#when i awake my first thought will probably be also about this fic and i will likely reread it

[emmerwrites]

"Where did you go?"

Pairings: Spencer Reid/ Reader- Established relationship Genre: Angst & Smut Summary: After Hankel, Spencer came back different. You know he's hiding something from you, but you're too afraid to ask, too afraid to find out the truth. Coming home in the early hours of the morning, you confront him.   Warnings: MDNI!!! Drug use, lying, unprotected sex, sex as an unhealthy coping mechanism, slight body worship, porn with plot, fem receiving! head, biting, sub! spencer, men whimpering, creampie, slight cockwarming, overstimulation. A/N: Can be read as a standalone, however it is set in the same timeline as my fic "Ain't No Grave". Part 1 is linked below. Also, my first time writing Smut!! W/C: 1.8k Part 1

You had woken up in a cold sweat. Another nightmare. You turned in the bed, hoping to feel the soft, warming presence of your boyfriend, but instead, you’re met with the expanse of cold bed sheets. Furrowing your brow, you will your body to sit up. Staring at the empty space, your mind can’t help but race. Ever since Spencer had been kidnapped and rescued from Hankel, you haven’t been able to stop worrying. 

Spencer had come back…different. The first 12 hours, he had been clingy, practically refusing to leave your side, but after that he began to shut everyone out- including you. He was snippy, and sassy, and constantly in a mood. You tried to ignore how his hands would shake, and how at night he would lock himself in the bathroom when he thought you were asleep. You wanted to push, wanted to beg for him to open up and just tell you what had happened, and what was wrong, but you were scared he would lash out, like a wild animal backed into a corner. 

You swing your feet over the edge of the bed, the hardwood cold, but familiar. Keeping the lights off you pad through the small apartment you share with Spencer. Using the moonlight that’s streaming through the windows, you navigate your way to the far left cabinet in the kitchen. You reach up for a glass, and fill it with tap water, not even bothering to pull the brita out of the fridge. The glass gets sat back on the kitchen counter, where it will be forgotten until the morning. Your footsteps fall gently as you step into the moonlight. With Spencer not there to comfort you, you wrap your arms around yourself, hoping that this would trick your brain into thinking that you’re getting the hug that you are so desperately craving. Your eyes slide shut as you soak in the brilliance of the moon. 

You stood there, for god knows how long, before you heard a click, and then the sound of the front door creaking open. Spencer froze, not expecting to see you awake. He had been going on these errands under the guise of night. Partly to hide it from you, but partly to bury the shame that built in his chest everytime he bought another two week supply of dilaudid. He wanted to stop, he really did, but the feeling of the narcotic in his blood just made everything…easier. It was the only thing numbing the pain right now. His hands shook, it had been too long since his last dose. How could he do this to you? How could he every night since he was rescued- by you- lock himself in the bathroom and inject himself with a drug that could kill him, and that probably was, just slowly.  

“Y/N?” His voice shook. “I-��

“Where did you go?” You turned around to look at him. Despite the worry and frustration painted on your face, he couldn’t help but think about just how beautiful you were, with your hair slightly crumpled from sleep, one of his old shirts from the academy hanging off of you, and hell even with the tears he could faintly see welling in your eyes. 

“I-I, I was out” The truth, not the full truth, but part of it. The words soured in his mouth as he said them, his voice cracking. 

You step forward. Your voice threatening to break, “Out doing what?” 

“I-” He gulped, 

“Spencer, please, tell me, let me in, what’s going on with you?” you pleaded. You were closer, so close you could feel his breath on your face, could see the panic building in his chest, with the way his eyes slightly widened, with the way his hands silently shook. 

“I-, god, I need help Y/N” Now it was his turn for his eyes to cloud with unshed tears. “I- I just can’t mentally get away from that cabin, everytime I fall asleep I’m stuck there”. Spencer avoided eye contact, his eyes darting to stare at the floor instead of looking at you. It was easier this way. 

Your eyes soften, taking in how he looked. He was paler, and skinnier since the kidnapping, and his eyes were red rimmed, hands shaking. How did you not see the signs? The long sleeves, the frequent trips to the bathroom, the scratching in the crook of his arm. You extended your hand, and hesitantly put it on his cheek, turning his head to look up at you. 

His big wide brown eyes stared at you, melting into your touch. Tears silently rolled down his face, as you pulled him into a tight embrace. He sniffled and wrapped his arms around you like you would disappear if he let go. His salty tears soaked into the old t-shirt, and his hand drifted down to its place on your hip. You looked down, right as he looked up. 

It took only a moment before his lips were crashing into yours, the kiss needy and full of want, full of unsaid apologies. His hands, still slightly shaking, found solace underneath your sleep shirt, one hand still on your hip, the other on your upper thigh, cupping and massaging at the skin on your ass. Your hands, greedily held onto his face, like a lifeline. Lips moved in slow synchrony, hot and wet, and slightly messy. After a few moments the kiss broke, and Spencer stared up at you, his lips wet and puffy, his pupils blown. He looked like a man starved. 

Sinking to his knees, you grabbed onto the nearby wall for support as his mouth ghosted over your underwear. 

“Please?” He begged, his fingers already hooked onto the sides of your underwear. With a frantic nod, he pulled them down agonizingly slow. With your panties discarded on the floor, and his hands anchored onto your hips, he dove in. He licked a long, slow strip from your entrance to your clit, gathering up the wetness before sucking on the already swollen bud. One hand still on the wall, the other found its way to his hair, pulling and bringing him closer to your heat, as you let your head fall back, mouth open in a silent moan. 

He kept licking and sucking, and just devouring you as if you were his last meal on earth. You were close, so close, when he pulled back, panting slightly. His hair was a mess from where you had been pulling on it, and his lips and chin were glossy. Taking his shaky hands in yours, you guided him back to the bedroom. You pushed him down onto the bed, and with wide eyes he stared up at you as you straddle him. Your hands made quick work, unbuttoning his shirt. He freezes, his hands grasping your wrists. 

“Wait” his voice is hoarse. You’re still on top of him, but your hands rest gently against his exposed chest. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask, your voice gentle, your brow furrowing. 

“I- I don’t want you to be mad, or scared when you see my forearms.” He whispers, slightly ashamed of himself. You lean forward and press a gentle kiss on his lips.

“I love you the way you are” You whisper, pull off the rest of his shirt. Your fingers trail over his shoulders and gently down his arms. He tenses as your fingers grace over the crooks of his elbows. Leaning down you press kisses to the abused skin, marked with small pin pricks, before you trail your lips back up his arms until you find that sweet spot where his neck meets his shoulder. You press a gentle kiss to the skin, before nipping and sucking at the spot. Spencer moans beneath you, his hips bucking into yours. You gasp, and bite down, licking the spot to soothe it, Spencer still whimpering and moaning under you. His hands find your hips and guide them as you rock against his clothed erection. 

“Fuck” You gasp into his neck, and you reach down, messing with the button and zipper on his pants. You help pull his pants and underwear off, until he’s laid beneath you naked, his erection hitting his stomach. The tip was red and angry from neglect. Crawling back on top of him, he whimpers and looks down at you as your hand wraps around his length, pumping once, twice, twisting as you pull up. 

“Y/N, p-please” he gasps out, your thumb swipes around the head gathering the precum, and smearing it down his cock. With shaky legs, you scooch up and hover over his erection, before lining yourself up, and sinking down onto him. 

“Oh god” He moans as you give an experimental shift. Grinning at his reaction you rock slowly, his hands shooting towards your hips, you continue to rock, picking up the pace. Your hands roam over his chest, and god does he look beautiful beneath you, chest and face flushed, head thrown back, lips parted, and those sounds, of the sounds he’s making. Even the slightest movement of your hips, or the clench of you, is turning him into a moaning, whimpering mess. 

You can feel him twitch inside of you and you know he’s close, instead of picking the pace up like you know he’s begging for, you slow down, making sure he feels the entirety of you with each stroke.

“Baby, baby please” he’s whining and writhing underneath your brutally slow pace. Putting a finger to his lips you respond

“Shhhh-ah, let me-let me make you feel good” you moan. Rocking your hips so slowly you might as well have been teasing yourself. 

You couldn’t help but speed up a little bit, desperately trying to chase your own high, with Spencer still writhing beneath you. A few more strokes and you could feel his cock twitch and his body tense, spilling inside of you.

He whimpered as you continued to use him until you achieved your own high. You collapsed against his chest, his spent cock twitching inside of you. 

You laid on top of him, both of your chests still heaving, before you pressed a gentle kiss under his ear.

“We’re going to get you the help you need, you know that?” you whispered.

“I know, I- I love you, so much” Spencer’s voice shook slightly. You lifted your head, just enough to look him in the eyes, his hands wandered from your hips to wrap around you, and pull you closer to him.

“You’re going to be okay, I’ve got you baby”, your voice an unbreakable promise, and for the first time in a while, he knew he could overcome this. 

[samsmissingshoee]

ANGEL — SAM WINCHESTER.

SUMMARY — sam starts to grow fond of an angel. they have grown more comfortable around each other, and tensions run high when dean leaves for a bar.

WARNINGS — no plot all porn... 18+, softdom!sam, unprotected sex, p in v, oral, f!receiving, unexperienced!reader, angel!reader, LOTS of praise, biting, creampie, mentions of religion, sam's a sweetheart. he's also a freak.

WC — 4.3k. i got carried away.

A/N — i feel like i'm going to hell just from the warnings alone. i erm. i don't even know. shout out the two people who asked to get tagged in this 🙏 first ever smut fic, if you hate i'll probably delete my account. i am not editing 4.3k words btw. i'm lazy.

angels weren't supposed to enjoy the feeling of a human. that much was well known.

and when you came from heaven to assist castiel in whatever the hell it was that he was doing, that was repeated to you over and over again. these 'humans', they weren't important. your only job was to make sure sam winchester didn't get hurt. that was all this was supposed to be. a casual round of protecting the winchesters.

you didn't understand human norms, and at first, sam didn't like you. you didn't take personally, of course, because, well, sam hated any angel at first. castiel quickly explained to you about the brother's and how you'd be spending more time with them while he awaited directions. honestly, you couldn't care less about either of the brothers, too. they were hunters, and you were an angel. you weren't supposed to mix anyway.

sam winchester was more interesting than his older and shorter brother, though. sam was thoughtful and a lot more curious about you than he let on at first. as you spent more time 'watching' over him, you realized he enjoyed asking you questions about heaven, and the angels, and about castiel. and you tried to answer them to the best of your ability.

sam was more open to learning about you than dean, and he was more considerate when it came to teaching you knew things. slowly, he started defending you against dean's antics, and he learned about how curious you were, too.

he spent many late nights awake with you, struggling with his insomnia. you made it much more enjoyable. on the off chance that he did get some sleep, he'd wake up to you in the bunker, lounging and reading one of his books. as soon as you saw him awake, you'd pounce on him, eager to talk all about it.

sam found you endearing in the same way you found him intriguing. you both taught each other different things. he taught you about different emotions and how to communicate them to him. he showed you his favorite movies. he told you about his time in standford and about how he was studying law. you taught him about the bible, about praying and how you'd always come if he prayed for you. you taught him about heaven and hell, and angels and everything in between.

eventually, you two become friends, as much as younger sam would have hated to admit that. he showed you what friendship was and what it was like to worry about someone more than yourself. he explained to you what love was and about heartbreak. sam watched as you turned from this unemotional, blunt angel into a person, crafted by the things you loved.

you two kissed about six months after hunting with him. you were unexerienced, and painfully so, and your first kiss was nothing but giggles and awkward stares. the second, third, and fourth ones weren't any better. sam was ridiculously dotting and patient, and even though you were an angel and didn't understand what a relationship was, you still tried for him, and he loved you for it.

after a week of sneaky kisses and rushing into each other's rooms once dean fell asleep, you seemed to have gotten the hang of it. you and sam hadn't done anything remotely sexual other than a few hands-under-the-bra's and one /bad/ attempt at a handjob. sam was enthralled in watching you become more confident and learning how to touch him the way that he liked and how to kiss him properly. so he didn't mind taking things slow.

you two agreed to not have sex yet, partially because to you, it was a sin, and partially because you didn't know what you were doing. sam had no issue waiting. that was, until tonight.

you don't even remember how this happened, honestly — the lingering touches became more frequent, more needy, and at some point, sam had slipped you out of your shirt and bra. you'd barely even made it to his room /thank god for dean being out at a bar tonight/, before he was kissing you, his lips hiding something more intense tonight.

you wouldn't have protested anyways, but as soon as your shirt was gone, sam was all over you.

"i know it feels dirty, honey. but it's not. i wouldn't lie to you." sam hums against your throat, kissing the soft skin. when he talks like that, all low and soothing, you might just believe anything he says. he pulls back to look at your concerned expression, and his smile softens.

his movement stills, and you frown, almost wishing sam would convince you to do more. that feeling in your stomach, the one that felt close to nausea, started to feel nice. and you craved more of it. you craved more of sam.

although his desire outweighed his guilt for ruining the purity of an angel like this, sam still sat up for a moment, his hazel eyes practically begging you. he was nothing, if not a gentleman. "do you want this?" sam asks, hushed and spoken like a prayer, and you think you might get sent to hell just from how he's looking at you.

sam's hair is a ruffled mess, and his long sleeve black shirt was rolled up to his elbows. his carhartt jacket had long been discarded by you, tossed somewhere into the dark abyss that was the dingy, horribly lit motel room. he looks beautiful.

"i do, sammy, but—" you breathe out shakily. before you can finish answering, his hands are on your hips, tugging you closer to him. you're both standing up, his large hands moving up your skirt to trail up your sides. sam can feel your back arch against his hands slightly, and it's taking everything in him to not lose his resolve.

san, who previously said he was okay with waiting, felt like a selfish man tonight. he could honestly care less about your innocence right now. what he did care about was you, though. sam knew that if you wanted him to continue, he wouldn't be able to stop.

"but what?" sam mumbled, his fingertips digging against your hips. his erection was pressed dangerously against your thigh. he shifted you until you were pressed against him — he knew what he was doing and the effect it was having on you. you didn't answer and could only grumble a complaint out.

"just needa taste you, honey. we don't have to go all the way if you don't want to." sam's words are a contradiction to how he was staring at you. "although, i have thought about doing more." he hums, and he has a slight shit eating grin on his face. it's sort of surprising that this is your sweet sammy.

you're conflicted— this is wrong. sinful. but there was a bubbling heat in your stomach, and you wanted nothing more than to make sam feel good. maybe a part of being human was indulging in your sins. you pout at him slightly, and sam has to stop himself from moving his hips up against you. he doesn't just want this, he needs this. he needs to corrupt you, to ruin your innocence until all you can think about is him.

"fine. be gentle, though, sam. i mean it." you relent, although you didn't need much convincing. honestly, if he tried to pull off of you, you'd be the one begging him to touch you and not the other way around.

"oh, fuck—" sam groans, and he almost instantly falls to his knees. his hands are tugging off your jeans faster than you can process. "you don't know how long i've wanted this." his tone makes you feel dirty, and you can't help when your brows crumple into a slight glare. you didn't know what he was doing, but you wanted him to hurry it up.

you help him kick your jeans off around your ankles and step out of them. you're left in your cotton panties, and for some reason, it turns sam on more to know you weren't planning for this. honestly, neither was he.

"leave these on." two fingers slip underneath the elastic by your thigh, tugging them and letting them go, the fabric snapping against your skin. the action makes you suck in a breath. sam's lips make their way to your upper thighs, sucking and kissing at the sensitive skin. it's not enough, and he knows that. he's driving you crazy on purpose to see you squirm for him.

"sam—" you chastise, like a scold, your hand running through his hair and tugging on it gently, trying to bring your hips closer to him. sam fucking moans. he moans at getting his hair pulled, and it makes your brows crease in bewilderment. /you would definitely be keeping that in mind./

sam looks up at you with those same puppydog eyes, and you swear you're going to burst into literal flames and have your wings removed instantly. "needa taste my girl's pussy. y'gonna let me?" sam says softly, his voice muffled by your thigh, gently biting on a spot. when you whimper, he pulls back to kiss at the forming bruise, his hands massaging at the fat of your ass.

truth be told, you'd probably let him fold into a pretzel at this point, but you didn't want to stroke his massive ego.

the noise you make is answer enough, and sam deftly pulls your panties to the side. his hand brings yours to hold them. he needs *both* hands for devouring you. sam's two middle fingers move to collect your slick from your folds, and you shiver. his brows raise, and he smiles again. "you're soaked, baby. you really want me that bad?" he asks, and you're nodding quickly.

sam can't hold back when you look this pretty above him. you can feel his breath against you. even just looking at you bare in front of him is enough to make him want to cum in his fucking jeans.

he flattens his tongue against you, and your hips stutter against his mouth. you've never felt anything like this before. you can feel sam's grin against your cunt, his hands cupping into your ass and pulling your hips further into his mouth.

seeing such a large man, especially one like sam, at his knees, lapping at your pussy like a fucking starved man— it makes your head fuzzy.

without warning, his middle finger slips into you. your hands move to his hair to steady yourself, massaging at the brown strands, pushing some from off his sticky forehead. the concentration on his face is almost cute, but it soon becomes too hard to keep your eyes open.

another finger slips past your folds, and you're mouthing his name like a prayer. his fingers are rocking into you at a slow speed, but his mouth— it was fucking dirty, the way he'd suck on your clit, only pulling away to breathe. everytime he pulled away, a string of saliva followed, connected between you two. his chin was slick with your arousal, his chest panting with heavy breaths. and then he was right back to devouring you.

maybe sam winchester was the devil.

your hands tug on his hair slightly, and sam groans against you. the heat in your stomach was building and sam was near drunk on your pussy. when he looked up at you with those hazel eyes, you moaned, your thighs tremoring.

"sam— sam, it feels too good... please—" you breathed out, panting too now, and sam didn't relent, no matter how hard you were tugging at his hair. his hand was holding your hip hard not daring to let you squirm away from him. indents of his fingertips would ruin your pretty skin by the morning. you had to shy away from his intense gaze.

sam pulled away, still fucking his fingers into you. "eyes on me, baby." he mumbled, before sinking flush against your clit again. you listened, although your face was an embarrassing hue of pink. sam was just as loud and needy, if not worse than you. everytime your thighs clenched around him, or you tugged on his hair, profanities and groans slipped from his lips. he needed you.

sam kept his tongue latched onto you, his eyes showing that he was as desperate as you were to make you cum. the noises he was making were filth, soft grunts and groans, all muffled by your puffy pussy. when your eyes flickered down, you noticed that one of his hands were palming himself through his jeans.

with every shake and spasm, it was like sam knew you were close. he was using his hands to rock your hips more onto his tongue, your weight practically suffocating him. sam would gladly die a happy man in between your folds, if it meant getting to look up at your beautiful face contorting in pleasure. his chest swells at the fact that he is the one who gets to touch you like this.

that feeling returned as quickly as it left, and soon you were cumming on his face, your legs shaking as he kept his fingers curled into your folds. that was probably the best thing you'd felt since coming to earth. sam pressed a kiss to your overstimulated clit, before kissing up your stomach, your breasts, collarbone, and finally standing to his full height over you.

"how was that?" sam asks, licking the wetness off his fingers. as much as he wanted to ruin you, he also wanted to make sure you were comfortable.

heavy pants still wracked both of your bodies, your thighs aching and barely able to hold your own weight. he had the audacity to ask that after making you feel things you hadn't felt in your centuries alive? in between deep breaths, you shot him a slight glare.

"what do you think?" you tutted, puffing his lips out in that gorgeous pout that made sam was to kiss you stupid, holding onto his biceps so you didn't lose balance.

sam grins in response, his hands moving to your bare hips, pressing you into him. his cock was fucking painfully hard and he had to refrain from rutting against you. "i need to fuck you, honey." fuck sam and his beautiful eyes, pleading at you. his hand leads your to palm him from over his jeans, and he moans softly, so prettily.

you were conflicted. you knew his cock would feel so much better than his fingers, but this was wrong. "sammy—" you say in the same chastising voice that drives him insane.

"please, let me fuck you. need to feel you around my dick. fuck, doesn't even have to be all the way." sam pleads, and you have a hard time saying no to that. he was practically begging you. you sigh at how weak you were for this man. "please fuck me, sam."

sam eyes widen slightly, and he can't help his grin as he pushes you back against the bed. his eyes stay on you as he pulls his shirt off, discarding it across the motel floor along with all of yours. you can't help but stare at him. all tanned, scarred, and bruised, despite being young. it was so different compared to your imperfect skin, free of any blemishes or let alone scars.

sam's tantalizingly slow as he takes off his belt, followed by his jeans. he's fucking huge. that much you can tell by his bulge alone. your eyes widen slightly when he strips his boxers off.

he wanted to take his time with you, to treat you like the goddamn angel you were, to wrack every noise he can from your lips. but, sam was impatient as hell. and he was really, really hard.

"you're beautiful." sam coos, caging you in between his much larger frame. there is a shine in his gaze, so soft and loving, that it almost makes you feel queasy. he's not doing this because he's bored or because he wants to get off. sam's doing this because you're his world.

"you're alright." you respond, not able to hold back the giggle that escaped your lips afterward, especially when you felt sam's annoyed sigh against the crook of your neck. you can feel his irritated grin. sam fell in love with that devilish laugh of yours, and he found it endearing that even during this, he could make you sound like that.

it was such a sharp contrast from how emotionless and... awkward— you first were when you met the winchester brothers. sam has loved watching you adapt this sassy personality, loved eyeing you while you admire new things, hearing the way your voice heightened whenever you laughed, the way you took over parts of his and dean's own quirks and personalities.

"just alright? you wound me, angel."

this time, you rolled your eyes. you turn your head to the side to press your lips against the mole below his right eye. "you're beautiful too, sammy. you already know that." you huff out, your tone unmistakably soft. sam scoffed, nipping at her neck slightly. it was nice to hear that from you, regardless of what he thought about himself.

unfortunately for you, the compliment rushes to sam's head. he sits up slightly, his cock pressed against your lower stomach, a hand brushing over your cheek, moving your fanned hair out of your face. "are you sure you're okay with this? we can stop— i'll put on a movie, and we can forget—"

you interrupt sam's worries by pressing a kiss to his palm. "yes sam, i'm sure. please." and that small act of intimacy followed by your voice pleading for him was enough reassurance for sam. no need to tell him twice.

sam pumps himself a few times, his eyes not once leaving yours. "scoot your hips up for me, honey." you oblige, and you can feel his cock pressed against your clothed entrance. the sight leaves nothing for the imagination and sam sighs as his fingers pulls your panties down to your ankles.

sam looks like he's in fucking heaven, his lips parted and staring at you bare in front of him. his thumb habitually moves to your clit, rubbing soft circles against it just to watch you squirm under him.

"sam, quit being a damn tease." you frown and wiggle your hips into his more. his gaze is making you shy, something you didn't know was even possible as an angel.

"innocent angel, my ass." sam mumbles under his breath, but he obliges, lining up his cock to you. he collects your slick with his tip, dragging the wetness over your already overstimulated clit. sam rubs it against your folds a few times, before pressing only about halfway in. the moan that leaves your lips is heavenly, so much so that sam's head has to fall to your shoulder and bites it softly so he doesn't cum too fast like a damn high schooler.

"you're so fucking tight, shit—" sam groans and it's so dirty coming from him. he's usually so sweet to you, so hearing this is different. and arousing. but different. you'd expect this talk out of dean, not sam.

sam really wished he would've slept around a little more in college now because it was taking far too much concentration to not finish already.

"need to fuck you, baby. please." sam all but whimpers out. all of your beliefs, your nightly prayers, all of it was gone the second you felt him inside of you. you can only nod in response, your hands tugging at his waist to come closer to you.

sam stills, looking at you for a moment like he can't believe you want this. and slowly, he pushes in all the way, and you both share a pornographic moan.

sam is quiet as he lets you adjust to his size. he wasn't one to toot his own horn, but he was pretty big. and even though your vessel wasn't a virgin, mentally, you still were. sam had a mantra of things going through his head — the main ones being: please don't cum, please don't cum, please don't cum. don't say i love you. don't move too fast yet. let her adjust.

sam leans down to kiss your forehead. "good?" he hums.

you nod again. "hurts a little." and sam is nothing but patient, kissing each of your temples before brushing your hair away.

"i promise you're doing so good. it's gonna hurt for a moment. it'll feel better soon. just relax." sam murmured against your shoulder, his lips sighing down towards your collarbone. "gonna move now, sweet girl." calloused palms are pressing your thighs to your chest. he leans down enough so you can hold on to his shoulders if you need.

with one hand still on the back of your leg, and the other one cupping one of your breasts, he pulls out almost all the way before rocking in slowly. your eyes screwing shut from pleasure is enough to test the waters with a more heavy thrust. "that's it, baby. look at you—" sam groans, his fingertips digging into your skin. his eyes were glued to where his cock was entering you rhythmically, and god, he could get addicted to that sight. sam could fucking see where the tip of his cock was pressing into your belly. his palm moved over it, adding slight pressure to your lower pelvis. the feeling made him groan out your name softly. he was just as loud as you were. "so beautiful."

part of you wanted sam to shut up so you could focus on the feeling of your walls fluttering around his cock, but the other half of you enjoyed the flithy words leaving his flushed lips.

