#which is why my skin has been awful for years

[swiftzeldas]

Not to be a skincare girlie on main but I have been trying all freaking summer to find moisturizer/sunscreen for my face that work and don’t make me look bright red and shiny and I’ve bought so many products that I don’t like….anyway today I bought Clinique moisture surge and my skin feels great, soft and moisturized without looking greasy and inflamed. Why do I ever try anything else.

[caffeinewitchcraft]

AITA for divorcing my vampire husband because he lied to me about his human job?

I (542 vampire) and my husband (260 vampire) have been together for a little over two centuries. There’s a saying in the vampiric community that it takes a century for a tryst to become an enduring partnership and another century to become soulmates. I thought that was true and that Matthew (using his real name because fuck you, Matthew) and I would be together forever…until this week.

First, let me explain a few things to the mortals here. I don’t mean that negatively – I came here specifically to get the opinion of those with a finite lifespan. However, I want to be fair to Matthew as much as possible and some of his decisions are very immortal-minded.

Both Matthew and I are vampires who have chosen to forsake some of our powers in exchange for the ability to daywalk. We made the transition together on our 100th anniversary almost 115 years ago. It wasn’t an easy transition for me. I was very dependent on human blood and I spent the first twenty years in almost constant sleep as my body adjusted to running off of less lunar magic and more solar magic.

It really felt like I was losing everything. My body got physically weaker and my powers began to disappear one by one. It felt like every time I woke, another part of me was missing. One day I could turn into a wolf, the next I could barely turn into a vapor. I could command a legion of undying servants, and then I could barely convince the mailman he didn’t see me levitate down from the second floor.

Matthew, however, took to daywalking like a werewolf to a sheep farm. He barely seemed to feel the pain of losing his power, maybe because he was so much younger than me. Whatever the case, he was out all the time once he stabilized. He would be gone for days sometimes and when he came back it was with fantastic stories about the humans’ new inventions or the new structures being built in whatever town we were in.

I’m not saying I regret transitioning. Just that Matthew and I had very different experiences. It felt like he barely changed at all while my entire being got rewritten. Being immortal makes you comfortable in your own skin. I never doubted myself or my power after I turned 100. But becoming a daywalker made me feel like I was being born as a human again. It was humiliating and vulnerable. I have to admit there were times I resented how easily Matthew did it. I blamed him for not supporting me like I thought he should. I would daydream about draining a human in front of him, showing him what I thought of his fascination with them. I had all sorts of vile and vengeful thoughts. I’m not proud of the person I was and now I’m grateful Matthew wasn’t there to see the lows I sunk to.

Despite all my awful thoughts, I didn’t quit. I don’t know why, but I didn’t. I stuck with it and, day by day, things got easier.

After 26 years I began to stabilize. The benefits of being a daywalker slowly blossomed before me.  Now I can say that I am completely happy with my daywalker status and all the changes it’s brought.

I am the most mentally stable I have been since my Turning in 1482. It’s like I’m awake. The fits of rage that used to consume me for months at a time have completely disappeared. I don’t experience the same level of obsession I used to which has freed up a lot of my time that I used to spend stalking my victims.

However, that drastic of a change would be challenging in any relationship. Matthew and I ended up together because of my obsessive nature. Our relationship became strained when that part of me went dormant. He expected me to follow his immersion into the human world just as I had followed him in his revenge quest against his Master. He expected me to support him wholeheartedly and with everything I was. He wanted sacrifices from me that I used to not even flinch at before making. But something was just…different. We wanted different things. I wanted different things.

Matthew was obsessed with being the perfect human. He craved full immersion. He still makes it a point to get a human job every twenty years or so. Me? I’m happy to live off our investments and some mild mind control while enjoying the art and theater community the humans have evolved.

It got bad. Some years, we spent like ghosts in our own house, drifting by each other without a glance. Other years, it was like we were spies behind enemy lines. He would do whatever he could to thwart me and I would go out of my way to ridicule him. Our vitriol poisoned the earth. Matthew didn’t speak to me for a full decade when that poison killed off an entire town.

About twenty years ago, it all came to a head. We had a serious sit-down talk about our relationship. It wasn’t easy. What they say about teaching an old dog new tricks is sometimes true. Matthew wanted me to be as involved with the humans as he was. He wanted me to care about them like he did. I wanted him to travel with me like we used to and not just hop from town to neighboring town (which he did to maintain a human identity with references so he could keep working). When it became clear that we were at an impasse, I brought up the idea of separation.

Separating in the vampiric world isn’t easy. There are a lot of alliances and blood oaths to be considered. Over the two centuries we spent together, we became known as a unit to a number of supernatural entities that we maintain an uneasy truce with. Separating would mean creating new oaths and alliances with the same individuals. And there was no guarantee that those individuals would make new pacts with both of you. A LOT of vampire couples end up in blood feuds while separating. Neither of us wanted that.

There was also, of course, the emotional side of things. While a lot of immortals tend to only feel muted emotions (especially vampires as old as me), Daywalking had made both of us more sensitive than we’d been before. We were both attached to the memories we shared and neither of us could imagine life without the other. After 200 years together, it felt like Matthew was my right arm, and I his. When I brought up separation, we both felt it like we were discussing an amputation.

After about a year of talking, we finally reached an agreement. We didn’t want to separate, and so we would compromise. I wouldn’t interfere with any of Matthew’s human jobs for the 15-17 years if he could hold them without arousing suspicion. In exchange, he would take a year off to go traveling with me before finding another town for us to live in. In between my trips, he would go to plays and galas with me to enjoy human artistry at least once a month.

Maybe our deal was in his favor. At the time, it felt practical and fair. A year of traveling wouldn’t undo Matthew’s string of connections. We would still see each other frequently by going on dates that I liked. Matthew would get to stay immersed in the human world at the level he wanted, and I could stay within my comfort zone.

Which brings me to my current problem.

We are currently at the start of one of Matthew’s work cycles. He’s been everything from a fireman to a politician to a subway worker to a barista. He craves knowledge and connection to a terrifying degree. If it weren’t for how we move every 20 years and he goes without protest, I’d call it obsession.

This cycle, Matthew told me he was going to be a teacher. I was hesitant. While the humans have become more tolerant and less violent over the years, that doesn’t mean they will tolerate us near their young. Enough humans know about vampires that staking in the modern era is a real possibility. Matthew could incite an angry mob against us or, heaven forbid, get a vampire hunter on our tail. I have yet to be shot, but I hear that they have silver bullets that hurt like Hell.

When I voiced my protests, Matthew reminded me about our agreement. He said that I wouldn’t interfere with his jobs and he’d go to all the plays I liked. He even pointed out that, as a teacher, he could get us into high school plays and expositions. I was uneasy, but agreements are penultimate to immortals. I silenced my objections and let him get a job as a science teacher at a local high school.

When Michael has had jobs in the past, I’ve never really paid attention. One time he was a state senator for ten years and I never even heard him speak. I didn’t consider it worth my time to hear whatever his facsimile of a human would say. Real humanity is in the art they create, not in the parody Michael enacts.

But this one…I couldn’t ignore this one. Maybe it was because I was still uneasy about his proximity to human young or maybe I could sense his lies even at the beginning. Whatever the case, I watched him.

The first thing I noticed was the hours. He would go to work early and would often come home when it was time for us to sleep. When I asked him about it, he said that he wasn’t used to grading and that he had underestimated what it took to put a good lesson plan together. I visited some online forums and that’s apparently reasonable for first year teachers.

He would also sometimes go in on the weekends. He missed one of our dates because there was a “grading emergency” that needed his immediate attention. Something about a student’s test getting lost and then found and he needed to input their grade before the deadline which was on Saturday. Humans like silly rules like that so I didn’t even look that one up. I just reminded him that he couldn’t miss our dates again or else he was breaking our deal. He apologized and said it wouldn’t happen again.

Then about three months into his new job, the phone calls started. We have a private room in our house for when we need to talk without any visitors overhearing. Michael moved all his school supplies in there, saying that he needed a silent space to concentrate on his grading. Whenever he got a call, he would never answer it in front of me. Instead, he’d say “Sorry, work” and just go into his office.

I also noticed that he didn’t dress very professionally. Human fashion changes quickly so it didn’t register at first. A sweatshirt here and there slipped past me, and also the Gucci slides. When he started wearing baggy jeans and jerseys to work, I noticed. I may not be up to date on all the newest fashions, but I do go to classy events. I know what a slob looks like and it didn’t sit right with me that he was wearing that to school. When I asked him about it, he always had an excuse. “This is what everyone wears” and “It’s a theme day” or, bafflingly, “It’s spirit week!”

I tried to leave it alone. The reason we have stayed together for so long is because of our agreement to not interfere in each other’s lives. But between his hours, the phone calls, and his appearance, something didn’t add up.

Then, last Thursday, he missed another one of our dates. We were supposed to go to the Nutcracker together. Even though I prefer matinees (when the cast is fresh), I agreed to get us tickets for the evening show so that he wouldn’t have to leave work early. When he wasn’t there at 7pm, I called him and he didn’t answer. Then, when I called him again, his phone was switched off.

I was furious. I spend nearly two decades in these tiny towns so he can live his human fantasy and he can’t even show up for one two hour show? It was the first time since becoming a daywalker that I felt that angry. I was scared about what I might do, so I made myself go home to wait for him.

Only, he never came home that night. At 3am, he sent me a text apologizing and promising to make up our date on Saturday. But the Nutcracker was only playing until Friday and that would be too little, too late. To be honest, it already was. I texted him that and he never responded.

He never ended up coming home last weekend. I texted and called him probably a dozen times and he never responded. I got angrier and angrier as the days dragged by. Did he think I was someone to be taken lightly? Did he not realize that the fragile agreement between us was all that was keeping us from separation?

Yesterday (Monday), I couldn’t take it anymore. If he wasn’t going to come home or respond to my messages, then I would go to him. If he was so obsessed with this new job that he would ignore me for it, then I knew exactly where to find him.

I arrived at his school at 10am. I researched enough to know how to go to the office and sign myself in. I asked the office assistant which room Mr. Duetto was in.

The lovely young woman looked confused. “I’m sorry, but I can’t give that information out to anyone but family,” she said.

“I am his only family,” I said.

She clicked a few more keys and looked more confused. “His paperwork only shows his mother, Delilah Duetto.”

That’s right. His mother. But I still didn’t understand then.

“That’s me,” I said.

“You are not the mother of 17-year-old.”

“I’m his wife,” I said.

She was upset by that. I won’t bore you with every detail, but I had to alter her memories so she wouldn’t call the police. I may not look like someone who has a teenager, but I also don’t look like a teenager. I ended up having to alter her memories so she wouldn’t call human CPS on an apparent adult swearing she was married to a minor.

I went home and broke into his office. There weren’t any lesson plans. There were no graded papers. There were syllabus from different classes, homework with his name on it, and a few polaroids taped to the bottom of his desk of him at a party with children.

Human children. I don’t honestly know which is worse.

(EDIT: I know the child part is the worst part. I misspoke because of my anger. It’s not the humans’ fault that my husband is a pervert.)

I broke into his laptop and used that to check his text messages. He’s been texting like a high schooler. He’s been to parties with them, listened to their problems and even fabricated a few of his own. He’s caught in some sort of weird love triangle where a freshman girl likes him but his “best friend” likes her. He has texted both of them about it, promising his “bro” that nothing is happening and then turning around and leading this girl-child on.

Some choice quotes: I should know better than to get close with you. You and I come from very different worlds

To which she replied, lol maybe we should let our worlds collide

!!!!

I find the entire situation disgusting. Matthew is several centuries older than them and he definitely knows better. He’s literally wearing the sheep’s fleece amongst the flock. He has no business forming relationships with human children and even less pretending to be one of them. He’s not a baby. He is over two centuries old!

What is he doing flirting with a child? It’s vile and disgusting and I was set to kill him for it.

I confronted him about it when he came home last night. I told him that he was sick and dangerous and if he loved humans then he needed to stop immediately. I told him we either left town today or I would make sure he never set foot back in that school in a way he really wouldn’t like.

 He threw a huge tantrum over my invading his privacy. He shouted at me that I had broken my promise to never interfere in his job. He called me controlling and crazy.

I told him he was the crazy one for chatting up a child. He told me he wasn’t, she was just his friend. I asked him to read their texts out loud if he was being so friendly. I also pointed out that there was no way a 260-year-old vampire is a child’s friend.

He told me I was a hypocrite because I basically cradle robbed him (we’re almost 300 years apart.) He said if anyone was disgusting, it was me for taking advantage of him.

I pointed out that he wasn’t a child, he was over 60 and had already been a vampire for four decades. He argued that that was basically being a child in vampire terms.

I was so angry at that point that the house was shaking. I told him if he felt that way, then we could get divorced right then and there. That that was what I wanted to do anyway because I couldn’t be married to a pedophile.

He asked me if I was seriously going to start a blood feud over him immersing himself in human society. I said no, I’m starting a blood feud because he’s become every predatory stereotype humans have of vampires.

He called me a hypocrite again and told me he was leaving. He said not to call him unless I was ready to apologize. I told him that the next time he sees me, he’d better run before I showed him the real difference between us. And it wasn’t just 300 years.

When I calmed down, doubt started creeping in. From an immortal perspective, what he’s doing isn’t really wrong. I hate to say it, but most immortals don’t view human lives as significant. I know a few vampires who would say that divorcing because he’s playing with his food is idiotic.

Plus, there’s the agreement to consider. During our fight, Matthew pointed out that being a student is a job to humans. So therefore I didn’t have the right to interfere. A big part of me thinks that’s bullshit, but a small part of me wonders if he’s maybe right about that?

I also have to ask myself why this even bothers me. I’m the one in the relationship that is aloof from humans. I’m the one that’s always saying we are from different worlds (Yeah, he stole that from me) and for good reason. 

But over the years, I’ve become fond of humans. No immortal makes art like them. I may not remember my time as a mortal, but there are works that give me a sense of nostalgia. Sometimes I think I can remember being a child myself, standing in a field like in Monet painting, staring at the wheatstacks and waiting for the miller to come. 

The thought of Matthew playing with them makes me sick. It’s like even after all the years of him living amongst them, he thinks of them as props in his twisted play. It’s even worse that he’s doing this to children. 

I can’t help but think something went really wrong with my husband when I wasn’t looking. At the very least, I’m planning on divorcing him. But would I be the asshole if I killed him too?

 Separating from him will be violent and messy. There will likely be human casualties. But I don’t see any other way. So, I ask.

AITA for divorcing my husband for lying to me about his human job?

----

Thanks for reading! I loved answering some of the responses I got when I first posted this over on my Patreon (X)!

These collaborative story telling pieces are the highlight of my week. Next week's story is about a witch who wants to know if she should attend her high school reunion even though she's responsible for stripping two former classmates of their magic...

Please check that out here (X) if you''d like early access! Otherwise I'll see y'all next week :)

[honeywyrdie]

There's Always a Cat at a House Party

Lee Minho x Reader

summary: You've got a goal tonight - find a stranger to make out with to get over this stupid little crush you have on your roommate. You'll fail. Hard. /// word count: 6k /// genre: smut, fluff, roommates to lovers /// warnings: sloppy makeouts, cunnilingus, spanking /// a/n: grad school has been kicking my ass so I've been a lot more MIA than I've wanted to be. enjoy this little (6k) smut I wrote to experience a single drop of dopamine in all the chaos. I don't normally write Minho, so I hope I did him justice! Maybe I'll even make a part 2 to this.

