tonight, and we’re all going to go.”

“Mom—“

“We will try,” Amy sighs. “Azzi’s a nice girl. We will—we’ll try.” There’s something tired in her voice when she says, “Right, Dean?”

No answer. But Azzi can imagine him nodding gruffly, and a moment later, with no more words from any of them, Paige appears at the bottom of the stairs. She startles a little when she sees Azzi sitting there at the top.

“Hi,” Azzi says sheepishly, finally disconnecting their call. “I was eavesdropping.”

Paige stares at her, and then starts climbing the stairs, a small smile overtaking their face. “Thanks for saving me.”

“I told you I would,” Azzi replies, waiting for Paige at the top. “So. Dinner with your parents tonight.”

“Yeah. I guess.” Paige gets to the second-top step and stays there, so she’s just a little shorter than Azzi.

“Dinner as a fake lesbian couple with your homophobic parents,” Azzi clarifies, and Paige laughs nervously.

“Uh-huh,” she responds. “I think we needa nap before that.”

“Oh, yeah,” Azzi agrees, pulling Paige up to stand with her. “That is an amazing idea.”

——————————————

Azzi is rudely awoken to none other than an old Tyler, The Creator song blasting through the tinny speakers of Paige’s phone. Azzi groans, and she blindly reaches out for Paige to turn the damn thing off, but her hands only find cold bedsheets. Annoyed, Azzi cracks her eyes open and tries desperately to find Paige’s phone, realizing in the process that Paige’s side of the bed is cold. Strange, considering they still have two hours until dinner.

Finally, after probably thirty seconds of this stupid song playing over and over again, Azzi finds the phone tangled up in the bedsheets and slams the off button. It’s sort of pointless, though, because now she’s very much awake and will not be going back to bed.

She sits up in Paige’s bed, rubbing her eyes and looking around the room. The sun is shining through the curtains, reflecting off the mirror above the vanity and showcasing the off-white walls, the pink door to the adjoining bathroom—which Azzi now realizes is in use, the sound of the shower muffled through the door. She hadn’t noticed before because Paige isn’t awfully singing to some Mariah Carey song. Other than the water, it’s dead quiet in there. She must be nervous.

Fiddling with the pink sheets, Azzi feels nervous, too. Usually, merely being in Paige’s space comforts her, but this room—it doesn’t feel like Paige. It doesn’t smell like her, and it’s too pink. There’s no purple at all, actually. And the vanity—Paige has never known how to do much else other than mascara. In high school, she needed Azzi to tell her what concealer was for, and to teach her how to curl her lashes. She certainly wouldn’t have use for an entire vanity dedicated to makeup. The walls are also decorated with cringy, sort of Bible-thumping quotes and paintings of flowers. There’s not a single basketball poster.

No, this room isn’t Paige at all and Azzi feels an ache in her heart, thinking about how out-of-place she must have felt whenever she came to visit as a kid. How out-of-place she must feel now.

Without Paige to talk to, and without her room to comfort her, Azzi settles for laying on Paige’s side of the bed, burying her face in the blankets, and there she is—vanilla, like her hair products, and lavender, like the lotion she wears and the linen spray she uses, because it calms her down.

Azzi thinks she just might fall back asleep, enveloped in Paige’s scent, but then the door to the bathroom opens and steam billows out just before Paige does, wrapped in a towel, hair wet down her shoulders. Azzi only has a second to ogle the water drops adorning Paige’s collarbones before she’s spotted, and Paige gives her a curious look. “You still sleep? I left my phone here so the alarm would wake you up.”

“Yeah, no, it did,” Azzi says, sitting up quickly, before she looks like a weirdo snuggling up in Paige’s spot. “Just tryin’ to hype myself up for dinner.”

Paige gives her a commiserating look. “Me too. I’m shitting my pants, for real.”

“That why you couldn’t sleep?” Azzi asks, stretching out her back and swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

Paige hums, bending down to rifle around in her suitcase. “I’on even know what to wear. Apparently it’s some fancy restaurant but I’m not wearing a fucking dress.”

Azzi laughs at that, lifting her hands when Paige shoots a glare over her shoulder. “I’m serious, dawg! And it’s not like I brought a suit or nothing.”

“I think you’re overthinking it,” Azzi says, standing up. “Just wear jeans and tuck a t-shirt or something. You’ll look cute no matter what.”

Paige straights up and gives her a cocky grin. “You think all that?”

“Chill, P,” Azzi rolls her eyes, shoving Paige’s shoulder a little.

“What were you doing on my side of the bed, anyway?” Paige asks, and Azzi can’t help the way she freezes. She’d thought Paige hadn’t noticed.

Trying to cover her reaction, she shrugs casually. “I didn’t know you owned the right side of the bed.”

“Nah, we’ve always had our sides,” Paige shakes her head, taking a step closer. “Why was you all cuddled up in mine?”

“Oh, I dunno,” Azzi says, trying for sarcastic but she can’t even really make eye contact, “maybe I rolled over or something.”

“Please. You don’t move in your sleep.”

“Maybe I do. You don’t know.”

“I think I’ve slept with you more often than I’ve slept alone,” Paige scoffs, taking a step even closer so that they’re practically chest-to-chest. “I know damn well.”

“Okay, seriously,” Azzi says, taking a small step back and stumbling when her thighs hit the bed, “go get dressed, you weirdo.”

“Mm,” Paige says, pretending to think about it. But before Azzi can move away, she grabs her waist and they both fall onto the bed while Paige starts to tickle her like crazy.

“Paige!” Azzi screams, laughing so hard she almost can’t breathe. “Get—off, oh my God!”

Paige is laughing right along with her, and it’s a miracle her towel hasn’t dropped yet. “Tell me the truth!”

“What the…” Azzi giggles and squeals when Paige goes for her armpit, “fuck!”

“I won’t stop ‘till you admit it!”

“Okay, fuck, okay!” Azzi pushes Paige off her, and Paige lets up just enough for her to gasp and say, “It smelled like you, okay? The sheets, they…” Paige has stopped completely now, staring at her with a shit-eating grin on her stupid face, “they smell like you.”

“Uh-huh,” Paige replies, “and you missed me so much while I was in the shower that you needed to smell my sheets?” She jabs her one more time in the ribs, making Azzi shriek, before rolling off her. “You lil creep.”

“It wasn’t like that!” Azzi insists, even though that’s exactly what it was like. “Now, seriously, go get dressed. You got me all wet.”

What Azzi means by that, of course, is that Paige’s damp towel and sopping hair had transferred to Azzi’s own clothes and hair. But Paige can’t be normal about anything, so she looks over and grins slyly.

“Don’t,” Azzi sighs.