"oh, fuck. sammy, 's too much—" you whimpered out, your hand squeezing his biceps. your legs wrapped around his waist to bring him closer, the balls of your heels digging against his ass. sam think he likes that you're not very vocal. it makes every beg, every moan that much more special to him. he was the only one who got to see his angel falling apart like this.

everything about sam is fucking massive, from his height, to his sheer size difference over you. it shouldn't have been shocking that his dick was huge too, but you felt it now. you felt every single inch, stretching you out, your arousal slipping down his shaft. sam's thrusts grew more feverish, his shaggy brown bangs falling into his face as his head fell forward slightly. "i know you can handle it baby." he grunted in response to your plea, hazel eyes fucked out with lust.

that feeling in your lower belly returned, and now, at least, you know what it meant. it was overwhelming, but not enough for you. your hand reached for sam's hand, guiding it to you clit. sam thought that was the hottest thing he'd ever fucking seen, and shuddered slightly. "you wanna cum around my cock? is that it, sweetheart?" sam asks, a small, contemplating smile on his lips.

you're writhing under his cock, your back arching off the bed, his thumb rubbing soft circles around your nub. you tap his bicep in warning of your approaching orgasm, but he doesn't stop. he doesn't slow down either. in fact, he ruts his hips faster. the feeling of you clenching around his dick is enough to send him over the edge, too. he's biting down hard on his cheek to stop himself from cumming before you. he wants, needs to see you cum first, before he can.

your face contorts into pleasure, and you cum hard, sam still fucking you through your orgasm. he groans and his eyes close when he watches you making a mess all over him. "thaaat's it. that's my girl." he encourages, the feeling of your walls clenching around him tipping him over the edge. "fuck. gonna fill you up." he grunts against your shoulder, his hips stuttering slightly and you moan as you feel his cock twitch inside you, before you feel cum spurt into your cunt.

sam pulls out a moment after, his eyes blown out when he watches his spend leak from your pulsating hole. he uses two fingers to spread it around over your folds. once he's satisfied with his handiwork, he slumps down into the bed next to you.

you're still a panting, sighing mess. you feel your legs twitch occasionally, and you're finally coming to your senses. you were just fucked stupid by your best friend. a human.

"jesus, sam. is this really what humans are doing?" you ask, out of genuine curiosity, and sam pinches your side with a slight laugh. he looks spent, almost as bad as you. his head falls to your shoulder, pressing his lips to the soft skin present.

"the lucky ones, yeah." sam huffs in amusement. "you're okay, right? i didn't hurt you, or pressure you or anything?" his voice is a little persistent, worried, already overthinking like he wasn't just inside of you.

"'course not. that was amazing. i think i'd go to hell if it meant having sex everyday— i see why castiel was encouraging me into trying this." you tilt your head to the side, and sam raises an eyebrow. he didn't even dare ask what odd things castiel told you about. nor did he want to know. he couldn't see castiel doing anyone without scaring them away with his bluntness first.

sam chooses to ignore that, leaning over to pepper kisses onto your cheeks, nose, and forehead. anywhere you'll let him at this point. "you did amazing. absolutely drained me. y'sure you haven't done that before?" he teases, and you roll your eyes at him. your eyes watched him with concern when sam stood.

"alright, crazy girl. let's get you cleaned up."

[sugarcoated-lame]

Easy Like Sunday Morning | Joel Miller x Reader

pre-outbreak joel x reader

all of my works are 18+ only, minors dni!

Summary: You wake up before Joel and decide you want to take care of him.

or

giving 2003 pre-outbreak Joel some head on a sleepy Sunday morning

a/n: i was inspired by this post by the amazing @mrsmando 🤍 and her delicious joel thoughts that never fail to have me spiraling and swooning 🫠 if i had a nickel for every time i’ve written a joel fic about someone being woken up with some head, i’d have two nickels. which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice (sorry i had to lmfaoo). also this is probably the quickest thing i’ve ever written, so i’m sorry if it sucks!

wc: 2.8k

content warnings: no outbreak/pre-outbreak 2003 joel, kricket sucks at writing summaries we know this, smut, oral (m receiving), slightly rough oral, hair pulling, no physical description of reader except that her hair is long enough for joel to pull, pet names (darlin’, baby, sweetheart, pretty girl), no use of y/n, joel miller has a big dick because i said so, established relationship, somno (kinda? joel is like not really awake at the beginning of the smut), this is basically just smut :)

joel masterlist

dividers by @saradika-graphics 🤍

⋆ . ˚ ✩ comments, reblogs, and feedback are greatly appreciated! ⋆ . ˚ ✩

Lazy Sunday mornings have become your favorite in the weeks since you moved in with Joel.

Nowhere to be, neither one of you has to get up before the sun and go to work. No rushing around to make sure Sarah gets to school on time — just sleep. It’s the one day a week both you and Joel get a chance to sleep in, to wake naturally without the shrill ringing of alarms, and just relish being wrapped up in the comfort of each other’s presence.

Eyes still shut as you begin to stir, your mind is only just waking up and the first thing you feel is warmth.

Warmth of the bright, golden Texas sun shining through Joel’s — well, now your — bedroom window and behind your closed lids. Warmth from the plush, gray comforter draped just over your calves, where it had been kicked down in the night in an attempt to curb the relentless, sticky summer heat.

You find yourself cocooned by the furnace-like warmth that is Joel as he lies on his back beside you — a warmth that would probably be overwhelming if it wasn’t such a comfort to you.

Your cheek is pressed to his broad chest, the steady beating of his heart a calming rhythm beneath your ear. Your torso flush against his side, you have an arm wrapped snug around his middle, and a leg draped over both of his. You and Joel both lay almost bare, each clothed in nothing but your underwear after the previous night’s activities — hot skin on hot skin.

When you finally let your eyes flutter open to the bright, morning light, you look up to find Joel still fast asleep and take a moment to admire the peaceful expression on his handsome face.

Long lashes fanning over his cheeks, his brows free of the worried crease that often rests between them, plush pink lips parted as he lets out quiet little snores, his strong chest slowly rising and falling, up and down beneath your cheek with each calming breath. Tanned skin warm and glistening with a light sheen of sweat, dark chocolate locks especially curly due to the humid Texas heat, a few sweaty strands clinging to his forehead.

Seeing Joel laid out like this only reminds you of the way he looked last night — all flushed beneath you, cheeks pink, head thrown back and brown eyes clenched shut in bliss as you hovered above him. Pulling quiet, deep grunts from his parted lips as you rode him, his big hands on your hips, guiding your movements as you lifted yourself up and down on his cock.

The reminder of just how full you felt with him inside you — of how goddamn good he makes you feel — has dampness forming beneath the thin fabric of your panties, thighs attempting to clench shut in search of friction to quell the wave of slick that’s building between your legs, though they’re unable to do so with Joel’s thick thigh slotted between them.

And, though you know Joel is still resting so peacefully beside you, and that you should probably let him sleep in for once, you can’t help it when you feel the sudden and urgent need to kiss him. To feel your lips on his skin.

These lazy Sunday mornings with Joel are your favorite because you know he’s always so busy, always working hard, always so stressed. And, that despite it all, he always takes such good care of you.

So, you want to take this opportunity, when he doesn’t have to be up for work, or take Sarah to school — and you know it’s a couple hours before she’ll be waking up — and you want to do something nice for him. Take care of Joel for once. To make him feel good.

Lifting your head from Joel’s chest, you press your lips to where your cheek had just been. Beginning at his pec, and over his heart, tasting the salt of his sweat-damp skin as you work your way up the broad plane of his chest, dotting feather-light kisses up to the juncture of where his shoulder meets his neck.

You gently untangle yourself from his side, and Joel begins to stir just slightly as you softly mouth along the column of his throat and move to hover over him, your thighs straddling his hips and hands on the mattress on either side of him to hold yourself up.

He’s still mostly asleep, but you can already feel through the layers of both of your underwear that he’s beginning to harden beneath you, his body waking up faster than his brain, always so responsive to your touch.

You continue to kiss across Joel’s strong jaw, over the patchy hair that tickles your lips, dotting a trail of sweet kisses up his cheek and to the tip of his sharp nose, then back down to his mustache and over the corner of his lips.

He stirs again when your lush lips press against his own just once, not quite awake enough to kiss back just yet, but this time a soft hum of approval leaves him at the pleasant feeling.

With one more peck to his soft lips, you begin your descent back down Joel’s body, leaving behind another smattering of kisses in your wake.

From his Adam’s apple to the rounded bone of his shoulder, then back down to his chest. You know he’s a bit more awake when you feel him begin to stir again — his strong body shifting ever so slightly beneath yours, dick twitching against your core underneath the layers of cloth as you place a barely-there kiss to each of his nipples. Joel lets out a sleepy groan as your tongue darts out to lick at the sensitive skin before continuing on your way.

Shifting your body lower on the bed, your kisses become a bit more feverish, less soft as you work your way down Joel’s torso. Your hunger for him only growing as you get closer and closer to the bulge in his boxers, spurred on by the breathy little grunts and groans leaving his parted lips as his mind begins to catch up to the pleasure that his body is feeling.

Joel lets out a content sigh, head still resting on his pillow, eyes still shut and still about half asleep. Unsure if he’s dreaming when he feels you press a firm kiss to the skin just above his navel.

He’s quickly pulled out of that dream-like state, though — breath catching in his throat, jolting beneath you as your warm tongue darts out lick a broad stripe over his soft belly.

You can’t help but grin as you look up to see his face, those pretty brown eyes now open but still bleary with sleep, pillowy lips parted in a gasp, sweaty curls falling over his forehead as he shifts his focus towards you.

“Morning, baby.” You whisper into the quiet of your bedroom, your chin resting on Joel’s tummy as you gaze up at him sweetly.

Your smile only grows when he cards a hand over his tired face, groaning out a tired ‘fuck’.

Now that he’s awake — just barely — you press your lips to his belly one last time before heading lower. Fitting yourself between Joel’s thick thighs, you kiss along the fine hairs of his happy trail, then his hip bones, and you know he’s fully hard when your hands glide up his thighs to palm him over his black boxers.

Joel releases a throaty groan as you stroke him through the soft fabric, one of his large hands coming up to the side of your head. Calloused pads of his fingers running gently through your bed-mussed hair. “Please, darlin’.”

The use of the pet name combined with Joel’s sleepy, Texan morning voice actually makes you whimper, clenching your thighs as a new gush of arousal floods between them. Needy for him as your fingers move to his waistband, gingerly but quickly pulling down the black, cotton fabric and freeing his impressive length.

A quiet, raspy moan escapes Joel’s lips as you spit into your hand before wrapping it around his cock. He’s long and thick and heavy in your hand, your fingers hardly able to wrap around the girth of him, his tip an angry red and leaking pretty pearls of precum.

He lets out a quiet hiss as you begin to stroke up from the base, leaning down to kiss along his tip before kitten-licking at the slit, a pleased hum leaving you at the salty, heady taste of his arousal. Joel’s mind is still a bit hazy with sleep, but he swears he’s died and gone to heaven when you lick a hot stripe along the underside of his cock, tongue laving over the thick vein that runs along his shaft.

The hand in your hair tightens its grip when you oh-so-delicately take Joel into your mouth, emitting a pleased hum from you as you gently suckle on his tip. The vibration sends a jolt up his spine, cock twitching in your grasp as you continue to stroke up and down his length with increasing ease as your spits begins to coat his skin. Delicate fingers wrapped tight around him moving up and down to meet your lips as your tongue swirls around the bulbous head.

You take your time, enjoying Joel’s quiet, raspy moans, the whispered curses, and shallow breaths all falling from his lips as you slowly take him deeper and deeper into the warm cavern of your mouth.

When you’re about halfway down his length, you suck in your cheeks, lips tightening around him as you begin to suck with more fervor and Joel has to bite back a desperate moan as you bob up and down his length. His hips buck up of their own volition — the feeling of your warm, wet mouth wrapped around him is just too good — the two of you groaning in unison as the movement sends his cock further between your lips, the tip just grazing the back of your throat and causing you to gag around him.

“Fuck, m’sorry, baby.” Joel drawls, gently smoothing a hand over the crown of your head. He lifts you up his length just a little bit, just enough to gather your bearings.

You release him from your mouth with a wet pop. A string of saliva still connects the two of you between his swollen, red tip and your now swollen lips, and Joel thinks he’s a goner when you wrap a hand tight around his shaft, leaning back in to kitten-lick at his slit.

You smear delicate kisses all along his tip, then up and down every inch of his length, all the while gazing up at him with doe eyes before you bring him between your spit-slicked lips once again.

“So good for me. Always so good for me.”

His morning voice is deep — deeper than normal — and it has your eyes rolling back into your head as you whimper around him, tears collecting at your lash line from having just taken him so deep so abruptly. Nodding your head as much as you can with his cock still in your mouth, you let Joel know that you’re okay to keep going.

You want to please him. He deserves this. You want to make him feel good.

You know that Joel is getting close from the way he’s fighting himself to not buck his hips and fuck up into your mouth, the hand that’s not in your hair clinging to the gray sheets like a lifeline. His chest rapidly rising and falling as he tries his hardest to keep at least somewhat quiet — he knows that his daughter is sleeping right down the hall — biting back gravely grunts and groans that you so wish you could hear at full volume, his cock twitching against your tongue with every little move you make.

Taking a deep breath through your nose, you decide to take him as deep as you can go. Swallowing around him as his tip reaches into the depths of your throat, those tears are now spilling freely from your eyes as the coarse hairs at his base tickle your nose.

You suction your cheeks taut and lick along the underside of his shaft, the wet sounds of your sucking growing sloppy, Joel’s pubic hairs now shiny with your spit and his fingers are now pulling hard at your hair, the slight sting in your scalp a pleasurable one and only spurring you on.

A particularly harsh suck has Joel throwing his head back onto his pillow, sweaty curls falling like a halo around his pleasure-wrought features. Whiskey colored eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, nose scrunched, and lips parted in a quiet, guttural groan that lingers in the warm, sticky summer atmosphere of your shared bedroom.

“I’m— fuck!” He damn near whimpers when your free hands reaches out to caress his heavy balls, squeezing getnly as you continue to arduously suck and stroke his length, your hand and mouth working in tandem and meeting in the middle. “I’m close, sweetheart.”

You moan hungrily around him, the vibrations nearly sending Joel over the edge, the hand on your head now pushing you down onto his cock without hesitation – he knows you can take it. Hips thrusting up and chasing the velvety, wet warmth of your throat as you gag on him once more, drool spilling out the corners of your mouth all around him, the wet, sucking sounds filling the room obscene.

Joel practically growls when he feels your nails dig into the meat of his thigh, his chin dropping to his chest and he looks down to find you gazing back at him. Your cheeks hollowed, lips stretched around his aching cock, taking all of him like the good girl he knows you are. Your pretty, tear-filled eyes gazing up at him with so much love, and that’s what is his undoing.

You feel it when Joel’s whole body tenses beneath you, fireworks shooting up his spine as he starts to cum with a heavy groan that was lodged deep in his throat. You can’t help but moan around him as he fills your mouth, painting your throat with the hot, salty ropes of his release.

He mutters a string of broken moans, a mixture of curses and grunts of your name as you work him through it. The grip Joel has on your hair starts to lighten up — though, only a bit — but it’s enough for you to pull back on his length a bit to allow your hand to join your mouth in its ministrations. Slowly, but firmly, stroking him and sucking at his cock until you’re sure you’ve swallowed down every drop he has to give you, his stomach practically caving in by the time you’re done with him.

Until he’s reduced to shallow pants and hushed whimpers, Joel’s entire body shuddering as your lips lay one last kiss to his sensitive tip, and he drops an arm over his face, shielding his eyes from the now overwhelming light as he takes a few moments to catch his breath.

You let Joel take all the time he needs to recover, carefully tucking his softening length back into his black boxers.

It’s a few minutes before Joel uncovers his eyes, slowly blinking to adjust the the increasing brightness of the hot summer sun shining into the bedroom, and he’d swear you’re an angel, still nestled between his thighs. You’re busy littering the soft, tanned skin of his thighs and his belly in sweet little kisses and love bites when that deep, sleepy morning voices speaks up again.

“Well good mornin’ to you too, pretty girl.”

Before you can respond, two strong arms are pulling you up the bed — and up Joel’s body, a firm hand on the nape of your neck pulling you in so he can smash his lips to your puffy ones in a longing, appreciative kiss.

His deft hands then slide down your hips to grab your ass, squeezing at the soft flesh with a groan against your lips, before Joel is flipping the two of you over so he’s now the one hovering over you. A little yelp escapes you, but is quickly transformed into a stifled moan as his lips begin kissing a path down your body, now fully awake and more than ready to return the favor.

⋆ . ˚ ✩

⋆ . ˚ ✩

Thank you for reading!! x

[neo-nomatrix]

Hate the AM, Hate the PM, But love you

Hobie Brown x reader

word count: 969

find the mini series here

tags: @maxjesty @marshallowy @sh-tposter2021 @ilovebhna @ladyagagaslefttoe

synopsis: Hobie is still a slightly infuriating neighbor, but there’s something about that jacket and guitar that are all too familiar.

a/n: DRUNK CONFESSIONS!! Part two of this fic. I wasn’t going to write another part to it but i caved 😔

You stood him up. You fucking stood him up. Hobie spent the entire show looking out into the crowd, ignoring the blinding stage lights, to try and find you. But you were nowhere to be found. He asked so nicely too! Despite his nonchalant attitude it took him so long to build up the courage to ask you out. He had dinner reservations planned, which he has obviously never done, looked up places to get a Mr.Whippy and even found a small secluded area where he could play his guitar for you.

The worst part is how it made him feel. He genuinely liked you and it hurt him to think you didn’t feel the same when he thought you did. So what was his solution? Go out with his mates to a pub until 3 am to drink his feelings. Hobie was a bold drunk, bolder than he usually is. He’s also a sloppy drunk, tripping when he walks and slurring his speech like it’s all one word.

You’re peacefully sleeping in your bed with your spiderman eye mask cuddling with your Spider-Punk plushie. It’s not a random occurrence to hear Hobie stomping his boots late at night but it was different today. You heard his boot buckles dragging across the floor and a loud bang against your door. Not necessarily a knock, more of a body slumped against the wood.

“Love! You in there?!” You hear him yell.

You try your hardest to ignore him but as he keeps yelling and pounding against the wood you start to feel sorry for everyone else on your floor. You force yourself out of bed and towards the front door. As you reluctantly open it a drunken Hobie falls into your flat.

“Hobie get your arse up,” you roll your very tired eyes.

He surprisingly agrees and makes his way to your bed.

Great, you think

He tosses his guitar to your couch and gets into your bed like it’s his. Conveniently throwing the spider-punk plush off the bed. He cuddles up with your blanket and closes his eyes. You cannot let him fall asleep.

“Hobie! Hello? That is my bed. Get out!” You yell at him.

“Why’d you do it?” He whispers.

“What,” you ask, still annoyed.

“You stood me up. I asked you to come to my show and you didn’t. Why,” he asked less of a question and more of a statement.

You sigh, of course you knew that was tonight. In all honesty you don’t quite know why you didn’t go. You weren’t doing anything special and it probably would’ve been nice. But you were scared. Scared of what? You also didn’t know that, you just were.

“I… I don’t know,” you admit.

“Really hurt me, Love. I wanted to see you and take you out on a nice date,” he looked away from you.

Your heart shattered. You knew Hobie liked you but not to that extent. You thought he was just playing around with you and didn’t mean anything by it.

“I’m really sorry, Hobie. We should go out some other time, okay? My treat,” you promise.

“Nah, don’t think i’ll have the time,” He says, clearly less sad than he was a few moments ago.

“Oh yeah? Busy with what? Trying to tear down the government from the inside?” You laugh.

“Of course not, that’s for the first saturday of every month. I’ll be busy being Spiderman,” he says, cuddling closer to your blanket.

You stop immediately. Your mind goes blank, the world around you stops. You’re suddenly much more awake than you have ever been. Hobie is… no you can’t even say it. The man you’ve hated ever since you had moved in was the person you loved more than anything else? That can’t be right, he’s having a laugh. That’s gotta be it.

“I don’t believe in comedy,” you remember him saying.

Fuck. He’s not joking, is he?

“What?” you manage to get out.

“I’ll be busy, being spiderman and all. Yknow who that is right? Don’t know if you noticed but he’s- i mean I’m kinda all over your room,” he lets out a drunk giggle.

He pulls out his mask from the pocket of his jacket and handed it to you.

“See?”

You grab it in disbelief. You run your hand over the spandex in awe. Spiderman is right in front of you, you realize.

Oh. My. God. SPIDERMAN IS RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU.

You just can’t believe the man you’ve idolized for years was in your bed. YOUR BED.

Hobie takes the blanket off of him, lifting up his shirt to reveal his suit. Blue and fucking red material.

“I don’t believe in the labels though. It’s stupid,” He says in the most Hobie way possible.

“You’re a superhero,” you say, still a little shocked.

“No. No, don't say that. I'm not a hero, because calling yourself a hero makes you a self-mythologising, narcissistic autocrat,” He says. God even drunk he’s still a smart ass.

“So you still wanna go out?” He asks.

“What? I just found out you’re fucking Spiderman and that’s what you’re asking me? If I want to go out with you?” You respond.

“I mean what else is there to say? I already know you love me,” he nods to the spiderman memorabilia.

Even in this state he still leaves you speechless.

“Well- yeah I guess. We can go out,” you say slowly.

“Cool,” he nods.

He lifts up the blanket and scoots over, inviting you into your bed with him. You roll your eyes and get in with him. He wraps his arms around you and smiles.

“I knew you wanted to snog me from the start,” he laughs.

Hobie is still pretty infuriating, but that is slowly becoming one of your favorite things about him.

[girlsforxiao]

⎯ Out of His League ꒰ 𐙚 ꒱

⌢ ꒰੭. Jude bellingham x fem reader 𐙚 porn with plot, smut (mdni) oral m receiving, p in v, celebratory sex (kinda)

Harassed by a famous rapper online and in person you and Jude grow closer...

︴a/n: I wrote this in 2023 but hated it because how fluffy it was ALSO this actually happened to my friend when a locally famous rapper wouldn't leave her alone what an era

WC: 2.5k

Guess what rapper the one in the fic is inspired by ;)

You adjust the neckline of your dress, ensuring it sits just right, grace evident in every delicate movement. You weren’t nervous exactly, but being in a room full of sports icons, industry elites, and glittering celebrities wasn’t something you experienced every day. Across the room, Jude stood talking to a group of his teammates—a mandatory arrangement before he could rejoin you.

His sharp black suit hugged his broad shoulders like it was custom-made, which it probably was, and his easy smile was just as lethal as it had been when you first met him.

Your Jude.

As if sensing your gaze, he glanced over, his smile shifting into something softer, something meant only for you. It took your breath away, the way it always did, and for a moment, the crowded room faded into the background. Then, someone brushed past you, jarring you out of your thoughts.

“Didn’t think I’d see an angel here tonight,” a voice drawled to your left.

You blinked, startled, and turned to see a man you recognized immediately—him. The rapper everyone seemed to adore these days. A household name, known for his trendy songs and striking looks, though you never saw the hype. He was grinning, his confidence almost overwhelming, and you felt a flicker of irritation.

“Sorry, but I think you’ve got the wrong person,” you said lightly, offering a polite smile as you sipped your drink, planning your escape.

“Nah, I don’t think so.” He leaned casually against the bar, his chain catching the light as he looked you up and down, his blatant appraisal making your skin crawl. “You’ve got that look, you know? The one that makes a man wanna risk it all.”

Your jaw tightened. You’d heard lines like this before, but coming from him, it felt even more ridiculous. “I’m flattered,” you said, turning back to your drink, “but I’m here with someone—my boyfriend,” you added evenly, the emphasis on the last word sharp enough to cut.

“Boyfriend, huh?” He didn’t miss a beat, clearly undeterred.

You rolled your eyes and stood, glancing toward Jude, still deep in conversation, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the chandeliers. “I should go to him.”

The rapper followed your gaze, Jude's back was turned, to far to see him properly. “Don’t see him, Athletes are great and all, but they don’t write songs about you. I could write you a whole album, you know.”

“No thanks,” you replied curtly, walking away before he could retaliate. Your dress swished elegantly behind you, and you didn’t bother looking back. Hopefully, you wouldn’t wake up to an NDA email.

Jude caught sight of you just as he finished his conversation. He smiled, reaching for your hand as you slipped seamlessly into place beside him. “You good?”

“Perfect,” you said lightly.

His thumb brushed against your wrist, a small, grounding gesture that made your heart leap.

The next morning, sunlight poured through the half-drawn curtains, illuminating the tangle of sheets and scattered clothes. You blinked awake, groaning as your phone vibrated against the nightstand.

Jude stirred behind you, his arm lazily looping over your waist. “Tell whoever it is to stop interrupting my baby,” he mumbled, his voice husky with sleep.

You grabbed your phone, squinting at the screen.

[@Rappermame]

“Hey. You looked unreal.”

“We should meet up soon, as homies tho.”

“Don’t leave me hanging, gorgeous.”

7:39 AM.

Your eyebrows shot up. “What the—”

“Mm?” Jude cracked one eye open, his hair adorably tousled. “What’s got you annoyed this early?”

You tilted the screen toward him. “Him.”

Jude squinted at the messages, his face blank for a beat before his lips twitched. Then he laughed—bright and genuine, the kind of laugh that made his dimples show. “No way. Is that who I think it is?”

“It’s not funny!” you hissed, though your lips betrayed you with a twitch of amusement. “It hasn’t even been twelve hours!”

You explained the interaction from the night before, and Jude found it endlessly amusing.

He plucked the phone from your hands, scrolling through the messages with an exaggerated smirk. “I mean, I get it. Look at you. If I weren’t already your favorite person, I’d be in his shoes right now, sliding into your DMs like, ‘Hey, you free for dinner? My treat.’”

You shoved his shoulder, giggling despite yourself. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, you’re still here.” He set your phone down and pulled you against his chest, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Relax, baby. Want me to call someone to deal with him?”

“No,” you said firmly. “I’m just going to block him. It’s not like I’ll ever see him again.”

He hummed in agreement, tracing lazy circles on your back.

A few days later, you were back in your apartment, poring over notes for work when your phone buzzed on the coffee table. Expecting a message from work, friends, family, or even Jude, you leaned over to grab it.

Instead, it was a delivery notification.

You frowned. You hadn’t ordered anything.

Moments later, the doorbell rang. Opening it, you were greeted by a delivery man holding an enormous bouquet of roses and a sleek black envelope bearing your name.

Your stomach sank. You already knew who it wasn't from, Jude. He knew what flowers you liked.

Setting the bouquet on the counter, you reluctantly opened the envelope. Inside, the card read:

"Thinking of you. You'd look great in my new music video."

Your gut churned. This was getting weird. You should’ve let Jude handle this earlier.

Groaning, you checked the time to see if Jude might be free. Pulling out your phone, you dialed his number.

“Hey, my love,” he answered, his voice light and warm. You could hear his teammates joking in the background, Vinicius was definitely giggling. “You okay?”

“That rapper is starting to get weird,” you said without preamble.

There was a beat of silence. “Define weird,” Jude replied, his tone still playful but with an edge of seriousness.

“He sent me flowers. And a card. To my apartment.”

“Your apartment?” His voice was sharper now. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle this.”