(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

I have only posted this here and on AO3 - user: spookwyrdie

18+ content beyond the cut MDNI!

You

“Minho, have you seen my black platform heels? The velvet ones with the little ankle strap?” you shout from the bathroom.

“No,” your roommate replies. “Aren’t they in your closet?”

“Could you check for me?”

The hairdryer you’re using is on full blast as you set your curls, so you don’t hear his lazy groan as he gets up from where he’s sitting. You’re getting ready to go out to a house party with Minho, and you’re on a mission this evening.

Step One: Look as alluring as possible, so you want your hair to be perfect.

Minho’s head peeks around the door frame, holding your favorite pair of fuck-me-heels in his hand.

“Are these the ones you’re looking for?” he asks.

He looks like he’s already ready to go - he’s wearing a casual but clean-cut outfit, all black with some silver jewelry. His skin always looks dewy and perfect, and tonight is no exception. Your eyes linger just a second longer than you’d like to admit to yourself.

Quickly turning back to your task at hand, you shake yourself out the small moment of awe he seems to slap you in the face with all the time. You can’t look at your friend like that, it wouldn’t be fair to him. In fact, that’s the exact reason you’re going out tonight.

Step Two: Don’t get distracted by your hot roommate you've had an unrequited crush on for a few months.

Minho and you have been living together for over a year now. It’s been wonderful, you both seem to work so well together. Ever since you’ve met, it’s been so easy to exist around each other. You both have the same social battery, he loves to annoy you and you love to annoy him right back. It’s pretty equal between the two of you since you both enjoy taking care of one another.

That’s why you feel so guilty about this little attraction that gnaws on your heart. You’re supposed to be friends - platonic, cohabitating friends. Nothing more. If you said anything or made the wrong move, it could fuck up your entire living situation, and one of the best friendships you’ve developed in your adult life.

Step Three: Get over this stupid little crush and move on.

You shut off the hairdryer, taking one last look in the mirror to make sure your curls are set before you get the rest of your outfit together.

“Yep, those are the ones!” you say, taking them from his hand. His hand connects with yours for a brief moment, sending a little flash of heat through your body. You’ve really got to get over this crush, especially if a silly little brush of his hand is driving you mad. You mentally smack yourself, and pull yourself together.

“Come hang out with me while I finish up.”

“We’ll never make it in time,” Minho says, rolling his eyes. But there’s a smirk on his face. “What will the boys say?”

“It’s a Han House Party, who cares when we show up!” you say, grabbing his wrist and dragging him towards your bedroom.

Rummaging through your closet, you pick out a few pieces that you think will work. Everything you choose is revealing but not outside of your comfort zone. You hold up a leather mini skirt and a pair of shorts that leave little to the imagination. Turning to Minho, you hold them up.

“Which one?”

His eyebrows shoot up, a look of surprise quickly morphing into one of concentration. He stares at you from where he’s laying on your bed.

“So we’re just really putting it out there this evening, huh?”

“Oh, don’t be so judgy,” you say. “I have a goal tonight and dressing like a nun won’t help.”

“I don’t know, I bet dressing like a nun will definitely get you some attention,” he chuckles.

“Be serious! Which one?”

He looks back and forth between the skirt and the shorts.

“The leather one. I like it better.”

You look down at it and nod, envisioning the outfit you’re putting together. It’ll be the perfect amount of slutty for the evening. Minho interrupts your train of thought as you start grabbing fishnets, a lace top, and a strappy chest harness.

“Why are you pulling out the big guns for tonight?”

“Minho… it’s been AGES since I’ve gotten any action,” you whine, pouting in his direction. “My dating life has been drier than the Sahara for almost a year now.”

“So, what? Your plan is to go to some party with other random strangers and use the ‘do you want to come see my cat’ pick up line?”

“The what?” you giggle.

”It’s a pick up line they’re using these days. Like ‘come back to my place, I’ve got a cat’ to get someone into bed. You know, how a year ago they were saying eating ramen was a way to ask someone to fuck.” He says with a yawn as he stretches out on your bed.

“As if,” you scoff. “I would never use Soonie, Doongie, and Dori like that! Besides, it’s not necessarily a hookup I’m looking for tonight.”

“What are you looking for?” his tone shifts, as if he’s putting an intense spotlight on you. You sigh, turning away from him towards the mirror to hold up the clothes you picked out.

“It’s been so long since I’ve kissed anyone. Like really kissed someone. Slow, passionate, a little messy. The kind where you can lose hours in that moment with another person. I miss it. The last few flings I had seemed like they weren’t as interested in that, always trying to rush into sex before I’m warmed up,” you murmur, your gaze dropping to your feet, feeling your face heat up. “It makes me feel like no one wants to spend time making out anymore.”

The room is silent for a moment and it makes you feel so exposed. You’re about to try to laugh it off when your eyes meet Minho’s in the mirror. The look he gives you is heavy, as if his eyes are holding you in place. You watch as his jaw clenches, the muscle twitching slightly with the strain. And just as quickly as you notice it, his features relax, going back to that lazy expression.

“I’m sure there are many people who would jump at the opportunity to kiss you like that,” he says slowly, eyes glued to his phone now.

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Name a single person who wants that.”

The room is filled with that same heavy silence again.

“Exactly. So, that’s what I’m on the hunt for tonight,” you say, pulling out your makeup bag. “Just a random makeout with some stranger who I never have to see again.”

~~~

Minho

He had almost fucked up, blown his cover, let the cat out of the bag - whatever you want to call it, he had almost ruined everything in that moment. You are driving him insane. This was the closest he’s gotten to telling you how he feels. The way you’re talking about kissing someone else, finding some stranger to share a moment like that with, filled him with the sick, possessive feeling he’s had about you since you met.

Minho knows you don’t feel that way about him. The two of you have lived together for over a year, sharing a living space, bedroom walls separated by only the bathroom. He hates the part of himself that feels entitled to you, it’s not right. But he can’t stop. Minho would do anything to make sure he could hear you humming in the mornings while you shower, even if that means keeping his attraction to you a secret that burns him up inside.

He’s got a good poker face, he knows it. You haven’t noticed that for the past year he seems to stare daggers at any person that comes within 20 feet of you with that look on their face, silently making them run off. But he felt it slip for a moment tonight while he thought of you in that leather skirt with someone else's hands on your thigh.

By the time you’re ready to go, he has his mask of indifference fully in place again. He says goodbye to the cats and you both head over to Jisung’s place.

Minho has to keep his eyes on the road. He has to avoid looking at you since you walked out of your room in the outfit you meticulously put together. He’s never seen you dress like this before. In fact, he’d probably drive the car off the road if he gets distracted by your fishnets again. You’re wearing some kind of bralette that puts your breasts on display under a sheer black lace top, your legs in fishnets and the tight skirt that he picked out barely covering your ass, and those heels. Those fucking heels. All he could think about is grabbing onto them as he fucked you into his mattress.

After hearing you talk about the way you wanted to be kissed, the images barraged him like cannonfire. He wants to make you whimper into his mouth. He wants to grab onto your ass while you rut against him until you are panting his name.He wants to taste you. He wants to be the one to make a mess of you. He wants to claim you and never hear you talk about another person ever again.

But he can’t. He knows he’s too intense.

It would be unfair to you. You’ve never given him any indication that you return his feelings, so he keeps them simmering away but hidden from you.

So he couldn’t look at you on the drive. He could barely look at you when he opened the door for you when you arrived. He could tell his nonchalant act was coming off a little strong by the way you detached from his side the minute you entered the house. Winding his way through the crowd of bodies, he made his way to the cooler to grab himself a drink.

He watched as you found Felix, one of your mutual friends. He was safe from Minho’s glare since he knew Felix was not available. But Minho kept his eyes on you from afar, watching the people you would chat with, seeing the ones you’d get a little too flirty with. It made his blood boil.

“Careful now,” a voice came from his left suddenly. “She’ll think you’re mad at her.”

Jisung appeared next to him, distracting him from the raw hunger that was bubbling away in his chest.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Minho sniffed, trying to avoid the topic.

“Please,” Jisung gave him an exasperated look. “Don’t act like I wouldn’t know that face.”

“What face?”

“That face you make when you’re about to rip the throat out of whoever gets within 10 ft of Y/n.”

“I don’t make a face.”

“Liar!” Jisung laughed. “Have you told her?”

“Told her what?” He narrows his eyes at his friend. Jisung knows him better than anyone in the world, so it’s especially annoying to be dissected like this while sitting on a couch nursing a shitty beer.

“Have you told her that you’re desperately in love with her?”

Minho chokes on his drink, coughing hard.

“See?” Jisung says, sticking his chin out as he chides Minho. “If you weren’t into Y/n, why’d you spit out half your drink onto my carpet?”

Minho stands up suddenly.

“Where’s the cat?”

“What?” Jisung asks, a confused frown on his face.

“The cat, there’s always a cat at parties like this,” Minho says. “In some room, hiding under some bed, there’s always a cat.”

“Weird that you know that, but yeah, my roommate has a cat,” Jisung says cautiously. “She’s in the guest bedroom.”

“Great. See you,” Minho says as he turns and walks down the hallway to find the guest bedroom.

“Minho, where are you going?” Jisung calls after him.

“To hang out with the cat in the quiet!”

~~~

You

Has everyone always been this boring?

Your mission this evening was starting to fall apart before your eyes. Every single time you tried to find someone you thought you could spend a few hours with, there was always something that turned you off.

One guy in the kitchen was fun to flirt with at first, telling you about his job at some school, working in one of the biology labs. But he started drinking way too heavily, like he was racing head first into a blackout.

Yuck.

One girl you were chatting with on the couch was going back and forth with you about a tv show you had recently finished. There was genuine banter for a while, until you noticed that every time you made a clever joke, she’d say “wow, that’s actually funny!” in a very condescending tone.

Next!

There was one person you thought you were really starting to connect with, swapping stories about your views on the local music scene. But then they started talking about aliens, as if the aliens were hiding amongst the crowd around you.

Nope.

You sigh, tossing the rest of the drink you had barely touched into the sink. It’s been a couple of hours since you got here and you’re nowhere closer to your goal than you were when you arrived. If you couldn’t have a fun time chatting with someone, you know you’d have an even worse time kissing them. Deep down, you know you were just trying to find a band aid solution while you waited for this stupid crush on Minho to go away. He’s the only one you actually wanted to tangle yourself up with until the sun rose.

While your mind drifts to thoughts of your roommate, you realize you haven’t seen him all night. Where is he? You scan the living room, catching Jisung’s eye.

“He’s with the cat!” he shouts across the room.

“What?”

“He’s hanging with the cat. Guest bedroom! Down the hall all the way and to the left!”

You give him a thumbs up and decide to go find your favorite little introvert. When you get to the door, it’s closed with a sticky note that says “Keep the door closed! Cat inside!” Not wanting to spook either the cat or Minho, you knock softly.

You hear someone quietly curse, followed by, “Come in.”

You gently open the door. Minho is sitting on the floor in front of a couch. The cat is nowhere to be seen.

“Close the door behind you!” He whisper-shouts at you. “I don’t know if she’ll bolt or not.”

You shut the door behind you gently, locking it for good measure. “Where is the little fur baby?”

“When you knocked on the door, she ran behind the TV again. You can see her if you lean down.”

You bend over, seeing a pair of glowing eyes in the back right corner of the shelf that the TV sits on. The breeze you feel on the backs of your thighs makes you aware of how short your leather skirt is and you hastily stand back up. You smooth your skirt down before you sit on the couch next to Minho.

“Why are you hiding in here with the cat?”

Minho looks down at his hands. “I don’t know, it was just a little too much out there for me.”

“Poor baby kitty, so overstimulated you have to find the only other cat at the party,” you say, patting him on the head. He huffs out a laugh, swatting your hand away. He stands and slumps into the couch next to you, his knee lightly brushing your thigh.

“So,” he starts, leaning back against the cushions. “How’s it going out there? Anyone want to go home to see your cat?”

You playfully shove his shoulder with a laugh. But you sit there, letting silence fall again.

“No,” you murmur, looking down at your hands. “I’ve discovered that everyone kinda sucks.”

“I could’ve told you that,” he says, looking over at you, a small smile playing at the side of his mouth. “No one has caught your eye?”

“Well… no. I guess not.”

Minho frowns. The tone of your voice is tinged with sadness and he shifts closer to you.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just…” you start, wringing your hands together slightly. “I never expected to be this picky. Like if I can’t have a conversation with someone, I definitely can’t get physical with them. I need to know I vibe with a person so I can trust them with something more.”

You can’t look directly at him, he’s too observant. Minho can read you in an instant. He seems to know what you need before you do. When you come home from a rough day at work, he can tell by the sound of your footsteps, and often greets you with a snack. You’re afraid that if you looked at him now with his dark eyes, he’d know about the feelings for him you’re trying to bury deep down inside yourself.

“I understand that,” he says. “You want someone who knows how to make you feel safe.”

“Right, and it seems that everyone I talked to tonight had something wrong with them,” you say. You feel Minho shift even closer to you, you can feel the warmth of his body next to you. “It shouldn’t be this hard to find someone to kiss.”

There’s that strange heavy silence again sitting between the two of you. Minho opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but then snaps it shut. He takes a deep breath. He gently grabs your fingers, fiddling with them in his hands.

“I’ll kiss you,” he nearly whispers. “I mean, if you want…”

You look over at him with a frown.

“Don’t make fun of me right now.”

“I’m not! I’ll kiss you.”

“I don’t want a pity kiss!”

“It’s not that! I... I think it would be nice. To… y’know… kiss you.”

You search his eyes for any hint of a joke. All you find is a dark pair of eyes looking back at you deeply, glittering in the low light. There’s a little edge of anxiety on his face. When did this couch get so small? You can feel your heart hammering in your throat.

“Won’t it make things weird?”

“It’ll only be weird if we make it weird,” he says, moving closer to you, eyes flicking down to your lips mere inches away. “So let’s promise it won’t get weird.”

“Okay,” you breathe. “I promise.”

“Me too,” he says, his eyes staring at your mouth as he delicately wets his bottom lip with his tongue.

He leans into you slowly, like he’s giving you every chance to change your mind.

Then his lips meet yours.

It’s so soft you could cry. The kiss is gentle and sweet with a small hint of apprehension, like you’re waiting for him to reveal the grand prank he’s pulling on you. But instead, his lips glide against yours tenderly. He presses small, slow kisses on your mouth, like he’s testing the waters by taking small sips, even if he’s dying of thirst. Your hand reaches up to cup his cheek, running your hand across his sharp cheekbone. His head tilts, leaning into your touch, as he pulls back slightly with a sigh.

“Is this okay?” he whispers against your lips.

Biting your lip, you nod with your eyes still closed. You’re worried that if you say something, the little bubble of magic in this moment will pop, and he’ll come to his senses and reject you, realizing his mistake. The worry starts to churn in your belly. His hand finds your chin, coaxing you slowly to lift your eyes and meet his gaze.

“Do you want to keep going?” he asks, searching your eyes. There is only warmth in the way he looks at you. It almost makes you feel silly being so anxious. Even if he doesn’t return your feelings, you know for certain that you’re safe with him. All of your anxiety melts away, leaving only the ache of desire in your chest.

“Yes,” you breathe against him, and pull him towards you again. “Please.”

This time, when your lips meet, you feel that spark of heat between the two of you. Your fingers find the collar of his shirt, pulling him in closer. This time, there’s more push and pull, flowing back and forth gently between you. One of his hands rests on the side of your neck, his thumb brushing over the spot just below your ear.