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” Paige says, sitting up in bed and pulling Azzi up with her. “You don’t gotta be embarrassed. I know I make a lotta girls wet.”

“Stop being weird,” Azzi says, as Paige bends down once again to pull an outfit from her suitcase.

She begins walking back to the bathroom. “I’m not the one who gets turned on by tickling,” Paige calls over her shoulder. Just before she closes the bathroom door behind her, she says, “Don’t worry, we can take care of you after dinner, mama,” and winks at her.

Azzi’s shoe hits the door just as it clicks shut.

—————————————

They drive to the restaurant in silence.

It’s similar to their car ride from the airport, though it is a little less tense than before. Paige isn’t fidgeting too much beside her and her parents aren’t giving each other looks the entire time. That’s gotta be a good sign.

When they arrive at the restaurant, Amy and Dean start chatting idly, Paige and Azzi trailing behind when they walk inside the fancy building and give the hostess their reservation.

It’s only when they’re finally seated that they are addressed.

“So, girls,” Amy says, her voice all forced cheerfulness, “what looks good?”

“I dunno,” Paige mumbles, and Azzi kicks her under the table before saying, “Have you guys ever been here before?”

Amy looks a little startled at Azzi’s voice, but she recovers quickly, looking over at Dean with a forced smile. “Oh, yeah, we come here sometimes.”

Azzi smiles politely. “What do you suggest, then?”

“Um,” Amy says, and then she sort of jerks and Dean winces, and Azzi’s sure Amy has also just kicked him under the table.

Apparently well-trained, he speaks immediately. “We love the spinach ricotta.”

Azzi hums, then nudges Paige. “That sounds good, right?”

“Uh…” Paige looks like she wants to be difficult, but then she sees the warning stare Azzi is giving her and straightens up a little, “yeah, yeah. Sounds good.”

“Wanna share?”

Paige sighs, but luckily it’s barely audible. “Yeah, sure. Let’s share.”

Azzi leaves herself out of the conversation after that, letting Paige answer her parents’ conversation starters. When the waitress comes to take their orders, Paige gets a glass of wine for the both of them. Neither of them really like wine, but it seems classy enough and it might take the edge off just enough that they can actually get through the night unscathed.

It’s not until their dinner arrives that Azzi is addressed again.

“So, Azzi,” Dean says, out of nowhere, “How’s the knee?”

Azzi’s hand goes subconsciously to her surgery scars. “Doing better. PT’s been going good.”

“Good, good.” He leans back in his seat, and Azzi senses trouble. Something about the way Paige protectively rests her arm across the back of Azzi’s seat makes her think she senses it, too.

“You get injured a lot, huh?” He asks.

Azzi sort of hates the way her face gets hot, hoping it doesn’t show up on her brown skin. “I’ve torn my ACL twice, yeah.”

“And your meniscus, right?” he prods.

Without really noticing it, Azzi looks over to Paige, and that’s apparently all Paige needs to jump in. “Hey, let’s not talk about it.”

“Why not?” Dean asks, scoffing. Amy is looking between the three of them nervously. “It’s hard not to talk about. Azzi, you don’t even play basketball at this point.”

“Um,” Azzi replies, her instincts telling her to get hot-headed but with the way Paige is buzzing beside her, she’s gonna need to keep her cool.

“What the hell?” Paige says, her hand going from the chair to Azzi’s shoulder. She looks at Amy. “Mom, you said this wouldn’t happen.”

“Your father is just asking a few questions—“

“He’s not my fucking dad!” Paige exclaims, and Azzi jerks as she’s pulled into Paige’s side. “I already have a dad! He raised me, he loves me, Mom, and he’d never say this shit about Azzi.” Angrily, Paige stands up, tossing a few bills onto the counter and helping Azzi to stand beside her.

“Sweetheart,” Amy says, reaching limply for her daughter while Dean sits beside her looking far too smug. “Paige, where are you going? We’re your ride.”

“We’ll Uber,” Paige responds, wrapping an arm around Azzi’s waist. “I’m not gonna make her sit through your bullshit because you don’t know how to act like a decent fucking human being.”

“He was just asking—,” Any starts, sounding exasperated, but Paige cuts her off.

“You know what he was doing.” She glares at Dean, who shakes his head, smirking. “We’ll go back to the house,” she sneers. “But if this doesn’t change by tomorrow we’re leaving.”

And with that, she takes Azzi hands and leads them both out into the night.

—————————————

Paige keeps it together until they get to the house.

As soon as they’re stepping through the door, she turns away from Azzi and leans down to untie her shoes. Azzi does the same, but she doesn’t miss the sniffling sounds coming from her best friend.

Paige refuses to look at her when they start heading upstairs, and she tries to make a beeline for the bathroom once they close her bedroom door shut behind them. But Azzi stops her, placing a gentle hand on her arm. “P?”

Another sniffle. And then a quick wipe at her face before she’s turning around, trying to look nonchalant but her eyes are red and her lip is trembling. “Yeah?”

“Paige,” Azzi says softly, and Paige crumbles, hands coming up to her face as she starts crying.

Azzi steps forward to hug her, pulling her down to hide in her chest. “I’m sorry, P. I’m so sorry, this—this sucks.”

“I’m sorry,” Paige replies, voice all small and muffled in a way that makes Azzi’s heart hurt. “I thought they were gonna try…I wouldn’t have taken you out with them if I knew…”

“Hey, it’s all good,” Azzi responds, running a hand through Paige’s hair. “I didn’t mind, really. I’ve heard worse.”

This is apparently the wrong thing to say, because Paige just cries harder. “Fuck, Az, you shouldn’t have to do this.” She lifts her head up to look at her, and Azzi absently wipes her face. “This sucks. It’s the first week of summer and I—I was shitty to you and now my parents, and I—“

“Paige,” Azzi says sternly. “I wouldn’t have agreed to this if I couldn’t handle it. I can handle it. It’s you that I’m worried about.”

Paige nods, sniffling again. “You don’t gotta worry. I’m fine.”

“You’re obviously not fine, P,” Azzi says, and Paige winces, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her shirt.

“I’m okay,” Paige insists. “Really. As long as we do this together, I’m okay.”

She straightens up like she’s steeling herself, and Azzi thinks maybe she should do the same.

This is only the first day of their two-week stay.

It’s going to be a long trip.

@azzibuckets @smiths-fan--13 @ch12334 @makethemhoesmad @the-other-half @rosemariiaa

[salemrph]

"A Hunter's Christmas Hustle" Sylus x MC

Summary: With Christmas around the corner, you’re on a mission to find the perfect gift for everyone, that's included Sylus, a famously tricky person to shop for. You asked for help but can the twins really help you? Sometimes the effort is the best part of the holiday magic.