“Thanks, baby. I figured he’d stop when I blocked him. Who wouldn’t? It’s just… weird.”

“Guess we underestimated his desperation,” Jude muttered, clearly annoyed. “Prick. Can’t have random guys thinking they’ve got a shot with you.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his possessive tone.

“And hey,” he added, his voice lighter again, “when you come to Madrid to watch my match, bring the flowers. They’ll look great in my trash.”

The following week, you arrived at Jude’s place, suitcase in hand. The flowers were tucked at the bottom, half-forgotten among your packed clothes and toiletries.

You didn’t even glance at them as you unpacked, too focused on settling in before Jude’s big game.

The match was electric. Jude was unstoppable, weaving through defenders, commanding the field, and earning thunderous cheers with every play. It was classic Jude.

When the final whistle blew, the stadium erupted into cheers, cementing a well-deserved win for Madrid.

Inside, you joined the crowd near the players’ exit. When Jude finally appeared, his curls still damp from his post-match shower, his grin was as radiant as the floodlights.

The moment he spotted you, his expression softened. “My love.”

You were already moving toward him, and he pulled you into a tight hug, holding you longer than necessary. “Did you see that? How’d I do?”

You were amazing,” you said, your voice brimming with warmth.

Jude leaned back slightly, his smile turning playful. “You’re not just saying that because we’re celebrating later, right?”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “I don’t know. We’ll have to see. We definitely need to celebrate, though.”

You both wasted no time to get his place. Jude carried you through the front door, his breathing still uneven from the game.

“You don’t have to carry me, you know,” you murmured, your voice warm with amusement.

“Too late now,” he said, smirking down at you as he nudged the door shut with his foot. “Besides, I’m not letting you walk around in those heels. Your feet need a break.”

You laughed quietly, a sound that sent warmth spreading through his chest. “I think you need the break more than me. You just played a full ninety minutes. Even more.”

“And won,” he added with a grin as he started up the stairs. “Pretty sure that gives me superhuman strength, at least for tonight.”

Your cheeks flushed as his words registered, and you rested your head against his shoulder. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Ridiculously in love with you.” He said it lightly, but the way your body tensed in his arms didn’t escape his notice.

You looked up at him, your gaze searching his face as though trying to decide if he was joking. He wasn’t.

“I mean it,” he said softly, his voice steady as he reached the bedroom door and pushed it open.

Your lips parted, cheeks faintly flushed, but you didn’t look away. Instead, you leaned up just enough to press a kiss to his jaw, lingering for a heartbeat longer than usual.

At some point, you left him to grab "pajamas" from your suitcase. As you rifled through her things, Jude wandered into his room, stretching after changing himself.

“What’s this?” he asked, pulling a corner of something red and floral out of her bag.

You froze, groaning. “Oh, those. I forgot they were in there.”

Jude held up the bouquet, inspecting it. “You don't even like red roses...”

“Exactly,” you said, delighted, gesturing towards the bin as you took off your top. “I only brought them so you could throw them out.”

Jude left the flowers on the nightstand and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you close. “Now, can we focus on more important things? Like celebrating tonight?”

Gently laying you down on the bed as though you were made of glass. He lingered for a moment, his gaze full of intensity. "Perfect," he murmured, almost to himself, before leaning down to kiss you.

You shivered when the kiss trailed to your neck, sucking on spots that made your core wet.

"Jude,” you murmured, his name coming out a plea. Involuntarily your arms curled around him, pulling him closer. The heat of your bodies pressed together maddening.

"Wanna suck you off," you whimpered, gaze drifting up to meet Jude's. For a moment, your eyes locked onto his, "Hang on," he murmured, shifting. He eased himself onto the mattress, leaning back–

You moved instinctively, moving to kneel in front of him, your fingers trailing over his knee as you watched him settle. Jude bit his bottom lip with a lopsided smile, tilting his head, lust making his mind fog. "...can't believe're all for me." He slurred out.

You take off his shorts then underwear, eyes never fully getting uses to his size. He sucks in a harsh breath as your hand wraps around him, sliding, You plant a kiss to his tip and he shudders.

Then swipe your tongue side to side under the vein which makes him moan and desperatley grab the sheets. "Fuck—" his cock throbbed without you even sucking him off fully yet.

You move slowly, purposefully, painfully drawing out each long drag of your tongue up his length, "Baby please," your tongue alone feels like heaven. So wet and warm, he wants to give you everything.

He loses his self control and thrusts in your mouth– bruising your throat, your lips tightening around his girth, taking him fully. He looks beautiful like this. Heavy breaths, damp forehead, hazy eyes. 

Jude shoves your head down his cock, once, twice. Tears line your eyes and threaten to spill over, “’re taking me so good, y’know that? so good, baby.” He whines, moving his hand to caress your cheek, before he hisses again.

"Baby, I'm gonna come–"

He watched as you swallowed is release, lips glossed in spit while your eyes glistened with tears. You were so beautiful to him. It was complete torture, he'd just came but God the sight of you...like this? For him?

Before you could say anything or do anything, he was already moving, his hands firm but gentle as they grasped your arms and pulled you up in one swift motion.

Jude's chest felt like it might cave in with how much he wanted you, how much he loved you, the emotion brimming at the edges of his control.

His hands tightened at your sides, as if anchoring himself, while his lips moved over yours like he was trying to memorize the shape of you, the taste. He pulled back just enough to gasp, his forehead brushing yours,

"Be a good girl for me, yeah?"

"Mmh..." Your voice raspy from taking his cock in your mouth so you desperatley nod, he grabs one of your legs and slides into you. Where he belongs. You both groan, you feel a burn that blurt the line between pain and pleasure, "Baby, I don't think I can take all of–" you rasp out, voice breaking,

"Yes, you can–" he cut you of with a kiss, tears pricked your eyes again due to the sheer pleasure that coursed through you, slowly he started to move and you squeezed your eyes shut– feeling complete.

The bed under you both moving as he filled over and over again, "You're so tight, fuck," he mumbled in your ear, quickening his already unforgiving pace.

"Ju–de– mgonna–" you moan in broken syllables, your back arches sharply and you see stars. You come. So does he, hot ropes of seed filling your insides. Judes' strong hands holding you firm as you collapsed into him, holding you close.

Jude woke up first, sunlight streaming through the curtains and kissing his face. You were still fast asleep beside him, features soft and glowing. He stretched quietly, enjoying the stillness, until your phone buzzed on the nightstand.

The rapper again.

On his side account now.

[@Rappernamespam]:

"Hope you liked the flowers. Let me know if you’re free."

8:21 am

Jude stared at the message, annoyance flickering across his face. He didn't say anything, but while you two were at it last night, he kept thinking about how persistent this guy was. He didn't take it seriously at first because he trusts you completely, but he's disturbing you. He'll make sure to call his people again and deal with him quietly, but for now...

His lips twisted into a mischievous grin.

Carefully, he reached for his phone, angling it to capture the scene: you sleeping beside him, despite the blanket covering your bareness he made sure to position himself infront of your body, hair spilling across the pillow, and the bouquet of flowers sitting innocently on the nightstand.

He went to the rappers account, "'Follow back'" he read out loud, typical. He then attached the photo to a message and typed:

“The flowers look great, man. Appreciate it. :)”

Hitting send, Jude chuckled to himself and set the phone down. He leaned over to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

Hours later, you woke up, the ache in your legs a dull reminder of the night before. You lazily reached for your phone, scrolling through it only to find nothing out of the ordinary.

Jude walked in, balancing a tray of pancakes. "Did you make those?" you asked with a small smile, instinctively pulling the blanket closer to your chest.

He nodded, setting the tray beside you. "That rapper guy– he’s not bothering you anymore, yeah?"

You blinked, momentarily confused, before chuckling softly. "Honestly, I forgot about him," you admitted, focusing your attention on a syrup bottle that refused to cooperate.

Jude knowingly smiled at you in response, the smile turning more mischievous from glancing at messages from his own phone,

[@rappername]

Replying to image: "WTF"

"I swear I didn't know"

"I'm a big fan man please"

[@rappername's account has been suspended]

IF YOU LIKED THIS PLEASE REBLOG <3

[luvtak]

get him back! ⊹.✮₊⋆ yji x reader

You didn’t think when he left, he’d leave so much of himself with you

⊹ genre/tw angst angst angst seriously so much angst i'm sorry, but also fluff!!! a lot of fluff! f2l, fake dating, revenge dating?, hurt/comfort, ex!hyunjin being horrible (I'm sorry), reader wears a skirt at one point and is referred to as ‘my girl’ once, jokes about pregnancy (its not serious i promise) its suggestive at times but no smut, probably a little rushed at times, mostly unedited

⊹ w/c 10, 469

⊹ a/n this has been a long time coming, originally this was a fic for jaemin from nct dream that was like 8000 words long or something and i absolutely hated it so i started back from scratch and changed mostly everything but the main idea. for a long time, i have been fascinated with the process of heartbreak and falling in love again, and in essence that is what this is--I hope you like it, don't forget to like and reblog and tell me all your thoughts!! hopefully it's not terrible lol, mwah!!

You didn’t think when he left, he’d leave so much of himself with you; Everything from the cups in the cabinet to the paint splatters on the floor. The four walls of your room storing a lifetime of memories of the boy who loved you; nighttime laughter and limbs interlaced. It’s completely foreign to not have him next to you, skin to skin, hearts synced to a song only the two of you know. 

You loved him for three summers, almost from the first time you saw him–sat next to the river, with headphones on and a pen in hand–He was beautiful, a timeless photograph of affection, and you were smitten as soon as he opened his mouth. 

The past 36 months were lovely and joyous, 1095 days spent foolishly glued together, yet when Hyunjin decided to end the relationship three weeks ago, you couldn’t find it in yourself to argue. He’d been so busy, graduating last year and going on to bigger and brighter things–exhibitions almost every week, assisting an artist  he loved–so many wonderful things that took him away from you. When he was home he was too tired to love you, so it made sense when he ended it. So much sense that it’s kept you awake all the nights following. 

Every night–at roughly when he would’ve come home to you–you find yourself waking up to the loss of his cologne. For a moment, you’re given a momentary bout of bliss, confusion clouding up your mind with questions of where’d he go, rather than if he’s coming back. The answer comes quickly, though, rupturing your heart before the rest of you knew you were awake. 

Your mind is lost in the goodbye, the taste of salt on your lips and your favorite blue sweater wrapped around your arms, the way his eyes were wide with sadness. Did he kiss you then? Was it his tongue that swiped away the tears or your own? Did his hands hold you one last time, make you cry from pleasure before pain? All you seem to remember was him walking away, so fast you were afraid you wouldn’t be able to recall–but it's all you seem to be able to think about. 

He broke your heart on a Tuesday, but did he kiss you then? 

He was sweet with the farewell, telling you he was sorry, that he loved you but it wasn’t enough any more. There was just too much time and distance living between the two of you, but nothing really has to change… we can all still be friends. 

What a sad thought, friends with the boy who held your bleeding heart in his hands. 

Why should you still be friends if love wasn’t enough for him? 

You know you look pathetic, his too big clothes swathing around your limp form, keeping you toasty where your bare legs hit the bathroom floor. His voice flowing from your phone's speaker in happy waves, echoing off the tile right into your ears. It’s almost like he’s next to you, almost like it’s his arms filling out the gray hoodie and wrapping around you.

Shivering, you close your eyes just for a minute, with his last voicemail reverberating through your brain, you feel content for the first time since that sunny day three weeks before. 

“...I love you, sweetheart!” his voice rings, lighting up your heart with all the affection the name used to bring you. He hadn’t called you that in months, trading sweet nothings for sighs and sorry’s. How you long to feel the name pressed against your skin, interlaced with the kind of happiness only he could draw out. A love so undeniably him that anything else couldn’t come close. 

Loving him was sitting in planetariums and comparing each other's portraits to statues, sharing straws and blankets, breath and hands. Loving him was every star fall, trying to catch dragonflies and yelping when they grazed your hands. It was magical and devastating, everything you ever wanted. 

Hyunjin was meant for stars and lullabies, a boy meant for nighttime, but the morning is fast approaching. 

Soon, your roommate will wake up and discover your tearful form, and envelope you in coos and cuddles. He’ll wrap you up in pink comforters and bring you cookies for breakfast, a day spent with rom-coms and Olivia Rodrigo on the radio, but just for a few more minutes you’ll sit with your lovers voice in your head and his scent around you, and it’ll be as close to him as you’ll ever be again.

“Okay!? I love you so much, call me sweetheart, seriously! Call me, call me, call me.” 

“He never even deserved you!”

“Yeah, babe, like you’re so hot and funny and nice! What does he have going for him?” 

“For real! Other than being super handsome and talented, he has nothing.” 

Your friends, drunk and silly, can’t seem to stop trying to comfort you, you want to laugh, and maybe in time you’ll be able to, but here in this fresh grief with his love still palpable, you can’t seem to find it in yourself to be angry. 

Sure, he broke up with you, but it didn’t seem like too bad of a reason… he was busy all the time, and his distance brought anger and disappointment. You were fighting restlessly, forgetting to say I love you before you left for class, kisses became shorter and farther in between, but at the end of the day you did love him; endlessly and reverentially, and no matter what he said or didn’t say, you can’t seem to shake the feeling that that will never change. 

“You guys don’t have to shit talk Hyunjin just because he broke up with me, we were all friends.” Your voice is quieter than you meant it to be, slow from all the wine and covered in the sadness that seemed to follow you. “He was a good boyfriend…” 

“No, babe, a good boyfriend does not break up with you a week before your anniversary after ghosting you for a month.” Minjeong says, her tone soothing even if her words are not. 

“We’re not friends with that douche canoe, okay, we only stomached him because he was your boyfriend, and now that he’s not, I personally never want to see him again.” 

“Chaeryeong! Stop, you've been his friend for literal years.” 

“Nope, I can’t remember!” she sings out, giggling as her wine glass spills out red liquid all over the floor. 

“He’s persona non grata now, girly, if I see him, I’m coming in swinging!” 

Minjeong’s claim, however silly, does have you finally laughing. Deep, belly ache inducing laughs that fill your little apartment with more joy than it’s held in weeks. It’s true that before the official break up, you were infuriated, anger escaping your lips whenever the man was mentioned. But since the finality of that day, all you’ve felt is an insurmountable grief daring to erupt at any moment. 

You loved him, you lost him, and isn’t that just so sad? 

You thought you’d have him forever… daydreamt weddings and forever homes, Late night whispers of baby names and honeymoons. Everything you’ve ever planned, out the window with the first signs of conflict. Sure, maybe it would’ve ended anyway, but would it have killed him to try? How dare he take that future away from you, a happy ending too good to be true. 

A betrayal that cut too deep to be anything but devastating. 

But sitting here now, listening to your friends being mad and protective, you think you can see a future where you are angry again–a day in the coming weeks where everything he said is tinged with red instead of blue. And maybe after that you can be happy, really truly happy, even when the girls' laughter aren’t around to accompany you. 

“Hey, we love you, okay?” Chaeryeong says, breathing heavily through her giggles. “I know it’s hard now, you loved each other so much, but don’t waste anymore of your time locked inside this apartment. You’re way too cute to not let anyone see you.” 

She smiles at you, her hand wrapped around yours as a few tears stray. You don’t know if they’re happy or sad, or maybe a bit of both, all you know is you love her. You love the both of them so much that even through this inescapable loss, you smile back. They’re your favorite people on earth, and if they think you’ll be okay maybe you will be. 

“I love you guys too, I’m sorry I’m so mopey… Felix keeps trying to get me to smile, but there's just so much I can take before I’m crying again.”

“Hey, hey,” Minjeong whispers, “Don’t apologize, you get to be a little storm cloud.” 

“Personally, I like you stormy–makes it more fun when you snap.” Chaeryeong tells you, raising her eyebrows in an attempt to get you to laugh again. 

Miraculously, it works–laughter seeping out of you and onto the wine soaked tiles. Maybe they’re right, maybe all you need is some time…

Maybe another day of watching The Princess Diaries and eating ice cream for dinner will cure you, maybe falling asleep in Hyunjin’s sweatpants will finally ease the hole he left, maybe all you have to do is leave the house tomorrow. Whatever it is, you promise them you’ll try–and as they cuddle up to you, dropping popcorn in between the couch cushions and cracking up at the same jokes you’ve heard a thousand times, somewhere inside, you feel a little bit more okay. 

Unfortunately, that feeling can only last so long. 

It’s thirty minutes past the witching hour when you see the photo. He’s gorgeous, devastatingly so, heartbreakingly handsome just like you remembered. Clad in denim and decked out with silver, wrapped around a girl you’ve never seen before. 

Your phone light glares through the night, spotlighting your place in the living room. You know you should turn the brightness down, lower it or move from your place in between Chaeryong and Minjeong, less they wake up and threaten to kill you for interrupting their slumber, but you can’t seem to make yourself move. 

His hands rest on her waist, a smile breaking through close to her own, and he looks so happy. Happier than he’d looked in months, unencumbered joy leaking off him through the camera lens. And how it breaks your heart, who cares who that girl is… how could he look so happy when you haven’t even left the house in two weeks?

“Son of a bitch!” you whisper, angry tears trying to escape. How dare he? And how dare Chris for posting it on a story he knew you could see. We can all still be friends, right? What absolute bullshit. 

You find yourself laughing, laughing so hard the tears find themselve trailing down your cheeks. Howling at the unbelievability of it all, here you were defending him still, while he couldn’t wait a month to have his tongue shoved down some other girl's throat. How funny to think you love him, truly love him with every part of you, and he doesn’t respect you enough to keep his escapades a secret while you heal. 

Minjeong shuffles in her sleep, waking up to the sound of your inane outburst, pretty eyes squinted in your phone light. 

“What is it? Nothing is that funny at 3 AM.” 

“Look at this, Min.” you giggle, shoving your phone against her nose. 

“Too close!! Hold on… WHAT THE FUCK!” she yells, jolting up against the cushions and waking the other girl in the process. 

“What! What is it?!” Chaeryeong moans. 

“Hyunjin is a fucker that’s what.” Minjeong says. “An actual despicable little shit.” 

The phone is passed around, each of you staring at the picture with a sense of pure unbridled anger. To think you trusted him, gave him your heart and felt safe that he would respect it even when he gave it back. 

“I just don’t understand,” You say, your voice breaking– confusion wafting through the words and encasing you in a painful blanket of disarray. 

Through your tears you hear Chaeryeong, “Listen, we have to get him back.” She’s saying, Minjeong nodding along sleepily.

Get him back? What does she mean?! How can she already be thinking of revenge when all you want to do is cry yourself to sleep. 

“What do you mean get him back, I don’t understand.” The brokenness in your voice gives your friends pause, and for a moment the only thing you hear is the sound of Anne Hathaway monologuing on the TV. 

The two girls, true friends even with sleep dancing at their fingertips, wrap their arms around you–holding onto you like you’d drift away if they didn’t, who knows maybe you would; You do feel minutes away from being empty, like you're a bottle slowly pouring out its contents. 

Their skin is warm, and their hands carry so much comfort that you collapse against them, listening to their plan like a bedtime story that lulls you to sleep. 

“You want me to do what?!” You cry. 

“We talked about this last night!” 

“I’m sure I would’ve remembered you saying I have to go on a date with Yang Jeongin, Minjeong!” 

“It doesn’t have to be Ayen, any of his friends will do, I just thought that that’s who you were closest to…” She sighs, twirling a strand of her blonde hair around her finger. “I mean it could be Changbin for all I care, I just didn’t think he’d go for it.” 

“I don’t want to date ANY of his friends, Minnie!!! Hello!” Your voice sounds shrill even to you, and as much as you're trying to keep it down for fear of the librarian coming over and yelling at you, you don’t have it in you to dampen your frustration. 

Last night was a blur, anger permeating your sleep and clouding your morning. Going through the motions of classes and too many cups of coffee before your friend called you to come deliberate on the fully formed plan they dreamt up. A plan that you don’t remember agreeing to. 

Sure, you remember saying making him jealous might make you feel better and make him feel worse, but nowhere did they say that Jeongin would be involved. You love the boy, as cynical and cold as he could be–he could make you laugh more than anyone else you ever met, and of course he was handsome, but he was one of Hyunjin’s best friends. As much as you’re angry with your ex-boyfriend now, were you really willing to use one of his friends to get back at him? 

“Plus, I don’t think he’ll go for it, I mean Innie likes to mess with the guys every once in a while, but I think hooking up with his best friends ex is too far for him.”

You try to hide the flinch at the word ex, but Minjeong sees right through you–bringing her hands up to rub your shoulders comfortingly, before she tells you: 

“It doesn’t have to be real, silly!” Minjeong laughs, “Hyunjin only has to think it's real, I mean you don’t actually have to hook up with him… Unless you want toooo.” She draws out, singing the last sentence in an annoying voice. 

“Minnie!” you whisper in a faux yell.

“What?! Don’t look at me like I don’t remember the infamous truth or dare of 2024.” 

“Minnie.”

“Okay, Ms. I’d makeout with Jeongin if I had to kiss any of Hyunjin’s friends.” 

“Minnie!”

“Fine, Fine!” She laughs, “just talk to Ayen about it, and we’ll go from there okay? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want, but I can’t stomach thinking that Hyunjin is out there having fun at your expense and you’re just taking it.” For one moment she looks truly sad, and you’re reminded, not for the first time, that this breakup isn’t just between you and your ex, but all your friends who have to adapt to a life that looks different 

Her eyes are comforting, but her mouth is all smirking revenge, and something about it urges you to listen. It can’t be worse than what Hyunjin’s already done, right? And it’s all pretend anyway, just a game of house where you and Jeongin hold hands at a party and go get slurpees after. None of it has to be real, you shouldn’t feel bad for giving the boy who hurt you a taste of his own medicine, right? 

So with a heart full of guilt and stomach heavy with nerves, you find yourself asking, 

“When does it start?” 

On your way out of the library you found yourself cursing Minjeong and Chaeryeong and all their evil scheming that always finds its way back to you. If only you could have listened to Felix when he told you that those girls were trouble, and that the only friends you needed were him and your childhood dog, Milo. 

When you left her, Minjeong reminded you to talk to Jeongin, told you where she thought he’d be and smiled at you the way she would a puppy. 

God, what am I doing? You ask yourself, begging some invisible entity for help with this god forsaken plan. You like Ayen just fine, but the idea of hurting Hyunjin just because he hurt you fills you with some inescapable dread. And what if Jeongin says no? What if he’s as disgusted by you as you are of yourself? What if he turns around and tells Hyunjin? 

The thoughts circle around you, haloing your form in scalding nerves until you find yourself outside of the diner Jeongin works at. You’d only ever been at night, your hand shivering within Hyunjin’s hold–so many twilights spent sitting crushed in a tiny booth, Hyunjin’s friends hollering around you and your lovers arms holding you to his heart. How different it looks in the day. 

For the first time you find yourself walking through the diner doors alone, feet shuffling onto the sticky vinyl floors and searching for Yang Jeongin’s smile. 

You find it behind the counter, warm and inviting as he asks a little boy what he wants. He looks different when he doesn’t know anyone is looking at him, freer than when he’s with the boys, shinier when there’s no one else’s light glaring. When he finally looks up and sees you, his smile remains, but becomes that tight look of pity you’ve become so used to–a look so out of place on his pretty face, you want it gone right away. 

“Don’t look at me like, Jeongin.” You tell him, words stricter than your voice portrays. 

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” he tells you, “but how are you doing?” 

“Better if I had a cherry coke,” You say and without another word he begins filling up a plastic cup with ice and burgundy liquid. You can’t help but watch his hands as they work, knuckles clutching around the drink tighter than what's needed–the only indication that he could be uncomfortable with you being here. “How are you doing, Ayen?” you ask him. 

“Well, not too bad,” he says, handing you the soda. “It’s not too busy today, and I don’t have any classes until tomorrow afternoon, so the day is just breezing by.” 

“Easy, breezy, beautiful!” You tell him and finally that pretty smile breaks out on his face again as he lets out a loud laugh. He tells you he’ll be right back, smiling the whole way to the rest of his patrons. 

Maybe it’s because you were dating Hyunjin before, and no other boy seemed to live up to the fairy tale you wrote about him, but for the first time you see Jeongin, not as Hyunjin’s friend but as a cute boy you could’ve met at a diner just like this. He’s boyishly handsome and sweet, giggling with the little kids and getting old ladies pie on the house. 

Maybe your friends were onto something when they offered up Jeongin as the sacrificial lamb–sweet, ever happy Jeongin. 

When he returns to you, that slightly sad smile returns to his face before he tells you: 

“I’m sorry about you and Hyunjin… I didn’t know he was gonna do that.” 

“What break up with me, or make out with a girl before the corpse is even cold?” Your voice is stronger than you meant it to be, and you feel bad as soon as you see Jeongin’s body tense–obviously surprised at your animosity. 

“Both, I haven’t talked to him in weeks,” he tells you, much to your surprise, “We– we had a fight, and I hadn’t talked to anyone but Changbin and Seungmin…” his voice is thick with tension and his jaw is tight as he tries to tell to you what happened, a sight you’d never seen from him–much more used to the happy-go-lucky Ayen of days past. “I didn’t even know you guys broke up until he posted that picture last night.” 

You’re surprised by this, of course, Jeongin and Hyunjin had always been close, but what's more surprising is how truly angry he looks… As angry as Chaeryeong and Minjeong, if not more. It’s this look that allows you to tell him, 

“I just don’t know what to do, Ayen…” 

“Whatever, I can do to help, I will… I promise.” Jeongin tells you, long fingers making you jump as they settle over your own. It’s this promise that brings you to tell him why you came–rushing out the plan your friends made for you, making sure to tell him over and over how it would just be a favor; just a way to get Hyunjin back for being a treacherous loser. 

It’s through this rant that Jeongin finally smiles again, a devious look you’ve only ever seen settle onto his face during game night, and without preamble his hold on your hand grows stronger until he says, 

“I’ll do it.” 

It’s three weeks later when you finally realize that you’d have to actually go on a date with Jeongin for this to work. In theory, you knew this would happen, knew that you couldn’t let Jeongin sit around thinking about how he agreed to piss off his friend, but putting that plan in practice is scarier than you thought it would be. 

And why? Why does Hyunjin get to ride around town happier than ever, posting that girl on his instagram story every day while you’re sitting at home crying for weeks. 