Your lips part as you whimper. Minho’s tongue softly runs along your bottom lip, silently asking permission to deepen the kiss. He wants to move at your pace, letting you control the speed. You surge forward, leaning over as his fingers curl in your hair. He tastes sweet on your tongue as you tangle up in one another.

Heat envelops you, the sound of your breath filling the air. You feel electrified, like there’s a live wire in your chest strong enough to power an entire city. The way your tongues move against one another, exploring each other's mouths, discovering the way the other person likes being touched.

“I need-” you start, pulling away to catch your breath. Minho’s dark eyes find yours.

“What do you need?” he murmurs as his thumb caresses your jawline.

“I need to be closer,” you say, kneeling on the couch, kicking a leg over his lap to straddle him.

“Fuck,” he whispers, gritting his teeth. “I want to touch you. Can I touch you?”

His words wash over you, a warm affection swirling together with the heady lust that’s consuming you.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Touch me. Everywhere.”

The last word tumbles from your lips with a moan as his hands splay on your lower back, dragging your body close to his as you descend onto him again.

~~~

Minho

Minho can’t believe how soft and pliant you are. In all his fantasies, he had never imagined the breathy little noises you’d make as he held your face, or how easily you’d respond to the silent suggestion from his hands on your hips. He would push and you’d move, he’d pull and you’d follow, like he was leading you in a ballroom dance.

He certainly didn’t expect how his heart would clench as you moan into his mouth when his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips. The tremor that shakes through you makes all the blood rush from his head straight to his cock. Sure, he has touched you platonically before, you’d fallen asleep on his shoulder once or twice during a movie night. He denied himself anything further, holding all of his feelings for you behind a brick wall in his chest. But tonight, you broke through all of those barriers. Minho is learning a new side of you as he runs his hands over the outline of your body, trying to memorize it.

Time seems to stop as he gets lost in you, pouring all his unspoken feelings and arousal into you slowly. If this is his only chance to have his hands on you, then he will savor every second of it. The room around the two of you fades into nothingness as he pulls you closer, wanting no space between your bodies.

Minho would never rush you, regardless of how turned on he is. You said you just wanted a night of kissing and he could give that to you. He just has to ignore the pulsing of his cock in his jeans.

He does indulge a little though. When you straddled his lap, your leather skirt bunched up around your hips. He runs his hands over your fishnet covered thighs, sliding his fingers under the hem of your skirt to push it a little higher.

His hands snake around to grab onto your ass, trying hard not to dig into the soft skin. Your head drops forward onto his shoulder with a moan as you arch your back, pressing yourself further into his grasp. He’s always loved your ass, admiring it from afar for so long. Sure, he’s never had his hands on you like this, but his eyes? His eyes have been devouring you since he first saw you.

Your hips begin to rock against Minho and he feels his mind go blank. A breath is caught in his throat as he feels the heat of you through a few layers of fabric. Fingers gripping his jaw, you wrench his head to the side, attacking his neck with your tongue. Through the haze of your lips and tongue against the column of his neck, he can feel the way your mouth curves into a sly smile.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he whispers when you come up for air briefly.

“Do you want to stop?” you say, pulling back slightly.

“Never,” he replies, tugging you back into him.

He can’t help it any more, his fingers grip into your ass, kneading into your plush flesh. He starts to push you down with every rock of your hips, dragging your clothed cunt across the bulge in his pants until you’re whining against his throat. The way your nails scrape against the skin of the back of his neck has his mind spinning. You wrench your head away from his neck, crashing down on him again, your plump lips landing on his.

When you bite down on his lip, he groans into your mouth. Your hands roam his body, pulling up the hem of his shirt, smoothing your palm across his stomach. Minho’s holding onto his sanity by a thread.

He’s delirious over the heat between your thighs as you grind down on him, your hips wiggling from the friction. Fingers roaming over your lace top, his fingers find the edge of the chest harness you’re wearing. It’s made from some kind of elastic material, so it stretches easily as he pulls it away from your body. He snaps it back against your chest and you squeak into his mouth. You pull away again, looking down at him with swollen lips.

“Minho!”

“What? Why else would you wear this?” he smirks at you.

You splutter for a moment, so he does it again. Pulling the elastic back further this time, holding it taut for a moment. He searches your eyes as you look back and forth between his eyes and his hand. After a heartbeat of thinking, you nod your head.

The snap on your skin makes you whine, trying to hold it back by biting your lip. Minho grabs the strap once more, but this time he uses it to maneuver your body, pulling you suddenly back down onto him. You lean down to kiss him again, but his hand firmly holds you an inch away.

“Don’t you dare hold back any noises,” he says, leaning in like he’s going to capture your lips. Just as you start to surge forward, he pulls away once more. “They’re mine.”

You whine in frustration, one hand grasping the hair at the nape of his neck and drag his head back. He moans, loving this side of you, something he had only ever dreamed of before. Your lips messily clash once again, the air in the room feels like it heats up between the two of you. He frantically finds the little clasp of your harness and quickly unhooks it, bunching up the fabric of your shirt in the process.

You lean back, wrenching the lace over your head, pulling away your bralette at the same time. Your breasts spill out and Minho looks at you in awe. Before he realizes it, his mouth wraps around one of your nipples while his hands go to knead into the soft skin of your breasts. His eyes never leave your face as he watches you press your chest further into him, throwing your head back with a gasp. His tongue traces a path back up to your neck, grazing his teeth over the sensitive spot below your ear. He can feel your pulse as he lays his tongue flat on your throat.

“Can I taste you?” he asks, voice muffled by his lips never leaving your neck.

“What?”

“I need to taste you. Here.” he says, slipping it between your thighs. He gently places a hand on your pussy. His heart starts racing with anticipation as he feels how wet you already are between your legs. “Will you let me?”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and nod.

Minho pinches your nipple lightly, just enough to make you hiss.

“Words. I need the words.”

“Fuck, yes, I want your mouth on me,” you whine, rocking your hips slightly on his hand. He grins, tugging you down to kiss him again. This one is less crazed, he feels like he’s trying to communicate all his unsaid feelings with just his actions.

You start to move off of him and motion to lay down on the couch on your back.

“Wait,” his voice has a tinge of command in it.

You pause, body obeying immediately. With a smile, Minho clenches his jaw again and takes a deep breath. “On your knees.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he says, grabbing your waist, “I want you on your knees. Face down, ass up.”

He flips you so you’re facing away, pushing your head down on one of the couch cushions. Your hips wiggle again, rocking back and forth in the air, seeking out any sort of touch. Minho has to collect himself before he does anything. Having you presented to him like this, with your deep red panties and fishnets, he’s about to shred your clothes with his teeth.

Minho grabs onto your ass, kneading the flesh harshly in his hands. Taking his fingers, he hooks them on your fishnets right near your panties. Jerking his hands quickly, he tears them open. The ripping sound makes you quiver.

He gets gentler now, caressing your thighs and cunt, dragging his lips and tongue along your ass cheeks. He can see the wet spot you’ve formed on your panties. Leaning forward he presses his tongue flat against it, chuckling as your whole body jolts.

“That good, huh?”

“Shut uppp,” you whine, burying your face into the cushion.

Minho pulls your panties to the side and spreads your cheeks, admiring the view. He feels his cock twitch in his pants. With you moaning into the pillow, pussy wet and on display, he fights the urge to fuck you right then and there. This is about you and he knows it’ll be a thousand times more gratifying to push himself to the limits of his own desire to get a small taste of yours.

The first touch of his tongue has your thighs shaking already. He takes you by your hips and holds you firm, pressing his face further into your cunt. You cry out when he slowly laps at your clit. Minho grunts, his lips and tongue making the lewd, wet sounds between your legs.

One of his palms finds your ass again, coming down on the flesh a little too firm. You yelp, clenching around his tongue. He’s too drunk off the taste of you, he doesn’t realize he practically spanked you. He pulls back to apologize but you cut him off.

“Harder…” you cry out.

“Harder?”

“Minho, don’t fuck with me!” You’d almost sound angry if you didn’t moan half of your sentence. He loves hearing his name spill out of your mouth like that. He’d do anything to hear it again.

“Like this?” He asks, before pulling back and landing his hand on the exact spot that was already starting to bloom with heat. You moan again, pulling your lip between your teeth to try and stifle the volume.

“Now, what did I say earlier about holding back on those noises?” Minho jeers at you. He leans back, smacking the other cheek, watching the way it rebounds against his hand. Each new hit has you whining and jerking your hips away then immediately pressing back into his hand. He lands a few more swats, feeling the heat from your skin, massaging gently as you catch your breath.

When he dives back into you tongue first, his eyes roll back from how you’re dripping with arousal. The slick sound of his mouth on you that fills the room is only interrupted by the occasional slap of his hand and your whining. As his tongue bombards your clit, he feels the tremors that roll through you as you rut back against his face.

You’re babbling, the words barely being strung together are a litany of please, fuck, and Minho. Your nails claw at the fabric of the couch as he holds you firm, rolling your hips fervently into him.

”Minho! I’m -!” You say, gasping.

Your body tenses, no sound coming from your open mouth. Your eyes squeeze shut and he feels the fluttering muscles of your orgasm as it rocks through you. He doesn’t stop, even once you start shaking, your voice rasps out of you through your moans. He only lets up once you’re writhing in his arms, laughing to get away from the stimulation.

Minho sits back, your body gently collapsing against the couch. He watches as you twitch every few seconds from the aftershocks of your climax, trying to regulate your breathing. He coos at you, massaging your limbs, caressing your skin.

“Come here,” he says, half picking you up, hauling your body towards him. He wraps his arms around you, pressing your face into his chest as he leans back on the couch. “You’re okay, I’m here.”

You start to come down off the frenzy and your breathing regulates. Minho idly presses a few kisses into your hair, pressing his cheek against your head. His cock is straining against the material of his pants, especially now with your body weight on top of him. But that doesn’t matter. Being turned on is nothing compared to the way his heart is soaring just sitting here and holding you like this in his arms.

The possessive feeling he’s had over you feels contented. You’re his. The two of you can talk about it later, but he knows you’re his.

He’s been yours since he first laid eyes on you, so it’s only fair.

“Minho that was…” your voice rasps out of you from where you’re buried in his chest. “That was exactly what I needed.”

He smiles against your hair, pressing another little kiss on your head.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he murmurs against your scalp.

You shift to look up at him. “For how long?”

”Longer than I want to admit right now,” he says. Minho takes in your appearance- lips swollen from kissing, hair mussed up, makeup smeared from pressing into a pillow. His chest fills with pride. He did that to you. You’ve never looked more beautiful than you do right now, all fucked out and looking up at him with sparkling eyes. “We can chat about that later though.”

You nod and lay your head back against his heart. It’s nice just sitting here in the quiet. Who knows how much time passes, Minho just likes feeling you in his arms, drawing lazy little circles on your bare back. The two of you must have been quiet for long enough that the house cat pokes her head out briefly from her hiding spot.

You giggle, startling the little thing back into the safety of being behind the TV.

“Minho.”

“Hmm?”

“So there are these cats I live with…” you say, a sly little lilt to your words. Minho can hear the smile in your voice. “Do you want to come back to my place and see them?”

[kurooh]

PROFESSIONAL ( AT LOVIN’ ) !

⊹₊˚. HAWKS’ BDAY 2024 — after six months of being his press agent’s friend with all kinds of benefits, keigo struggles to find a way to tell you that he can’t keep up his side of the agreement any longer. / or, his heart’s been in it since the very beginning.

word count: 14.3K (um….please read🧎‍♀️)

warnings: 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, friends with benefits -> lovers, angst, unprotected sex, creampies, cunnilingus, drinking (everyone is mid twenties), dirty talk, squirting once, office sex.

xoxo, juno: happy LATE birthday to keigo <33 WOOO first fic of 2025 and it’s the longest one i’ve ever written.. inspired by the weeknd’s kissland! hope you enjoy, love you guys :,) 🩷

“this pussy of yours is pretty fuckin’ greedy, huh?”

“how could i not be when you always fuck me so g-good?” the filthy words rush out of your mouth in a surge of euphoria that has taken over your cognitive functions and renders you clinically cock drunk. in this state, things you’d normally never agree to are suddenly more alluring than a shiny trinket to a nesting bird. sex on the roof of the heroes’ safety commission is outlandish and obscene (you’d used those words when keigo had first brought it up in jest) — but here you are getting plowed by none other than the no. 2 hero of japan.

“aw, dovey,” keigo coos, gloved hand closing around the slope of your neck and tugging you back into his chest, “you’ve always got the best compliments, don’t ya?”

“ah, r-right there!” you gasp, eyes rolling back into your skull as your third orgasm of the half hour boils in your tummy like magma in an explosive volcano. “shit, kei, ‘m gonna cum again..”

“heh, go ahead ‘n let it out for me,” the heel of his other hand digs hard into the plush skin above your pubic bone and the crude slapping of skin against skin grows louder. “c’mon, baby, cum all over this cock. show me how good you feel, yeah?”

“yeah,” you whimper, desperately throwing your ass back onto his cock to get him even deeper, “oh my god, keigo, fuuuck—‘m cumming!”

it nearly sweeps you off your feet, the strength of your blissful orgasm leaving you shaking violently and clenching uncontrollably on keigo’s cock. his teeth sharply sink into his lower lip when he quickly pulls out of you, lamely stroking himself to completion above your ass and spraying strings of ivory onto your skin. your body is slick with sweat and now cum, but the messiness of the situation doesn’t hit you quite yet — you’re busy trying to catch your breath while he hangs his head lowly behind you.

keigo still holds you upright on legs of jelly, lightly beating his wings to help stabilize himself. watchful gold eyes sweep over your body, doing a once over and admiring every inch of you. he’s always considered you as the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, and has always felt lucky to touch you — so why does he feel so damn unfulfilled? it’s probably a form of karma; keigo hasn’t ever had a consistent relationship, all due to his own actions. so many of his old girlfriends had clashed with him over his neglectful habits — his inability to give them time, attention, and effort. all of his relationships began positively, then quickly deteriorated into toxicity he’d grown tired of dealing with.

he’d been single for a year, and went without sex for longer. if he didn’t always have the press looming over his shoulder and scrutinizing each of his damn movements, he would’ve been able to get his dick wet sooner! keigo would certainly never admit it, but the total deprivation has been a good thing, allowing him to reset and understand why those relationships had completely gone downhill. at the time, he’d pettily blamed his girlfriend or the new guy she’d moved on with.

you let out a tired puff of breath and break away from his hold too soon just to look at your phone, which is sitting on top of keigo’s jacket. “so, my lunch break isn’t over just yet. we can hit the sandwich place around the block if you’re up for it?”

god, you’ve got that lazy smile playing on your lips like it always does after he’s made you cum. how is it possible for someone to look so elegant even as she buttons her blouse and wipes cum off her ass with a spare napkin? his brain literally short circuits when you hand him his jacket, plush lips shaping around a word. words. didn’t you just say something? maybe his post nut clarity has faded into obscurity, or he’s lost his hearing from how hard he just came.