Character: MC x Sylus

Genre: holiday comedy, slice-of-life, fluff | Pet names : Kitten, Sweetie, Miss Hunter.

| Word count: 3.916 | Reading Time: 16 min |

A/N: Since this is the first Christmas of Love and Deepspace, at least for me, I'm looking forward for a special Event and have a cute moment between Sylus and MC.

You lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. It still feels a bit strange staying at Sylus’ place on your days off. Well, it was mostly his doing— he’d insist or come up with some random excuse or side mission to make you stay. So, at the end you agree to come visit him without needing to drag you in dirty business. It's cozy here, even if you’re not quite used to it yet.

Like always you scroll through your phone, noticing you getting a lot of Christmas ads. You squint at the screen, feeling a bit overwhelmed by all the holiday promotions. Suddenly, you glance at the date on your phone. Fuck! Christmas in 1 week. And you haven’t prepared anything. Weren’t there also a Party coming up with the team? No, no, no! You go trough the calendar. There is it: 24 of December. Christmas Party with Team.

You need to go shopping, ordering stuff now would only arrive too late. 

“Okay, okay,” you mutter, trying to make a mental checklist. “I need a present for Tera, flowers for Grandma’s and Clab’s graves...” You pause, feeling a bit emotional at that thought. You take a deep breath and continue, making a list out loud.

“Then there’s Zayne, Xavier, and Rafayel…” Your head starts spinning as you realize just how much you have to do. 

How could you forget? Have you really been that busy lately? It’s not like the whole city isn’t decked out in lights, giant Christmas ads, and festive music playing in every store. 

You realize with a sigh that maybe you’ve been spending way too much time in the N109 Zone, far from the holiday cheer.

“What can I get for the twins...?” you mumble to yourself. Luke and Kieran can be annoying sometimes, but you do like them. Why not bring them a small gift? Then again, you hesitate. If you get something for the twins, Sylus will definitely bother you about it until the end of your days, asking why he didn’t get anything. You're starting to sweat. Maybe he locks you up again in the basement, just for fun. Or worse, he could show up at the Hunters' Association and declare that you are his lover or something. A shiver runs down your spine. This man can be terrifying. 

You know very well how to please your friends and colleagues but Sylus… What do you bring to the man that has everything? 

“Why is he even so fucking rich?” you mutter under your breath, looking around the guest room. The guest room of course has the style of the rest of the mansion. Black. You roll your eyes, feeling a mix of annoyance and admiration. You flop back down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if it holds the answers. You need something unique, something meaningful... but what could that be? 

You scroll through your phone frantically, searching for bundles, deals, and last-minute gift ideas. In just an hour, you’ve managed to check off most of your list.

Tera: A relaxing spa voucher—she could use a break.

Zayne: A pack of his favorite macarons, winter edition—he’ll love them.

Xavier: A cozy new sweater—you’ve told him a million times not to fall asleep everywhere. You sigh, picturing him dozing off on some random spot.

Rafayel: A unique shell you found on a mission weeks ago. You haven’t had a chance to give it to him yet, but now’s the perfect time.

Flowers: Ordered, check.

You tap your phone, thinking about the twins, Luke and Kieran. What would they like? You decide on some kind of gadget or toy—they’re like two overgrown kids sometimes, and they’ll appreciate anything they can mess around with.

Another hour passes, and you’re still glued to your phone, opening and closing tabs like a mad person. Your brain is starting to fog up from the overload of gift ideas.

“No... no... lame... oh god, definitely not.” You swipe through a blog about gifts for wealthy people and somehow end up on a page titled “Top 10 Gifts for Your Rich Boyfriend.” Your cheeks go bright red as you skim the list: sexy underwear, romantic getaways, candlelit dinners...

“NO!” You throw your phone onto the bed like it’s on fire, covering your face with your hands. What am I even doing?

You take a deep breath, trying to calm down. Maybe you could ask Luke and Kieran for help. They’re close to Sylus and probably know more about his preferences than you do. Plus, he did say you could “use” them whenever you wanted. Why not use them as counselors and pack mules?

Since you don`t want Sylus sniffing around you, you think about a small lie. Or maybe just ask without giving information. The same way he always does 

...

"I need Luke & Kieran for an important mission, can you borrow me them?"

Sylus looks up from his desk, his red eyes studying you with a mix of curiosity and amusement. He leans back in his chair, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he regards you. 

"Mission? What are you planning, kitten?" Sylus raises an eyebrow at your words.

"Nothing… jus- they will come back in one piece."

He studies you for a moment, his expression a mix of curiosity and amusement. He seems to be enjoying your vague and cryptic request, and he's clearly intrigued by what you might be up to. 

"…Alright. You can take them for whatever this 'important mission' is. But they better come back in one piece, or I'm holding you responsible, sweetie. And you don't want to pay the price...“ he snaps his fingers. Both appear immediately. As if they had been hiding in the office. 

"Luke, Kieran, the kitten needs you for a... mission. Do as they say. I expect impeccable work."

"Yes, boss!“ They say in unison.

"Let’s go, guys." I lead them out of the office. "See you, Sylus!"

That was easy. Maybe to easy.

He laughs after the door closes. Wondering how you're going to surprise him this time. He's learned to just go with the flow even though he might have the answer to your little secrets. He just smiled, turning back to focus on his paperwork.

“What are we going to do, miss?” Luke asks with a mischievous grin.

You roll your eyes. “I told you, just call me by my name.”

“Are we blowing something up?” Kieran blurts out, making an exaggerated explosion noise with his mouth.

“Or… cleaning up a messy murder scene?” Luke chimes in, smirking.

“Maybe torture someone!” Kieran’s eyes light up, clearly getting way too excited at the thought.

You sigh, regretting this decision already. They’re like two hyperactive hamsters—deadly, but still hamsters.

“No, no, and no!” you say firmly, waving your hands for emphasis.

“Uuuhhh...” They groan in unison, visibly disappointed.

“We have a better mission,” you declare, crossing your arms. “Change into something decent. We’re heading back to Lincoln City.”

Finally, you’ve arrived in the city. It’s strange seeing them without their usual uniforms and masks. Dressed in casual clothes, they look more like model college boys than the deadly assassins they actually are. Most of the girls passing by can’t help but glance their way, clearly debating whether they should approach the handsome twin brothers.

You snort to yourself. Probably they would’ve attracted less attention in their usual assassin gear.

You’re standing in the middle of the bustling shopping district, the holiday decorations casting a festive glow around you. Luke and Kieran are busy taking in the sights, clearly amused by the sudden change of scenery. You clear your throat to get their attention.

“Alright, listen up,” you say, trying to sound authoritative. “The mission is...” They lean in, eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Shopping” you declare.

“Shopping?” they repeat in unison, voices filled with disbelief.