Yet, the thought of doing anything romantic (even if it was pretend) with someone else, causes frost bitten chills to cover your skin. Even if the someone else was Yang Jeongin; sweet and funny Jeongin who always took your side when the boys started teasing you, who brought you a cherry coke everyday when you had class together freshman year. Jeongin who blushed pretty pink when he heard your answer to Changbin’s truth or dare last year, Jeongin who was your friend as much as Hyunjin’s, who would put that friendship aside to do you a favor. 

You know you should call him, reprieve him from the quicksand thoughts you sure he’s buried in, but you can’t seem to latch that door to self hatred that has been held open since the night Hyunjin broke up with you. 

You can’t seem to find where everything went wrong, no matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to find the moment where Hyunjin stopped loving you. 

“You should stop torturing yourself you know,” You hear, and there he is standing in the doorway to your bedroom. Jeongin stands tall and handsome, leaning against the wall in a way that makes you think he has been there for a while. “You went AWOL on me, y’know, I was worried.” He’s smiling, but his words have a layer of debilitating truth that makes you a little sick. You can’t help but feel sorry for making anyone feel as bad as you do. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know where to go after that last conversation we had.” 

“Well, usually when you ask someone on a date… you take them out on a date.” He smiles at you, approaching your bed the way one would approach a wounded animal–slow but sure. 

When he finally lays down next to you you’re struck by his closeness, the feel of his body heat settling over your skin and the way his cheek bones slope over his face. He’s so pretty, it’s not like you never noticed it before, but seeing him up close like this–like he’s completely under your disposal, like you’re a scientist looking at him under a microscope–you can’t help but be a little breathless. 

He’s so beautiful and he’s lying here with you. 

“What did you want to do on our date then?” you ask him, feeling braver the longer he looks at you.

When he smiles, it’s like the sun explodes–incandescent and radiant like nothing you’ve ever seen before. He tells you he doesn’t care, first dates are silly anyway, he says, before grabbing your laptop from its place on your desk and telling you to pick a movie. It’s a little nerve wracking to be with him like this, it’s odd because it’s not something inherently romantic, nor any different from something you could’ve done with him before, but the fact that he called it a “date” makes the whole thing more anxiety-inducing than you thought possible. 

This is supposed to be pretend, yet the way his arm presses against yours brings a warmth to your chest that you can’t seem to decipher. Sure, you’re a bit touched starved and the constant vulnerability you’ve felt has lent itself to a mixed bag of feelings, but the strangest thing is, nothing about his heat is confusing. It feels like the surest thing in the world to have him next to you, laughing at the stupid jokes flowing out from your computer and asking if you want to order a pizza.

This is supposed to be pretend, but it feels real–like the realest thing you’ve held in months.

“So, are you ever gonna tell me what happened with Hyune?” He finally asks you. The sun has finally eased its way into night and the blue hour has opened up the air for truth telling, you always loved this time of night… Always loved the way the soft prussian hue would fill the room, the way it could coat human skin. It’s this blue honesty that motivates you to answer him, more honest than you’ve been with anyone else, much less yourself. 

“I think It was always gonna end like this… me all alone and him surrounded by friends.” You see him gearing up to protest, so quickly you add, “I know I’m not completely alone,” you tell him, “but I loved him so much, it was all I thought about for three years. And… and he’s out there living his life like I didn’t even matter.

“He broke up with me cause he was busy, like I was just something on the to-do list too insignificant to keep.” You stop to breathe, in and out, before starting again, “I hadn’t talked to him in weeks… in the beginning I called and texted, but I never got a response so I thought I’d just give him space. Felix kept asking me where he was, y’know? Like I would know, I should have known–I wanted to know, but I had no idea. Finally, he showed up out of nowhere telling me he was sorry, how he’d been so busy–I was so stupid, I was just happy he was there at all” 

“You’re not stupid,” Jeongin tells you, but you’re not finished. 

“He–” you whisper, “He told me that he thought we should break up… said it like there was no room for arguing. I said okay… I said okay because I wanted him to shut up about how busy he was–wanted him to stop talking about his great life that I wouldn’t be a part of anymore.” 

“You’re not stupid,” He says again, stronger this time. “Hyunjin’s a fucking idiot, a selfish idiot, okay? You’re not stupid.” He brings you into his arms, holding you close enough that you can hear his heart beating wild in his chest. He smells good, like sunshine and coffee, and part of you wishes this wasn’t pretend. 

You wish you could lay here like this all the time, cuddled close to him, safe in his arms, and sure of the fact that he wouldn’t let anyone hurt you. 

“We’re gonna make him regret this okay, make him see what he’s missing out on.” He’s whispering to you, but it almost seems like he’s talking to himself, reassuring himself that what he’s doing is okay, “He’s an idiot, and you’re perfect–do you hear me?” he asks you, tilting your chin up to see him from your place in his hold. “We’re gonna get him back.”

“You know, when I let him in last night I didn’t think he was sleeping over,” Felix tells you, once you come back inside from walking Jeongin out. 

Truthfully, you didn’t think he was going to sleep over either, yet the feeling of his arms around was so deeply comforting you’re glad he didn’t leave. You’d spent all night talking, going over your plan to make Hyunjin jealous, but that wasn’t all you’d talked about. Jeongin told you all sorts of things to make you laugh: secrets and stories, other peoples and his own. 

You spent all night telling each other things you’d never told anyone else, and for once you’d woken up happy. Strangely, it wasn’t awkward disentangling yourself from him–it was almost normal, even sharing the sink to brush your teeth felt like you’d done it a million times over before. 

No, it wasn’t awkward at all–that is until Felix woke up and found you together in your room. 

“Listen, Felix, it’s not what you think.” 

“Oh, so you’re not dating Jeongin to make Hyunjin jealous?” He asks, looking at with with a skeptical glimpse in his eye. 

“Well, I guess it’s exactly what you think,” you pause, “wait, how did you guess that?” 

“You’re not the only one friends with Minejeong and Chaery, sweet pea.” he tells you, stirring honey into two cups of tea. 

You’re not surprised the girls blabbed, especially not to Felix–the boy has too much of an angelic face to lie too–However, they should know better than to expose you to your oldest friend. Felix, has always been your best friend, your soulmate in all definitions, and because of this he is chronically worrying over you and your wellbeing. Hyunjin had been his friend, closest to him only second to you and Chris, and the way Hyune treated you at the end was such a deep betrayal to Felix’s sense of friendship that he is grown even more annoyingly protective in the past weeks. 

“You don’t have to worry about me, Lix” 

“Obviously I do, I take my hands off the wheel for one minute and suddenly you’re in bed with Innie.” 

“I was not IN BED with him, we just slept.” 

“Yeah, okay, just don’t get pregnant. Yeah? I’m not old enough to be the dad that stepped up.” 

“FELIX!” you yell, but all you hear is laughter, deep happy laughter that has been unfamiliar in your usually joyful apartment. You can’t help but feel guilty, even though it isn’t your fault. You wish everything could be normal–wish with every piece of your soul that life would go back to how it was. 

You didn’t need Hyunjin to be in love with you, but you wished that your friends could go back to how they were three months ago, happy and normal and free. 

You love Felix, you love Minjeong and Chaeryeong, and the thought of them being as cut up about this as you, breaks your heart. 

“You know I love you, right?” You tell Felix when he’s done laughing to himself, and the way he looks at you–rolling eyes and all tells you all you need to know. 

“I love you too, sweet pea…” He smiles, “but wear protection.”

The diner is busy and your friends can’t seem to shut up. 

“OH MY GOD!!! He keeps looking at you!” Minjeong cries, happy as a clam in her little white sundress. The weather has finally warmed up and with it sundress season has finally arrived, a fact that Ayen seemed to be especially happy about when he saw you in one of your own.

It’s just pretend, you tell yourself, even though you can’t help but blush when Minjeong whispers, “there he goes again, ohmygoodness!”

“Minnie, it’s not like that it’s just–” 

“It’s just pretend!” Chaery and Minnie sing together, mimicking the phrase you’ve told them over and over again for the past month. 

That first sleepover became dinner and movie every Friday, which became study sessions on Sunday when you began falling behind, and lunch at the diner every Tuesday so he could see you before his schedule got too busy. Yet, you still hadn’t gone out–out, a problem that has wrapped itself around you like an ugly sweater, the whole reason you’re pretending to date is to make Hyunjin jealous, but you haven’t gone anywhere that he’d see you two at. Not too mention, any insta post the two you have been in together isn’t so overtly romantic that one could believe you’re together–In conclusion, the two you are pretending to date for no one but each other, so does that make it not pretend? 

“It is just pretend, and you guys know that.” you tell them a bit meaner than you meant. 

“Okay, okay…” Chaery says, “but you should remind him of that, cause Minnie’s right: he really has looked over here like seven times in the last thirty seconds.” 

“It’s just because you guys are here,” you say, but even you sound unconvinced. “Anyway he’s probably just worried because we’re going to the party tonight, which will take this little plan of yours from 1 to 100” 

“Girly I love you, but him sleeping in your bed every weekend is what took the plan to 100” Minnie sassed. 

You want to admonish her, but she was right, you should never have let each other break this many boundaries. You should’ve had rules, should have watched To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before together and knew what would come of this fake dating nonsense your friends came up with. But you’ve gotten so used to him, fallen so far into friendship that the idea of him not being around physically hurts you. 

You catch him looking at you again, a soft smile on his lips as he asks someone their order, when your eyes meet he winks at you, silly and sweet just like him. You laugh and smile bigger than your friends have seen you in months, and if you were paying attention you would have seen the two girls share a look so obviously judgmental it would have warranted a slap. 

“Yeah, just pretend my ass.”

The night is just beginning and the party is in full force when you arrive, hand in hand with your “boyfriend,” You’d dolled yourself up for the occasion: tight shirt, miniskirt, and all that jazz, and when Jeongin picked you up he blushed so red you thought you might’ve had a fever. 

The party is already wild as soon as you step foot inside, people chatting and dancing, girls who must’ve just met singing Brittany together as it rings out from the stereo. You find yourself cramped in between bodies, Jeongin’s hand being the only lifeline in the sea of humans–more than once, you feel eyes on the two you, old friends looking on in confusion as you hold the hand of the wrong guy, yet you feel more at ease here with Ayen than you ever did before. 

When you finally arrive in the kitchen, unscathed except for a few wrinkles in your tiny skirt, Jeongin makes you a drink and compliments you again on your outfit. He’s called you pretty five times tonight: Once when he picked you up, two times in the car, right before you walked in, and now he’s saying it again. Each time the words emerge from his lips they sound a little braver, like he’s more sure of himself every time you say thank you. 

He looks absolutely divine tonight himself–when he took his jacket off in the car, you couldn’t stop yourself from growing hotter at the sight of his arms in the tight white tee he picked for the occasion.  More annoyingly he seemed to know and relish in your admiration, he seems more confident tonight, cocky in a way that wouldn’t be so  attractive if it wasn’t him. 

When he hands you the drink, hands tight on the plastic cup just like the first time, his empty hand immediately goes to your waist. His touch, familiar and pleasant, eases you into the corner–forcing you to be close to him in ways you’ve only been in private. A part of you feels insecure, like he’s only doing this to show off the people around you, but one look into his smiling eyes tells you he wouldn’t be doing it if he didn’t want to. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He tells you again–that’s six, “So so beautiful, I can’t believe how lucky I am, even if this is all pretend… I’m so so lucky to be here with you.” It stings a little, the truth of this being pretend, but you can’t help but agree, you really are so so lucky to have each other. 

His hand moves away from your waist, moving up, up, up, until it reaches your clavicle–fingers fanning out to touch your collarbones, his ring finger gently brushing over the skin. He’s not so much as looking at you as looking into you, almost like he’s trying to see into your ribcage and decide if he can fit in there too. His intensity is burning, chipping away at your composure not unlike pick into stone. His hands are so soft, fluttering against you in curiosity, like he can’t believe he gets to touch you–feel you under his force and mold you into him. Your eyes are fluttering shut, influenced by the alcohol and his hands and the way he thinks you’re beautiful. 

Too comfortable for a kitchen counter, especially not your own, his movements are even more dangerous when he is reminded the two of you are not alone. 

“Innie!” You hear a voice familiar and grating in your current predicament, Jeongin’s hands stop their curious journey, but he does not move away from you–if anything he draws you closer, protecting you from whomever would dare rip you away from peace. 

Changbin is shining as always, happy and handsome, like he has always been, but seeing him here is not a welcome surprise. You’re still upset you never heard from him after the breakup, sure he was Hyunjin’s friend first, and he doesn’t truly owe you any loyalty, yet it still hurts after three years of friendship to be dropped by 50% of your friends.

“Oh, hey,” he says when he notices it’s you and not some random girl here with the younger boy. “It’s been awhile, I’ve missed you–both of you.” You can see him observing your position–you, encompassed by Jeongin, huddling close into his chest… Ayen rubbing his hand up and down your back. It's clear what the closeness means, and Changbin who has claimed to know exactly what's going on with Jeongin at any given time, feels a little hurt that he didn’t know this. 

“So are you guys like, together?” he questions, “Does Hyunie Know?” 

“I don’t know and I don’t care, Hyung” Jeongin answers, “and yeah, we’ve been together for a little while now,” 

“A little while…” Changbin whispers to himself, and you almost feel bad for the mental gymnastics he must be putting himself through to explain the timeline of your so-called relationship.  “And you’re happy? I mean you look happy, so you must be right?” he asks. 

“Yes, we’re happy” you say, before even thinking about it. And it’s true–you are happy. Happier than you’ve been in months, here at this party with Ayen. His hands are warm on your skin and his smile is alive, and you’ve never been happier than here in this moment, sharing your body heat in a random kitchen. 

“Very Happy,” Jeongin agrees, looking down at you with a big smile, and your heart bursts at his agreement. “Well, hyung if you excuse us, my girl wanted to dance.” Did you? You ask yourself, but you see his urging look and decide to go with it. You do want to dance–you would do anything to stay this close to him, even if that means going back to the cramped sea of people in the living room.

It’s hot, and you can feel him everywhere—hands on your waist, brushing against your tummy, running through your hair. You’re breathless at his touch, breathing him in as your bodies move together in time to the song. You feel so alive, sticky with sweat; skin on fire where the two of you meet. 

The music is deafening, miscellaneous pop songs mashed up together to get everyone dancing. It’s devious and devilish, a dionysian madness that has infected you down to your bones. You wonder if he’ll take you upstairs, ravish you bloody and leave you wanting more more more. The way he’s looking at you–looming and predatory like a God searching for a devotee–sears your skin, scorches a brand onto the small of your back where his belt buckle digs into you. 

It’s all pretend, but it doesn’t have to be, not when he’s looking at you like that.

Your friends got here an hour ago, sharing shots with you and trying not to give each other “I told you so” looks when they saw Jeongin’s hand sit lower and lower on your hips than they would deem platonic. You can remember Felix laughing at you when the third shot went all over your top instead of down your throat, and the way Minjeong triple-dogged dared you to pound down some Apple Crown even though she knows it always makes you sick. You can remember how happy they all looked, Chaeryeong’s hips swaying as she danced with you and Lix, laughing deep into her belly. 

You can remember all of this, but you can’t seem to remember getting here… Can’t seem to find the moment where Jeongin’s touches went from casual to burning. 

The alcohol found its way into your system quickly, warming your tummy and your heart—intoxicating you with the notion that maybe all of this could be real in the morning, as Jeongin’s hands tighten on your waist. You feel his head dipping, lips sliding over your neck, his tongue lighting fires along your skin. He feels the rumble of your moan, feels the way you draw into him and sigh—your hands, delicate and lovely clutching at his jacket. 

“Let me take you home,” he’s saying, begging, pleading. He wants to be alone with you, wants to play pretend somewhere private, somewhere where it doesn’t have to be a game. 

You find yourself nodding, turning around in his hold so you can look at him, still so devastating through the hysteria. His eyes meet yours, so lovely in the dark room, and slowly his hands reach up to push the hair out of your face. 

“So beautiful.” He says, matter of fact. 

His hands linger, settling on your jaw, before slowly, achingly so, bringing your lips to his. He doesn’t kiss you at first, just brings you close enough so he’s breathing your air—almost like he’s giving you CPR, breathing life into a dying body—until finally he is kissing you, and taking all that life back.

The feel of him, the taste of him–is too much to bear. His hands are still clutching at you, holding onto your face and your neck, fingers leaving indents on the most vulnerable parts of you. 

He’s everywhere, he’s everything, he’s come alive. 

He tastes like the apple crown he took with you, sweet and sour–a taste you’ve only ever associated with sickness, yet when it’s dripping from Jeongin’s Tongue all it causes is euphoria. 

“Let’s go home,” He’s saying again, pushing the words against your lips, and you find yourself nodding again–kissing his jaw as he pulls away. 

“We,” you begin, a little breathless, “We have to go tell Felix, or he’ll break down my door to make sure I’m still alive.” 

The way Jeongin looks at you, like you’re the only thing in the room, shakes you down to your core. He’s grinning, wide and mercilessly, but his eyes hold that same mischief they carried the day he agreed to do this with you. 

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” He asks you, before taking your hand and pulling you through the sea once again.

You finally find your friend in the backyard, fairy lights glinting off his cheekbones. Felix is always handsome–impish and charming–but there’s something about his face now that sets the visage apart. Rather than the joyous expression you left him with, he looks angry… Angrier than you’ve ever seen him, (except for the time you misplaced your friendship necklace in fourth grade), he’s not yelling or bursting with volatility, but there’s something about his form that reminds you of a grenade. He’s so still, his body tense and eyes steely. 

The haze of your previous euphoria clouds your mind enough to make you wonder what’s going on–the picture being so out of place, your intoxicated mind can’t seem to make sense of it. Jeongin’s hand squeezes your hand tighter, and suddenly the painting comes together–there he is, standing in front of Felix, saving all of the volatility for himself. 

Hyunjin is beautiful, even now, standing tall and angry like an archangel. You knew you’d see him here, had planned on it even, but seeing him like this is so daunting. He’s beautiful and terrible, and as you watch him yell at your best friend–who is only ever good–you can’t seem to conjure up that love you always felt for him. 

You can feel Jeongin holding you back, his gentle hands holding onto your intertwined fingers tighter than normal, and when you look up at him his face urges you stay with him,--to leave with him like you planned, but even he can’t stop the current from bringing you towards the Conflict. 

With one last look at Jeongin, you find yourself walking away from him and towards the boy who broke your heart.

When you approach the boys you can finally hear their voices, angry and insistent. They’re being drowned out by hushed refrains of “c’mon guys!” that you think must be coming from Chris and Minho from their place behind the two boys. Hyunjin’s voice cuts through, “Can’t you just fuck off? God!” he’s groaning, and suddenly you’re rushing forward.

“What the hell is going on?” You cry, alerting the boys to your presence. The noise stops almost immediately as they look at you, shocked that you would be a witness to this outburst, as if it was something private you just stumbled into and not in the middle of a party. There are people scattered along the patio, some you know and some you don’t, but they’re all looking at you–waiting for something good to happen. 

Yet, The only person you’re looking at is Hyunjin–he’s shaking with anger, but his eyes are so sad. It’s an unwelcome sight, no matter how angry you are with him, to see him so clearly devastated. He looks different up close, all the signs of anger from far away slip into sadness the closer you get to him. 

When you turn to look at Felix, you can see that he’s crying–oh your emotional boys, they could never feel anything by half. “So?!” you ask again, “What the fuck is happening?” 

“Just go,” Felix tells you, not unkindly. 

“What? Now, she can’t talk to me?” Hyunjin throws at him, before looking at you and smiling–It’s so out of place on his angry face, a smile so heavenly it used to bring you to peace. Now, all you feel is disappointment. 

“Nothings wrong, sweetheart,” he tells you, the old nickname making you flinch. “Me and Felix are just talking, you can go back with your boyfriend.” The smile is still on his face, yet the words are venomous. 

The reference to Jeongin, snaps you out of reality. Of course, you knew what you were doing by coming here with him… Knew that this was the whole point, to get him back! But being here, seeing the hurt you knowingly caused, doesn’t make you feel good–just sad. 

“Can you just fuck off already?” Felix asks, his words coated in a thunderous anger. “Leave her alone, it’s none of your fucking business what she’s doing,” 

“More like who she’s doing,” Hyunjin says, still smiling at you like this all one big joke, but you know him–you know everything about his heart, the sound of its beat, the amount of time it pounds against his chest when he’s upset about something. It hurts you that he’s acting like this, pretending what you’re doing means nothing to him, even when it so obviously does. 

“You’re pathetic, you know that?” You hear from behind you, Jeongin’s hands catching yours into his hold and subtly rubbing at your knuckles. You thought he left, hoped he wouldn’t, but thought he did… How grateful you are that he’s still here, next to you and holding your hand like nothing is different than it was twenty minutes ago. 

“Oh, I’m Pathetic?!” Hyunjin cries, staring at where your and Jeongin hands meet. “I’m Pathetic?” he asks again, “You’re the one whose fucking my girlfriend, and I’m pathetic?” He laughs out, an ugly mean thing that brings tears to your eyes. 

All the boys start to yell at him now, telling him to fuck off, that that was too far… But you can’t seem to find your voice. Can’t seem to be able to conjure up any sentence that would accurately portray how you feel–how angry you are, how deeply cut you are that Hyunjin would be doing this.

 How could he do this to you again? How could he suck out all the air in the room every time you see him. 

The noise is rushing back up, people trying to get both Felix and Hyunjin to calm down, and all the while Jeongin is shaking his head and rubbing the stress out of your palms. 

You feel nothing but sadness… 

“I’m not your girlfriend.” You whisper, just loud enough for the group to hear you. 

“What?” Hyunjin asks. 

“I’m not your girlfriend, Hyunjin… I’m not anyone’s girlfriend.” You tell him, you can hear him say your name–see him begin to protest, but before he can start, you say again  “I’m not your girlfriend, and you have no right to yell at anyone, not when  you’re the one who fucked everything up.” 

You see him take a deep breath, try to steady himself before he says, 

“C’mon, Sweetheart, don’t do this right now…”

“Me don’t do this?!” You cry, “Are you even listening to yourself?!” Your tears are falling freely now, catching onto your lips. The salty taste is ruining the sweetness of Jeongin, obstructing all the life he gave. “I can’t believe you, seriously–you should go,” 

Hyunjin says your name again, pleading for you to listen to him, but you don’t want to… you can’t, all that is doing is causing you deep aches inside your soul where all your forgotten love resides. 

“Leave her alone, Hyunjin.” Jeongin speaks up, his hold on you becoming more protective as the moment goes on–standing taller and taller as if to hide you from your ex’s view. “Just go home, nothing’s gonna be fixed while you’re like this.” 

Hyunjin looks like he wants to argue again, but one look at his friends makes him stand down, before he walks away–Minho leading him back into the house with an apologetic look at you and a nod to Jeongin. When Chris passes you, he smiles, but it doesn’t meet his eyes, and that's what does it–that's what brings you to full on sobs, the thought of Chris being even a little disappointed in you. 

“Come on, let's just go home…” Felix tells you, tear tracks still shining on his pretty face. 

“I don’t want to be with you right now,” You tell him. You can hear him try to complain, try to tell you that he was defending you, but you don’t want to hear it. Everytime you look at him, all you see is Hyunjin standing there and looking at you like you were nothing. You just can’t seem to get past the frustration that Felix couldn’t just walk away, even if Hyunjin was being an asshole. 

“Listen, I love you, okay? I don’t know what happened, and honestly I don’t care, I’ll talk to you in the morning, I promise… but I can’t do it anymore.” You whisper, looking anywhere but at your best friend. Lovely Felix, who only ever wants you to be happy. He’s so sad, soul crushed and bleeding, but he understands. Understands in that way he always does, so without anything more than a nod he walks away, pressing his hand to your shoulder as he passes. 

The world is quiet for a moment, dark and honest like you like it, here alone with Jeongin again. All the prior heat is gone, all of intensity leaving the air as soon as everyones gone, and all that remains is Jeongin’s hand in yours and his dark eyes looking down at you. 

“Let’s go get something to eat, huh?” He whispers, and before you can resist, he’s pulling you through the night.

The diner is achingly familiar in the midnight hour, walking through the doors holding a different boy's hand than all those times before. The warm air is a comfort after trekking through the cold, abandoning the car for a night time walk through the city. 

Jeongin’s hand never left yours, holding you like a wounded bird. You can’t seem to wonder what he must think of you, sullen and sad–what if he doesn’t want you anymore? Now that your heart is shining on your face. 

He leads you into the restaurant, smiling at his coworkers behind the counter and ordering two cherry cokes. When you go to sit down, he sits on the same side of the booth as you, corralling you into his arms once again. You’re all cried out, can’t seem find it in yourself to let anymore of the pesky tears escape, but when he brings you into him–so close you can hear his heart beating, just as wild as the first time you listened to its song–you can’t help but feel like you need to cry again. 

You’re quiet for a long time, listening to each other's breath and sipping on your sugary drink. Your head isn’t cloudy anymore, your heart is no longer so sad… It’s nice, sitting here with him; having a front row seat to his life passing before you. He’s a little awkward, fidgeting with his soda straw and tapping his foot. He’s waiting for you to say something, giving you space and time to break the silence yourself. 

“You don’t have to be so quiet, y’know” You tell him, your voice scratchy from crying. 

“I know, I just didn’t want to scare you,” Jeongin responds, his arm moving its way up your sleeve and into your hair. “It was so loud before, I wanted to give you some quiet.” 

You can’t help but swoon, can’t help but love the boy in front of you–how sweet he is, how thoughtful. For weeks now, you’ve sat here with him like this–sharing space and time, loving him as a friend before anything else–perfect and pretend. 

“You don’t have to worry about me, Innie… I’m stronger than I look.” 

“I’ll always worry about you.” He says, with such honesty that it takes your breath away. 

Jeongin thinks you’re radiant. Has thought so, since the very first time he saw you–snuggled into his friend and laughing at some stupid joke. He’s cared for you longer than you know, longer than he should have… but seeing you here now, holding onto him like he’s the only thing you have… It breaks his heart in two. He wants you to be okay, wants to wrap you up and keep you safe until the storm passes. 

Jeongin doesn’t know when this became real, if it was real on the dancefloor, when he was kissing you and his world stopped. Was it real when you were being yelled at? Or has it been real since that moment in your room? The moment when he saw your heart open up for the first time. He doesn’t know, and honestly he can’t find it in himself to care–Who gives a fuck when it started? It’s real now. 