“keigo,” you sigh, snapping your fingers in front of his face and briefly contemplating slapping him out of his stupor, “is the light on upstairs?”

a shiver jolts through him despite the fact that the weather’s warm, and his disassociated eyes finally hone in on you, standing right in front of him. “yeah, sorry. what’d you say earlier?”

you shrug on your suit jacket and slip into your heels. “i’m still free. we can grab sandwiches around the block if you’d like.”

so thoughtful. his heart swells happily at the prospect of eating lunch with you. it always does, usually accompanied with a flip in his stomach, whenever he tags along on something you’re doing, whether it’s eating lunch or sorting through lengthy documents after the office closes.

“sounds good. are we walking or flying, dovey?” your favorite sex petname rolls off his tongue naturally, and after months of this arrangement, you’ve stopped correcting him.

“let’s just walk,” you say decisively, wrapping the used napkin in another, “it attracts less press, showbird.”

☆ ☆

still thrumming with the sensations of sex, keigo walks into the restaurant behind you, piping up to place his order and then to swipe his card for the lunch. he dutifully waits at the table while you stand at the counter, glancing at your phone every now and then to alleviate the impatient boredom that accompanies most edible purchases. keigo allows himself a moment of respite, and instead of looking at his phone, he looks at you — particularly the way your clothes hug the slopes and curves of your body, much like he does when he’s coming down from an orgasm.

it was exactly eight months ago when keigo had first laid eyes on you. he knew right then and there that under no circumstances would he allow his old persona to shine through or mess things up between the two of you. for the first two months out of those eight, keigo had befriended you (with much encouragement from his friend mirko, bless her) and spent time getting to know you as a person over friendly lunches and the occasional drink. he’d committed each of your stories to memory and marked your birthday down on the calendar, something he’d never done for anyone else before. the beginning of everything was after one of those rare drinks that had landed you in keigo’s apartment and sitting criss-crossed on his bed, discussing your unlucky love life.

he’d listened with rapture as you pored over the freaks you’d met and gone out with in detail, mistakenly trusting your friends to set you up with someone nice on a blind date. in their defense, you’d drunkenly mumbled, it’s not their fault that there’s so many people catfishing. one inebriated conversation led to another, and you’d happened upon the fact that neither of you hadn’t had any good sex in a very long time. in the morning, you came into work late and sore all over, but also newly enlightened. for the past six months, you’ve successfully maintained a friends with benefits relationship with keigo takami, the no. 2 hero of japan.

“this one’s yours. here’s the receipt,” you push him a tightly wrapped sub sandwich and his tab.

he catches the sandwich after letting it spin on the table like an arrow on a game spinner, then crumples the receipt. “why don’t you believe me when i say i enjoy paying for you, hm?”

you sigh after a bite. “it makes me feel like a sugar baby . . but also, i can pay for myself.”

“so you’re either saying i’m old or rich,” keigo chuckles when you roll your eyes dramatically, “i know you can, but just let me spoil you, dovey.”

you knew it was a losing game the moment you brought it up, cheeks heating a little at the implication of his words. maybe being his baby isn’t that bad. conversation comes to a comfortable standstill as you both dig into your sandwiches, crumbs falling to the table and making a small mess. when you look up to pause and wipe your mouth, a laugh tumbles out before you can stop it.

“what?” keigo asks confusedly, holding his sandwich tightly and going so far as to swivel around backwards in hopes of pinpointing whatever made you laugh. 

you wrap a napkin over your fingers and lean across the table. instinctually, keigo leans in for a kiss, only to be a little more than heartbroken when you swerve to the side and dodge it to instead dab at a streak of mustard across his chin. the sudden intimacy and close proximity cause the apples of his cheeks to turn rosy in embarrassment. “did you just lead me on?” he asks when he notices you giggling at him again, voice taking on a playful and petty tone. “because it totally feels like you did that on purpose.”

“no, keigo,” a wide smile spreads across your face at his usual antics, “you were the one eating so quickly you got mustard all over your face! someone had to clean you up.”

in an instant, his voice drops an octave, becoming low and sultry. “you keep talking like that and i’ll clean you up.”

“i— we’re in public!” you exclaim, a dull ache pulsing between your legs at the thought of him using his tongue on you. 

he shrugs noncommittally, feeling triumphant now that he’s briefly flustered you. “public or not, you know you love it. now eat your sandwich.”

“way ahead of you,” heat floods your cheeks as you pick up the sandwich, feeling dirty because of the slick pooling into your underwear. keigo doesn’t understand how easy it is to get you worked up, whether it’s with his words or the mischievous footsie he keeps playing under the table with you. “if i come across a headline about this conversation, i’m gonna kill you.”

☆ ☆

“late night?” keigo hums, shattering your concentration on the current task. startled and disheveled, you glance up just in time to catch his typical smirk. his gold eyes shamelessly rake up and down your body as if he’s spotted something he wants—no, needs—to claim. however, his raunchy ogling comes to a screeching halt when he hones in on the shadowy dark circles beneath your eyes.

“the latest,” you blow out a peeved breath through pursed lips, doing your utmost to avoid looking out the window. it’s completely dark outside, the sky an inky blanket of night and stars over the city. “i’m fucking swamped.”

it comes out bitterly, and keigo cautiously steps forward, wings twitching nervously behind him. that well-groomed mess of vermilion feathers at his back seems to have a mind of its own, constantly betraying their owner by displaying his emotions so openly. 

“what, you coming to rescue me?” absentmindedly, you swish around your empty coffee mug. not a single drop flies over the edge, the porcelain totally dry as if it was never used.

“c’monnnn, you know i’m always up to rescue you,” he teases playfully, gently tugging the mug out of your grip and setting a reassuring palm down on your hunched shoulders. “i’ll get us some coffee and help you out when i get back.”

“i highly doubt that you’re qualified to deal with PR work, keigo.” a small though rascally smile plays on your lips, corners flicking up as your sour demeanor starts to mellow out. 

he sticks out his tongue and steps out of your office, heading to the kitchen. as his feet quietly pad along the hard carpet, he considers your recent behavior — last week you were fucking around on the roof and then getting sandwiches like it was nobody’s business. keigo was seeing you around the office and outside of it, but the time he’d been spending with you had decreased dramatically over the past few days. the coordinated lunch breaks and escapades were no more, and keigo’s been caught up wondering why. now, the reason for this couldn’t be linked to anything he did or said — still, it’s impossible for him not to overthink.

“god, you’re a lifesaver!” you groan joyously as keigo sets down a full mug of coffee in front of you and away from your laptop and notepad. “thank you for this.”

“slow down, you haven’t even seen the things i can do outside of making coffee.”

you rotate your laptop once he finally takes a seat in front of you, insistently pointing a finger at the various tasks on your metaphorical plate. “if i give you some work, you’ll have to do a lot of proofreading.”

keigo nods, and his eyebrows suddenly pull downwards in a mix of playful confusion and surprise. “wait, is that a virtual shrine dedicated to me?”

“what?” you mutter, squinting your eyes as you frantically look over the computer screen to no avail. “oh, shut up. just start reading while i finish up the rest.”

there’s a pause and a beat of silence as you both settle into your respective assignments.

then, “i actually came to the office because i missed you a little.”

“you what?” you laugh increduously, licking a finger to aid you in flipping through paperclipped pages. his eyes follow you, from the moment your tongue darts out to wet your skin and then flicks through pages you skim to find what you’re looking for.

“well, i haven’t seen you outside of work in a while,” keigo sniffs, tearing his eyes away from you and refocusing on the words on the screen. at the risk of sounding too vulnerable, he throws in something disgustingly horny to save himself. “was just wondering about my fuck buddy.”

fuck. he’s really cringing now, throat instinctually closing up once he feels waves of nausea crashing over him. but you don’t even bat an eye, too busy setting papers aside in different stacks and barely paying attention to him. “oh, yeah. i’m sorry, it’s just that a ton of people have been dumping so much work on me.”

“so that’s why i’m reading a drafted article enshrining endeavor as number one?” he grins, briefly catching your eyes. you’re not quite sure if it’s the exhaustion finally catching up or something else, but your stomach flutters when you automatically meet his gaze. loose papers drift to the floor, falling right past you. 

“yep, that’s why,” you laugh nervously, snatching up the papers so forcefully that they crumple in your grasp. keigo’s always so damn charming, and it affects you more now that you’re so tired. right?

“you want some dinner, dovey?” the affectionate pet name lingers in your mind, echoing loudly until it finally fades into a memory from a while ago. the transition of his affectionate voice into one choked with unadulterated pleasure is seamless, leaving you breathless in an instant. a glance at his wings has you sloppily picturing them fanned out above you and frantically beating the air as keigo ruts his hips into yours . . god, what’s gotten into you? he certainly could.

“i want you,” it slips out before you can stop it or even control it, words laced with a silent desperation only he can detect. “uh, i mean—”

“bold words,” a wolf whistle trills out into the air, reminding you that you’ve now started something you won’t be getting out of easily. “sure you can handle what you’re askin’ for, baby?”

“don’t act like i haven’t countless times before,” you retort, voice a little weaker than you’d like. it’s frustrating, the influence he has over your body — he hasn’t even said anything meaningful and yet heat’s surging to your cheeks while a shiver of excitement ripples through you.

“riiiight. aren’t you the one always saying you can’t handle it? ‘oh, keigo, please! i can’t, i—’”

the endless teasing is just too much — it makes your blood boil, gets your pulse racing, and absolutely does what it was intended to do. your full mug of coffee tips off the edge of the table and spills when you slam the laptop shut, leaping forward to rapidly close the distance between you two. your lips, slightly sticky with coffee, crash onto keigo’s hard, causing your foreheads to knock together too.

it’s a palpable invitation, one that he eagerly accepts without hesitation. his strong hands settle firmly on your hips in an attempt to stop their slight tremble, fingertips pressing into the curve of your waist. he pulls you into his lap and you fall into sync with one another just like always: keigo slips his tongue into your mouth while you tug at his blonde curls. impatience curated by time apart and characterized by frustration has the air in the room sparking with white hot electricity that’s strong enough to cause a power outage — you’re so close to finally scratching that unbearable itch, at least until it comes back tomorrow with much more ferocity.

keigo draws back with a knowing smile, lips curling up. “we should stop, dovey.”

a thin, glossy string of saliva connects your lips to his. you’ve got this desperate, needy look written all over your face, which crumples petulantly as you consider the possibility of being left unsatisfied. something purely horny twists in his chest, alongside his still yearning heart — keigo fucking loves being in control, being the only one who can give you the satisfaction that you so desperately need, but the thought of being something more resurfaces in his mind again.

it always comes to him at the worst times: right now, during a sexual moment, or before he falls asleep and when he opens his eyes to daylight in the morning. it’s eating him up inside, and he’s already too far in to stop — or is he? no, he isn’t! not if he finds a way to extricate himself from the suffocating casualness of this mess and advance whatever’s left into a real relationship, one that’s abundant in love and adoration. the evolution of the relationship hinges on the timing of his love confession, so he’ll definitely plan to wait until you’re not holed up in the office and on his lap looking like you’re about to shed tears.

“i c-can’t,” you gasp breathlessly, heart pounding in your ears, “kei, please— i need you so badly, i’ve been waiting so damn long.” 

and who is he to deny you, when you’re begging so beautifully?

“so you missed me?” keigo murmurs, pressing kisses to the column of your throat and savoring the way you softly gasp. this is his moment. he’s going to slyly frame a question for you, and when you answer it correctly, he’ll spring his confession onto you and then give you what you’ve been dying for.

“god, yes,” a moan rushes out from between your lips, head tipping back to give him easier access. with his nose pressed into your skin, keigo blissfully inhales the faint wisps of your favorite perfume. eight months later and you’re still wearing that scent daily, ever since he complimented you the day he met you. “you know i did, keigo.”

“what’d you miss the most?” he smirks between open mouthed kisses, guiding you straight to the answer with his warm hands that slip under your shirt and languidly caress the small of your back. 

“your cock, t-the way you fuck me,” you groan, unintentionally shattering his plan into pieces; but he doesn’t let it show, chuckling into your neck as he rapidly snatches them up and off the floor. it’s okay, he’s okay. all he has to do is ask a few more questions and offer up some multiple choice answers — in doing so, he’ll have a chance to tell you how he really feels.

“mmmm, is that all?” 

your eyebrows furrow in confusion and you tug him back by the hair, scrutinizing him with eyes clouded by lust and nothing else. a carnation colored flush sits high on his cheekbones, and his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows down a pesky i love you. not now, not here — this isn’t the right moment.

“keigo, why are you questioning me like my boss does?” he blinks, averting his eyes to your glossy neck, shining with his saliva in the dim light. it smells like coffee now, and he’s wondering if it’ll ever get cleaned up, dark liquid overflowing and soaking through the carpet, straight into the floor. he doesn’t want to be like the coffee, forgotten about and lingering in the air since it had fallen off the desk without you having caught it.

keigo knows you — he always has, and it’s too easy to pick up on the unmistakable tension twisted in your question, along with undertones of discomfort and deflection. automatically, he slips back into his typical persona, lips curling into an impish smile while he waggles his eyebrows to emphasize his words. “heh, you’re so impatient. can you blame me for wanting to build things up?”

you visibly relax, plush mouth forming into a pout he wants to kiss away. “i think there’s been plenty of build up. don’t tease me again.”

“yes ma’am,” he replies coolly, lifting his hands into the air in a show of submission. you release his hair and he pulls you into his chest, holding you tightly as he stands up from the chair. it rolls away into a corner, plastic backing hitting the wall with a soft thud just as keigo slams you down on the desk, papers flying every which way. 

“keigo, hah, you haven’t even gotten me naked yet,” you sigh, heat rushing to your face as he sinks to his knees on the hard carpet, his eyes never leaving yours. dexterous, impatient fingers find the clasp of your pants, and he drags them down your legs, along with your sticky panties. 

“i know,” keigo breathes, pulling your thighs over his shoulders and pulling your hips close to his face, “and yet, you’re already fucking soaked for me. aren’t you, baby?”

“yeah, i am,” you whimper, feeling your cunt clench around nothing when he rewards you by spitting onto your clit. “all for you, kei.”

“you’re so cute.” 

you really are, all spread out on the desk, pretty and pliant just for him. there’s not a shred of resistance when he manuvers you closer or teases his fingertips around your quivering hole, ignoring your strained cries for more. dark pupils enlarge against gold irises, and keigo’s wings flutter eagerly as his arousal crashes over him in continuous, steady waves of heat. now that he’s between your legs and focused on his favorite late night snack, the scent of the coffee dissipates along with his thoughts. 

“keigo,” you keen, fingers threading through his tousled curls, “please, just—oh god, stop fuckin’ teasing me.”

a sportive smack! lands on the side of your bare ass, kicking up a few papers when you jolt forward in surprise. “easy, baby. easy,” there’s a low, warning pitch in his voice, and you settle down frustratedly, gnawing on your lower lip. keigo’s never been one to rush when it comes to eating your pussy, even during quickies—you’d be more aggravated if he didn’t always make you cum so damn hard. his face is flushed pink and shining with eagerness as he pushes two fingers inside you, fixated on the way they slide in so easily. 

he experimentally curls them, and a lick of heat washes over his whole body when he watches your face crumple, head tipping back weakly while you tug at his hair. the blond curls are soft between your fingers, giving you something to grab onto when you need to steady yourself. 