Luke looks like he’s trying not to laugh, while Kieran’s expression twists into mock horror.

“Wait, wait,” Kieran says, holding up a hand. “You dragged us all the way out here... for shopping?”

“Yes, and you’re going to help me,” you reply.

Luke smirks, giving you a playful nudge. “You sure this isn’t just an excuse to spend time with us, Miss?”

You shoot him a glare. “Call me by my name, Luke.”

“Right, right,” he says, grinning.

“I actually need your help for...” you trail off, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed. You look away, rubbing the back of your neck. “Christmas is around the corner, and I wanted to buy Sylus something. I’m not sure what it should be, so...” 

Before you can finish, Luke and Kieran burst into giggle. They exchange a quick, knowing glance, clearly delighted by your admission.

“Oh, so you want to buy our boss a present, huh? That’s pretty cute” Luke teases, smirking.

Kieran nudges him with his elbow, grinning from ear to ear. “And you’re asking us for help? Luke, maybe she does have a soft spot for boss after all.”

You feel your cheeks flush, but you roll your eyes to cover it. “Are you two going to help me or not?”

Luke straightens up, placing a hand on his chest with a mock-serious expression. “If you’re serious about buying a gift for the boss, then you’ve definitely come to the right place. We don’t call ourselves his right-hand men for nothing.”

You exhale, feeling a bit relieved now that they seem genuinely eager to help. “I want something special. Something he wouldn’t expect, but that he’d actually like.”

Kieran tilts his head, pretending to think deeply. “Something unexpected, huh? Well, that’s tricky. Sylus pretty much has everything.”

“Yeah, exactly,” you say, feeling a bit helpless. “I was thinking about getting him some records, but he already has so many...”

Luke and Kieran nod in agreement, their expressions thoughtful. 

“It’s a good start. He does love his music. But you don’t want to give him something he already has, right?” Luke asked. 

“How about something more personal?” Kieran suggests, tapping his chin. “Something that shows you put a lot of thought into it. A gift only you could give him.”

You bite your lip, considering it. “Personal... but how?”

“Well, it doesn’t have to be anything fancy,” Luke says, shrugging. “The boss isn’t as complicated as he looks. He’d appreciate anything that comes from you.”

Kieran gives a playful smirk. “You could just wrap yourself up with a bow, and he’d be over the moon.”

“Kieran!” you gasp, your cheeks turning red as you lightly smack his arm. He laughs, dodging away with a wink. 

Luke chuckles but gives you a more genuine smile. “He’s joking—mostly. But seriously, boss isn’t the kind of guy who cares about expensive gifts. He’d value something that reminds him of you, or a shared memory.”

You pause, mulling it over.

Kieran nudges Luke, a sudden spark lighting up his eyes. “Hey, what about that old record shop on the Avenue? They’ve got vintage records you can’t find anywhere else. You could look for a rare one, maybe something with a story behind it.”

Luke nods, his eyes brightening as well. “Yeah, and you could pair it with a handwritten note. Tell him why you picked it. He’d love that.”

You smile, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. “That’s... actually a great idea. Thanks, you two.”

Kieran gives you a thumbs-up. “No problem, but you owe us for this.”

Luke grins. “Yeah, and don’t forget to give us the credit when he’s showering you with kisses later.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Fine, fine. Now let’s go before I change my mind.”

The twins laugh, and the three of you set off down the busy shopping street, feeling a new wave of excitement. Maybe this gift hunt wasn’t going to be so impossible after all.

In the end, you managed to buy everything for your friends—even for Captain Jenna, who isn’t exactly easy to shop for. But as you wandered through the record store, flipping through album after album, nothing stood out. Everything felt generic, impersonal. And you know Sylus well enough to realize that giving him something half-hearted would just fuel his endless teasing for weeks. 

By the end of the day, the twins delivered you at home after treating them for dinner. You're tired and leave all your bags in the living room of your apartment. You throw yourself down on the couch and take out your phone. Maybe you were overthinking this. A nice accessory or a bottle of whiskey could work—he has a taste for the finer things, after all. It wouldn’t be anything cheap, either; you can afford something like that with your Hunter salary.

The day passes, only 2 days for Christmas and you still have nothing. 

Desperate for ideas, you even tried bringing it up with Tera over lunch. That turned into a chaotic disaster, though. It was exhausting dodging her barrage of questions:

“Who’s the gift for? Why are you even so worried? Wait, do you have a new boyfriend? I demand to meet him!”

You had to laugh it off, making up half-baked excuses until she finally dropped it—though you could tell she didn’t believe you.

And then there was Sylus himself. Yesterday, he sent you an invitation to a Christmas dinner. You wanted to say yes, but you had already committed to the Hunters’ Association Christmas party that same night. You tried to decline, but after some back-and-forth, you reluctantly agreed to meet him afterward.

Now, sitting alone on the couch, you can’t help but replay that conversation in your mind. The way his voice softened when you said you couldn’t make it, the slight pause before he insisted on seeing you later anyway—it made your chest tighten. He sounded almost... disappointed. And that’s what makes you want to find something truly meaningful, something that will show him how much he means to you without you having to say it out loud.

You look at your reflection in the darkened screen of your phone, feeling a mix of frustration and anticipation. You’re running out of time. If you’re going to surprise him with something from the heart, you need to figure it out now.

With a new sense of determination, you push yourself off the couch and grab your coat. Maybe you won’t find the perfect gift sitting around here. It’s time to get back out there and keep looking, because if there’s one person you want to make smile this Christmas, it’s Sylus. But be honest, you´re not going to admit that. Not yet. 

...

It’s Christmas! The party with your unit is small but cozy. The space is filled with the warm glow of twinkling lights, the scent of spiced wine, and the sound of laughter echoing off the walls. You drink, you eat, and you feel a rare sense of contentment as you watch everyone enjoying the night. It’s moments like these that remind you why you love this chaotic, ragtag team.

The gifts you bought last minute seem to have gone over well. Captain Jenna grinned when she unwrapped the sleek new knife you picked out for her—a practical gift, just like she’d like it. Xavier looked genuinely pleased with the soft, oversized sweater you chose, already pulling it on and joking about how he wouldn’t fall asleep everywhere now. Tera hugged you tight, eyes sparkling as she held up the spa voucher. “You really do know me,” she said with a teasing smile.

Earlier in the morning, you made a quick stop by the hospital to drop off the bag of special winter-edition macarons for Zayne. And you place the flower on the graveyard. Pray for them and wishing that you could spent one more day with them.

You glance at your watch. It’s getting late, and you promised Sylus you’d meet him after this. You take a deep breath, excusing yourself quietly from the party. Tera shoots you a knowing look as you head for the door, but she doesn’t say anything—just gives you a little wave, as if to say, good luck. 