He is worried about you, that much is true… How could he not, with your makeup ruined and your lip still trembling. You’re still so beautiful, but there's something so very innocent in the way you’re looking at him, like all you want is for him to keep you safe. 

“I’ve been worried about you for a long time now, honey” He tells you, the pet name sweet on his tongue and warm in your ears. “It’s why I hadn’t talked to Hyunjn even before you guys broke up–” He stops to take a deep breath, to look out into the night before he starts again, “You’ve always been so alive, and in the end… every time I saw you with him… you just looked so sad.” 

You try to remember, try to think about the last time you saw him at a get together before you and Hyunjin broke up, but you can’t. Those memories hidden behind months of trying to act like nothing was wrong, like Hyunjin still loved you–like you were happier than ever. 

“I don’t remember seeing you,” You say, “I’m sorry.” 

“I was always seeing you, even before I was supposed to.” 

Oh your darling boy, sweet like candy and so so honest. It strikes you that everything you’ve done all night has gone past pretend, that this boy in front of you might as well truly be your boyfriend. When you think this, all the dread lifts away–seeping out of your bones and washing away as his eyes smile down at you. 

He knows, you think, he knows exactly what you’re thinking–it’s never been pretend, hasn’t been since the minute he stood in your doorway and held you while you slept. 

“You’re everything.” he whispers, and his smile is a thousand suns.

“HE SAID WHAT?!” Minjeong yells.

The morning after the party has been a whole thing. Waking up in your bed with Jeongin smiling down at you, cuddled together in your party clothes, peaceful until Minjeong and Chaeryeong burst in to interrogate you about what happened. 

You’re not sure how they got in, even less sure if you want to ask, but they're here now: cuddled up next to you and shoving Ayen out of bed with instructions to make you all coffee. 

“Minnie, I already told you–Hyune was a dick face and made me and Felix cry.” You tell her. 

“That fucking guy, I can’t believe you guys cried… I would’ve just slapped him.” She says, much to the chagrin of you and Chaeryeong. 

“You would not have slapped him, Min.” Chaery says, rolling her eyes as Minjeong insists she would have. 

You find yourself giggling to yourself, laughing at how horrible everything was, and how funny it is now. Last night was horrific, but sitting here with your girls you really see how ridiculous the whole thing was–Hyunjin called you his girlfriend! How silly is that? 

“What are you laughing about, sweet pea?” Felix asks–he’s standing in your doorway, smiling but sullen. Anxiously waiting for an invitation into the room, holding some of the coffee’s Jeongin must’ve made. It hurts you to think about him sitting up all night and waiting for you to forgive him, as if you could ever stay mad at him. 

“Oh nothing, just how ridiculous we all are,” you laugh. “Why are you still standing over there, come on!”  Felix’s smile is incandescent, brighter than you remember it being, and he quickly bounds over to you and the girls. Giggling about how much he missed you even though its only truthfully been a couple hours. 

When Jeongin finally comes back, coffee in his hand and carrying around that 1000 watt smile, you can’t help but feel like everything is right in the world; here in your bed, with all the people you love most in the world… nothing pretend about it. 

The morning is alive and sweet with friendship–Felix and the girls teasing you about Jeongin, and laughing as your face heats up.You can feel him smiling at you, you can feel the heat of his stare soaking into your skin like the sunrise. It’s a tether to reality, the proof that you didn’t make anything up… You’re everything, he said, and what a lovely thing that is–to be so intrinsic to him and his life that that's the only way he can describe you. 

He’s your everything too. 

You find yourself smiling at the thought, closing your eyes in bliss, you can almost hear your heart beating–louder and louder as reality sets in. It’s all real: him, you, this. You can almost see the future, prophetic daydreams passing over your eyelids of what is to come–more of this, of course, but also more–more, more, more. You can see him, laughing in the sun, kissing you under the stars, singing your favorite songs. It will be perfect, lovely and real, and everything. 

When your eyes open, you see Chaeryeong smiling at you–looking at you like she can see every thought buried inside your heart. She loves you, you know that, but seeing her know you can feel it too. How you love her too, even with her silly jokes and mischievous plans. Her eyes flit to where Jeongin’s hand holds yours raising her eyebrows in that familiar way, and she tells you,

“Just pretend my ass,”

LUVTAK © 2025

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Part Four — Azriel x Reader

Summary: It’s Solstice! Reader decides she should probably be honest with Azriel about some stuff. Things don’t quite go to plan.

Oof. Okay. This could be uncomfortable reading for some. There are some hints and depictions of domestic abuse and also of alcoholism, so if that’s something that might trigger you, please, please do not read this. The last thing I want is for my writing to be harmful to anybody. Read with caution. Take care and put yourself first. Lots of love.

Also, please don’t hate me for this 😭we know I’m a hoe for angst and it wouldn’t be one of my fics if there wasn’t some sprinkled in there lmao.

Word Count: 5k.

Warnings: Depiction of abusive behaviour. Heavy drinking. Some violence.

On a brisk winter morning, when the sun hasn’t yet graced the sky, the last place you wish to be is at the Windhaven crèche, watching over a group of tired, grouchy younglings. Every second thought that passes through your mind is a longing one, lamenting on how desperately you wish to be back in your bed.

But alas, you owe your friend, Vegha, a favour, making you the sole minder of ten restless little girls, all annoyed that their brothers get to join their fathers for training, while they have to stay back and be…girls. A downfall, according to most Illyrian males.

You’re supposed to be watching over them for a couple of hours while Vegha runs an errand. And that time is going very, very slowly.

You’re in the middle of reading a storybook — and, yes, doing all the voices — when the door opens behind you. You feel a glimmer of hope that perhaps Vegha is back earlier than planned, but when you swivel on the child-sized chair you’ve perched yourself on, it’s Azriel who looms in the doorway.

And you…your heart does a silly little thing in your chest.

“Don’t let me interrupt.” He says. “I can wait.”

Your eyebrows flick up in amusement. “Come take a seat, then. It’s story time.”

His lips twitch, and he goes to reach for one of those infant chairs — which you’re not at all sure can handle all his muscle — but this sparks a flurry of complaints from the girls, who all insist that they want to sit with Azriel the most, and within seconds, he’s cross-legged on the floor with the children somehow managing to settle around him without bickering, and they’re all able to command his attention at once.

Happy mediums, and all that.

Your gaze lingers on him as he does all the right things; leaning his head down so he can appear less…huge, while listening with rapt attention to one of the girl’s chattering; steadying another one as they climb over him to get themselves seated; gently telling them all that they have to be quiet if they want to hear the rest of the story. That, of course, achieves immediate near silence.

And thus begins an entire performance of you continuing the tale, and the girls — and Azriel — responding in all the right places. They howl when they’re supposed to make the sound of a wolf, and roar when it’s a mountain cat, and you don’t miss that Azriel helps the tiniest of the girls to remember which animals make what sounds.

Most males in this gods-forsaken place are an intimidating presence to these children, frightening them into silence whenever they’re around, because girls are supposed to be seen and not heard. But Azriel is always gentle, always kind, and they adore him for it.

It’s a combination of all these things that force you to face a truth that’s been rapidly snowballing inside your mind and heart for the past four days — something has changed. Shifted. Has been shifting and changing for a while.

You laid awake for hours that night in the dormitory, listening to Azriel’s breathing as he slept deeply, happily sated from the pleasure you’d given him. Your mind had been too much of a war zone for you to drift off.

Nine years, you’ve called this male your closest friend. Ever since the very first day you’d met him, when a group of males had pushed you to the floor and kicked mud at you, and he’d jumped in and defended you for no other reason than that he’s good to the bone. Nine years, you’ve been by each other’s sides, and it’s been comfortable and familiar and just…right.

But now — now, you think you may have jeopardised that all by going along with Azriel’s request for help. Help with kissing. Touching. Experiencing.

You’ll always want to help him in any way that you can, of course. But you didn’t quite anticipate the predicament you now find yourself in. That you want all of those things and more, not just under the ruse of building your friend’s confidence. You want to explore more with him, feel more with him. You’ve been able to think about nothing else for days.

And it might make you a total wretch, but you want Kaeda to be a distant memory. The thought of Azriel taking what you’ve shown him, shared with him, and putting his all into somebody else…it sours your stomach. Makes you feel sick.

Makes your heart hurt.

And, well, you’re fucked, really.

It’s a kind of hurt that won’t go away on its own. It isn’t avoidable nor ignorable. And so your only option is to confront it, be honest about it. Whatever the outcome may be.

The story comes to an end, and the girls are calmed and sleepy enough that they look ready to curl up on the floor and doze off. Azriel peels himself away from the cluster of clingy children and stands up, strolling over to you.

“Well that was fun.” He comments quietly, taking the book from your hands. “Who knew I was so adept at doing animal impressions?”

“One of your many talents, I suppose.” You smile, drinking in the sight of him. He looks tired this morning. Tired, but beautiful. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

His expression sobers slightly, and he tells you, “We’re leaving this morning. For the training exercise.”

Immediately, your stomach churns. Being away from your friends sets you on edge. Windhaven is a lonely, lonely place to be without the love of Rhys, Cassian and Azriel to warm you. And not even Rhys’s mother is here to make it a little more bearable.

Az immediately recognises the bleakness that passes your face. He steps closer, his hand a gentle brush against yours. “I’ll be back for Solstice.” He reminds you yet again.

“I know.” You attempt to force an easy, breezing smile. “What’s the plan for Solstice, anyway?”

Normally, Rhysand’s mother would cook a meal in the cottage. You wouldn’t be able to attend, given that you’re always stuck at home with your father, but by the time he would pass out drunk, you’d sneak out and make it to the cottage just as the games were starting. Some of your happiest memories are of being curled up on one couch with Az, Rhys and his mother on the other, and Cassian stood in front of you, making a terrible attempt at playing charades.

But it’ll be different this year. With the High Lord keeping a tight leash on his pregnant mate in Velaris, there will be no meal, no charades. You, Azriel and Cassian would most certainly not be welcome at their intimate family celebration.

“Rhys will spend the day in Velaris.” Az tells you. “Cass and I will be getting drunk. There’s a celebration being held at the dormitories in the evening, so I suppose we’ll all end up there.”

You dip your chin. “I’ll come and find you there, then.”

His responding smile is a gentle one; one that says he sees right through you, right through to the panic that’s eating away at you, and he understands.

There’s no way he sees everything that you’re feeling, though. Perhaps that’s a good thing.

Your body goes slightly rigid as he dips down and presses a kiss to your forehead. His hand squeezes yours, and then he’s pulling away. “See you on Solstice.”

He bids a quiet goodbye to the dozing girls. It’s as he’s heading for the door that you find yourself stepping after him. “…Az?”

He turns, hand on the doorknob. “Yes?”

“There’s…something I need to talk to you about, when you get back. Something I need to tell you.”

Okay. Shit. You’re really doing this.

Azriel’s eyes rake over you, and then he smiles. “We’ll talk on Solstice.”

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Your head’s not all there today, as you stare out of the window of your father’s forge. Azriel and the others have been gone almost a week, and you’ve spent every one of those days thinking about how you’re going to tell him…whatever it is you’re going to tell him.

You’re not even certain, yourself.

Just that…that things are different. That you know, to begin with, that this was about him and Kaeda — but it’s shifted in your brain at an alarming rate, and now that you’ve shared something so…so meaningful, with him, you’re not sure you can go on acting as though it was all just a favour.

Yeah. That should do it.

And it’s a huge fucking risk, of course. There’s every chance he won’t return the sentiment, and then a giant wedge of unresolved feelings will exist between you.

But you need to — perhaps selfishly — confront this before things between him and Kaeda progress. In case there’s a slight chance that it’ll alter the path it’s heading down.

And you haven’t thought any further than that.

The snow has started again, and you watch the flurries sweep past the window and join the thick layer on the ground. You’ve become so accustomed to the noise of the forge that you hardly notice it anymore — not the constant clanking, nor the heat that the fires swathe the shop in. You used to beg your father to teach you his craft, to allow you to get stuck in and get your hands dirty, but he’s always stubbornly maintained that it’s a male’s job, and that he needs you for the bookkeeping. You’re surprised he trusts you with that.

You breathe a soft sigh, your thoughts once again flitting back to Az. To what he might be doing, thinking, feeling. Whether he misses you as much as you miss him.

But before those thoughts can take a hold of you and sink you deeper into your predicament, the door opens, the bell above it ringing and a gust of cold air momentarily biting you.

It’s rare for females to come to the forge. Very rare, indeed. Which is why, for a second or two, you just stare.

That — and because she’s incredibly beautiful.

Her eyes — the colour of emeralds — sweep the workshop, before landing on you, and she smiles. She has the telltale tanned skin of an Illyrian, but instead of the dark hair that’s so typical around here, hers is red — not orange, not auburn, but blood red. You’ve never seen a shade quite like it.

And if that’s not enough to completely bowl you over, your gaze rakes over her clothing, and you stop, stunned.

Females around here wear homespun dresses of simple brown shades. A few, like yourself, favour basic tunics and breeches. Clothing is just a necessity, not something you lend much thought to.

But this female wears Illyrian leathers. Never, in your life, have you seen females wear Illyrian leathers. It’s simply not a done thing.

But she looks resplendent in them.

They cling to supple curves and accentuate a figure that you don’t think you’d ever be able to achieve with any amount of training. And perhaps the most shocking thing of all — and the most enviable — is the presence of brilliant, beautiful wings at her back. Unclipped. Untouched. Unruined.

How your wings might have one day looked, had your father not destroyed them.

You’re not entirely convinced that an angel hasn’t just stepped into your father’s forge. Or perhaps this is the Mother that everyone worships. Part of you wants to worship her, too, and beg her to bestow upon you her blessings—

You snap yourself out of it before you can fall head-over-heels in love with her. She’s just a customer.

A very, very beautiful customer.

“Good day to you.” She says, approaching the counter. Her voice is like pure music.

You incline your head in greeting. “And to you. Is there something I can help you with?”

“I’m interested in having some gifts made for my father and brothers. For Solstice.”

Once again, you’re gawking.

Another thing that’s unheard of; females liking their family members enough to have gifts made for them.

You clear your throat, blinking out of your thoughts. “What…what kind of things were you looking for?”

“Personalised daggers.” She answers, and then she grins in a way that makes you want to tell her your life story, and leans closer. “A male can never have too many daggers, right?”

You breathe a laugh. It doesn’t sound natural. “Absolutely.”

“I’ll be needing three. One for my father, and one each for my two brothers. Can that be done in time for Solstice? I can pay extra…”

This female has beauty, leathers, wings, a relationship with her family members, money. She’s magnificent. A few exchanged words, and you’re awed by her.

Who is she? How have you never seen her before?

“It can be done.” You tell her with a flustered smile. “I’ll just need to sit with you and get some details of exactly what you want made, and then my father will get straight to it. I imagine they’ll be ready for collection by Solstice Eve.”

Her eyes light up in a way that reminds you of sunrise. “That’s perfect.”

There’s a second or two where you just…can’t help staring. Her beauty has knocked you speechless.

But once again, you snap yourself out of it and try to retain some semblance of professionalism.

“Can I take your name down?” You say, and clear your throat again. Gods, you hope you’re not blushing. “For the order.”

You grab a piece of parchment and a pen, hoping you’ll remember how the fuck to write.

“It’s Kaeda.” She says, and the pen nearly slips from your hand. “Kaeda Baralas.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Solstice morning sweeps in just as abruptly as the fresh onslaught of snow that once again batters the camp.

It’s going to be a rough one. You can feel it in your bones.

You dread it every year, but this year is made even worse by the constant stream of thoughts that have been plaguing you over the last week. About whether telling Az about your feelings is a good idea. Not just because of what it could do to your friendship, but because…

Because you can’t deny that since seeing Kaeda in the flesh, you’re doubting yourself more than ever.

Of course, you can see why Azriel would want her. And why he’d want to be good and experienced for her. And you…you’ve been facilitating that. You’re the practice dummy. Kaeda is the real thing.

At least the chaos of Solstice keeps you busy.

You wake early, and from the noise and foot traffic outside your bedroom window, you know Az’s unit has safely returned from their training exercise. Your relief is short-lived, replaced by the dread of your father hitting the bottle.

Every year is the same. You spend the day trying to focus on your preparation of the huge meal you’re expected to cook, while your father knocks back drink after drink and gradually gets rowdier. You tell yourself that the more he drinks, the better — he’ll fall asleep eventually, and you’ll be out of here.

But then the front door bursts open.

It’s four of your father’s friends who pile into your cramped home, singing at the tops of their voices and reeking of booze. You’re only just able to stop one of them knocking a pot of potatoes off the counter with a careless, wayward wing. They barely acknowledge you, filing through to the sitting room to greet your father. Their voices get louder, and an ache is building behind your eye.

Day bleeds into late afternoon. You try to ignore them, to focus on the task at hand. Cooking is usually enjoyable for you, but with an unwelcome party happening in the next room, you find yourself getting more and more stressed.

By the time your father bustles his way into the kitchen and begins sniffing around the food, you’re close to losing it.

“Isn’t it ready yet?” Your father rudely demands.

You stare out of the kitchen window, at the dwindling light of approaching evening, clenching your jaw. “It is. I’m waiting for your friends to leave.”

“They’ll be eating with us.”

You whirl on the spot. “We don’t have enough food for that.”

“I told you we’d have guests.”

No, he absolutely hadn’t. This is a power play. He does shit like this all the time. Backs you into corners.

“I bought food for two people.” You snap, unable to stop yourself. “Not six.”

Your father’s nostrils flare. You know that look on his face a little too well — the one where his cheeks redden and his eyes turn cold. It’s always, always made your stomach lurch.

He steps closer, and you press your back against the counter, trying your utmost not to look intimidated.

“You’d better rectify that, hadn’t you?” His tone is deceptively gentle. “Be a good girl and find a way to make the food go around six people. You wouldn’t want to ruin Solstice.”

It’s a veiled threat. One you’d be wise not to ignore.

So you stare at him and he stares at you. And when he eventually nods and leaves the room, you turn and try to work out how to make a meal for two a meal for six.

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The mountain of a male beside you jostles your chair so violently that you almost fall out of it.

His hand grabs a roast potato from your plate. He shoves it into his mouth, chews, and grins. “You weren’t going to eat that, were you?”

The entire meal has been like this.

Perhaps it’s your ice-thin temper that has you staring him right in the eye; a thing many Illyrian males consider a great disrespect from females. “Would it matter if I was?”

He swallows and swipes the lone, remaining potato you hadn’t planned to touch. “Not really, no.”

The dinner is usually the only part you enjoy of Solstice. A meal that you spend hours perfecting, of slow-cooked meat and roasted potatoes and a colourful array of different vegetables that are cooked to perfection. It’s the one part of the day where you can just sit and breathe, because even your father doesn’t usually have a bad word to say about the meal you’ve presented.

This one has been pure, unadulterated hell. 

To accommodate your unwanted guests, you’ve skimped on your own food, barely affording yourself a couple of mouthfuls. Wine and ale has been spilled across the table, and the conversation around it has only grown more and more uncomfortable — and vile — as the night has worn on. You want nothing more than to get out of here and find your friends, but your father and his cronies show no signs of slowing down. 

You sit, staring emptily at the plates, the little remaining morsels of the meal you spent all day cooking. You try to block out the laughter and jeering, the disgusting comments, the blatant disrespect, but it’s all getting to you, riling you up. You’re not sure how long you’ll last without snapping.

Your answer comes when your father looks at you. And he snaps his fucking fingers at the finished plates. 

“Clear this up, Y/N.” He says. 

You know your father. You know what he can be like, the damage he can do. Your ruined back is evidence enough. And you know the wisest and safest thing is for you to comply and rant about him to your friends later.

But you’re far beyond that point.

You meet his gaze, and your jaw ticks as you shoot back, “Why don’t you clear it up yourself?”

You regret it the second the room falls deathly silent. All the noise is gone in an instant. Every face is looking your way.

But it’s your father’s face you’re concerned with.  The expression that tells you you’ve made a grave, grave mistake. 

“What was that?” His voice is quiet. Too quiet.

You look away. Wish you could cram the words back down your throat. “Nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing.” The male beside you sneers. “You speak to your father like that, girl? If you were my child, I’d string you up by the remains of those wings you never should have been born with.”

“I’d do a lot worse than that.” Another one remarks, a sickening laugh in his voice.

Throughout it all, your father is staring at you. Saying nothing.

“Did it hurt, anyway? Having them ripped off like that? I bet it did. I hope it did.”

Your final straw is when the pig at your side has the audacity to reach around and touch your back. You tense immediately, and you’re shooting up from your chair, knocking it over as you do.

“Don’t ever lay a finger on me again.” You will your voice to be stronger, firmer, but it won’t comply. You shake as you gather the plates up in your hand. “I’m cleaning this up.”

That’s met with a chorus of laughter, a pelting of comments. You tell yourself to block it out, block it the fuck out, balance as much as you reasonably can in your hands and book it into the kitchen. You dump the plates onto the counter and grip onto the sink basin, trying to draw in deep, slow breaths.

But then there are footsteps behind you. And the kitchen door closes. And you know that’s not good.

“Y/N.” 

Your eyes shutter. You release one of those useless breaths before you dare to turn and face your father. 

And when you do, his face is…soft. Eyes filled with concern.

But you’re not stupid enough to buy it. 

You’re taut as a bowstring as he approaches you, stopping inches away. He drinks in the sight of you, tilting his head. You wait for him to tell you that you look just like your mother — a fact that only contributes to his vitriol. As if it’s your fault that she abandoned him, abandoned both of you. 

He thinks it is.

His hand touches your cheek, his thumb sweeping the skin there. You swallow, hoping he can’t feel the way you tremble beneath him. 

“What’s gotten into you, my girl?” He asks quietly. “What did I say about not ruining Solstice?”

You swallow. Lower your gaze. “I thought it would just be the two of us.”

“Do I not have the right to invite my friends into my home?”

“I’m just saying that a little bit of warning would have been appreciated. I didn’t spend hours cooking a meal just for your friends to come along and ruin it.”

“Your attitude has become insufferable. Perhaps it’s those three males you’ve been spreading your legs for. Giving you too much of an ego boost.”

You almost want to laugh in his face — laugh at his cluelessness. But your anger wins. Maybe you’re more like him than you ever thought.

“Or perhaps, father,” you snap, “it’s an accumulation of anger and desperation after twenty years of living with a repulsive, sanctimonious—”

He strikes you so hard that for a moment, you’re simply stunned as to why you’re suddenly on the floor. But the thwack of his hit rings in your ears, echoes through the kitchen. 

And then the metallic taste of blood is coating the inside of your mouth. It’s streaming down your chin, and you’re not even sure where it’s all coming from, only that it hurts and your eyes are stinging. 

Your father stares down at you. And in that moment, you realise that the eeriest thing of all is that he never glares at you. You think you’d prefer that.

He always stares with that emptiness. That icy vacancy. It makes his actions more unpredictable, more dangerous. 

He lunges down so suddenly that you flinch, yanking you up by the front of your shirt. Your legs don’t want to comply as he shoves you towards the door.

“Get the fuck out of my house.” He hisses at you, ripping the door open. “Go on. Fuck off, just like your mother did.”

And then he’s shoving you into the snow, a plume of it erupting around you. You hardly notice the cold. You’re too stunned.

Not stunned enough, though, to refrain from biting back at him. Just like a threatened animal would. 

“Fuck you.” You sneer, the words contorted by a mouthful of blood that you spit onto the snow. “Fuck you, father.”

The bastard laughs in your face. Just as he’s always laughed in your face. And then he kicks snow at you because he can and steps back into the house.

When the door shuts behind him, you push to your feet. You’re trembling all over. It might be the cold. It might be the shock.

There’s only one person you want to see right now. So you wrap your arms around yourself and head towards the dormitories.

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Halfway through trudging across the camp, your shoes sodden with snow, your lip still bleeding, the emotions begin to hit.

You resent them. You resent feeling anything at all towards the male who is your only blood relative in this hollow, hollow place. The one who took your wings. The one who has tried to keep a firm grasp on the control he has over your life.

But you do feel things. Hurt and rage and humiliation and — bizarrely — betrayal. As if some small slither of hope had followed you from childhood into adulthood — that your father would one day miraculously awaken as a different person. A family member worth holding onto.

He never would.

No, your true family has always been the small, loving group that crams themselves into a cottage across the camp; a place of warmth and welcoming.

Rhysand and Cassian and Azriel. Rhysand’s mother, too. They are your family. They have always cared, since the moment you met them.

It’s for that reason that you persevere with your walk, even though you’re frozen to the bone. You think you might be crying. You’re not too sure anymore. Your friends will make it better. They always make it better.

The dormitories glow in the distance; a welcome sight, for once. You kick through the snow with desperation, and you’re definitely crying, definitely shaking all over, but the sounds of the celebrations coming from inside are a relief. Playful jeering and someone strumming a lute and off-kilter singing.

You push your way through the door. Inside is as crowded as you expect it to be, but you don’t even care. Anywhere is better than at home.

Your eyes — not really taking in much at all — scan the corridors, the common area, looking for any of your three closest friends. You see none of them, but a hand lands on your shoulder, and you turn to find Vegha there. Her eyes widen immediately at the state of you. You dread to think how bad you look.

“Y/N, what the fuck?” She blurts. “Why are you bleeding?”

“Fell over.” You know how stupid it sounds. “I…I need to find Azriel. Have you seen him?”

“Oh, I think he skulked off to his room a little while ago. Everyone knows he hates big parties like this—”

Perfect. You’ll hole up in his room together and block the rest of the world out. You’re already turning and pushing through people. You’ll apologise to Vegha for your rudeness later. Right now, you just need Azriel’s comfort, his love. The conversation you planned to have with him tonight is now a distant memory, an issue to confront later. You just…just want him. He always makes everything better.

You don’t notice the drink that gets spilled on you, or the disgruntled groups of people you have to shove through. None of that matters. Azriel is your family. He matters.

Finally, you make it to his room. The soft glow of faelights shine beneath the door — an indication he’s inside. You almost sob with relief as you grab the handle and burst in.

Two faces immediately look round at you.

Azriel’s.

Kaeda’s.