“fuckkk,” keigo groans, attaching his rosy lips to your clit and lightly sucking at the swollen, sensitive bud. clumsily, you grind your hips against his mouth, body sweltering as the small office fills with the impolite smacks of his lips and wet squelches of your sloppy cunt. “loosen up for me, baby, you’re too tight.”

a trembly breath leaves your lips as you obediently readjust for him, spreading your legs and trying to relax so he can tug his fingers back. for a moment, he pauses to appreciatively look over his glossy, creamy fingers—he sticks them into his mouth, moaning and squeezing his eyes shut as he puts on a show of swirling his tongue around them like some kind of slut. once he opens his eyes, those piercing gold hues meet your own and he plunges them back inside, making you whimper.

“listen to me, dovey,” keigo murmurs, breath fanning over your wet clit, “i want you cumming hard on my fingers in the next thirty seconds.”

“but—oh,” your voice cracks when he deeply curls his fingers, purposefully interrupting you, “what if it’s not enough? i don’t think i can—”

sharp, pearly teeth lightly graze your clit and make you mewl noisily, the action both a warning and a reward. “yes, you can, dovey,” he utters in a hushed voice, “c’mon, show me you’re a big girl. i’ll be counting for ya.”

with that, keigo dives back in, furiously licking your clit while he roughly curls his fingers into that sweet, spongy spot inside you. it’s probably not serious, but something in your stomach flutters at the thought of disobeying him—if he wants you to cum, you’ll do just that. your hips rock into his tongue, developing a messy rhythm that could possibly rival his own when he’s inside you—he smirks against you, clearly pleased with himself. papers lift into the air, swirling around in a flurry of white as if they’re caught up in a tornado. the source of the miniature storm is his wings, uncontrollably flapping about as he determinedly licks at your clit like a lollipop. 

twenty five. a thin sheen of sweat shines on your forehead, making the skin tacky. absentmindedly, you wonder if it could be possible for him to cum in his pants just from eating you out. he certainly enjoys it enough — whenever he says he’s feeling thirsty or hungry, he’ll end up eating you out for so long you pass out by your seventh orgasm.

twenty. keigo’s absorbed in the smell, sight, and taste of you. nothing’s better than watching you fall apart on him, dewy tears in your eyes as you fight back overstimulation or impatience. but this is new: he’s never demanded you to cum after setting a time limit in place. it occurs to him now that he didn’t think far enough ahead to answer the question you’ll probably end up asking afterwards, something along the lines of ‘what would’ve happened if i didn’t cum?’ . . 

fifteen. with your eyes rolling back into your head as your hips lurch off the desk, a bit of drool pours down your chin. covered in a mixture of sweat, spit, and slick, you’re at a loss for words as keigo’s damn tongue rolls over your clit again and again. perhaps you’re too dazed, but you swear you feel him etch the letters of his name into you with the tip of his tongue.

ten. keigo’s pussydrunk, soaking his boxers with precum as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. his eyes are dark with lust, and the rosy skin of his cheeks and chin is smeared with that sticky wetness he just can’t get enough of. all of your muscles pull taut like a bowstring, and you sob out his name, pushing his face into you as euphoria hits you from every direction and all at once.

“kei, oh my god, ‘m gonna fucking cum,” within seconds of your frantic gasps, you abruptly gush on his fingers, hard enough to push them out of you — cum squirts from your cunt, getting onto his face when he curiously leans in to lick it away.

you don’t get a second to come down from your high because keigo roughly licks you through it as if he’s severely dehydrated. “mmmph!” you squeal, hips immediately pulling away from him like he’s given you an electric shock. “wai—wait, keigo, it’s way too much!”

he relents, rolling his eyes as if he doesn’t believe you. “fine, fiiiiine. you win this one, dovey.”

“pants off.”

he quirks an eyebrow but starts to undo his belt, letting it fall to the floor with a soft bang. “you’re so fucking greedy, i swear.”

you throw him a glare, wiping sweat off of your forehead as you sit up, slowly hopping off of the desk. 

papers fall all around you, quietly crinkling as they hit the floor and surround the desk in a sloppy circle. your lips press into a thin line as you take the sight in, mildly exasperated by the mess you’ll force him to clean up. “on the desk, keigo. tuck your wings in too.”

he laughs in disbelief, used to calling the shots when it comes to sex, “so demanding, baby.”

you fix him with a serious look, crossing your arms over your chest while papers ride the dying currents of air made by his wings. keigo clears his throat and folds his wings close to his back, “yes ma’am.”

his flushed cock is rock hard, bobbing as he settles onto the desk; it’s fraught with veins and beautifully curved to one side, something you’re endlessly thankful for when he’s inside you. above him, you’re dripping wet and ready to take him deep — keigo shudders when you grip the base of his cock, carefully balancing yourself on the desk so that you can easily sit down on it.

“holy—oh, shit,” he curses, abs clenching beneath his clothing as he forces himself to keep his hips down. if you want to take control, he’ll give it to you — anything you could ever want is immediately yours. bleary gold eyes clear up and hone in on where you’re connected; your pussy swallows his cock whole like it’s nothing, leaving him breathless.

you swallow, gnawing at your lower lip, “i’ve fucking missed this, kei. been s-so long.”

memories from your most favorite escapades rush back to you so quickly your head spins, momentarily distracting you from the task at hand. there’s a beat of silence before keigo grips your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he borderline begs you, “baby, c’mon, fuck me already.”

“don’t tell me what to do,” you breathe, placing your hands in the center of his chest to hold yourself up, “you don’t get to do that right now, keigo.”

“god, you’re gonna kill me.”

maybe you won’t, but your hips will — they start to move until you’re bouncing roughly on his cock, letting his tip bully itself against your cervix. it’s the kind of kiss that only the two of you can understand, filled with affection and an hungry obsession for more.

for what seems to be the hundredth time, this mahogany desk is christened with more sex. skin claps against skin, filling the room with the same applause that echoes in a theater after a successful show; the whole building is empty, and it’s only your window that’s flooded with fluorescent light in the otherwise dark night.

“dovey,” keigo moans, voice cracking on the familiar pet name, “if you keep going like this, i’m—i’m not gonna last much longer.”

you don’t answer, eyes squeezing shut against the burn of exhaustion setting into your muscles. handsy as always, he grabs at your tits, pulling you further on top of him and taking a hardened nipple into his mouth.

the sharp edges of his pearly teeth drag against your skin as he sucks, golden eyes shutting once he hears your whiny moans grow louder. you’re fluid and all too smooth, riding his cock into oblivion while working in these little humps against his pelvis that don’t disturb the rhythm you’ve built up. your clit drags across his skin deliciously—shit, it’s possible that you could cum together.

“haah, baby,” keigo trembles beneath you, wings spreading out and quivering against his will. “i’m so damn close, i want—” it nearly sounds too intimate, but he ignores the voice in the back of his mind and focuses on his impending orgasm that’s fighting its way out of him. “shit, i just want you to cum with me.”

sensitivity creeps up your spine and makes your body ripple with a shudder, “r-rub my clit ‘n i will, kei.”

everything happens so damn fast; it doesn’t take long for your body to respond to his frenetic touch, and you completely fall apart on his cock, triggering his own high. while your cunt desperately grips him like a vice, he’s shooting endless ropes of cum deep against your cervix. ultimately, it was pointless for him to fold up his wings — they’ve fought against him like usual, strewing more papers around the room and knocking objects off of your desk.

“d-don’t move just yet,” he wheezes, holding your hips in place the moment you try to retreat, “just stay here for a second, dovey.”

a mixture of slick and cum is smeared in the wispy beige hair that adorns his pelvis, and he looks at you pleadingly, cheeks a blotchy pink. it’s cute, but not nearly convincing enough for you to stay much longer than half a minute. “c’mon, i’ve got some stuff to finish up.”

begrudgingly, keigo lets you go and winces as you pull off of his cock. it flops lamely against his stomach, cum dribbling down the sides and adding to the creamy ring around the base. he sighs, unsurprised by your eagerness to depart — his thighs are cooling now that you’re no longer sitting on top of them.

“that was good,” you say, voice layered with praise as you stand on the tips of your toes and peck an appreciative kiss to his cheek, “let’s get started on sorting papers, shall we?”

you’re already across the room before he can grab your waist and show you what a real kiss feels like, slipping through his fingers like fine grains of sand each and every time. 

☆ ☆

rules are the stitches in the seams of anything, always there to hold things tightly in place. it’s natural to break a few every now and then, but what if there are some that should be broken? perhaps they tend to hold things back rather than securely in place.

“okinawa’s just beautiful,” keigo says wistfully, reminiscing about white sand beaches and the bird’s eye view of colorful tourist umbrellas dotting the shoreline from above. there’s a small glitch in his memories that adds you to the scene in a bikini, sunbathing on a towel while he convinces you to come swim in the water with him. he hears himself say something impulsive, but he doesn’t regret it. “maybe we can go on a trip there together. i’ll fly us.”

you stir your drink with a straw, watching the alcohol whirl around ice. “ah, i think we should build up to that, keigo. you’re forgetting that i’ve never flown around that far with you before.”

“we could always change that,” he replies, voice suave. “nighttime is the best time to fly.”

“someday i might just take you up on it,” a laugh spills out of your mouth after a gulp of sweetened tequila, and keigo’s face softens. one of the things he loves most about you is the fact that you’re not afraid to be yourself around him, never once hiding a smile or laugh. “anyway, is there anywhere you haven’t traveled?”

“hmm, let me think,” he raises his fingers to his chin and ponders momentarily, although the answer had come to him the moment you’d started to ask the question. “well, there’s your house.”

you shake your head, nudging his wrist with your own. “noooo, i’m talking about other countries and cities. haven’t you flown out of japan?” 

“only to okinawa,” he supplies, wings twitching anxiously. whenever he brings up your home in the city or worse, him going to it, you always clam up or push him away. granted, it was a boundary line you’d marked in the sand when you’d gotten into this reciprocal relationship all those months ago. escapades have taken place everywhere but your home—he could count on one hand the amount of times he’d mentioned doing it at your place, only to end up on a random rooftop or in an empty alleyway. ever the quick learner, keigo learned not to bring it up. but now, when he’s considering all the variables involved when it comes to confessing to you, he can’t help but feel that it’s necessary to see your house at least once.

sweat rolls down his spine and he unconsciously tugs at his fitted shirt, feeling the heatwaves brought on from both the liquor and the crowded atmosphere of the bar. there’s so many people walking behind the two of you, so much noise, so many bodies all in one space — he feels a little trapped.

“i’ve never been,” you say, derailing his train of thought as you drain your third drink of the night and then flag down the bartender for another. “it’s supposed to be a great vacation spot, though.”

he wipes away the sweat from his forehead with his arm and finishes his drink before nodding your way, wings fidgeting behind him. “it really is, dovey. you wanna take off after another drink or two?”

two glasses slide on the counter, the sides dripping with condensation and cold to the touch. it’s nice to feel in his hands, and he feels his nerves calming after a few long sips. “sounds good,” you answer, feeling hot yourself. the edges of everything in the room seem to blur, thanks to the halos circling the dim bar lights. “you might have to carry me out of here, though.”

“oh, i don’t mind,” keigo answers with a smirk that you can hear in his voice before looking up at him, “but only if you promise you’ll hold on tightly.”

“yes, keigo,” you drawl, scooting your barstool a few inches closer to him. he follows your shameless eyes, tracing your weighted stare to the small gold chain around his neck. it makes a tinkling sound when keigo loops a finger beneath it, hazy eyes meeting your own.

“can’t stop staring, can you?”

you automatically roll your eyes and look away, although your heart starts to race with anticipation. it should be an innocent question, but keigo’s words roll off his tongue in a way that is loaded with his unique charm and flirtatiousness. in a matter of seconds, you’re overthinking the question and the certain innuendo behind it; your breaths come in shallow pants that are just barely audible, and a finger slips beneath your chin to tip your head up. 

keigo leans in, lips barely grazing the shell of your ear. “gettin’ all worked up and i haven’t even touched you? that’s a first for you, baby.”

just stop it, you think, yet you’re unable to turn away. damn, he’s got you right where he wants you, and he knows it — keigo shoots you a knowing smile when he notices your thighs unconsciously squeeze together. it’s so hot in this bar, and it only grows hotter in his presence; an uncontrollable shiver races up your spine and you shakily reach for your drink. “stop it, kei.”

your words are shaky, and his wings twitch triumphantly behind him, feathers slightly puffing up. the dewy glass slips right out of your hand and splashes all over your blouse, sticky tequila soaking all the way through to your bra and dampening your chest. keigo stifles a snicker and plucks the glass out of your lap, a little bit of liquid still sloshing around inside it.

“that—that was your fault,” you drop a loose ice cube into the remains of your drink and glare at him angrily as he dabs a handful of napkins against your chest, unabashedly looking over the shrinking fabric. now that it’s all wet, it clings to every inch of your chest and emphasizes the outline of your tits.

“oh, but i wasn’t holding the drink,” keigo clicks his tongue and sends you a wink, sweat shining on his forehead. 

“someone has to foot the bill,” you grouse, sourly blaming him for your now stained blouse and sticky chest. then, it hits you—neither of you are drunk enough to leave the bar. after flagging down the bartender and requesting six shots, you look at keigo competitively. “listen up. whoever finishes the shots first wins and doesn’t have to pay.”

“really, a drinking challenge?” keigo grumbles, knowing you have a better chance of winning. normally, he wouldn’t mind paying for you, but you’ve challenged him and might risk covering the bill you’ve both racked up. his head is fuzzy, but one thought is clear: he won’t let you.

“yes, really,” you shoot back, nose crinkling at the smell of the liquor all on its own in the shot glasses. it’s not sweet and there’s no chaser, but you’re determined to fight your gag reflex as it goes down. “ready?”

“i’m ready,” keigo sighs, lifting a shot glass. 

it ends faster than the alcohol was poured. you’re proud to have won, and keigo doesn’t let on the fact that he assisted you. despite the liquid fire burning your throat, you’re happy—too happy; this is the most drunk that keigo has ever seen you, and he’s in the same boat as you, looking for the oars.

he nearly forgets his card when he struggles to his feet and walks out of the bar with you, right into the not-so-dark nighttime of the city. all of the streetlights are fuzzy and the sounds of racing cars are muffled; this is a different area of the city and it takes a moment for you to register where you are in relation to keigo’s apartment.

“dovey,” he says, cheeks flushed a bright red, “do you wanna go to my place?”

strong, possessive hands find your waist and pull you close, pressing your damp chest against his. those gold eyes of his search your face carefully, as if he’s taking in your features and committing them to memory or looking for something he’s intent on finding. 

your hand settles on his cheek and you pull him forward for a kiss on the busy street, not caring about who sees or writes about it. you’re in your own world, thinking of nothing but keigo and his plush, yearning mouth—he’s got the sense to pull away before it goes further, vaguely gesturing for you to turn around. when you oblige, he wraps his arms around you and under your own, holding you securely against his chest.

“i’ll treat you to a little night flight.”

vermilion wings beat the air powerfully, kicking up dust and litter along the sidewalk as keigo lifts you off the ground and into the sky. you’re shocked and speechless as you look over the city from above, thousands of buildings endlessly illuminated with light and color from the entertainment district. “it’s beautiful up here,” you breathe, feeling a little less drunk now that chill air washes over your face and cools you down. “why didn’t you invite me up here sooner?”

keigo laughs, riding on the wind and becoming one with it. “i did, you just never took me up on it. as to why, i don’t know.”