You pull your coat tighter around yourself, clutching the gift in your hand as you start walking. There’s a mixture of excitement and fear bubbling up inside you.

Suddenly your watch vibrates urgently and flashes a warning: MetaFlux Fluctuation Detected. Your heart skips a beat. A Wanderer? Now?! You glance around, scanning the quiet street for any signs of danger. The distant sound of a woman’s scream breaks the silence, and without hesitation, you sprint in the direction of the noise, already reaching for your weapon. 

The first Wanderer lunges out from the shadows, its distorted form shifting and writhing in the dim light. You don’t waste a second. One precise shot, and it disintegrates into a cloud of shimmering dust.

„My child! Where is he?“ the woman cries out, panic in her voice. You look around fast, this is not over. 

„Mom!! Help!“ You hear the voice of the kid nearby and run over. You bolt towards the sound, pushing your legs harder. You reach the boy just in time, shielding him with your body as another Wanderer lunges forward. The creature’s claws slice through the air, narrowly missing you. You fire three quick shots, each one hitting its mark. The Wanderer lets out a guttural screech before it vanishes into thin air, dissolving into the night.

"Are you okay?“ you ask, your voice softer now, concerned. The boy nodded. His mother rushes over, wrapping her arms around him and thanking you over and over, her voice thick with emotion.

The mother and child thank you from the bottom of their hearts before leaving. You tell them to please stop by the hospital, just in case. You wave goodbye to the boy. Sigh. What a night!

"Where's my bag?" you mutter, scanning the area. You spot it lying on the ground, right where you dropped it before sprinting into action. Relief floods through you—until you notice the dark, wet stain spreading across the fabric. 

"No, no, no! Please no," you whisper, crouching down and unzipping the bag with trembling hands. The bottle of whiskey you were hunting down the last two days. Is shattered in thousand pieces.

Your heart sinks. This wasn’t just any whiskey—it was a rare, vintage bottle from a small distillery he’d mentioned once, in passing, when he thought you weren’t listening.

„Fuck!" 

You stand up, clutching the soaked bag, and check the time on your watch.

22:30.

You’re supposed to meet Sylus in half an hour, and you’re still a good fifteen minutes away from his place. Panic bubbles up inside you. Maybe you can find a late-night shop that carries something similar. Maybe there’s still a chance to fix this.

"I can make it," you say aloud, more to convince yourself than anything.

…

You finally arrive at the meeting point—a lookout near the water. It’s the same place where you spent last winter with him, watching the fireworks together.

“Kitten, you told me you were at a party, not a battlefield. What happened?”

“Eh?”

You’ve been running around for the last 30 minutes trying to find that stupid bottle and make it on time to meet Sylus. A little embarrassed, you attempt to fix your clothes and smooth your hair. Your cheeks are flushed from the effort. Sylus stands there in his black coat, looking amazing as always. Your heart beats hard in your chest. He watches you, trying to piece together what happened, and then a smile tugs at his lips.

“Even on days like this, you don’t get a break, Miss Hunter?” He runs his hand gently across your face. You flinch slightly, wincing in pain. “You’ve got a small cut. So... are you going to tell me what happened?”

“Nothing, just a Wanderer. It will heal,” you say with a shrug. He sighs softly.

“Careless as usual.” He pulls a small band-aid from his pocket. “Stay still.”

“Why do you have something like that?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“It so happens that I have a kitten who never pays attention to their injuries,” he teases.

You make an exaggerated offended grimace, but inside, it feels like a small gesture of affection. He places the band-aid gently over the cut.

“I’ll consider this your Christmas gift,” you joke.

He laughs. “Oh no, sweetie, that wouldn’t be enough. But I’m impressed with your minimalist idea of happiness.” He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out an envelope.

“You didn’t have...”

“Open it up. And thank me later.”

You take the envelope cautiously, slowly peeling it open. Could it explode? You shake your head at the silly thought. When you finally look inside, your eyes widen, and you let out a soft squeal of excitement.

“Are you for real? This tickets has been sold out for months. How did you…?”

“I have my ways, sweetie,” he replies with a smug smile.

“Thank you,” you whisper, genuinely touched.

“It’s always a pleasure making you happy.”

But your excitement fades quickly as the realization sinks in. He’s managed to make you immensely happy again, while you stand here empty-handed. You have been looking for the perfect gift and you have screwed up at the last minute. On top, you haven't found a replacement for the bottle. 

"I wanted to give you something too for Christmas...“ you started. Closing the envelope and putting it in your pocket. "but... it broke while I was protecting a kid from a Wanderer.“ You look down at your feet, feeling small and pathetic, your shoulders slumping under the weight of disappointment.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Sylus gently lifts your chin with a finger, guiding your gaze back to him. He smiles, that soft, understanding smile that always makes you feel seen. Without a word, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a warm embrace. The chill of winter seems to disappear in his hold, replaced by the comforting heat of his body.

“The best gift is having you by my side, kitten.” he whispers into your ear, his voice low and sincere.

You feel your heart beating faster.

"Actions speak louder than words"

You agree with Sylus that both would be more honest with each other. Maybe now is the time to show him just how important he is to you. You spent so much time looking for something to buy that you forgot that the simplest gifts are often the most meaningful, especially when they come straight from the heart.

"Sylus… I actually have something else."

"Oh, is that so?“ 

„Can... I borrow your face?" He loosens his grip slightly and steps back, taking your hands in his, warming them up. He looks at you, amused and curious, and leans down.

"Close your eyes..." you whisper. He doesn’t say anything but does as you ask, his smile softening as he relaxes his face. You take a deep breath, feeling your heart race, each beat echoing louder in your chest.

The world falls silent for a moment—it's just the two of you, suspended in time. The anticipation tingles through you as you lean closer, closing the distance between you.

You press your lips gently against his cheek, and the warmth of his skin against your lips is electric. It’s a simple kiss, but it carries all the unspoken words you couldn’t say out loud. A silent confession. You linger there for just a heartbeat longer, feeling him inhale sharply, as if caught off guard by the intimacy of it. As you pull back, the first snowflakes begin to fall, drifting slowly from the sky. The soft touch of snow melts against your skin, but Sylus holds you close, not letting the moment slip away.

„Now... that’s a present only you could have given me." He gives you the most tender smile. "Thank you."

He looks like he wants to say something else but remains silent. Instead, he pulls you into a deeper embrace, burying his face in your hair as the snow continues to fall softly around you. You’re more than fine with that. No, you’re happy—grateful for this sweet moment.

You realize you’re a step closer to falling for him completely, accepting that the connection between you two is stronger than you ever imagined.

“Merry Christmas, Sylus.”

He smiles, his eyes crinkling with genuine joy.

“Merry Christmas, kitten.”