Kaeda lies on top of him, hands either side of his head. Her lips are swollen and inches from his. Azriel is palming at her waist, holding her against him. They’re both fully clothed, but…but you get the sense they wouldn’t have been for much longer, had it not been for your interruption.

Azriel drinks in the sight of you, his chest heaving. He blinks. You…you’re rooted to the spot.

And you fucking wince as Kaeda sits up slightly. Az’s hands fall back to his sides.

The beautiful female eyes you, tilting her head. And you want to get out of there, to fucking run, but you can’t do anything but stand and blink as something shatters inside of you.

“The shop hand from the forge.” Kaeda states in surprise, as if it’s ludicrous to consider that you might sometimes venture outside of your father’s workshop. “What happened to your face?”

Azriel is finally springing into action, then, sitting up and scooting out from beneath Kaeda. “Y/N…”

You cannot bear the gentleness of his voice. It may just finish you off.

All of this might. Staying here a second longer might.

So you, for some reason, shake your head and back slowly out of the room. Azriel lurches up, but you’re grabbing hold of the door handle firmly.

“Sorry for interrupting.” Your voice is all wrong and fractured. You quickly shut the door before it can morph into a sob.

You think Azriel might call after you, but it’s probably wishful thinking. You don’t know. Don’t know anything. Don’t know what to do next.

So you simply walk away.

You suppose you’ve taught Azriel everything he needs to know.

azriel tag list: @hanasakr @positivewitch @ruler-of-hades @brekkershadowsinger @nightscourtt @imperfect0angel @luna-1-3-5 @hyacinthoideshispanica @lucyysthings @lahoete @littlemoonash @blacksstarrynight @azriels-mate123 @ghostly-poetic @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @a-frog-with-a-laptop @illyriansimp @morrie-rose @passingthroughfireandshadow @illyrian-dreamer @azrielsbabyg @96jnie @mich0731 @mulansaucey @truthtellerfanclub @acourtofbooksandmagic @insightsonmylife @basicbittywitty @curbside-cyanide @acourtofchaosandmess @123345566 @starrynights-frostbites @eos-princess @thesillyyogourt @ona-raising-07-l @acediahamartia @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @polli05927 @asdfjklbooks @azriel-luvr @amysangel @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @wildflowernightmere @audie-writes @aaronwarnerswifereal @starxqt @lulufairbank @laurzwrites @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @girlwith-thecinder-blockgarden @jjlevin @smitty-werbenjagermenjenson @spikertrash @kindagoldylocks @barbiezambie @kht1998 @soupghoul @nyctophiliawitch @gracie1234567891011 @gaymistakeboi @luvmxo @rinalouu @microwaveallthedemons @starlightshowdown

[penkura]

PENKURAAAAA

I love your writing, especially for Law and Zoro. I'm also a sucker for the parent fics you do. What if reader and Law/Zoris kids were to surprise reader on their birthday? What would they do? How would they do it? Maybe reader thinks everyone forgot their birthday but the crew is actually just in on the surprise? Thanks for reading friend, I would love to see what you think ^^♡

HIII THANK YOUUUU I'm so glad you like the parent fics, they're some of favorite to write. 😊

I didn't think I'd finish this in time to post on my birthday but I did!! I wasn't sure where to go at first so I just started typing and this is what I've got!! I'm pretty happy with it myself, so I hope you like it too!! 😄

Law

Law has never forgotten a birthday or anniversary ever since you first got together. His ability to remember every date leaves you impresses every time, especially after your son and daughter were born, he kept every important date in the front of his mind so her never forgot. He intended to celebrate every important, special day so you and your kids knew how much he loved you. You make sure to do the same for Law, even if he’d rather you not celebrate his birthday, the grins he gets from your children every year make it worth remembering the day.

That’s why it’s very strange to wake up on your birthday without Law in your bed with you, or even your son Rosinante yelling ‘happy birthday’ to wake you. Your daughter Cora is still learning to talk, but even she would already be in your bed and giggling to help get you up for the day. It’s odd, you’re not sure what to think as you start getting ready for the day, still no sign of your family or the other Heart Pirates around. Once you leave your room, it’s oddly quiet but you pass by a few of your crewmates on your way to Law’s office, expecting him to be there at least. None of them say anything about your birthday, Bepo and Ikkaku seem a little antsy when you greet them, though you don’t think anything of it, even when they try to guide you to the kitchen instead.

You don’t go with them, saying you’d like to see your family first, opening the door to Law’s office and being surprised at what you see. Law at his desk is normal, even with your daughter sitting in his lap, but what’s different is the amount of streamers across the walls and floor, wrapping paper pieces mixed in, your children busy scribbling away on paper likely making cards for you.

It's so early you can’t believe the two are awake, especially seeing how Law appears to he asleep, his hat over this face and leaning back in his chair, but still holding little Cora so she can sit up and continue coloring.

Of course he wouldn’t forget, he was probably trying to surprise you, keeping things a secret and bringing your children to his office so you could sleep in while he got things together. That would also explain why most of your crewmates seemed anxious around you, they didn’t want you to figure it out too soon.

“Mama!”

When Rosi sees you, he’s torn between excited and upset, you weren’t supposed to see anything yet and the five-year-old was doing his best to keep everything secret after Law brought up your birthday and making cards for you. He pouts a little, but still jumps up to hug you, which you return.

“You weren’t s’pposed to see yet…”

Quietly laughing, to not wake Law even though Cora is starting to whine when she sees you, you hug Rosi a bit tighter before kissing the top of his head.

“You’re so sweet! I’m sorry I saw everything, sweetie!”

Rosi whines this time, telling you that you’re hugging him too tight, before you let him go and move to pick up Cora, who squeals when you do so and kiss her cheeks. Law doesn’t even wake at that, you wonder if he actually slept last night or not.

“You’re all so wonderful, I’m so blessed to have you guys.”

Rosi makes you promise not to tell anyone that you know, and you’re still surprised later that day at how big the party is. Law tells you later that your son thought it up, he just helped put it all together with the rest of your crew. No one finds out that you knew, Rosi keeps it a secret too and even when your daughter nearly drops her piece of cake on your shirt, it’s still the best birthday you’ve had in a while.

Zoro

While Zoro isn’t the best at remembering dates, your birthday is one he never forgets, no matter how long you’ve been together or how many other important days come and go. You know your captain and crew well enough that anything worth celebrating gets a huge party, birthdays are no exception, especially so after your daughter’s birth a few years ago. Every first for little Kuina was celebrated as only the Straw Hats could, food and drinks galore, even though she’d be confused by what was happening.

When she’s four-years-old and your birthday comes around again, Kuina is adamant on you having a big surprise party, even when Zoro tells her you aren’t the biggest fan of surprises (your unexpected pregnancy with her being an exception). She’ll pout and fuss until Zoro finally agrees, enlisting Nami and Sanji to get everything planned but not tell him the details. He trusts them to get everything planned, Kuina being their biggest help, but Zoro doesn’t want to know anything, so he doesn’t potentially spoil you on the surprise.

Kuina is better at keeping the secret than anyone else. If you ask her what she’s doing, when she grabs all her paper and coloring supplies, she just tell you she’s going to make a map with aunt Nami. That’s not unusual so you don’t question it, she does bring you her own map later that day anyway.

When your birthday finally comes around, neither Zoro nor Kuina says anything, they aren’t even around when you wake up that morning. Not uncommon though, everyone normally lets you sleep in on your birthday, but usually Zoro is there and Kuina comes running in after a few minutes to wake you both.

Once you’ve dressed and gotten ready for the day, you head for the kitchen, but you’re confused when no one you pass says anything to you apart from a good morning. Usopp just grins and says it, Franky does the same. Luffy is barely audible as he runs off to wherever, dragging Jinbei along with him. It really makes you wonder if they’ve all forgotten what today is. You don’t see anyone else until you get to the kitchen, only to have streamers from party poppers hit you in the face, hearing Kuina say ‘oops’.

“You weren’t supposed to do it in her face, Kuina!”

“Sorry, daddy!” Kuina gives you an apologetic look before she smiles, “Sorry, mommy! Happy birthday!!”

Once you’re able to see the kitchen better, there’s streamers and balloons round the room, your favorite breakfast all made and ready, a cake in the middle of the table, and every member of your crew there, you figure Luffy and Jinbei had slipped in behind you. They all give you their birthday wishes, and it nearly makes you cry which makes Zoro smirk at you.

“Now don’t cry about it. It was all your daughter’s idea.”

“Shut up, Zoro.” You may be near tears but the smile you have tells everyone you’re happy, as Kuina comes out and hugs you with a pout.

“Mommy, don’t cry! I made you a picture!!”

It’s childish work of course, she’s only four, but it’s still an adorable picture she’s drawn of the two of you, making you hug her back and lift her off the ground.

“Thank you so much, Kuina. I love it!”

You never question if any of them have forgotten your birthday again, expecting it to be due to Kuina having her own little plans for your special day. You’ll have to do the same for her next year now.

[shanastoryteller]

I don't know if you do that but I am gonna shoot anyway 😅 Do you have any fic recs that are Dean centric? I am sure he will be suffering in all of them but I'd also love it if he were getting comforted not gonna lie 🥹 But if you don't do recs it's also fine, have a nice day!

answering this publicly if other people have recs because probably not lol

i guess it depends on what you mean by dean centric? like does back count, it's his pov and mostly about his hell trauma, but through the lens of him hashing out all the s4 bullshit with sam. or dumb luck or good ghost is his pov, him losing his mind while in deep denial, and sam isn't even it for the first 2/3, but also does it really count as dean centric if his every waking thought is about sam? then again, if his every waking thought isn't about sam, that's ooc as hell

i am smushing dean like play doh, i am poking him with a stick, i am sitting in my backyard and adding him to my plastic bucket to make potion, but i am at heart a sam girl. these are all simply sam girl activities

in no particular order here are some fics i like that i think are dean heavy to dean focused, but whether they're dean centric probably depends on your specific kind of brainworms

It's the Blueprint of Your Life by queenklu  Sam jerks awake in the middle of the night and everything goes to hell. Well, not literally, though Dean is staring down the barrel of less than a year before his deal comes due. In the midst of dealing (or not dealing) with his impending death, a killer ghost ship, and Bela showing up out of the blue, Dean also has to figure out what’s going on in Sam’s head to make him so twitchy, why he’s suddenly breezing through this case while writing endless notes in a notebook he won’t let Dean see. Damn it, Dean thinks, This is gonna take a lot of chickflick moments. comments: one of my absolute favorite spn fics, so it's possible i'm just biased. dean trying to figure out what the hell is going on with sam and then what the hell he feels for sam. also a really great exploration of dean's self worth issues and him confronting that, which is really what i think justifies adding it to this list

A Lifetime or Two by nigeltde Dean's been living too long on the surface. comments: late seasons when mary's still around but before the BOL has blown up in their faces. great exploration of his relationships with sam and mary and how they intersect. the sequel is also required reading

Credit for a Kill by TheMarvelousTolkienJob Dean had figured he knew how his day was going to go. Do some research, hunt a little, maybe even go out for drinks afterward. He hadn't counted on taking part in someone else's quest for revenge nor on Sam being held hostage to ensure that he would complete said revenge. comments: dean being a badass and saving sam plus bonus bobby to the rescue!

Desiderata by Dyed_Red Dean is hit with a curse. It shouldn’t take that much to resolve, could be a gift under other circumstances, but life’s not that simple for the Winchesters. comments: incomplete, but close enough to the end that you see where they're going and how they get there. dean torturing himself, which we all know i love, and some really scorchingly hot and fucked up sex scenes

mother is pretending by hathfrozen Dean blurts, "So, you're saying I'm like, Mommy, or something?" He's never had a joke land so completely flat. It sounds strangled and weird coming out of his own mouth, like it was never supposed to be a joke in the first place. "Um," Sam starts, and his voice fucking cracks. "Dean." Immediately, Dean says, "I didn't say that. Sam, I never said that." (Sam and Dean get reckless about how they're handling the pain of season 2, and whoops! slowly develop a Mommy kink along the way.) comments: the author is like i am taking your hand and we are going on a journey and at the end of it you are going to believe these two get into mommy kink with dean as the mommy. and by jove, they did it

it started with the kinks by deadlybride Zachariah gave them their memories back, but he didn't erase what had happened in the time they were other people. Dean Smith made a mistake, and Dean Winchester--well. He's still living with it. comments: 4 part series exploring dean's character and his relationship with sam through panty kink

Flying Weight by flesh Sam wakes after being soulless for three years to discover that Dean and his relationship with him have undergone some serious changes. Through traveling and hunting with Dean, Sam struggles to put his life back together after events he has only limited memory of. A season six wincest AU comments: thank you fleshflutter we love you. a classic for a reason. painful, intense, interesting look at dean. you ache for everyone the whole time but it's all okay

Filthy Mind by rivkat Dean acquires unwelcome nightly visitors. Set post-Hell, without details as to how that happens. summary: take the warnings seriously. really good look at sam and dean's (and society's, especially 20 years ago) different views of assault, consent, and masculinity. sequel is required reading and soothes the teeth gnashing hurt of this one

All Shall Fade by theMarvelousTolkienJob The plan was simple. Sam would watch security cameras while Dean did interviews. Nothing bad was supposed to happen and certainly not...this. Anything but this. Set in Season 14. comments: great look of dean pushed to the edge and also explores his skills as a torturer, which is something i don't see often in fics even though it's such a defining and character shaping change for him

Behind Me by K Hanna Korossy She wasn't sure what he meant, just that he needed someone else besides her. Outsider POV. comments: dean stripped down to his bare essentials

Find and Seek by K Hanna Korossy Dean, trapped in a small, dark place, with bodies and rats. Sam needs to hurry. comments: dean having the absolute worst time and losing it inches at a time, which is great especially because practically speaking he's not in any danger - it's just psychological hell

Unforsaken by K Hanna Korossy No matter what Dean believed, his family and friends hadn't abandoned him. comments: the second half and how dean processes it is both realistic and heart breaking. it's short even within the confines of the fic, but you're rooting for him

In Reverse by sodakey After Faith, a job has the boys looking for missing hikers in Wyoming. While Sam worries it’s connected to what happened to Dean ten years ago, Dean wonders if Sam would be better off back in the world of normal. comments: another one that's a classic for a reason. hits dean exactly right

And Fools Shine On, If Belief Was Enough, and Woven by gekizetsu Dean's been souljacked. And nothing in their arsenal is going to save Sam from his brother. summary: the first part is more about sam than dean, but the second and third are really killer. dean is unraveling, literally, and it's up to sam to weave him back together again, even at the risk he'll see parts of dean that he'd rather show no one. there are parts reading this where you say to yourself am i the one going insane here, and an interesting birds eye view on how much you can own a soul not your own. really strongly recommend

[spearsillustration]

🎶 Jazz X Human Reader

Notes: This oneshot is a guilty pleasure fic for me. It has been a while since I wrote so it'll be a little rusty so forgive me if It's kind of bad. But for now, it'll be short and sweet. 

Word count - 1,015

-----

I was staying the night at the base while all the bots were shutting down for the night. Well except the ones who took shifts staying awake to keep guard at night. I was sitting in one of the spare rooms that Optimus offered for me to stay in. Well, the corner of a large "storage" room. I had my own little space with a bed and desk. I decorated it was some things from home to make it a bit more comfortable. 

It was getting pretty late and I couldn't do anything to fall asleep, I've tried anything in the book just to get some rest. It's probably because it was my first time staying the night at the base. 

"Pretty little thing, Can't sleep?" I heard a voice from the door, there standing was Jazz. 

I jumped a bit when his voice broke through the silence.

"Oh Jazz you scared me, um yeah can't sleep," I said scratching the back of my neck, slightly embarrassed. "What are you doing up though?"

He chuckled softly as he walked up to the side of my bed, still having his usual playful grin on his faceplate.

"Just doing my rounds, checking up on the others. But why can't you sleep?" He stared down at me, with both hands on his hips, waiting for your answer.

"I'm just having trouble trying to sleep tonight. I was about to listen to music actually, that and reading helps me sleep most of the time. But I wouldn't mind the company." I answered with a nervous smile. 

He nodded in understanding as he sat on the floor across from my bed and looked at me again. 

"Well, what kind of music do you like listening to?"He asked in a curious tone

I knew he was very fond of music, he could probably speak with other bots about it for hours.

"I listened to pretty much everything really," I said without much thought.

He scooted a little bit closer, his attention was completely glued to me not wanting to break the eye contact. "You can't expect to tell me you like every type of music and leave it at that, I need to know what's your favorite!"

He seemed pretty excited about talking with me about one of his interests, it was kind of adorable. 

"Well, it's so hard to choose right off the bat." I paused to think for a moment. 

"I enjoy rock, some oldies, though I love romantic songs. But there are so many different things to choose from it's almost impossible to pick favorites." 

Jazz listened carefully as I listed off my favorite types of music, his head nodded in agreement with my opinion, but his expression changed when I mentioned romantic songs.

"So you're telling me you're a sucker for romance?" He teased with a playful smile, his voice was now filled with mischief.

I blushed a bit in embarrassment. "Guess I can be...a bit."

He smirked "So you're probably a sucker for slow dancing under the moonlight then?" He asked with a cheeky look, but it was also.. A bit flirty-ish.

"It sounds nice," I said breathlessly without thinking. "But that's just the kind of music I enjoy," I said trying to change the topic to something lighter. 

It seemed that Jazz caught on to what I was doing pretty quickly. He let out a small chuckle in amusement.

"Well, I'm not gonna go around asking if you like candlelit dinners or flowers, you've proved my point by being flustered over a harmless question, It's adorable by the way." He said as he moved a bit closer, now sitting only inches away from you.

My eyes widened slowly as I covered my face slightly and avoided his gaze. Was he flirting with me, he was flirting with me. I was completely taken aback and slightly panicking inside. 

"Hey, don't hide, It's cute." He said as he poked my hand that was covering my face gently.

"S-stop," I said completely embarrassed with my lack of emotional control. I was an adult, why did I have to get flustered so easily? 

I was like an open book right now, he knew he got me flustered. He gently grabbed my wrist and moved it away from my face, forcing me to look at him and not hide. 

"You're even cuter when you're flustered, just saying\~.." He said it in a teasing tone while staring at my flustered face with a cheeky grin. 

I playfully pushed him away. "I always get flustered easily."

His grin grew wider as I pushed him, he was trying to get on my nerves at this point, but it was in a harmless, playful way.

"I'm pretty sure everyone gets flustered when they're being flirted with, don't worry about it." He said as he scooted closer once again.

"Ha ha..." I was silent for a moment like an idiot. "Wait are you flirting with me?!"

I realized I might be a bit dense.

He blinked as he let out a small but amused chuckle from my question.

"I thought that much was obvious by now, what, do I have to spell it out for you?" He teased as he poked my cheek playfully.

"Yes." Oh my god, I was overthinking, overheating, and completely overwhelmed.

He paused as I said that, he was expecting some sort of sarcastic comment back, but it was replaced with me asking for him to say it.

"Well then.." He said as he grabbed my small hand and held it within his larger one. 

"I am flirting with you, Is that direct enough for you?"

[shycloudkitty]

Just a little touch

Summary: You have been in a friends with benefits relationship with Leon for almost two years. After one of your *stress relief* sessions with Leon, things start to change between you both when he takes one small step in opening himself.

Pairing: RE6 Leon Kennedy! × Fem! Reader

Tags: Mentions of sex in some parts, pure fluff, drinking, angst with lots of comfort.

A/N: Hello guys! I am so so excited for my first fic ever!!! I am so happy rn. Happy new year to you all🥰🥰🥰. Hope you all enjoy this!! Don't forget to show your appreciation by liking it, commenting on it and reblogging on it. A huge thanks to @nexysworld @luniaxi @elfven-blog @kennedyswhore for encouraging me🥰🥰🥰.

Words in bold and italics are Leon thoughts. Like this…

Also guys there's only one sentence which is only in bold and not italics so be careful about it. 🤭🤭

Word count : 5.2K

The room was warm after the shared moments between you and him. Sheets crumpled, Hair messed up, scent of sweat and sex still lingering in the air a little bit. You were lying in bed sleeping and resting yourself after one of many wonderful moments you had with Leon.

Your eyes flutter open slightly and you stretched your arms a bit. As you did you realised he wasn’t lying beside you… That definitely you woke up. Even if he wasn’t that much into cuddling he still used to be beside you. You frowned and sighed tiredly then slowly sat up. Looking around the room you rubbed your face to get the sleepiness out of you. Two years of doing this and by now you could probably guess what he was doing by now.

Probably needed a drink.

That’s what he usually did…You knew after sex he tended to be a bit *disconnected* his mood used to be off. After you guys were done and saw him spacing out, you often used to hold his hand, squeezing it gently and kissing his cheek lightly. He used to give a small smile and sometimes… you did catch him blushing once in a while which was adorable.

You slowly got up from bed and stretched your arms above your head and sighed softly. You wore your shirt and your shorts. And made your way towards the living room.

There he was… Reaching up to his liquor cabinet and taking out one of his whiskey bottles. His back turned to you. Wearing one of his blue shirts and grey sweatpants. You swear you never saw that cabinet empty, sometimes it was even more stocked than his fridge.

He took one of the glasses and poured himself a drink. “Want anything to drink?” His gruff voice echoed in the room. He didn’t had to look up and turn his back to see you were awake. His senses were sharp after all.

You walk towards him and lean against the counter and smile at him. “Sure… Would love one right now…” You never liked it when he used to just get so lonely. You just wanted to help him… a little bit. It was hard not to care for a guy like him.

He sets a second glass In front of you and pours some for you. Still looking pretty unphased. He finally looks up at you and passes you the glass. You could see it in his eyes that he was there… but not there at the same time. But you knew him long enough, had an understanding of each other, even if he’s not openly emotional, he appreciates the company.

You decided to break the ice when you just saw him staring at you… spacing out a bit. You gave one of your playful smiles and in a teasing tone asked. “Why the long face? Am I really that terrible in bed?” taking a sip of your drink.

He doesn’t take well to teasing sometimes, but that gets a rare chuckle out of him. “Maybe” he teases back.

You scoff lightly, giving him an offended look and playfully say “Ouch. Didn’t know we were giving each other reviews… want me to give you one?”

He chuckles again and with a cocky smirk says. “I guess it will be 10 out of 10 considering how much I had you begging for more at the end of it.” His voice sultry.

More like 11 out of 10 but who’s counting anyways?

You scoff and look away to hide your flustered face. “You… are insufferable.” Not wanting to admit the fact he was right.

Leon chuckles for a while, his mood slightly better but after a moment he sighs and says. “Just… been thinking.” He usually didn’t admit what he was feeling at the moment always kept his true feelings and face hidden.

You look up at him and softly said “About work?” He nods and that’s all you get. He walks over to the couch and sits down with a light huff “Mmhmm”.

You sit beside him on the couch and slowly ask “Is it important or just overthinking”. He looks down at his drink, thinking. He sighs. “Bit of both, really…” He chuckles lightly. He can’t deny how right you were. It’s eating at him a bit.

There’s a stretch of silence between you two after that. Leon looking at his drink and taking a small sip of it while you sit beside him thinking how to comfort him on that. Like… What do you even say to the person who had a much rougher life than any normal person had? After much thinking, you then scoot closer to him and gently pat his back and give him a soft smile. You don’t know if that action was awkward or comforting. You looked like you were patting a sad child. But you didn’t know what else to do & you really wanted to be there for him.

He was surprised a bit, looking over at you he couldn’t help himself but smile at your action. It did help him, even a little bit. “I just…” He stops, a hint of pain in his voice. “I just wish I could tell you…everything.”

What? Did he really said that? Did he really felt like that? Your eyes widened and you stopped smiling momentarily. That was so unusual of him… You then slowly regained your composure and slowly asked him. “Oh so… do you wanna talk about it?”.

“No” He replied almost too quickly, shaking his head. “I mean…Look, I can’t.” And gulps down his whiskey in one go like it was water. He’s never quite been this… vulnerable around you before. It’s like he’s a little taken aback at his own actions.

You still smile at him and kiss his cheek lightly. “That’s okay…” He can’t help a slight blush, before looking away. “…Thanks.” God was he awkward.

He sighs, looking over at his liquor cabinet. He considers getting another drink. He gets up and glances at you briefly for a second and says. “I’m gonna…go get a refill.” “Want anything else?” He asked.

Now that you think about it, you could use something to eat. “Mmm… yeah I am a bit hungry.”

He nods and says “Hungry, huh? I’ll order us some food.” He grins a bit as he walks away, heading towards the kitchen. “We can watch a movie till it gets here.” He says, over his shoulder and pours himself another drink.

You chuckle lightly and say in a light hearted manner. “Uh huh.. A movie you say? Which one?”

Leon stops for a moment, his back still facing you and simply say. “Horror movie. I wanna scare you a bit.” You groan and he glances over his shoulder at you smiling. “Or maybe I should be the scared one?” Chuckling a bit at his own words. “I know you love horror stuff.”

No you don’t. At what part of you hiding your face behind a pillow whenever a jumpscare comes and scares the shit out of you, was loving ‘horror stuff’? You roll your eyes and look at him raising an eyebrow at him. “Oh come on…You just wanna watch me scream. That’s what you really like.”

You mentally face palm yourself as you realize what you just said and watch as he smirks and starts to say. “I mean I do make you scream whenever you are here so…”

You narrowed your eyes at him and he laughed seeing your reaction. You groaned. Him and his cheesiness. “I didn’t mean it that way and you know it… You are such a big meanie.”

He chuckled and poured himself his third drink and doesn’t turn around and sarcastically says “Am not. I’m a big softie.” A big smirk present on his face.

“And hey, I’ll let you choose the movie. So go ahead. Pick it out.” Coming back to the couch and taking his phone out to place order for two pizzas which doesn’t take long to order as he does remember your favourite. It wasn’t like this was first movie night you guys had. You used to have them whenever he was bored or wanted to keep his mind off things. Eating pizza or ramen while you rambled to him about your day while he patiently just listened to each word. Although… you both soon got distracted and moved things to the bedroom… so it will always ended on a splendid note.

You laugh and teasingly say. “Ohh… don’t give me that much power or I will make you watch a chick flick with me.”

He laughed and looked up at her and gave her a dramatically sigh. “I mean, I could suffer through it. You’re worth it.” He grins when he watches you blush and shyly look away.