everything’s so much clearer from up here. the view is impeccable, and the air is fresh, free of the different scents of the city — exhaust fumes, restaurants, cigarettes, the occasional incense store. you’re shivering, a little too cold from the breeze blowing through your damp blouse, but being pressed against keigo’s warm chest makes it more bearable. something prods at the back of your drunken mind, a thought you’ve pushed away each time it arrives.

keigo thinks he’s slick. he thinks you don’t notice his lingering gazes, the odd way he tries to snuggle up to you every time you finish having sex, or the acute tenderness written all over his face every now and then when he’s talking to you.

but you do. you notice it, each and every time—in fact, you know exactly what all of this behavior stems from, but you choose to ignore it. clearly, keigo is in love with you. it’s evident in his actions and body language, yet he hasn’t actually said anything. it’s so damn easy to notice and understand because you feel the same, you’re just better at hiding it. something about the idea of a relationship with the no. 2 pro hero of japan is daunting — not only because you’re his agent or you’ll constantly have to face the public, but because there’s a possibility that transitioning into something more from being friends with benefits may be too dramatic of a change. 

“oh, fuck,” keigo groans, getting lost in the myriad of lights and buildings below. he doesn’t know where the hell his apartment is and isn’t sure if he has the time to fly around for a half hour looking for it.

“what’s wrong?” you ask worriedly, suddenly aware of the fact that your legs are dangling in the air. in order to preserve his pride and sensitive ego, you don’t bring up anything about him dropping you, but your body tenses.

“it’s the shots,” he grouses, speaking quickly, “they’re gonna come back up.”

“where’s your apartment?”

“i don’t know,” keigo answers, and now you can hear him starting to gag as he forces the contents of his stomach back down. “i can’t keep flying around much longer . . sorry to cut this little flight short, baby.”

“it’s okay, just don’t get sick,” you reassure him slowly, trying to pinpoint your own apartment. surprisingly, the building is a minute or two away from you, if he flies fast enough. “keigo, we’ll head to my place. see that dark building right there, near the red billboard?”

he nods, and the waves of nausea evaporate instantly. after months, he’s finally going to see your apartment—he’s now leagues closer to successfully confessing his feelings to you. keigo’s heavy wings slice through the sky as he hurdles toward your apartment; while the speed is steady, the course is not. from below, people watch as something wobbles through the sky, shifting awkwardly from side to side in a way that isn’t at all graceful . . or intimidating.

you assume he really has to throw up, when it’s quite the opposite. “k-keigo, see that balcony with the potted plants? there’s only one pot of flowers.”

“is that yours?” he asks, struggling to control how giddy he is. “i see it.”

☆ ☆

with the solid, familiar ground of the balcony beneath your feet, things around you are a little steadier. still, the alcohol buzzes persistently in your head and makes you giggle over nothing. it’s warmer now that you’re out of the sky, standing close to keigo and surrounded by all of your potted plants. a pleasant tingling sensation courses through your limbs as your body wobbles, adjusting to being out of the air and the new thoughts that rush into your head.

everything’s still a little fuzzy at the edges, a reminder of your tipsiness and disorientation. keigo wraps a supportive arm around your waist when you nearly stumble to the ground, quietly giggling at your own actions and sighing contentedly in his grip. there’s a beat of silence as your body meshes into his, the kind that settles between two people who’ve just shared a long day, and it feels so natural that your mind absently drifts to two pairs of shoes beside one another and two cups of coffee in the mornings—perhaps you didn’t notice the routine you’ve slipped into, one so innate that it makes everything else feel a little less important.

“hey, did i mention how sexy you are when you’re drunk, dovey?” keigo hiccups, wings quivering as he leans on you for some support, struggling to balance just like you are. his knuckles nudge into your side gently, grin widening as if he’s waiting for a reaction from you. the playful edge to his voice falters momentarily, and you exhale through your nose, shaking your head in disbelief.

“ugh, you must’ve had much more than i thought,” you laugh, kicking the doormat up and retrieving the brass key from beneath it to unlock the door. it’s dark out here on the porch and the same inside, leading you to awkwardly jam the key into the lock.

“you always blow me off,” he sighs ruefully, smile dropping as he notices you using the key upside down. “what, do i embarrass you or something?”

“i-it’s not that,” you breathe, tensing the moment his chest presses against your back and his hand envelops yours to help you with the key. goosebumps rise on the tender flesh of your arms first, then all over your chest, beneath your damp blouse. you recover once the lock gives, sliding the heavy glass door open and catching your breath. “kei, you’ve always got something to say to me.”

“you, of all people, have the power to shut me up whenever you want,” keigo teases, following you into your quaint apartment. instead of appreciating the moment, his mind races to find an answer to the million-dollar question: why were you so intent on keeping him out of here? even in total darkness, the place is cozy, shelves adorned with knickknacks and décor that suits you. totally lost in concentration, keigo’s wings bristle and he accidentally knocks something off a shelf, but manages to catch it in his hand. you’re in the middle of saying something, but he doesn’t even notice, his eyes completely lighting up at the sight of the object.

“is this that glass bird i gave you all those months ago?” 

a nervous laugh rushes past your lips and you nod, hand falling away from the light switch. “yeah, i thought it looked nice up there. it’s pretty.”

“wow, baby,” he gingerly puts the figurine back in its place, elated by the possible significance that this little glass bird holds. “if i’d known you liked it that much, i would’ve showered you in gifts.”

in the middle of unbuttoning your blouse, you trip over your own foot, and keigo, ever the hero, catches you as gently as he did the figurine. his fingers splay across your bare side and you blink up at him, faced with another small gap that’s dying to be closed. “i know what i want as a gift,” you utter, voice low and sultry. the words seem to hang in the air like more of a promise than a request.

keigo can smell the liquor on your breath and the temptation that accompanies it—without a second thought, his lips are on yours and he’s pushing forward with alcohol buzzing in his veins. he’s so full of hope, believing the best over what he’s considered a sign of something more; it feels so right to kiss you like this, with his hands spanning your bare waist and tugging gently at your waistband. it doesn’t quite occur to him that he is inebriated and therefore may not be thinking as sharply as he would if he were sober in this situation. 

you shove forward, pushing him hard into a wall and nipping at his lips hungrily. despite being a little bothered by him being in your apartment, you can’t say you’re not interested in fucking on your own bed for once. a shaky gasp leaves you when you pull away for breath, stomach fluttering delightedly at the hardness of his cock pressing into your thigh.

his breath hitches in his throat, hazy mind racing a thousand miles an hour. the question leaves his lips with more urgency than intended. “i—shit, you really want me to take you right here?”

“in the hallway?” you laugh, astonished. “i’d much prefer my bed, it’s easier for you to fuck me as hard as you want.”

desire and lust conducts your actions, has you dropping your blouse to the floor and unclasping your bra next. each article of clothing falls to the floor in a heap, forming a trail leading to the bedroom door. keigo follows your lead, wings jittering with anticipation as he crosses the threshold. billowy curtains blow up and around the window, lifted by the night breeze, and your room is dark, the details barely visible: keigo notices the many pillows on your bed (so that’s why you were on his ass about buying more than just one) and the full length mirror off to the side.

keigo stops to glance at his reflection in the mirror, fraught with the sculpted curves of muscle—each line a testament to years of hard work and dedication. dark hickeys litter his tanned skin, all left behind from the heat of many moments. momentarily, his eyes shift from the glass to you, perched on the bed and waiting for him. his fingers subconsciously graze over one of the marks, just as he recalls one of your rules, a line that had been drawn in the sand early on—no marks, nowhere near your neck or anywhere at all, even if people couldn’t see them. 

it’s a curious little thing, isn’t it? you clearly have no qualms about marking up his body, but you never let him give you some in return—he hasn’t voiced it, not yet. he exhales softly, feeling the ache between his legs flare once you call his name expectantly. it’s like a switch flips, causing his mind to sharpen and his pulse to quicken when he steps toward you.

bathed in opalescent moonlight, you sit back against your makeshift throne of pillows, eyes raking over him shamelessly, as if you’re looking for something else to sink your teeth into. vermilion feathers puff up and shake themselves out as the bed dips beneath his weight. “come here,” he beckons you lowly, with every intention of making you his. “you’re mine, aren’t you?”

now mussed with abundant wrinkles, the bedspread shifts beneath your bodies as keigo slots himself on top of you and hastily kisses down your neck, lightly nipping at the tender skin, just enough to elicit soft moans from you. doubt melts into desire, lacing his ministrations with something more urgent. for six months, keigo has never seen or left a single mark on you, and tonight, that’s about to change—you’ve already broken the biggest rule you had by bringing him to your apartment, so how much further could this go? 

“yeah, ‘m all yours,” you whine, back arching off the bed when he bites at the soft skin of your tits, tongue lapping away the sticky tequila you spilled earlier. it’s so different—he can’t believe he went this long without making any objections. 

things are heating up fast, and that haziness from the liquor creeps up on both of you, blurring your thoughts just enough. his hips chase yours into the bed, and he eagerly grinds his hardened cock against your thighs, all over them. your voice cracks slightly when you try to moan his name, impatient as always. but keigo decides to take his time with you, kissing and biting longer than usual—he’s in no rush, not yet.

it’s intoxicating in every way possible, causing your body to swelter and thrash beneath his own. keigo’s moving fast, delighting in your pleasure and drinking in every reaction unapologetically. fuck, to think you’d denied him and yourself for so long—he should make it up to you somehow, shouldn’t he?

“dovey,” he pants, fingers slipping under the fabric of the panties appreciatively, “you wore my favorites?”

crimson fabric adorns your waistline, threaded with soft lace. for lingerie, it’s pretty comfortable: it doesn’t floss your asshole like a thong or g-string does, something you’d told keigo when you tried it on in the dressing room. he knew he’d be buying it the moment you stepped out with a bright smile on your face. seeing it on you now is surreal, and he nearly creams his boxers at the sight of it, wings conveying his thoughts for him through a tremble.

your hips rise up and off the bed so he can pull away the last bit of fabric that covers your body. “yeah, but it doesn’t matter now,” you titter cheekily, shockwaves of arousal shooting straight between your thighs.

unceremoniously, your legs are thrown open and keigo’s wings flutter in amusement, always the first thing to react to whatever you have to say. “it matters to them,” keigo comments, jerking a thumb back to point at his pesky wings, “fair warning, this place might be a mess by the end of this.”

“so long as you help me deal with it tomorrow, i don’t mind,” your fingers swipe his cooling spit off your chest, and you’re a little startled as you press at a fresh hickey. it’s sticky, skin now sensitive and tingling in a way that’s just right.

fierce as always, keigo doesn’t waste any time diving between your legs, eager to fuck but even more so to eat your pussy. glistening strings of slick stick to the tender skin of your inner thighs, connecting them to each other thinly until he licks it away. “mmm, dovey,” he moans adoringly, and your pulse quickens, “taste so goddamn sweet.”

keigo’s a proud pussy eater, the filthiest and best you’ve ever met. he could be gasping for air with his face covered in your cum and yet, he’d still have something utterly nasty to say. unapologetically nose deep, he slurps loudly at your soaking cunt and pins your antsy legs down over his shoulders. 

“ngh, keigo,” you thrash forward, thighs squeezing his head like a vice while your hips uncontrollably buck into his face. “please don’t stop, don’t fucking stop—”

“keep squirming around like that and i will,” he grunts, one hand pressing you down into the bed while the other pushes between your thighs. those tenacious gold eyes of his are hooded now, gleaming rapturously as he devours everything you have to give him like he’s been starving. loud, sloppy slurps soon fill the room, falling into cadence with your whiny moans; scarlet feathers ruffle in response to his most favorite sounds, and his hips rut carelessly into the mattress, desperately seeking friction.

your head falls back into the downy pillows, jaw dropping slackly as you unsteadily sneak a hand down to your clit, fingers seeking to rub a lustful itch away. keigo’s fingers wrap around your wrist and snatch it away from your pussy, instead guiding your hand to his head in a show of acquiescence. 

“don’t go doing that,” he groans, pulling up for air and pressing a thumb to your swollen clit hard enough to make your eyes roll back into your skull, “use your words instead, dovey.”

you weakly nod his way, and a sudden, swift slap is delivered right to your clit, the force behind it causing you to see stars. a twisted yelp tears from your throat, and you’re doe eyed when you tearfully glance down at him, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“gotta work on using your words, baby,” keigo coos, thumbing away a stray tear from your cheek. “jus’ trying to make you understand that i need you to tell me what you want.”

there’s a dark edge to his voice that makes the apologetic tone he’s taken on seem ingenuine, almost a little mocking. and yet, you let out a sweet moan, leaning into his touch with a hushed, “yeah, kei. i understand.”

still reeling from the tingling impact of the pussy slap, you guide his head back down between your legs and unsteadily grind into his mouth. he greedily drinks you in, smacking his lips like he can’t get enough of your honeyed taste, and unconsciously pulling you closer. his fingers rub tight circles into your throbbing clit, occasionally pinching the bud to elicit a scream or two before letting go.

keigo had always been taught not to play with his food—but when she’s quaking against his face and sobbing out his name over and over, he just can’t help himself. he’s had a perpetual  mean streak that he’s only ever unleashed during sex with you, taking an overwhelming satisfaction in fucking you dumb and then teasing you about it. he notices the way your thighs tense at either side of his head, the way your head falls back whenever he tenses his tongue.

your clammy fingers claw through blonde curls, saccharine moans spilling from your lips with each ravenous push of his tongue through your folds. it’s a push and pull rhythm that is nothing less than addictive, dragging out the air from your lungs and leaving you utterly breathless. 

“g-god, keigo,” you keen loudly, shoving him down without any regard for his ability to breathe, “need you to—i need you to fuck me with your tongue.”

he groans in response, shamelessly humping the bed now that the ache between his legs has become too prominent to ignore. it flares dangerously every time you say his name or look at him with that blissed out expression written all over your face . . fuck, now you’re telling him exactly what you want and pushing him around, something he’s always enjoyed. his tongue slips into your awaiting cunt and pushes deep, tasting even more of you once he finds that puffy, spongy spot inside of you that makes you clench up every damn time. 

your breaths come in rushed, frantic gasps that soften each word. “fuuuck, right there—yeah, t-that’s it,” your voice shakes involuntarily, tight with inevitable euphoria. “kei, you’re gonna make me cum, hah—‘m real close, don’t stop, don’t stop.”

you chant those last words religiously, and keigo’s offended that you’re thinking he’d ever want to. “on my fuckin’ tongue,” he half groans, half begs, not sure if you even hear him at all.

keigo doesn’t dare to stop until you finally come undone on his tongue, shuddering uncontrollably as he licks you through your high, nearly passing out from a severe lack of oxygen. you’ve got him in a beautiful leglock that he regrets breaking out of, but seeing the dazed, drunken look on your face when he comes up erases the thought from his mind. the entire half of his lower face is covered in your cum, and heat floods your face when his pink tongue darts out to clean up his lips, all while holding your lidded gaze.

a few sanguine feathers float around your face, falling from the air like snowflakes and lightly settling on the bed like rose petals. it seems to make the moment warmer, more romantic as if this is your first time with him—in hindsight, it would’ve been nicer to christen the relationship with a bed of rose petals and scented candles scattered around the room. instead, it was something that happened fast and right after conversations about ex partners.