[karaeilishh]

can u write something about the pet names billie uses 😘😘

☆彡 pet names - b. eilish

✩ - baby

the most common to use. it happens almost all the time; when she wants to comfort you or fuck you. it doesn't matter.

⋆ "come here baby, i missed you"

⋆ "baby, tell me what's bothering you?"

⋆ "thats my baby...you take me so well"

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

✩ love

almost the same, but for her this name means a lot. she prefers to call you like that only when you are alone or she needs to show all her love.

⋆ "its been a terrible day, love. can we just spend some time together?"

⋆ "don't cry my love. i will always be by your side, you know it"

⋆ "come on love, we need to get out of bed”

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

✩ mama

almost always when she wants to tease you or during sex.

⋆ "fuck, mama, just sit on my fucking strap or i'll destroy you”

⋆ "nice dress, mama. i'll deal with you tonight. don't wear anything underneath"

⋆ "damn mama… i can never get enough of you"

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

✩ my heart 

at first you found it a little weird, but every time she calls you that, you know she's tired or upset.

⋆ "my heart, can you give me a hug?"

⋆ "i heart you" instead of "i love you"

⋆ "can you not go to work today, my heart? I don't want to be alone"

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

✩ my girl 

she mostly uses this name when you are in public or with friends. she likes how you shy when she says "my". billie found it really cute when you first told her.

⋆ "hey my girl. my friends behave well around you?"

⋆ "dude, hands off. that’s my girl."

⋆ "are you cold, my girl? take my jacket, please"

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

✩ angel

this name making you shy you a lot, so she always uses it to push you to orgasm or to praise you.

⋆ "i knew you could do it. i’m so proud of you, my angel."

⋆ "come on angel… cum on my face"

⋆ "my angel is needy today, hm?"

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

✩ slut

she only started calling you that after you gave her consent. she only uses that name during sex. billie would never allow herself to call you that to really insult you.

⋆ "such a desperate little slut for me, aren’t you?"

⋆ "shallow it like a good little slut you are"

⋆ "you want more? i’ll give you more, slut"

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

✩ amore

billie didn't even notice when she started calling you that all the time. but it started after your trip to italy.

⋆ "amore, you wanna take a photo? it's so beautiful here"

⋆ "i turned on the movie you wanted to watch, amore, come on"

⋆ "I just ordered three pizzas for us, amore"

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

✩ princess

she calls you that mostly when she buys you something, which happens all the time

⋆ "I'll buy you this whole store, princess, just ask"

⋆ "you look like a real princess in this dress"

⋆ "don't be shy to ask me for anything you want, princess"

requests open !!

[intromortal]

LIQUID SWEETENER

jake takes care of his sick girlfriend, but with an unexpected twist.

PAIRING jake x f!reader

CONTENT smut. mdni. established relationship, reader has a fever, she's very annoying tbh but it's bc she's ME! it's okay tho bc jake is equally as bad. spitting medicine in someone's mouth... is this sanitary? absolutely not but i also can't bring myself to care

WORD COUNT 3.8k

a.n happiest birthday to my love !!!! nia era where she doesn't let everything she writes rot in her google docs bc she's not happy enough with it??? gasp. maybe. thank you to my lovely @ak4e7a for being so patient with me and reading what i write before anyone else so i don't look stupid i love you mama

WARNINGS fingering, spit, biting, implied oral f!rec, cum eating

Jake’s pout got somehow more pronounced than what it already was when you, once again, refused to just take your medicine. He’d been trying to get you to swallow at least a tiny dose of the sweet fever syrup for the best part of an hour, after every attempt to get you to down any kind of pill resulted in you just hiding them somewhere underneath your cozy pajamas, against your burning skin. He even made sure to pick out a syrup that wouldn’t taste straight up radioactive, knowing you well enough to predict you’d make a big fuss about the nasty taste. Yeah, he could picture it right then in his head, how you’d gag dramatically at the smell and just beg him to go get the tablets again.

For how much you hated being sick, you seemed to dislike the idea of getting better quickly even more.

“You would feel so much better if you just took your medicine,” he sighed, resting the cap filled to the brim with sticky honey flavored syrup on the crowded comforter, careful not to leave it too close to the edge.

“Not even that sick,” you huffed back, trying to wiggle yourself out of the cocoon of blankets Jake wrapped you in as soon as you fell asleep.

“Yeah?” Jake looked at you with an arched brow, before pointing his head to the little mountain of discarded, snot filled tissues overtaking your comforter, the ones he was in the middle of throwing away. “This right here is breeding ground for bioterrorism allegations.”

He stopped you from getting out of bed, securing the warm fuzzy covers around you again. “No need to leave, just tell me what you need and I’ll get it for you,” he whispered against your lashes, placing a soft kiss to your closed eyelid.

“Just wan’ you.”

“But you have me baby, I’m right here, yeah?” he snickered, plump lips thinning into that gorgeous wide smile of his.

He knew damn well what you meant, a frustrated grumble spilling out of you at the thought. Cheeky bastard, of course he wanted you to say it out loud. The quiet part.

“Want…more,” you cranked one of your eyes open, struggling when a droplet from the wet towel on your forehead Jake promptly changed every fifteen minutes slipped in it. You blinked a few times, adjusting to the light in the room before looking over to Jake, his grin still wide and brightening up his whole face, his head turned to the side as he observed you lovingly, a strand of hair longer than the rest tickling the side of his nose.

If Jake had to be completely honest with himself, he wasn’t particularly sad at you being a little sick.

Sure, it sounded mean to say out loud. But you were not doing so badly or in any kind of pain that would worry him, and he enjoyed doting on you like this, with you having no choice but to just take his love. Can’t blame a man for wanting to take care of his girl, especially when said girl had a streak of refusing to just lay back and let him do the work.

You were always hiding your pain and vulnerability from everyone around you, so he enjoyed knowing he was helping make it at least a little better for once.

You—however—wouldn’t exactly agree that he was making you feel better, definitely not by walking around with damp hair from the shower and intoxicating the air around you with the lingering salty marine and musky notes of the cologne he always sprayed on his fresh change of clothes. A smell you usually related to comfort and home, making your head spin in the best way possible, a whirlwind of anything but pure thoughts crowding your mind.

Jake took notice of the subtle shift in the air around you right away. You had been–subtly at first—laying down little hints for him to pick up, you craved him. Had been craving him for what felt like forever, ever since you got sick. A nagging hunger that just grew further with every hour he silently ignored it. Usually you would busy yourself with random tasks, keeping your thoughts clear of images of his hands, or his plush lips and how he always absentmindedly licked away at them or how—you get the idea. But being sick didn’t help, being physically weak and needing rest didn’t stop your mind from running wild. Made it worse, actually, since you had nothing to do but lay in your bed all day. If only he’d slide right next to you under your covers and—

“I know what you’re thinking,” Jake interrupted your thoughts, a hint of amusement shining through his smooth tone. You looked up to him hopefully, breath caught in your chest fearing the next few words he was about to say. “And you’re still too sick.”