He was never going to admit it out loud but he loved making you blush, watching that rose pink colour slowly filled your cheeks. He always thought that it suited you. And he didn’t even had to do much, he could compliment you anytime and you would shyly look away trying to show his words weren’t affecting you but the colour on your cheeks told him everything that needed to know.

He then shrugs and says. “But really, I’ve never been all that scared of horror.” As if to prove his point, he pulls his sleeves back a little, revealing claw marks and scars on his forearm. “I’ve been through a lot worse than a jumpscare and some spooky music.” Chuckling a bit at the end.

You bit your lip and looked at his forearm with a sense of pity. There were old scars which had faded replaced by new ones. You knew he used to work in DSO and fought bioweapons. Yeah he told you, reluctantly when you probed him about his job. But that was it. He never ever shared on what he had to go through in his job. And honestly looking at it… you really couldn’t even begin to imagine on what he had to see or face through.

And it isn’t really the first time seeing them but looking up at them close…That was different. You slowly bring your hand and gently trace his scars with your fingers. A bit curious how they were formed in the first place. You looked up at him concern visible in your eyes.

He doesn’t say a word at your touch. He notices your hesitation but was too focused on the fact that you touched them willingly. Don’t you find them ugly? It’s not like they were pretty to look at. He doesn’t often show anyone his scars, and he’s never quite let you touch them before. He looks down at you, surprised at your curiosity over them. Looking back down at your touch again, not quite knowing what to do or say. Should he have stopped you? He thinks to himself.

You then hesitantly asks. “...Is that what you always go through?” Your voice low as you tried to imagine the horrors he had to go through.

His eyes follow your touch as you continue with it. He watches you with a sort of silent disbelief as you ask your question. To him, his work is just…normal. But you look at him like you just asked him the world. He sighs and says. “I've been in plenty of bad situations, yeah,” he chuckles lightly and sips his drink. “But its… it’s what I do. Someone’s gotta do it.”

You removed your hand as he started to roll down his sleeves a bit hurriedly, hiding them away before you asked something else. You look up at him and say. “Must be hard… that’s very brave of you…” you were a bit surprised on how casual he was about all this. But all he did was shrug and reply “I can’t really say I’m brave, just doing my job. Like I said, someone’s gotta do it.”

He drains his glass, looking at it and scoffing to himself a bit and replies. “But Thanks…” sensing the topic was over you didn’t probe him further than that.

Soon his door bell rings and he gets up to receive the order. Comes back and sets down the boxes. He looks at you and raises an eyebrow. “Wanna eat and choose the movie?”

You chuckle and nod. “Sounds good…” You pass him your glass to refill it and he does that. Keeping the bottle on the coffee table as you browsed on Netflix on what to watch. “So how about conjuring..?”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Pick something scary. That’s nothing.”

You frown at him and say. “Hey that’s scary…” Leon shakes his head and takes the remote. “Give me that…” and starts browsing.

You scoff and try to take back the remote and say. “No way, last time you chose hereditary and I had to sleep with lights on that night.”

Leon doesn’t give back the remote and say. “Well I won’t choose that then. What about midsommar?”

Your eyes widen and try to take back the remote again and say. “No way, give me that. I hate cult movies.”

After 10 minutes of you guys fighting on which movie to see. You both decide to watch IT. Which already has you hiding your face behind a cushion. He chuckles seeing you that way and pats your knee lightly and puts an arm around you. “Don’t worry, I won’t let that clown take you down the drain with him and make you float.”

You chuckle and teasingly say. “Aww… will you keep me safe and tucked away from him?”

Leon rolls his eyes and chuckles. He replies sarcastically. “Yeah yeah I will…be your knight in shining armor.” Looking at you with a cocky smirk which had you giggling.

You shake your head and eat your slice and so does he as you relax and watch the movie. He looks over at you as you hide your face in his shoulder when it got scary, peeking a little bit to watch the screen not wanting to miss it. He smiled to himself.

You were really so cute to him… so innocent and sweet. Sometimes all he wanted was to tuck you away in a safe place and watch over you, keeping a sweet thing like you away from every horrific things he had witnessed.

“Are you cozy?” he asks suddenly. But your body language gives it away-he can tell you’re comfortable. He feels his heart pound in his chest as he feels something fuzzy inside. What am I even doing?. It was clear that he was enjoying this too but he really didn’t wanna show that he was enjoying this too much. You smile and nod.

“Yeah It’s really cozy… you make a really cozy pillow you know.” Chuckling softly at him. He chuckles too finding your description of him amusing.

“Oh am I?” His gaze returns to the screen. He was definitely trying to be flirty as he felt his cheeks warm up a bit. But a nagging feeling deep inside his mind just keeps eating him. This is…dangerous. Can’t stay like this for longer.

While his mind runs wild with all the chaotic thoughts bubbling over while you were looking at the same forearm which had rolled up a bit giving another peek at his scars. You couldn’t help but get distracted by it. His whole attitude about how this was just work and how aloof he was about the whole ordeal. It just didn’t sit right with you. He couldn’t be numb to all of this… or was he? You think for a moment. He never got this close. Like never. And you never forced him either, it’s not like you were obligated to know about his work or nightmares…or his demons.

Your curiosity bubbled over and slowly brought your hand and shifted his sleeves a bit more to look at them. Doing it slowly so to not disturb him in that moment. And gently tracing small, slow circles on one of the scars.

His eyes widened a bit and looks down at your slow touch, calming him down almost instantly and pulling him to reality and away from his drowning thoughts. Your gentle touch, the circles you create. He feels a warm sensation run up his arm, and he suddenly feels… odd. He looks over at you, but can’t meet your gaze for more than a few seconds before he looks back down. He stares at your hand touching his arm, not moving away or resisting. His heart pounds faster. He doesn’t feel cold anymore. He feels too warm. It’s hard not to melt under your touch. You then ask him softly. “You never allowed me to touch them like this before...” your gaze fixed at the scars.

This will never be ‘normal' to you. Will never make you think like this wasn’t a big deal or that the things he used to do weren’t ‘brave' or that it was 'just a job’. Even lasting this long in this field was an achievement in itself. This job took so much away from him… but he’s still standing... But at what cost?

“I didn’t want you to be worried, that’s all. Like I said, it’s… normal to me. Like any other day.” He tries to brush it off and return his focus to the movie. But he can’t help but find himself sneaking glances at his arm. And your fingers making slow, even circles on his skin. He feels his stomach sinking, but he doesn’t fight it like he usually would…

You shake your head and look up at him. Biting your lip a bit and softly whispering. “No… I mean… you didn’t let me touch them like this… is that the only reason you didn’t let me touch them before?”

Leon swallows, realizing what you’re trying to say. He looks back at your hand looking at your loving touch, his heart pounding in his chest was not helping him either. And he wonders If she’s this intimate with me… Why did I try to shut it down earlier? Is this how it feels?

“Were you… Afraid? That I would judge you?” Your soft voice bringing him to reality once more and making him think about that answer. Torn between telling you the truth or lying to avoid being vulnerable further and be dismissive about it.

But maybe it was your voice that gave his poor soul a hope that someone gave a damn about him, your eyes which were curious but also concerned for him or your soothing touch which had some miraculous power to be able to quiet down his anxiety and trauma driven thoughts. So he opens up. Just once.

He's silent for a few more moments and nods. “… yeah. I was.” He says after a while, his voice quiet. He looks down at your fingers again thinking why would you even bother making him feel better about himself. “You've never been close… like this with me… so… intimate.” He murmurs. “I was scared to let you get this close, I… I wanted it. But I…” He doesn’t need to complete that sentence, you can guess what he means.

He feels a soft peck on his cheek, feeling your soft lips lingering there for a moment. Just a little kiss to calm down his nervousness. And it works… he’s distracted that you did it but also so grateful. He looks over at you, still not used to expressing your attraction to him in these intimate ways. He blushes slightly, a look of soft confusion on his face once more, but he doesn’t seem to mind this time.

“Right…” He mumbles, glancing back at the screen and getting shy. He was so awkward he couldn’t express himself like you could but he also wanted to show you he cared so he brought you close just a little bit as your head was still resting on his shoulder and leaned into you slightly. It’s only a bit. Just enough to get a response, but not too much that he’s pushing the line.

You noticed his efforts and looked up at him with a smile. You couldn’t help but admire the way his hair fell perfectly across his face some of it concealing his blush but just enough to reveal he was blushing and was shy. And his icy blue eyes that shows that he isn’t completely numb to everything life has to offer…

You scoot closer to him almost cuddling with him. And squeeze his arm gently and touches his scars again but this time drawing small stars on them. “Is this uncomfortable?”

He tries not to make a sound afraid that he might ruin this moment. As he feels all these new feelings flow through him making his heart skip a few beats. His body language is soft and comfortable with you.

He swallows and shakes his head. “…no. It’s nice.” He mumbles. He doesn’t move away, or push your hand off him. He then looks down at your hand drawing stars around his scars and sighed softly. A soft smile on his face. He then looks back at the screen but his thoughts focused on you. The movie was almost finished but you both continued to watch it in comfortable silence. He’s always been a nervous guy, but these nerves are the good kind.

You then slowly stop drawing stars and gently hold his hand, intertwining his fingers with yours and he feels like his heart could burst out of his chest right now. Feeling your skin on his, your warmth flowing into his soul. He looks at the movie, then at you. How did we get here? When did things… change? Is this for the better or worse? Why even care for a monster like him? He wonders. He looks at your hands intertwined in his. And he swallows hard. He doesn’t pull away, or move your hand. He lets it happen.

“Can I ask you something?” your soft voice comes through and he looks down at you. He nods without hesitation, his head still facing the screen even if the movie was finished and credits were rolling. “Go ahead.” He says, his voice low but still soft.

You clear your throat. You were a bit nervous to ask this questions cause well…it was personal. “You know you don’t have to answer it or anything but I am just curious…Umm…On your missions. Did it ever feel like you won’t return?”

He thinks for a moment, then softly chuckles. “Once or twice…” He mumbles still not facing you. “But I guess when you do this every day… you get used to it.” He swallows hard and sighs. “I have…considered it before though.” He says after a few moments. What would my funeral be like? He had wondered before. Would you even care enough to show up for the last time? Will there be other people there singing how great he was like they did now or would he be tossed aside like trash and replaced by someone young and better, forgotten by all of his peers? Would you just… move on to someone else without giving him a second thought? He shook his head to toss aside those thoughts but he couldn’t. They plagued his mind day and night like a curse.

You nod listening to his words, seeing him space out once more in his thoughts. You then softly say. “And what did it felt like… when you actually returned home? When you thought it was probably your last day on earth… What did it felt like when you came back?” you imagined he was relieved of course but you wanted to listen to him.

You were probably the first person who actually cared enough to ask what he ‘felt’ after & during those awful, god-forsaken missions. You were also the first one who wanted to listen to his story who wouldn’t dismiss him saying ‘this is part of the job’ or ‘everyone goes through this… suck it up’. No you were more kind hearted than that and he couldn’t help but slowly succumb to that kindness.

He swallows hard, glancing at you. He closes his eyes for a moment to think about your question, your hand still intertwining his. Giving him something to ground himself and calm him down. He sighs, and opens his eyes again.

“Relief.” He says simply.

“Relief that I’m not dead. Joy that I came back alive. And… and…” He pauses for a moment, searching for the right words – only to fail to find them. He looks down again looking at the joined hands.

You smile from his words and try to complete his sentence. “Grateful?”

He looks at you, considering your words for a moment. He looks back down and swallows hard and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, grateful. Definitely.” He chuckles, his voice soft and quiet. “And…” He pauses for a moment and adds. “Sometimes a little guilty.” He whispers, looking back at the screen.

That catches you a bit off guard. After all why would he feel guilty when he came back alive? Not expecting him to say of all things. And simply ask “Why?”

“Some of my teammates… they… never made it back. And I should be with them.” He glances back at you. “But I don’t want to be…” He says after a few moments.

He needs a hug. He looks at you, wanting to bury his face in your neck and wrap his arms around your waist and hold you tightly till your warmth envelops him and make him feel safe. But he feels awkward asking for it. Like…would you consider him a weirdo if he asked you for it? He looks away from you and tries not to show the fact he needed someone to just hold him.

You squeeze his hand gently not knowing how far you can go… afraid that he would pull back at any moment after opening so much to you. And softly said. “I am sorry about that…”

He looks down at your hand, your soft skin was a direct contrast when compared to his. His hands calloused and rough but that didn’t stop you from being gentle with him. He then nods, “Thanks.” He says softly and sighs a bit in relief. Feeling a bit better after talking about it.

But he couldn’t help but realize that he was falling for you just like this? And it all felt… so nice? Is that how it feels when you fall in love with someone?

You then look up at him and clear your throat once more. This time you more nervous cause you had a *small* confession to make. “Uhh… by the way… just so you know. I do care, wondering when you will be back. I always wish you come back in one piece.” A blush rising in your cheeks after saying that.

Leon looked down at you surprised and after few beats of silence he softly asks. “Really?” His expression soft and vulnerable.

Honestly, it was a bit hard for you to open up too. You both have never been so… emotionally close like this during the time you have been together. So it’s a bit unnerving but if he could open up so much, you could too.

With a smile you replied. “Well yeah… I mean who would tease me with their awful cheesy jokes when we have movie nights like these…” Trying to make the moment light-hearted with a bit of teasing.

Leon couldn’t help but laugh a bit from the comment and roll his eyes and says. “Yeah? That’s what I am for? Make you laugh with my ‘cheesy jokes'?”

You chuckled and playfully nodded. “Yes… obviously.”

“I can’t believe you are using me just for jokes.” Playfully narrowing his eyes at you.

You couldn’t help but laugh “Well… I can’t help it. I just love your jokes which make me roll my eyes and groan at how stupid they are...”

After a beat, you both share a laugh and Leon playfully says. “You are more cheesy than me.”

“Your fault by the way…” Making Leon smirk a little bit.

You rest your head back on his shoulder and sigh contentedly.

It feels better now that you both have talked about your ‘feelings'. Much more relaxed… Maybe feelings don’t have to be complicated. Walls that you both made back then to protect oneself from a possible heartbreak were slowly crumbling down and you didn’t seem to mind it and neither did he.

Leon sighs and softly says. “Thank you… By the way… I know I am not easy to be with…” Holding you closer and caressing your arm gently.

You shake your head and reply softly. “No, it’s not that… it’s okay. I am actually… okay…with how you are.”

“Really?” He asks, with glancing at you look at your expression. He swallows, his heart racing once more.

You bring your intertwined hands closer and press a kiss to the side of his hand and smile at him. “Yeah… I never found you difficult to be with. I am more myself when I am with you…” Your own heart races at your another small confession, which was huge to him.

Leon swallows, he was sure that you made his heart stop with your words and that little kiss. He looks away from you for a moment and takes a deep breath then looks back at you.

“You don’t find me difficult? A bit too much to be with? Am I…too much?” He asks, his words quiet. He doesn’t want to sound too needy but he is. But there’s no hiding that right now.

You then shake your head and gives him a small smile. “No… I mean.. I get it you know… your job is difficult and you need to be at your best at every moment… But even then, you are just the right amount.”

He blushes a deep red and tries to maintain an eye contact with you but can’t help but shy away. Can’t help but a surge of emotions flowing through his so called cold heart. Finding himself looking at your lush lips- and he struggles to say anything at the moment.

“Just the right amount? Not too much… not too little?” Leon asks cautiously still finding your words hard to believe. Some one who didn't find him too much. It had to a be a dream.

Is this real? Can this be real?

“Yeah you are…” You answer him honestly. And cup the side of his face and caress his jaw gently, softly whispered. “You are perfect to me.”

My heart…

“Can… can I kiss you?” He whispers to you.

“Yes…” You whispered back.

He doesn’t hesitates as soon as you say yes, He leans in and kisses you. Pressing his lips gently against yours. He’s so close you can feel the heat from his body as you kiss. It wasn’t like you never kissed each other… But this one gave you both intense butterflies and made your heart pound like crazy in your chest.

My god…

He pulls away after a moment, his lips soft. He looks back at you, your eyes meet his and tries to speak something but can’t find anything to say. Opening his mouth trying to form words after he kissed the love of his life but words just got stuck in his throat.

You smiled and cupped his face and kisses him on the forehead and softly whisper. “It’s okay… I know… Just relax with me for a moment…”

Wrapping your arms around him and hugging him tightly and he does the same. Hugging you back just as tightly and resting his forehead against yours. Kissing you softly on the forehead before softly whispering.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

PHEW. God I am nervous about this one... Wish you guys a very happy new year and enjoy the holidays. And I really hope this fanfic made your day! 🥰🥰🥰

Until next time❤

-Bella

[goneatlas]

while i'm here (feeling some type of way over TAD lyrics again) i might as well finally write down things i've thought of whenever i listen to Not Yet/Love Run (Reprise)

none of these are by all means very coherent but well here goes:

part 1 - looking at the lyrics itself (not for the whole song just the first couple of verses)

in the chorus of the Not Yet part of the song, when joey sings "sing me awake with a song about pirates", he's referring to verse 1 and verse 2 where madeleine was singing about pirates, whereas he was singing "it seems to me that you can't sleep"

verse 1 of the song: in its entirety it seems as though madeleine is singing about being pirates, pillaging lands and sailing the seas, but i think it could also be read as a bid for a lover's attention, the reason why she's waking him up in the dead of night probably. "by hook or by crooked look give me land" the crooked look play on words here makes me think that she's saying that even though he might disapprove of being woken up, she'll still make that bid for his time (give me land).

the line "one fist holds a lighter, the other your hand" is fascinating to me. mainly because it reminds me of this line from a fic that said "i stand at the precipice of peace, in one hand i hold a knife, the other, a gift." so it makes me wonder whether it was meant as something like that (connection in one hand vs antagonism in the other) OR if it might be just be threat (i have your hand. and also a lighter) but the image of threat is mostly because of the witcher (rience burning jaskier's hand) and because of the next line "the ohs of your screams still echo in your dreams". BUT it's also most likely that what that lines means is that madeleine's character woke joey's in the middle of the night, so the lighter provides them the light as she leads him by the hand to "go on adventures" (play as pirates)

when the song goes, once again, "it seems to me that you can't sleep" the song softens once more, and to me it really brings forth the image that joey's persona is still sleepy from being woken up, as opposed to madeleine's almost manic energy of someone who hasn't gone to sleep at all

verse 2 continues with the song about pirates. "grab the stroud and we'll roar come and get us" the stroud, if we're going by the pirate imagery, would be the sailcloth, but in reality, that stroud must be their blanket. she woke him up to make pillow forts, "but instead we'll build a den out of pillows"

"the wind picks up up up and i'll never let you down // it's time to fight don't be yellow-bellied // hold the bar at hurley's hurly-burly's, give em hell, give em hell" sounds to me as though these were "the things we'll do today" i.e. facing their fears and their pronlems but they don't end up doing that, they've just. made forts

part 2 - stuff i noticed in the song that's real neat to me

when madeleine sang "if my old mum could see me now oh how she'd howl she'd howl" she's howling in the background

during the Love Run part of the song, when the lyrics go "let the world come at you, love, like distant toms a-drumming" the drum beat starts and it's rhythmic right, but then when the lyrics go "let the world a-tumble love" the toms also go a-tumbling, because the toms represent the world. idk it's fun to me

yeah i did say none of these were going to be coherent it's 3am. anyways think about Not Yet being about them not facing their fears, holding each other's hands in the pillow fort (having fucknasty unemployed sex? 😭 what did joey mean by that 😭) and Love Run's about how the world is catching up to them

[cas-kingdom]

“Do you want me to wear a wig?”

A/N: Remember when I said '5 line fanfics'? Yeah.

(Please be kind lol, this is my first fic in a whiiiile).

“Do you want me to wear a wig?”

“No, I don’t want you to wear a wig.”

“What about heels?”

“You don’t wear heels.”

“But Karen does!”

Matt sighed and put a hand to his forehead. “Y/N, you’re not Karen,” he said, his voice sounding exactly how he felt: exhausted. This had been the first evening in longer than he could remember that he wasn’t catapulting himself across Hell’s Kitchen, and yet somehow, his aches and bruises were more prominent now than they had been when he was. He’d taken the day off—not that there was a workplace to take it from—and spent it in his pyjamas, trying not to aggravate his battered body more.

And so, it had not been his idea to stand in his living room at 2 am, feeling like the world had swallowed him and spat him right back out again. Neither had it been his idea to submit to a drama performance orchestrated by his sister. And yet, here he was.

This drama performance was entitled: Practicing Telling Karen That I’m Daredevil. In reality, Matt hadn’t given that much thought past the fact that it needed to happen. It was time. He had told Foggy, and he refused to leave Karen out any longer. But his ideas didn’t quite reach how, or when, or where. He’d figured that in any way, anytime, and anywhere, the result would be the same. There would be disbelief, and there would be accusatory remarks of betrayal and lying, and then quite possibly he would be on the receiving end of a slap. But he was okay with that, because at least it would be done.

You, ever the protector, had not been okay with that. “You have to be prepared,” you'd told him, “nothing ever goes right for us. If you don’t figure this stuff out then she’ll probably find out you’re Daredevil when you’re sitting on the toil—”

Well, he didn’t want that. So, he’d agreed. Partly because you weren't exactly wrong… mostly because he knew his sister, and he knew that every hour spent awake with him was one more you could hold onto. This was more for your benefit than it was Karen's.

“For all intents and purposes, yes,” you said, “yes, I am. I am Karen. Come on, into position.”

There was never any winning with you. Let it not be known that Matthew Murdock, fierce attorney at law, alias Daredevil, crime-fighting vigilante, could beat and punch and kick his way out of any situation except ones you had pulled him into.

Practically hearing the call of his bed, Matt picked up the bag with his mask inside. You had suggested he swing in through the window of Murdock and Nelson dressed in the suit.

Never gonna happen.

He turned his face towards you, stood across from him in your dressing gown, wet hair tied back. With a resigned sigh, he took the mask from the bag, and, the words feeling stupid on his lips, as though he was in some sort of cheesy superhero movie: “I’m Daredevil.”

There was silence. A sniff. You narrowed your eyes. Then, you snorted a laugh.

“Ha, ha. That’s hilarious.”

Matt tilted his head. “Is it?”

“Dude—no, wait, Karen wouldn’t say dude—Matt, you’re an awesome lawyer, seriously, but—you?" Incredulity dripped from your tone. "Scaling buildings and backflipping from roof to roof? That’s like… imagining Foggy in a bikini.”

“I’m trying really hard not to be insulted right now.”

“Did you forget you’re blind?”

Matt frowned, his muscles tensing a little. “I am blind. But I’m also Daredevil.”

You rolled your eyes, and Matt couldn’t help but think he should have enrolled you in acting school when you were younger.

“And did I tell you I’m Jesus Christ incarnated?”

Momentarily forgetting the feeling of his silk sheets and a cold pillow beneath his aching head, Matt drew his brows together and his jaw fell slightly open. “Are you making fun of me?”

“If you’re Daredevil, why don’t you prove it?”

“I’m not doing a backflip in the living room.”

You scrunched your nose up. “You’re so boring.”

“Okay. Then where do you think I got his mask from?”

You took a moment, eyes narrowing in suspicion, tongue running across your teeth as you thought. You walked towards him and took the mask from his hands. Matt listened while you moved it about, turning it upside down, hands passing over the horns as you scrutinised every detail.

You stood on your tiptoes to peer at something. Matt was patient. When you were satisfied, you made a disgruntled nose and threw the mask onto the couch. Arms crossed once again you stared determinedly up at him, saying simply: “Stolen."

Your brother rose a brow and mirrored your position, clear he was no longer dealing with Karen Page. “Alright,” he said, “I’ll bite. Why do you reckon that?”

“Too small to fit on your fat head.”

There were about two seconds between Matt tossing his head back and laughing, and grabbing you to toss onto the couch. Quicker than you had time to register it, he was over you, one knee beside you, his hands shooting down to tickle you.

You positively screamed, your brother’s full and legal name exiting your mouth in one shrill shriek.

“You’re a little shit, you know that?” Matt expertly dodged the kick aimed at his chest, wincing as his body reminded him of the stunts he’d pulled over the last few nights. He flopped in the seat beside you, his mask falling to the floor, and grabbed your hand as it aimed for his nose, holding it far enough away from the both of you that you couldn’t touch him.

“Noho! Stop!”

“No, you don’t know that? Damn, I’ve been slacking in my duties as big brother, haven't I?"

“You would—” You squeezed your eyes shut, one foot planted firmly against Matt's thigh, your free hand desperately trying to shove his away—“YOU WOULDN’T DOHO THIS TO KAHAREN!”

Matt scoffed a laugh, then, with an evil chuckle, leaned over you, hands still at work—“Karen knows how not to get on my last nerve,” he growled lowly—and blew a raspberry right under your ear.

He finally backed off at the noise that produced, partly due to sympathy, mostly because you had new neighbours who probably wouldn’t appreciate a 2 am wake-up call. Settling back in his seat with a self-satisfied smirk across his lips, he let you lurch forward and attack him, playfully shoving and kicking at him, until your foot caught a particularly sensitive spot and he recoiled. Instinctively a hand went to his side and the other closed around your ankle, his head dipped a little at the pain that coursed through him.

You recovered quickly. “Sorry!” you said, your breath still coming in short bursts. “Sorry, Matty, I—are you okay?”

Matt nodded slowly. “I’m okay,” he said, then breathed a laugh through his nose. “Not sure why I ever believed I’d get an evening off being beaten up tonight.”

You giggled and lightly smacked his shoulder, managing to wrench your foot free from his hold before he could take advantage of it being in his grasp. You crossed your legs beneath you and leaned back against the pillows as you tapped your phone to check the time.

“You can go to bed now,” you said quietly.

“Huh? Thought all this practicing stuff was necessary.”

He bumped his shoulder against yours and you smiled slightly, picking at a loose thread in the sofa. “It’ll be fine. Whatever happens is gonna happen no matter how you do it, right?”

“I did kinda say that.”

“You can kinda shut up.”

A comforting sort of silence enveloped the room then, one that you were happy to sit with. The bustle of Hell’s Kitchen was still loud outside, but in this apartment, in this room, it was just the two of you. That was how it was supposed to be. That was what you missed.

A gentle snore broke the quietude, and you turned your head to see your brother utterly knocked out. His entire body had fallen limp against the couch and for the first time in so long, he looked almost peaceful.