you pout at him as he positions himself on top of you once again, pressing a wet kiss to your mouth. instinctively, you lick away the mixture of spit and slick he leaves on your lips, tasting yourself on your tongue momentarily. it’s bittersweet and a little syrupy . . maybe he really isn’t lying about you tasting like candy. your thoughts fade away when you catch a glimpse of his vibrant wings — you’ve always seen them, but not like this. this time, you’re up close to them, so close you can see the downy barbs and delicate vanes of each individual feather.

“are your wings . . sensitive?” you ask curiously, voice carrying the barest note of reverence as your hand tentatively inches over his shoulder. after each and every covert tryst of yours, you’ve seen keigo smooth out the feathers or greet you in the morning with stimulating news of his freshly scrubbed wings. but this—touching them—feels like crossing an unspoken threshold.

keigo doesn’t answer, his breath catching in his throat. he’d been in the middle of dazedly tugging his boxers down his body when you’d just dropped a miniature bomb on him. this is the first time that he’s been this astonished, features mellowing profoundly. soon, he finds his voice and uses it, words intertwined with an unexpected tenderness: “ . . it’s alright. they’re just a little sensitive, heh. nobody’s ever touched them before.”

as if they understand you’re talking about them, his wings shift toward your fingers, obviously inviting you to touch them. this is certainly new — for the first time, his defiant wings are actually yearning to be touched, even though they get a little choosy when it’s him who’s brushing his hands through the feathers. gingerly, you reach forward and your hand disappears into the mussed feathers, fingertips brushing lightly against the sensitive skin beneath. the apex of his wings is abundant with small, downy feathers that quiver at your touch.

his eyelids flutter shut and he emits a shy moan, swallowing a sudden heart-shaped lump in his throat. courage swells in your chest and you push further, awed by the all-encompassing softness that meets your fingers. you’d expected them to be coarse, rough from years of flying and smelling earthy or musky. the faint scent of mango wafts through the air, stirring up a sense of familiarity and comfort in your chest, reminding you of all the times he’d protectively wrap his wings around your body as if to steady you. 

“they feel so nice,” you murmur, feeling his cock throb against your thigh. it draws you back into the moment, where you’re naked beneath him with anticipatory legs sprawled open. “so . . soft.”

keigo’s buzzing when you experimentally stroke your fingers through the thin feathers, an intimate form of worship that is only understood between the two of you. “you, ah, didn’t expect them to be?”

a wind created by his flapping wings kick up your curtains and make the metal rings clatter on the bar they’re hanging on. “i thought they’d be a little rougher,” you purr, voice smooth and sultry as your legs lift, locking tightly around his waist. his v-line is visibly sharp and hard to the touch like cut marble against the pillowy skin of your thighs, muscles flexing as he guides his cock to your soaked pussy. 

“i’ll show you rough, dovey,” keigo huffs, smearing his cock with your slick and pulling your legs away from his sides. he’s going to fuck you up, and he can’t do it properly in this position—your feet are thrown haphazardly over his shoulders, thighs folded tightly against your chest. he’s painfully hard, leaking sticky precum all over and trembling by the time he pushes the tip of his cock between your folds. your response is immediate; an eager moan slips out of your mouth, hips bucking impatiently onto his cock.

“damn, baby,” his chest heaves tirelessly, skin flushed pink and covered in a thin sheen of sweat, “you’re ready f’me, aren’t you?”

you look up at him with dewy eyes, electricity shooting through your every nerve. “i-if i was made for—ah—anything, it was taking your cock.”

god, you can’t just say shit like that and cluelessly think he won’t actually fall in love with you—he was only asking for a simple ‘yes’, but now he’s got hearts in his eyes as he finally pushes inside you, swallowing down the sudden urge to blow his load this fast. pulsating, gummy walls wrap around him and seem to suck him deeper without him even moving; he weakly presses his head into your shoulder, gasping frantically as he tries to adjust to the grip you’ve got on him.

“f-fuckkk,” he stutters out, regaining his cool composure after a moment despite the room feeling like a sauna, “i’m gonna hold you to that, you better not forget it.”

he’s relentless, going from zero to sixty in a second with no thoughts of slowing down — he’s jackhammering his hips, curved cock ramming right into your sweet spot and french kissing your cervix. you’re dripping wet, slick pouring down your ass and making each thrust slip ‘n slide all the more smoothly; the bed creaks ceaselessly beneath the weight of your bodies, groaning so loudly it occurs to you that it might just break. but that isn’t even a problem, not with keigo, who’d drop a ton of money on something you could just express the slightest bit of interest in.

“h-holy fuck, keigo,” you gasp out, back arching off the bed, “i could—oh my god, i could cum just from this.”

“yeah, dovey?” he grins, voice tight as he quite literally plunges deeper into heaven. “jus’ from my cock?”

sweat beads on your forehead, making your body swelter with endless steam that seems to vaporize any inhibitions you still had after all the drinks. “nghh, w-wait, ‘m gonna cum—”

“wait?” keigo practically barks out a laugh, shaking his head ruefully at you, “there’s no waiting. i want you to cum right on my cock ‘n i’ll fuck you through it, dovey.” 

you nod with mascara infused tears streaming down your face, legs quaking uncontrollably. everything seems to happen at once — a twinge of pain takes root in the backs of your thighs just as the built-up tension inside you snaps into thousands of sparks, finally igniting your long awaited orgasm.

keigo forces himself to keep his eyes open despite the fact that he’s risking an early orgasm, balls clenching at the sight of you: your lips form an o shape as euphoria washes over you, making your body quiver frenetically. he swallows dryly, closely rocking his hips against yours so you don’t push him out. 

“kei,” is the first thing you sob out when you recover, struggling to catch your breath with every thrust fucking the air out of your lungs. you’re sensitive all over, skin prickling with heat that doesn’t cool even with his wings creating a draft. 

he’s straining tight at the seams, heart pounding in his ears as he thinks of nothing but you.

you, you, you.

with your sweet, glossy-lipped smile in the mornings and the voice of a vixen when you innocently call his name. you’re nothing less than beautiful beneath him, clawing at his shoulders and staring up at him with those glazed over, blissed out eyes while your body molds against his. it’s a shape he knows well, one he’s pictured in his head when he’s all alone, one he’s been dreaming about whenever his eyes close.

his breath catches in his throat. “haah, fuck—dovey, i can’t hold it anymore.”

“right fuckin’ there,” your voice cracks into a squeal, “mhm, jus’ cum inside me.”

“you mean it?” keigo asks dumbly, nearly melting at the wild look you throw him in response.

“yeah, kei—shit, ‘m gonna cum again,” the words rush past your lips, urgent as ever and spurring him on to keep going, “i want you to—i need you to fill me up.”

something sweet flashes behind his gold eyes and he tucks his face into your shoulder, breath coming in frantic pants while he gasps your name. you’re practically in your own world, moaning loudly and dragging his slim hips closer to your own. when his cock starts to twitch deep inside you, the heel of your palm digs into his lower back, forcing his tip right against your cervix. he’s burning hot, utterly lost in you with no way of finding his way out — cum spurts from his cock and the spasms wrack his body, each stripping away a layer of him until he’s left with only his heart in his hands. 

“i fucking love you,” it rushes out and he doesn’t regret it for a second, “god, baby. i love you so much.”

your eyes roll back as your body surrenders to the toe-curling sensation of your third orgasm of the night, euphoria hitting you from all directions and rendering you clinically cock drunk. you muster just enough strength to wipe the salty tears away from your eyes, teeth chattering just the slightest bit as you drag in a gasping breath. 

after a moment, you yawn, stretching out your folded body and nudging at his chest to get him to lay down beside you. “ooh, that was great, kei. there’s no fucking way i’m walking tomorrow.”

coming down is the hardest part.

keigo’s shaken to his core by your flippant response to his confession, but most of all, he’s deeply embarrassed to have said something—no, to have thought something this stupid. finally, he’s getting a taste of karma from all of his failed relationships; he wishes that he could allow himself enough pity to ask the abyss of the universe what he did to deserve this. the heat that had once been sexy dissipates immediately, leaving him as cold as a corpse. he rolls over to the side, letting go of you and staring up at the ceiling, laying on top of wings that don’t even have enough life to twitch. pathetic tears prick at the corners of his marked eyes, and for the first time, he’s happy that the lights are off.

“keigo? did you hear me?”

“sorry, i didn’t. what was it you were saying?” he drags a forearm across his sweaty forehead, overlooking the tender inflection in your voice.

“i just . . i don’t know. that was really good,” he may not hear it, but you do. quickly, you clear your throat and tug up the blankets, inviting him to crawl underneath with you. “goodnight, kei.”

he should bite his tongue, but he doesn’t; this is the last time. “goodnight, dovey.”

☆ ☆

after tossing and turning the whole night, keigo finally decides to end the torture at 5:20 am the next morning. it’s still dark out, and he figures that he can easily slip away under the cover of night. he’s got a mild hangover, but it won’t impair him, not when he’s determined to keep it together until he gets back home.

soberly, he absorbs his surroundings and recalls the memories that have been plaguing him for hours. his body tenses, thick cords of muscle pulling taut as if he’s bracing against the impact of a punch, and like it has countless times before, the scene replays in his head again. his emotional, devoted admission of love was something you’d completely ignored—again and again, you’ve only ever shown an interest in his body.

in his chest, he feels his heart clench horribly as he looks over your sleeping form. you’re curled up in yourself under the warm blankets, turned toward him with a serene look on your face that makes it all the more difficult to slip out from under the sheets and into the cold. like a cat, he silently pads into the hallway and collects his clothes as if he was never there. he’s inches away from the back door he’d been so excited to step through last night when he stops in his tracks, head hanging lowly as pangs of guilt hit him like fists. it’s not right to just leave you like this, not without making an effort to say some kind of goodbye.

keigo hesitates in the hallway, feet seemingly glued to the floor. all he can hear are loud alarm bells—every instinct is begging him to leave, to spare himself the imminent heartbreak of going back in that room to see you. against his better judgment, he eventually tiptoes into your room with every intention of giving you one final kiss. at your bedside, he bends forward and presses his lips to your forehead; the kiss is entirely chaste, the brief touch carrying a blend of quiet grief and the tenderness of a love that was bound to fall through.

like most things in his life, this kiss doesn’t go as planned. there’s a momentary flash of blue and white—he’s managed to give you a strong, accidental static shock with an innocent kiss at 5:22 in the morning. you blearily wake up, squinting up at him in confusion and making out the high collar of his hero jacket.

“good morning, keigo,” you stretch under the blankets and reach for his hand, “what—what time is it?”

“it’s early,” he answers unsurely, sitting down on the foot of the bed. his wings droop, vermilion plumes seemingly inanimate. “y’know what, don’t worry about it. go back to sleep, baby.”

“but where’re you going?” you sit up abruptly, eyes narrowing at his fully clothed body. a glance over the edge of the bed reveals that he’s even got his boots on! 

“i’ve got patrol, silly,” keigo picks the easiest excuse out of an array of choices, and you sniff it out immediately. “i’m a hero, remember?” silence hangs in the air for a moment before you slowly speak up, sounding more confused than anything else. “but saturdays and sundays are your off days.”

keigo pauses, tongue sliding over his teeth as he contemplates what to say now that he’s been caught in his lie. like an idiot, he’s managed to trap himself. you scoff, cognitive functions coming to back to life as the final vestiges of sleep fade away into the ruined morning. did he actually expect you to wake up naked and hungover, all by yourself?

“okay, you caught me. i’ve got some stuff to deal with.”

“this early? c’mon, why’re you in such a rush?”

ultimately, it’s best for the both of you if he pulls away.

keigo’s usual smile drops and he sighs, “i’ve got shit to do, okay?”

it’s this early in the morning, and your blood pressure is already spiking in a way that is most undesirable. “are you fucking kidding me, keigo?”

the way you say his name so angrily, so accusingly—it fucking irks him, causing the corners of his lips to pull downwards into a scowl. he’s not really angry at you, he’s angry at himself for causing this dilemma to begin with, but you don’t know that. how could you really know anything about him aside from the way he likes to fuck?

“why are you getting so damn pissy? i’m going to leave whether you want me to or not, okay?”

stark naked, you exit the safety of the bed and make a beeline to your dresser, where you yank open drawers in search of clothes. keigo stands, watching longingly as you pull on some panties and a bra.

“i’m getting pissy because you wanted to take off so i could wake up naked and alone! you didn’t even say goodbye.”

“i was trying to,” keigo argues back, jumping to his feet, “but you were the one who ruined that for yourself, didn’t you?”

“a kiss isn’t enough!” you snap, now covered in a loose t shirt and pajama shorts. “couldn’t you have just waited a few hours? maybe then you could’ve told me why you were leaving.”

“what the hell? so you’re saying i need a reason to go back to my own house?”

“i don’t see why you think you can lie to me!” your voice raises furiously, words sharp as daggers, “i’m not just your agent, keigo. i know you, i care about you! don’t you get that?”

it’s quickly evolved into a dangerous game of catch, the pressure to be the one to drop the ball growing heavier atop his shoulders with each passing moment. painfully, a vein in his forehead pulses from the headache brought on by the hangover and the memories that follow it. it’s been hours and he can’t seem to shake away the pain that gnaws away at him. he’s so stupid.

“yeah, i know you are,” keigo grits out bitterly, “all i wanted to do was leave.”

“so abruptly?” you press him for answers, flicking on a small lamp so you can see him clearly. deep wrinkles span the entirety of each article of clothing that hangs on his body, but it’s the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes that makes him look unusually sloppy, getting you to pause as you take the sight of him in. concerned for his wellbeing, you soften, body relaxing. “what—keigo, what’s wrong?”

“it’s just the hangover,” he squints defensively, backing away and into a corner, “anyway, you got your goodbye, didn’t you?”

your gentle, worried face falls away. it hurts more than any injury he’s ever gotten, but he has to keep the walls up to protect himself from the pain even though guilt slips in through the cracks like mustard gas. with a pinched sigh, keigo backs away from the wall, wings limply hanging behind him as he prepares to exit your bedroom with no intention of ever coming back.

he’s blindsiding you, lying to you out of nowhere and slipping through your fingers like steam, too elusive for his own good. without a second thought, you close the distance and grab firmly at his wrist, a gesture that would’ve worked once. “i can’t do this anymore,” he mutters without looking over his shoulder, snatching away from you as if he’s been burned. “i just . . i can’t.”

“what’re you—what do you mean, keigo?” he looks out into the distance of the hallway, focusing on a specific floor tile and tracing its grooves so he doesn’t have to see your face. just from your voice, he knows you must be absolutely crushed. for courage, he allows himself a steady inhale before stepping past the threshold and leaving you in the lurch.

“this,” keigo turns, gesturing wildly and spitting out the words as if everything that’s happened in this room is horribly filthy, “it’s bullshit, all of it. i’m done, got that?”

there’s a beat of silence, and keigo stays a second too long.

“keigo, you’re breaking my heart here.”

you’re probably referring to the sex, aren’t you? surely you’re disappointed by the fact that you’ll no longer be fucking the no. 2 hero, petting his wings and calling him by a name few are able to.

“oh, come on,” he looks over you sourly, shaking his head as his eyes span the entirety of your body, “you’re pretty. you’ll find yourself a new fuck buddy, it’s not that big of a deal.”

immediately, he regrets saying it, feeling a rush of nausea in his stomach—he doesn’t want you with anyone else.

you blink back tears, his stare suddenly invasive and hurtful. “i don’t want a new fuck buddy, i want you.”