Really not being dramatic, but you thought you felt a boulder crush you right on your chest. You groaned, turning to the other side so you could sulk properly without having to look at Jake’s stupidly handsome face. A face you would love to ride as soon as possible.

“No like, you actually hate me,” your voice was muffled by the pillow you were squishing your face against.

“What are you even doing.”

“Trying to suffocate myself since my man hates me,” you explained, grabbing the sides of the pillow and pushing them to cover your ears, making Jake erupt in a fit of boyish giggles.

“No I don’t, just want you to feel better first,” he barely whispered, the loving tone making your body feel light.

You suddenly pushed yourself up with your arms to look at him, nest of hair a mess from the speed of your movement, “I would feel sooo much better with your fingers deep inside me right now.”

He looked at you for a moment, really looked at you, assessing what to do in this situation. He too missed your touch, far more than what he was letting on. Even just sleeping next to you—a pillow fortress separating you two by your request—had turned out to be too much for him on multiple occasions, finding himself silently sneaking out of bed to go and take care of his sudden little problems in the bathroom.

As if sensing his resolve wavering, you added, “don’t I deserve a little reward?”

“A reward… for what?” Jake was thoroughly amused by your desperation. You rarely ever got like this, and he was enjoying every second of it, maybe even pushing it a little farther than what he usually would, ending up punishing himself a little along the way too. But he didn’t care, not when he didn’t know when the next time he’d get to this would be.

“Well of course! For having fought this fever tooth and nail and having come out of it alive.”

“You still have a fever though,” he deadpanned. “Could kick your ass right down at any given moment.”

“That.” you glared at him with all the fake anger you could muster up. “Is such a mean thing to even suggest.”

“Don’t you care about me getting sick? Made a scene all week and now you’re okay with me touching you?”

“First of all—I only made you keep the pillows between us the first two days. And like I told you, I feel better, so if—” the words died in your throat as you felt the bed dip underneath the weight of Jake’s knee. You looked up to him as he slowly got inside the covers, right next to you. His presence felt different, the soft look in his eyes overtaken by something more primal, and you couldn't help but feel like prey under his watchful gaze. It felt intimidating in a way you weren’t used to. It made you squeeze your legs together in search of any friction, your already feverish skin somehow feeling even hotter.

“Maybe you’re right,” Jake whispered against your cheek, his nose rubbing for a moment on your skin as he snuck an arm underneath your body, pulling you flush to his side. Even just that single touch sends an electrifying shiver down your spine. “Since you’re fully capable of talking my ear off…”

You reached for his hand wrapped comfortably around your waist and guided it down to cup your heat through your thin shorts, your own hand resting on top of his as you ground your pussy against it.

You took notice of how his breath hitched in his throat, his carefully crafted mask of calmness slipping as you used his hand, the illusion wearing off even more when he tried to hide it with a gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. You knew he wanted it just as bad as you did, you were just willing to beg for it as long as it got you what you wanted. “I’ll—” you audibly gasped when he flexed his fingers just that tiny little bit you needed to be able to feel them press against your fluttering hole. “I’ll do anything, just please make me cum.”

“Anything?” he teased you, voice light and airy as he moved the fabric of the shorts out of his way. A deep chuckle tickled your neck, Jake’s mouth having dipped down do leave open mouthed kisses on the sensitive skin.

“Anything, just… please,” you whined, flexing your neck to allow him more space, his tongue dipping to lick a stripe down to the juncture of your neck.

If you hadn't been so deprived of Jake’s touch up until then, you would have found the way you were grinding up against his hand and moaning in his ear almost embarrassing. But you were desperate, so you couldn't bring yourself to care about how pathetic you probably looked.

Jake though, oh he enjoyed it thoroughly. His cock was stiff in his sweats, almost painfully so, from feeling how wet you were through your shorts. Dripping already and he had barely touched you. You were just so fucking hot.

“You’ll take your medicine then?” He moved his hand from your mound to grip your thigh, ignoring your weak one clawing at his arm in an attempt to get the little taste of pleasure he was giving you back. He kissed his teeth, his eyebrows furrowed in faux disapproval. “Use your words. What will you do?”

“Take my medicine,” you whimpered, looking into your boyfriend's eyes despite the tears aligning your waterline, and finding amusement swimming through his gaze. Little cheeky shit. Not that you were about to complain or anything.

“Theeeere we go,” Jake sang in your ear, placing a soft kiss behind it before dipping down once again and resuming his sweet torture. “You can be good once in a while.”

You nodded, lips thinning to keep quiet as if any wrong sound would make him change his mind and leave you hanging. The hand that was drawing circles on your thigh came up to hold your chin, carefully tilting it away from Jake’s mouth as he sucked on a particularly sensitive spot on your skin. He smoothed over your lips with his thumb, coaxing them to part once again.

“Let me hear how good you feel, baby,” he mumbled, mouth still latched on your neck, before taking a strong whiff off your neck. Had you not been so distracted by the wetness seeping out of your clenching hole onto your panties, you would've noticed how his eyes rolled all the way back in his skull at your smell.

His free hand finally slid under your shorts, a gasp leaving you because of how cold he felt. Jake was always warmer than you, but your fever made it so his touch felt icy against your skin. Your back arched slightly when one of his digits parted your sopping folds, your sensitivity heightened by the unusual difference of temperature.

“Poor little thing, she’s got a fever too,” he giggled into your neck, another digit joining in as he slowly dragged them from your clit to your hole to coat them in your juices. “But it’s okay, I’ll help her feel better.”

Usually you would’ve groaned at his stupid little jokes and pushed his face away. But this time, blame his voice being deeper and hoarser than normal or blame your fever, it got you clenching around nothing, cunt feeling emptier than ever while he took his sweet time playing with you.

Your head dug deeper into the pillow, hips lifting from the bed to follow Jake’s torturous movements, desperate to feel something more.

“So needy…” he breathed into your neck, going back to placing sloppy open mouthed kisses wherever he could reach.

A yelp left your mouth, eyes you didn't even notice you had closed shooting open when Jake bit down on the junction of your neck and shoulder, just enough to rip you out of the trance you were quickly falling into. He smoothed over the little bite mark with this tongue, a tingly sensation overtaking the pain in a matter of seconds, pleasure overriding anything else.

Jake finally prodded two of his digits into your hole, testing the waters, still careful not to push you too hard so soon. But your reaction was instantaneous, pussy hole fluttering against his fingertips right away, he just had to bite down on his bottom lip to keep most of his noises in. “God… I fucking love it when you act like a little slut.”