You stared at him. Subconsciously, your mind counted every visible injury, every patch of discoloured skin, everywhere that could have been the one that killed him.

You reached down to pick up his mask. It felt cold against your skin, a reminder that it had the terrifying ability to upturn your entire life. This one thing.

Your eyes lingered a bit before you tossed the mask across the floor and grasped the throw on the back of the couch. Gently leaning against your brother, careful not to wake or hurt him, you draped it across the both of you and closed your eyes. His slow breathing soothed you and in no time you were lost in your own dreams.

Daredevil Masterpost

send me the first sentence of a fanfic and i’ll write the next five, except i don’t know when to stop writing so i guarantee there’ll be more than five

[naomiarai]

Conscious – cbg.

Synopsis : Your best friend's idea for trying to help you stay awake for your finals might be a bit twisted right?

Pairing : beomgyu × afab!reader [non idol au]

Wc : 1.6k

Warnings : dom! gyu, sub!reader, praise, pet names (princess, angel, pretty girl), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie.

Disclaimer : the lovely anon who sent an drabble on this. it got deleted, but I decided to write a fic on it. [I wrote this in one sitting while I was drunk so..]

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Finals week was up tight for you. You swore you'd fail if you don't stay up all night studying. Hell that's not seeming to work

Luckily, you had someone to pent up with your version of opposite-insomnia. Beomgyu is annoying, but you still want him around. He's probably the only one keeping you sane when you keep falling asleep instead of racing your eyes on words.

You've managed the ones you couldn't avoid and here you are with the last one. Beomgyu seems careless today. He's sprawled up over your living room couch, his legs crossing over yours. Laptop situated on your lap, your eyes kept closing, only something that touched you lightly jolted you awake.

You scream out in frustration, muttering numerous curse words to yourself. Beomgyu jolts up, wide-eyed. A frown forming on his face.

“Your opera made me lose my game!” he says with an annoying tone. “Gyu, that's the least of my worries right now, I keep fucking falling asleep.” you reply back, clenching your teeth. “Don't disrespect your elders now” he says with a grin on his face. Beomgyu was a year older than you, but that doesn't give him a pass to act so entitled to his age when you act up.

“Nothing's working. I stopped taking melatonin, and all tube lights are turned on” you admit in a low voice. “ I don't get how you fall asleep that easy now. You had insomnia level 100 when you were little” he says in a wondering tone. You groan at him, wishing it were the complete opposite now.

"You know, I heard endorphins can keep you awake” he blurts out randomly. You turn your head towards him, with a small frown on your face. "Endorphins?” you ask. “Yeah, they keep some people awake”. Why did he sound so suspicious? “They're found in chocolate, laughing, listening to music...sex..”

You choked on air as you heard his last word. Sex? Now that's a fact. You haven't had sex in quite some time now...

Beomgyu looks at your bewildered face and scoffs. “What? It's true” he says. He thinks for a split second before he asks “Speaking of sex, when was your last time?” How did he sound so casual? "W-..why are you even asking?, i had two boyfriends in the past soo..” you randomly cut of, going into thought.

“Right, the first guy, who was it? Ah- Jaehoon! An asshole if you ask me” he sounded annoyed saying it even though it didn't look like it. You could tell. But why? “second..was Sunghyun? I didn't like him either” he says as he puts his fingers underneath his chin.

“Why the fuck are you going over my history of boyfriends? ” you ask. Also, he sounded weird talking about Sunghyun as well. He replies after a pause, “Which one actually made you cum?” you froze at his words. Does he actually know what he's saying? “Beomgyu!” you scream, “Why would you even ask?!”

“Oh, so none of them did?” he asks curiously. “Nevermind, ________ just tell me”. You think on his words, the only thing you never told Beomgyu was about your sex life. It's not like he asked anyway. "I-..I've had sex like twice...?” you mumble. He looked puzzled, “Don't tell you've only that two times of sex in only one relationship that lasted like, two and half years..? He got his answer, just because you didn't say anything.

He scoffs out laughing, “Did you cum at least?” he asks with a sigh. You pause for sometime.. was it really that embarrassing? “N-no”. You get back to your senses, getting angrier by the second. “But what does that have to do with me falling asleep?” you retort. “Absolutely nothing!”.

He has that shit-eating grin on his face. God, you just want to wipe it off with a kiss. Wait. What were you thinking? No.

“I'm just saying you know, it works like this, you overwork and start falling asleep too easy then I tell you that sex produces endorphins and they help you stay awake, anddd, he adds, dragging the d sound, you haven't had proper sex”

You roll your eyes at his explanation like it didn't mean anything. It doesn't. ”You're acting like I could go get dick just because I keep falling asleep” you reply back. “It's not like I have a boyfriend now, Gyu” you add on.

“But I'm right here”. He says ever so slowly. You're taken aback, frozen still in your place. “What the fuck are you even saying?” you say, almost whispering. His face and tone remain nonchalant, contradictory to yours. “You say you have no boyfriends, right?, and I'm probably the only guy you talk to”

Should you say yes? It's once and he'll probably never ask again. And he's kind of cute. You'd date him. But you would never tell him this. No, but you did get braver at the moment.

“Is this your excuse at asking if you could fuck me?” you ask calming yourself down with a laugh laced in your voice. He seems to take your presence in for a moment. “Did it work?” he asks with a sly smirk.

“If you want it to” you say quickly before you could do anymore pausing. His grin grows bigger; he slides the laptop off your lap and places it on the transparent coffee table with a soft thud. Connecting his lips with yours, you moan into the kiss at the sudden feeling. His arms wrap around your waist as you sit straight up. “Strawberry?” he asks tasting your chapstick. You simply nod, cupping his cheeks to resume the kiss. “Woah, looks who's actually eager here” he laughs.

He picks you up without breaking the kiss, having your legs on his both his sides. You break the kiss saying, “Not on the bed, I don't have new sheets ready” He chuckles at your prediction. “Who said it had to be on the bed?” He sits back down, with you still straddling his lap. His hands slip underneath your shirt, cold hands caressing your warm body. “I didn't expect you to agree so easily” he asks continuing to kiss your neck. “W-...well you did something about those endorphins...” you whisper. He laughs at you, quite obvious he hadn't bought it.

You sit up straight on his lap for a second, thinking. “But won't we make a mess on the couch?” you ask expendentaly. “If you let me go inside..?” he asks with a smirk. You slap his chest multiple times, his idea has some structural value to not making a mess but won't it.... leak out? God, no you should never think dirty. At least you won't have to change the bed sheets.

He claims your lips again in passionate kiss, hands going down to remove your sweatpants. Your left in a crop top and panties. What a sight. He breaks the kiss to lay you down on the couch. “I'll make you cum, astonishing you never have after you had sex twice” he says dramatically. You roll your eyes at him, to which he scoffed at in a high pitched voice. “Just wait, I'll make you roll your eyes for a valid reason” he says before undoing his belt and discarding his jeans and boxers.

You tried to look away. He had a pretty dick. But will it even fit? “Don't look away at the man who's going to fuck you now” he says playfully, hovering above you. You stare at him for a couple seconds, taking in his features. He moves your panties to the side, taking a look at your glistening pussy. “Need to prep you, angel” he says. Taking his fingers closer, he slips in a finger, extremely tight unsurprisingly. “You groan at the sudden feeling, he adds another finger stretching your walls out, you feel pleasure slowly forming from the slight pain. He continue s to stretch you out, with you letting out loud moans form time to time. He retrieves his fingers back just when you're legs shook. You look at him confused.

“I'm only having you cum on my cock” he says before slipping his hands underneath your shirt and removing your bra. He starts to play with your hardened nipples with slick covered fingers, to which you would scold him for, but it felt too good.

He pulls his hands back, spreading your legs open and removing your panties whole. “Ready princess?” he asks softly to which you nod slowly. He enters you with ease,, still going slowly. You feel so so full. He groans out loud, he mutters a 'so tight' before slowly thrusting in and out. “Mmnh–ngh fuck–” you moan out, the pads of his fingers rubbing your clit, making your roll your eyes back. His pace gets faster, so as his grunts and your moans. “Shit–pretty–you feel s-so good” he grunts. The sound of skin slapping against skin takes over your senses, raw pleasure filling you. “Don't stop! nngh– so s-so good!”

The wet and lewd sounds of his dick going in and out get louder, as he slowed down, dick starting to twitch slightly inside of you. You felt a firework inside your stomach, like a coil so desperate to burst. You think you're about to cum. “G-gyu, think I'm gonna cum fuck—!” you moan. “Yeah? cum for me princess, g-good girl aren't you? cream all over my cock-!” You feel his cockhead slowly hitbyour cervix with each slow thrust as you feel the coil in your stomach collapse, coming all over his cock.

He came after you, filling you up, and it leaked out onto the couch. “That was great” he blurts out tired. You slowly recover form your orgasm, getting back to your senses. “Is this going to be a one time thing or—” You're cut off with a kiss, him saying “Absolutely not. I'm keeping you angel” you simply smile at him.

“But gyu didn't you tell sex kind of helps you stay awake, I really don't think that's for me..?” He takes in your words, “It is for some people...” he says before his eyes light up with a grin plastered on hif face. “So round two?”

[littlespoonevan]

I watched the first three seasons of 911 back when that was all that had aired and just didn’t keep watching after the break between seasons for whatever reason. I also didn’t really get buddie, I just thought it was a beautiful friendship. I’m now on a rewatch and just got to the end of season 4 and boy am I all in, Buck’s reaction to Eddie getting shot and the aftermath really made me get it. Anyway, I was wondering if you have any fic recs for a buddie newbie? I’m probably gonna speed through the rest of the show in a few days and need something else to occupy me hahah

hey bud, welcome back to the world of 911!! 🥰 okay so i have some previous fic recs that i've posted here and i also have 489 bookmarks on ao3 which you can have a scroll through here (i only ever bookmark something for rereading or reccing purposes so can confirm i've read and loved them all)

but i'll do my best to make a somewhat cohesive list below of some of my personal faves. i have no doubt i'll probably leave some out accidentally but they'll definitely be in my bookmarks so 100% check those out too!! ❤️

The Nearness of You by allisonRW96 / @homerforsure

Eddie reassured himself that he could do this. Other teams coming in were probably going to be staying at the same hotel in the same double rooms and it was very possible that none of them were going to be having sex. Or even lying awake at night thinking about it. Or: Buck and Eddie go on a work trip.

Leave the Light On (I'll Be Coming Home) by HMSLusitania / @hmslusitania

“We’re here for our grandson,” Helena says. “Chris is still sleeping,” Buck says. “I meant, we’re here to take him back to Texas,” Helena clarifies. “Yeah,” Buck says. He’s too tired, way too tired to be tactful. “Over my dead body.” -- An accident on a call leaves Buck with custody of Chris after Eddie is... missing presumed. While they navigate their new family circumstances -- and fight to stay together, despite Eddie's parents' best efforts -- a John Doe wakes up in a coma ward with no memory of his own life beyond the knowledge he has a son named Christopher and, somehow, he needs to get home.

To Build a Home We Deconstruct Our Rituals by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels /@letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

After the shooting, Eddie realizes he needs to put some things in place. Like who will get his assets if he dies. Who will speak for him if he ends up in a coma. What might happen if his family contests Buck's guardianship. Luckily, he's got a simple easy-peasy solution that won't result in insanity, catastrophe, or heartbreak: Marry Buck.

standing on the brink of emptiness by woodchoc_magnum / @woodchoc-magnum

In which Eddie is struggling in the aftermath of being shot, learning how to take care of himself and realising he's in love with Buck; and Buck is dating Taylor, taking care of Eddie and Christopher and trying to figure out why he's so goddamn confused about everything.

across our great divide (a glorious sunrise) by catchingpapermoons 

“We’re working on it,” Maddie explains, shooting Chimney a look. He nods seriously. “In couples therapy.” “Huh,” Eddie says, and then he thinks about it. "Do you think Buck and I would benefit from couples therapy?" — or, Eddie gets Buck to come to couples therapy with him.

darling, the future's better than yesterday by rarakiplin (gmontys)

Eddie, ten years younger, in this awful 2010, blinks up at him. He's still sitting slumped on the curb, and for a second Buck thinks he might tell him to fuck off, but then his eyes fall shut and there’s something — aching and painfully vulnerable in the bend of his mouth, the faint tension in his brow. “My…um, girlfriend, I guess. She’s pregnant.” “Holy shit,” Buck says. - or, buck deals with some wonky dimensional/time travel and then breaks up with his girlfriend. eddie, obviously, is involved.

i'm here (i’m yours for the taking) by farfromthstars / @buckactuallys

“Everyone!” Around forty heads turn, and Buck shifts on his feet uncomfortably at the attention. “This is my old friend Buck and his husband, Eddie.” “Uh,” Buck makes, turning to Eddie with wide eyes. Eddie's looking just as stunned. “Connor, I think you got–” He cuts himself off when Eddie wraps an arm around his waist. ~ at the winter wedding of an old friend, buck and eddie pretend to be married to each other. the plan has no weaknesses, obviously, not even mistletoe or anyone’s secret feelings… they call it the season of giving i'm here, i'm yours for the taking

Your Fingerprints Smeared on My Heart (Lead Me Back to You) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

In 1880, Evan Buckley of the arriviste set is sent out west to oversee his family's railroad and recover from a broken heart - and meets Eddie Diaz, cowboy. When fate tears them apart, they make a promise: find each other again. In 2018, Buck walks into his fire station in Los Angeles - and meets Eddie Diaz, new recruit.

no kingdom to come by waywardrenegades

Family, FaceTime, guilt trips, phone calls, church, heart healthy meals, and learning how to let yourself be happy. Whatever that looks like. or; when his father experiences a health scare, Eddie flies to El Paso.

when i was shipwrecked (i thought of you) by catchingpapermoons 

Buck walks toward Jee-Yun’s room, still talking, and Christopher trails after him, asking excited questions in response, and Eddie’s smile grows. He wants this forever. Everything, every part of it; Buck, Christopher, and him—that’s all he needs. And— Oh. Oh no. He shuts his eyes for a moment, inhaling sharply. He’s looking at Buck, and feeling something strictly not platonic at all. or: Eddie needs to learn how to let himself feel, and one step at a time, he learns how to do just that. (And he falls in love with Buck along the way.)

i don't swim and you're not in love by hattalove / @hattalove

She turns to Eddie and says something else, but Buck is busy fighting the headrush he gets at the sound of Ana Flores calling Eddie and Christopher 'the boys'. Like they belong to her already. God, what’s wrong with him? What is this? or, eddie cooks, chris domesticates a slug, and buck tries to figure out why he hates his best friend's girlfriend. to everyone's immense shock and surprise, it goes badly.

everything's coming up milhouse by hammersmiths / @bucktommys

LAFD Updates (@L*A*F*D_Metro) LAFD Alert: Red-level traffic on Gardiner Road this morning. If you are trying to get into the city centre consider taking Westerley Lane. buck 🔥🔥 (@firebuck) so true bestie or, Eddie mans the LAFD Twitter account. Buck tries to be supportive.

said i couldn't stay, but it's different now by hattalove

“I think,” he says, watching Karen pull Hen out onto the dance floor, their eyes never leaving each other’s, “I think I’m just—sad.” Maybe. That feels like a close enough word to describe this gaping maw right in the center of his chest. It’s only really there sometimes, taking little bites out of him, easy enough to ignore, but today is worse. “About being single at a wedding,” Eddie says, not a question. Buck shrugs. “Sounds stupid when you put it that way.” or, the one with the four weddings (feat. a drunk karen wilson, shania twain, a single cheerio, and some confessions over cubed fruit).

cause i'm tired of sleeping alone by rarakiplin (gmontys)

Buck goes on dates now. Not often, and never with the same girl twice in a row, but he goes on dates. And the thing is — the thing is, Eddie can’t be mad about that, because he goes on dates too. - or, five (ish) times eddie and buck go on dates with other people, and one time they go on a date with each other

so far from being free by allisonRW96

"That’s Daniel. He was our brother. Buck doesn’t know what to do with the past tense. He never had a brother. He’s always had a brother. He gained one and lost one in the same breath and it feels impossible. But even if Buck was capable of doubting Maddie, the truth of her confession is evident in the way it throws every facet of his childhood into sudden perfect clarity. That yawning, arctic absence. The unnamable fear. The impenetrable target of his parents’ approval that he was never, ever going to be able to hit. That they didn’t want him to hit. He has a brother. A dead brother who has haunted Buck’s steps for his entire life."

don't let the tide come and wash us away by writerforlife

Buck develops a relationship with the ocean, avoids talking about the day Eddie was shot, realizes he might be in love, and drives. Order may vary. (a fic for the "Buck is going to break all the way down in season 6" truthers)

dance, for all that we've been through by catchingpapermoons 

The Los Angeles Ballet’s 2022-2023 season ends with a bang with their fresh take on a ballet staple, Swan Lake. Artistic Director Bobby Nash is in his eighth season with the Los Angeles Ballet, and it has flourished under his direction. However, his associate, Eddie Diaz, is the one whose reimagining of the choreography has caught our attention... (or, Eddie Diaz moves to L.A. to restart his dance career, and ends up choreographing a show, finding a family, and falling in love. Not necessarily in that order.)

I'll Scrawl it on Every Wall I See by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

When Eddie joins the 118, he and Buck don't exactly hit it off on the right foot. Or continue to walk on the right foot. In fact they kind of can't stand each other. Good thing they each have a beloved anonymous pen pal to share their daily woes with, someone completely unlike their insufferable coworker. Or, in which Buck and Eddie love each other before they know each other, and know each other before they love each other. When Eddie joins the 118, he and Buck don't exactly hit it off on the right foot. Or continue to walk on the right foot. In fact they kind of can't stand each other. Good thing they each have a beloved anonymous pen pal to share their daily woes with, someone completely unlike their insufferable coworker. Or, in which Buck and Eddie love each other before they know each other, and know each other before they love each other.

never felt this way before (yes i swear) by withoutthetiger

It’s the summer of 2022, when Buck no longer wants to be called Evan, and it only occurs to his parents to mind. It’s after the pandemic – or so they say – and before whatever hell will befall the world next, when Buck can’t wait to join the LAFD in September, and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever meet someone as gently strong and fiercely protective as his big sister. It’s the summer he goes with his family to the One Eighteen Ranch & Lodge. *** A Dirty Dancing AU, set in Texas in 2022, featuring a whole lot of familiar faces in a not so familiar place.

Fragile lines (and wasted time) by Mellaithwen / @mellaithwen

“Hey Buck,” Christopher says a little shyly, before reaching out to grab Buck’s foot through the hospital blankets—shaking it in the same way he’s woken his father up on many a bleary-eyed morning. The familiarity of the gesture makes Eddie’s head spin. But of course, there’s no response from the comatose man on the bed. “I thought you said he was sleeping,” Chris mumbles, angrily swiping at his cheeks, and Eddie’s already broken heart shatters all over again for whatever hope his son had just lost when his expectations were so cruelly dashed. . While Buck sleeps, and dreams in the aftermath of the lightning strike, Eddie tries desperately to hold himself together.

Don't Take the Money by HMSLusitania

“You know, being stuck here isn’t actually the end of the world,” Chimney says, coming up to the table and picking up one of the smoke detectors. “It just feels like it, Buck. Trust me, I know.” “I’m pretty sure it might actually be the end of the world,” Buck says. “Considering this is the sixth time I’ve lived this day.” Chimney stares at him for a beat and then his eyebrows lift. “Wait, are you like – dude, are you in Groundhog Day?” OR The post-lawsuit time-loop AU literally no one asked for.

keep your eyes on the road by iriswests / @fcntasmas

Buck used to speed through yellow lights; now they’re his favorite part of the drive. -- or; a glimpse into buck and eddie’s developing relationship, told through ten moments stopped at a traffic light

Hot Ghost Problems by ebjameston

The ghost would prefer to go by Buck, if Eddie wouldn’t mind. +++ [Eddie is the newest firefighter at the 118. Buck is the ghost haunting the 118. Unfortunately for both of them, Eddie's also a witch and needs to put Buck's spirit to rest, because that's what witches do. Turns out, Buck's spirit? Super not interested in being put to rest. Very interested, however, in flirting with Firefighter Diaz, who is just trying to survive his candidate year. (Also turns out, Buck? Super not dead.)

as lucky as us by hammersmiths

One of the first things Ravi learned when joining the 118 was to, under no circumstances, think too hard about Buck and Eddie’s relationship. But brother, they could try make his job easier. “I mean, I get it,” Buck’s saying, overhead, and Ravi’s knee-deep in literal human crap and even he can smell that shit from a mile away. “You and Tommy have a lot in common.” or, Ravi continually suffers as a third-wheel.

[gam3-b01]

winter

pairing(s): jeon wonwoo x reader

genre(s): angst

wc: ~1.3k

warnings: suggestive content (hankypanky related activities), just sad hours in general, minors dni just to be safe

(a/n: my first post on this blog, this was one of my earliest drafts and i needed to get it out of my system ahahsjdnd. the way some people might know who i am because i used the term hanky panky is concerning but also hilarious, if you see this i love you bro sorry for angst hours i stayed up too late to make sane decisions sorry i had to. song inspo for this fic is winter by two feet)

It's not a thing, right? This hasn't happened before.

But the familiarity with which you look up at him from under the covers slaps Wonwoo in the face before he has the time to process the content haziness clouding your eyes. His tense frame relaxes involuntarily, and he slips in beside you but not before checking your bare skin for any bruises he might have accidently left after almost soldering you to the mattress barely ten minutes ago. As he slips an arm around your middle and you tell him without any kindness whatsoever that his hands are way too cold for you (and that he should probably get checked for anaemia because, and he quotes, "even hell freezing over generates more fucking warmth than you do"), he realises he has to stop lying to himself and acknowledge the fact that realistically, this has actually definitely happened before.

This exact night, every single frame of it, happened last year. And the year before that. And the year before that one? No, the both of you were still together back then. Probably. What year was three years ago? Time was always a muddy, comically abstract concept when it came to each other for the both of you.

Maybe it would be easier for him to count the years winter to winter. Because when Wonwoo visits his hometown at the beginning of every December, a series of events occur. He sets his bags down at his place and spends the first week in radio silence recuperating with his family, ignoring the 20 odd messages he gets from Mingyu about his dog and updates (read: gossip) from their shared workplace. The next week usually is spent catching up with old friends mostly out of obligation, and the third week is occupied by Christmas. The fourth-ish week is when all of his friends asking about you begins to get to his head. By around the 28th of December, he's sick of lying awake in his childhood bed, staring at the ceiling as he tries to forget things that should never have happened in the first place. Eventually he sits up, runs a hand through his hair, puts on his glasses, and spritzes on something that you liked to call "sandalwood crack" before shrugging on his jacket and heading out.

Where to though? He pretends to think for a while before giving up. And when he steps into the bar after paying for his cab, he is never, ever surprised or secretly relieved when he spots you sitting in the stool furthest away from the air conditioning. You look wasted, but the soda cans strewn about you indicate otherwise. You've stopped drinking after the breakup. You're doing well with sobriety. He opens with that like the asshole he is, and you have the decency to cuss at him like a sailor and pass him a stool as you say something vaguely self-depreciating as a joke about the near-alcoholism you contracted back then. He opts for silence. And you ask him to take it easy despite him having opened the fire. Ever tolerant. Like the gentle undercurrents of a river (not like you didn't have a temper on you, you just tended to be nice when you saw him after long periods of time. Was it because you missed him? The mere thought had him shrivelling up a little inside). Wasn't he supposed to be the water sign between you both? He remembers the natal chart phase you had when you were nineteen, which reminds him you were his best friend of nine years before the both of you stopped talking. He expertly shoves that piece of information away before it tries to hurt him one more time.

(...What kind of best friend asks, no, begs him to leave and never contact them again? Maybe the kind whose best friend actually proceeded to do exactly that without ever putting up a fight? Fuck.)

Things somehow, without fail, end up leading you both to the nearest motel when one of you ends up saying something incredibly reckless and all the other person can do is gape hopelessly, words murdered in cold blood right when they were about to be bailed out from their throat. The rest of a night is a senseless, irresponsible blur, and then?

The rough part begins.

One of you is going to leave in the next thirty minutes if Wonwoo's doing his gut arithmetic right. He wished he sucked at math sometimes, he really did.

However, he blinks a bit. Something feels off, something feels different. You're not leaving (is it his turn this time..?). Instead, you're turning around, eyes vulnerable and still blown a little wide as you touch his hair with a flavour of fondness he could not imitate even if he tried his damndest to.

He freezes for only a second before his lips seek yours out of habit. He truly loathes the way he groans at how much it affects him, but what else is he supposed to do when he knows you're trying to hold back that little sound you make when you get desperate for him? He's almost willing to let you take the lead because he feels like his system is going into overdrive, willing to let you finally ruin whatever's left of him, but sanity prevails by a hanging thread as he takes back control from you with a firm hand on your jaw. His grip is gentle unlike earlier, and despite knowing you like it when he's mean to you, his eyes shine with something completely different when he breaks the kiss for a moment to take in everything he can about you right now and burn this anomaly into his memory.

(Because what else will he be ever be able to think of on every single cold, miserable night for many years to come after that look you gave him before he kissed you? That look that made it look like you still loved him, why did you have to do that?)

You're staring at him like you've been burned, and he's trying his absolute best not to flinch away when he sees raw, unabashed hurt begin to filter through your soft irises.

"Don't look at me like that." You start.

"Like what?"

"Like you-", you gulp nervously, eyes quickly losing the content sheen radiating off of you earlier.

"-like you actually want me or something."

Externally, the tenderness in his eyes is instantly replaced by whatever the fuck he usually looks like, but internally, he's trying his best not to scream. Your words are unfair, cruel even. How can the one person who knows him like the back of their hand not grasp the one fundamental truth that makes up his very core?

The alarm system inside his head built just for you tells him you feel sick, just like he does. He knows you've gleaned that much as well, and makes no effort to stop you as you slip out of the bed with the sheets hugging your chest in one fluid motion.

"I feel so sick, Wonwoo."

"I know."

Your heart is as tangled up as his is, and no matter how many times the both of you manage to land into each other's arms, neither of you seem to be capable of unravelling the other without tearing everything apart.

He watches you collect yourself before turning to him, face stone cold, with eyes that now look foreign to him as you deliver the parthian shot.

"I think that I should go."