Jake was so fucking turned on, he could barely think about anything but your pussy. The only thought in his mind was get her off, make her feel good, get a taste of her sweet cunt, sweet pretty and oh so delicious cunt… like a broken record. He felt like he was born for this and this only, as if his mission in life was just that of pleasing you. And to think he had deprived himself of such bliss for even a few days… Something in you seemed different to him, almost animalistic, the way you rutted your hips against his hand as soon as he started scissoring his fingers inside you, the way you weren't even trying to hold in your moans like you usually would, mouth hanging open with a string of drool attached to your lips. And this was just from his fingers.

You yourself weren't doing any better, your brain basically turned to mush as you helped Jake get you off by essentially riding his fingers, despite how weak you felt from the fever. His fingers were so long, hitting all the right spots you knew you could never be able to reach by yourself, and his thick knuckles dragged against your walls so deliciously.

“S-so good,” you gasped when he turned his fingers just the right way, hitting the spot he knew had you coming undone in just a few strokes.

The room was filled with the slapping sounds of his palm against your drenched cunt, more and more slick dripping down your thighs and onto the bed with every flick of his wrist, making it all that much more obscene and filthy. You could feel the familiar pressure building up in your tummy, and suddenly the overwhelming need to just grab onto something crashed on you, heavy and almost painful. You clawed at his shirt, eyebrows furrowed in deep pleasure, unaware of the fact that Jake was not facing you anymore.

He looked over his shoulder to the comforter, the cap filled with syrup still there amidst the mess. He twisted his body to grab it, careful not to slow down the relentless pace he was fingerfucking your cunt at. A few drops of the liquid spilled onto his shirt as he took a sip of it, a grimace overtaking his features as he tried his best to hold it in his mouth. You were still a moaning mess by his side, tiny brain turned to putty so much so you didn't even register anything else happening around you, so hyper focused on the pleasure your boyfriend was providing you.

“J-jake, I’m so close.”

Perfect timing.

Jake grabbed your jaw to turn your head towards his, applying the pressure he always did to signal it was time to part your pretty lips and take his spit, like the good well behaved girl he knew you to be. And you did just that; immediately following his movements like he had trained you to, tongue sticking out too for good measure. He bent down slightly to aim better. But this time, instead of the slightly bitter taste of his saliva you expected, he let small amounts of medicine fall on your tongue.

You uselessly tried to back away from him, but he held you in place, fingers still working inside your cunt. Nor did he allow you to close your mouth despite your surprised gasp. His hand held your jaw open, grasp getting firmer everytime you tried to break free of it. After all, you made a promise, and he was going to make sure you fulfilled it.

“You weren't going to take it, huh?” Jake mouthed against your lips once he had made sure you swallowed every last drop of the thick honeyed syrup, holding eye contact with you through it all, fingers never once slowing down their pace. “Little dumb pet thinks she can outsmart me.”

He smashed his mouth on yours, not so much a kiss as a silencing of any complaint you were about to spit it at him. Those turned to even more whines when he finally brought his thumb to your clit, drawing harsh circles on it as he fucked you to your orgasm. It was almost instantaneous, but you just couldn't have helped it even if you tried; you were so close already, his stiff cock rubbing against your thigh and his pants hot in your mouth but his thumb so cold against your neglected clit

“That’s it baby, so good for me yeah.” Jake’s fingers gradually slowed down inside you, making sure you got every last bit of pleasure you could possibly experience from this high. He too was relishing in how your cunt pulsed against his digits, making it harder to move them inside you. Oh he wished it were his cock being constricted like that instead. But that could wait.

You finally felt like you could breathe again, chest heaving to catch in as much air as you could, forehead all sweaty from the exertion.

The sheets were drenched around you, and you couldn't even pinpoint when it had happened, but you could immediately tell you weren't the only one who had made a mess. Your gaze wandered to Jake’s pants, a very evident stain on his crotch catching your attention. And fuck, if you weren't ready to do it all over again.

Jake looked absolutely divine; hair disheveled and soaked from the sweat, boxers and sweatpants full of cum. A waste truly.

You snuck your hand in his pants, ignoring the loud hiss from overstimulation Jake let out when you wrapped your hand around his cock and pumped a few times, your thumb swiping on his exposed head to collect some of the cum covering it.

Jake watched you, mouth ajar and cock stiffening again right away, as you licked your fingers clean. He slid his own fingers out of your cunt, lapping at them like a man starved, hoping to work you up as much as you just did to him. His heart raced in his chest as you kept looking at him, a little smile playing on your lips.

“That was so…” you spoke up, giggling when Jake interrupted you by throwing himself over your figure, capturing your lips in an actual kiss this time. A very messy, very wet kiss. Allowing you to savor your own taste mixed with his and sweetened by the medicine.

“I think the word you’re looking for is hot.”

“Dramatic,” you interjected. “So, so dramatic.”

Jake curled an eyebrow at you. “You were the one acting like it’d kill you to swallow some syrup. And actually, let’s not forget–” He placed a quick kiss on your nose before pushing you against the mattress further, his entire weight on you. “Ohhh no Jake! Please my Jakey! If I don’t get your cock right now I will DIE!”

“Well I still hav–”

“And won’t.” he deadpanned, sensing where you were trying to stir the conversation. “But I’ve got a few ideas.”

You smiled to yourself, feeling featherlight kisses making their way down your body, with his messy hair tickling your skin every so often. He placed a soft kiss on your mound, whining dramatically when you grabbed a few strands of his hair to stop him. He rested his head on your thigh, puppy-like eyes looking up at you, almost pleading for permission to continue what he started.

“I really don’t want you to get sick,” you said, voice coming out in a whisper full of care, your fingertips playing with his hair and enjoying the way he nuzzled his head further against your skin.

“Well if I were to get sick by touching you… I’d say the deal is sealed by now, no?” He placed another kiss on your thigh, teeth slightly grazing the plush skin when you took too long to contemplate whether to give in or not. “Actually, I think some of this syrup would heal me right now.”

“Jake. I’m being serious.”

“What could I possibly even catch from eating you out that I haven't already by exchanging spit with you? Best pussy in the world disease?” He laughed at his own joke, gaining a roll of the eyes from you. “Let me tell you, the chances of that happening are close to zero anyway. I don’t have a pussy but I am the proud owner of a very fat co–”

“You are downright insufferable.”

“Okay so shut me up with a mouthful of this pu–”

The rest of the sentence was muffled against your mound as you pushed his head down, deciding you heard enough for the day. And the week.

“Okay, okay. Go on,” you giggled as you laid back once again, a deep sigh following as soon as his expert tongue made contact with your cunt.