“tough shit,” keigo grunts, wings drooping further down. the longest feathers now drag along the floor, picking up whatever there is to offer. “i’m done being friends with benefits.”

“i just—all this fucking time, i’ve been wasting my time wanting to be with you,” the words tumble out of you bitterly, filling up the space between you with everything you’ve ever wanted to say, and his ears prick, grasping at a possible implication beneath all of it, “god, to think i was afraid we wouldn’t be able to become something more—all of this was a mistake.”

keigo pauses, heart pounding in his ears and possibly affecting his ability to hear. “you’re . . in love with me?”

“i was,” the correction is swift and choked, reverberating straight to his core and making his body stiffen. it hurts more than anything to hear, carrying a horrible weight, the kind that makes him realize you’ve given up on him.

“then why didn’t you—that doesn’t make any sense,” he gasps, the newfound information hitting him like a freight train, “if you were in love with me, why didn’t you—how couldn’t you have said something?”

“what’re you talking about?” you hiss, harshly rubbing away the tears in your eyes with the back of your hand. keigo’s bewildered now, face devoid of anything but shock and some kind of adoration as he seems to process something inside his head.

he stares at you desperately, struggling for the right words, “fuck, dovey, why didn’t you say anything last night?”

“don’t call me that,” you snap, the petname far too fond for a moment like this one, “why would i possibly have said something last night?”

keigo falters, and his voice cracks as the words rush out like a torrent. “i told you that i—god, i fucking told you i loved you. didn’t you hear me?” 

oh.

oh.

his heart squeezes painfully in his chest when the realization washes over your face, making him realize the gravity of this misunderstanding—you didn’t hear him.

wearily, you take a seat on the edge of the bed. he sees the way your spine curves forward, and bites down hard on his lower lip once the first sob slips out of you. in an instant, keigo’s beside you and pulling you into his arms, shaking all over. he doesn’t know what to say, but his voice breaks with endless regret when he finally comes up with something. “i’m sorry, god, i’m so sorry,” tears race down his cheeks and into your hair as he murmurs despairingly, “i thought you didn’t care, i didn’t know—”

there’s nothing more to say. 

keigo tries anyway, brokenly whispering apologies that fade into the air like smoke. his arms are tight around your body, holding you closely — it’s an unspoken promise to never let you go again. for the very first time, he truly melts into you without the walls in the way or the burden of hidden feelings. when you slowly relax against him and your sobs become quieter, something shifts in the air. vermilion wings, once held down by the weight of everything they’ve been carrying, finally come back to life. wings that have had no other purpose but to protect keigo now extend outwards to protect you too, soft feathers cradling you tenderly in the quiet of the morning. just over the horizon, the sun begins to rise, bathing the city in the light of dawn and new beginnings.

[bartonomy]

A GLIMPSE BETWEEN THE VEIL

PAIRING James Potter x Whimsical!Reader

SYNOPSIS James Potter has never put much stock in divination, but when a peculiar classmate offers to read his future, he finds himself unable to resist.

CONTENT WARNING talk about the future, James freaking out, angsty but not too bad, not exactly romantic but the reader is implied to be interested

WORD COUNT 1.2k

library.

James Potter never fancied himself the superstitious sort. Sure, he had vague notions of grandeur- winning the Quidditch Cup, making his parents proud, marrying a cute girl with a laugh as sharp as her hexes- but actual predictions? No, thanks. That sort of thing was for people who saw shapes in tea leaves and claimed the wind is responsible for every little mishap.

Which was precisely why he was sitting crisscrossed apple sauce across from you, mildly bewildered, as you shuffled an old deck of tarot cards with an almost hypnotic grace.

“You’re taking an awful long time, darling,” James teased, propping his chin on his hand. “Are you searching for a particularly good future, or just one that doesn’t end with me embarrassing myself?”

You smiled, a slow, knowing thing that made his skin prickle.

“The cards take the time they need, James.” Your voice was soft, melodic, like you were speaking from somewhere just beyond reality. “patience, or you might spook them away, the nargles have been especially fussy these days”

“Wouldn’t want that, do we” he murmured, glancing down at the cards with skepticism.

It was a quiet afternoon in the Gryffindor common room, the fire casting warm shadows across the walls. Most of the house was either out on the grounds or in Hogsmeade, but James had lingered behind, half out of laziness, half because he’d overheard Sirius mention your readings and got inexplicably curious.

Sirius, for all his bravado, had walked away from his session looking rattled. Which was interesting and absolutely hilarious.

You sighed contently, spreading the deck between your hands like a fan. The firelight flickered, casting warm shadows over the cards, their edges frayed from years of use. James had seen you doing readings before- sometimes for your friends, sometimes for curious younger students, and even once for Professor Whats-Her-Name in the Courtyard.

“Please pick three,” you instructed with the same soft tone you only used in class.

"Aye, aye grand Seer", James did as he was told, amused despite himself. “So, how does this work? You going to tell me I’m going to be rich and famous or that my soulmate, the love of my life is around here??” he snorted "please let it be the latter one"

"You are already rich" you pointed out, laying the three picked card neatly in front of you and discarding the unused deck in your satchel "and whether or not you will find love...well. That remains to be discovered, hm?"

With that he rolled his eyes playfully and you hummed, drawing the first card and laying it gently in front of you. The Fool.

James blinked.

“Oi, that’s just rude.”

You laughed, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Not at all. The Fool isn’t the fool we all know, James. He’s someone at the beginning of a great journey, standing on the edge of a cliff, about to take a leap of faith.” You tapped the card. “He’s full of potential, but also reckless. Fascinating, don’t you think?”

James grinned. “Sounds about right so far.”

You drew the next card. The Lovers.

James coughed. “Oh, well—”

You tilted your head, studying it with quiet reverence. “This isn’t always about romance, you know. It can mean a choice, a connection, a relationship that defines a person. It’s about harmony and consequence. Something you can’t escape.”

James swallowed. His mind, without permission, conjured an image of Lily Evans—her oh so fierce green eyes, the way she scrunched her nose adorably when she was annoyed, how she never hesitated to call him out.

You watched him closely, as if seeing the thought pass across his face. He didn’t like how sharp your gaze was, like you were peeling him apart with nothing but intuition.

“Shall we?” you murmured, pulling the third card.

You turned over the third and last card.

James frowned at the image—a great tower, struck by lightning, people falling from its heights. The air around you both seemed to shift, the easy playfulness from before fading into something heavier.

“The Tower,” you murmured.

James swallowed. “That’s bad, isn’t it?”

You traced the image with a careful finger. “Not bad. Just… necessary.”

James gave a dry laugh. “Destruction is necessary? On my buttocks, you are just like us, little troublemaker”

“Sometimes.” Your voice remained gentle, but the certainty in it made James shiver and his uneasy smile faded. “The Tower comes when the foundation isn’t steady. It doesn’t destroy for the sake of it—it forces change. When the dust settles, the world isn’t the same, but that doesn’t mean it’s worse.”

James stared at the card, feeling an unexpected tightness in his chest. Something about it—it felt too close, like a whisper against the back of his mind.

“What kind of change?” he asked quietly.

You studied him for a long moment, then examined the fated cards in front of of you

James stared at them. The Fool. The Lovers. The Tower. A journey, a choice, a fall.

He let out a quiet breath. “You sure you didn’t stack the deck?”

You smiled, but didn’t answer. Instead, you gathered the cards and shuffled them again, your fingers delicate against the worn edges.

James watched you, the tightness in his chest still there, lingering.

“Do you ever do readings for yourself?”

The question was simple, but it was enough to stop your fingers mid-motion. You hadn’t expected him to ask that. It was an unexpected question. You weren’t sure why, but the thought of reading for yourself felt like stepping into uncharted territory, where the gods will have full access of your being, your soul, and your mind.

“I... would rather not” you answered softly, your eyes now focused on your hands,“I mean, It is possible if I do, but it’s not something I like to do often.”

“Why not?” James asked, his curiosity piqued, though his tone was lined with the previous horror of his reading. “Scared the cards might tell you something you don’t want to hear?”

You chuckled, but it came out strained. “Something like that.”

James leaned in a bit closer, tilting his head. “Come on, you’re always so ominous with the cards for everyone else. Don’t tell me you’re scared of a few little 'whackspurts' messing up your head.”

The mention of whackspurts—those silly, fuzzy little creatures from your gardens, made you stiffen slightly, but not in the way he intended. It was funny, yes, but also something you had come to associate with the fuzziness that clouded your mind whenever you thought too much about yourself. The confusion, the uncertainty, the inability to make sense of your own feelings. You’d often joked about whackspurts being responsible for any moments of mental fog, but in truth, it was far more than that. It was a kind of fear—the uneasiness of confronting the unknown parts of yourself, the parts that were tangled and elusive.

“I don’t think it’s whackspurts,” you said quietly, finally meeting his gaze. “not entirely at least, It’s more like… what if I look too closely and find things I’m not prepared to see? What if there’s something inside me that I’m not meant to understand?”

He only shrugged, " then you are forced to confront them no matter what. I mean, with the bullock of a reading you gave me, I can't entirely avoid it can I?" he gave you his signature smile, all teeth and stirring something foreign inside of you.

“You believe in fate, don't you?” you asked after a moment.

James shook his head. “I believe in making my own future.”

Your smile was soft. “Then do.”

The words settled into him, deep and warm, and he suddenly had the strangest feeling that one day—maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow—he would look back on this moment and realize just how much the universe had been trying to warn him.

[luvergirl-535]

I think you'd cook a one short one about the first time Paige saw Azzi's belly button piercing

don’t need to breathe (when you look at me)

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 5.3k

c/w - language, needles, FLUFF, smut

a/n - this is my fourth time trying to upload. lately, whenever i try to upload anything more than 100 or so words, tumblr gets slow and then crashes and i lose the whole thing!! it sucksss 😩. pls send help. anyway, hope you like!

Azzi absolutely hates needles.

It’s something she’s always known about herself—when she was getting her four-year-old vaccines, she fought the nurses holding her down and ripped the needle out of her leg while screaming like a banshee.

Safe to say, whenever she finds herself around needles, it’s usually against her will.

Which is exactly why she wasn’t brave enough to get her ears pierced until she was fifteen. It’s also exactly why, when her mother brings up a belly button piercing the summer before college, her reply is an immediate and adamant no.

“Why not?” Katie asks, as if she doesn’t know her daughter at all. “I had one when I was around your age.”

Azzi shudders at the mere thought of a piece of metal forced through the inches of skin between her navel and belly button. “No way, Mom.”

“I gotta say, I agree,” her dad pipes up, and usually Azzi doesn’t favor his opinions on these things (crop tops were a no until she was thirteen) but today, she smiles gratefully at him. “She doesn’t need nothing like that ‘till she’s older.”

“Tim,” Katie says exasperatedly, “she’s an adult.”

“Yeah, but not really,” Tim says, throwing his arm around Azzi’s shoulders. Azzi burrows into her dad’s chest in an attempt to hide from her scary mom with the scary needles.

“It was just a suggestion,” Katie sighs, reaching into the oven to pull out the pot pie. “You don’t have to if you don’t want it. They’re just cute, is all.” Placing the hot pan on the stove, Katie turns back to the two of them, smiling slyly at Azzi. “I’m sure your girlfriend would think so, too.”

Admittedly, that thought itself has the cogs in Azzi’s mind turning.

————————————

Later that same day, at around 10:00, Azzi’s phone buzzes with a text from none other than Paige Bueckers, also known as Azzi’s aforementioned girlfriend.

I miss you

The two of them had woken up on FaceTime that morning, and had been texting throughout the day, but it’s been a few hours since their last conversation so of course it’s the first thing Paige would say to her. She’s never liked conventional conversation starters, anyway.

Before Azzi can respond, three other texts come in tandem:

send me pics

WHOAAA pause, not those kinda pics. I just miss looking at u or whatever

but if you wanna send those kinda pics i wont complain 😛

Azzi rolls her eyes, albeit affectionately, at her phone screen. A pang of longing shoots through her stomach, reminding her just how much she misses her stupid, dorky girlfriend.

Typing quickly so that Paige won’t beat her to it, Azzi types: I miss you too p

And then, you’re like a teenage boy btw

The response comes fast: rudeee I just wanna see my girlfriend’s beautiful face

are you ovulating or something?

whoa howd you know

Once again, Azzi rolls her eyes. And then her thumb hovers over the camera app before she opts for Facetime instead, pressing the button and smiling when Paige answers halfway through the first ring.

“—out of my room, seriously!” Azzi catches the second half of Paige’s sentence, and immediately knows who she’s talking to—that tone is reserved for one particular little boy.

“Hi,” Azzi says, and Paige’s attention snaps down to her phone, eyes crinkling with a smile.

“Hi, baby,” she says softly, and then there’s giggling in the background and Paige looks away again. “Drew, for real, leave me alone!”

“I wanna say hi to Azzi, too,” Drew’s playful whine comes distantly over the speaker.

“Aw, let him say hi,” Azzi argues.

Paige glares down at her, but then Azzi gives her a stern look—she’s a firm believer that Paige needs to be nicer to perfect little Drew, even though she herself isn’t a saint to her own brothers by any stretch. Sighing dramatically, Paige passes the phone over to Drew, whose smiling little face appears on the screen. “Hi, Azzi!”

“Hey, Drewski,” Azzi replies, ignoring Paige’s mumbling in the background. “How’ve you been?”

“Good. Today I beat Paigey in 1v1 and then she beat me up and knocked my tooth out.”

“Drew!” in a second, the phone is ripped away from him and back to Paige, who’s looking urgently at the phone. “He’s lying, he lost that tooth naturally.” She looks up, presumably at her hysterically laughing little brother. “And you didn’t beat me, I let you win.”

“Hey! I’m gonna tell Dad you said that!”

“He can’t do anything to me, I’m an adult.”

“I’m gonna tell him you said that, too!”

“Well I’ma tell him you’re bothering me if you don’t get out my room!”

Finally, there’s the aggressive sound of the door slamming shut, and Paige smiles triumphantly down at the phone.

Azzi leans back against her pillows, shaking her head. “Fighting with him as if he isn’t seven years old.”

“Hey, I gotta do what I gotta do,” Paige replies, the background changing as she moves across her room to set the phone on her desk. “I’on like him around when we call.”

“Why not?” Azzi asks, even though she already knows the answer to that.

“‘Cus sometimes I wanna say things to you that nobody else should hear.” Paige grins devilishly, but there’s something a little heavier in her eyes, and that longing curls a little more dangerously in Azzi’s stomach now.

It’s been a long time, but they’ve yet to resort to phone sex. With Stewie curled at her feet and her brothers in the next rooms, Azzi decides she’d like to keep it that way.

“Again, teenage boy,” she teases, and it successfully changes the atmosphere.

Paige gasps and plops down in her desk chair in order to get a closer look at her. “That’s actually offensive.”

“Uh-huh,” Azzi says, watching as Paige fiddles with something on her desk before picking up her gaming headset, and her mouth drops. “You’re not about to game while we’re on call right now.”

Freezing, Paige stares at her, slowly setting the headset down, “What? No, ‘course not.”

Azzi would call Paige a teenage boy again but she thinks it might actually give her a complex, so she decides against it. “Hey,” she says, already feeling her palms get sweaty at the thought of what her mom said earlier, “what do you think about belly piercings?”

“For you or for me?”

“In general.”

Paige shrugs, leaning back in her chair. “I dunno. They’re cute. Why?”

Azzi bites her lip. “My mom thinks I should get one.”

“Yeah?” Paige wiggles her eyebrows at her. “That’d be hot.”

“You think?”

Paige nods decidedly. “Yeah, I do. But you’d never get one, right? I mean, you cried last time you had to get your blood drawn.”

Azzi waves her off. “That was a long time ago.”

“That was four months ago, baby.”

“Okay, whatever.” Azzi flushes at the memory, how she and Paige had gone together for their physicals and how Azzi had been shaking with nerves while Paige sat cool as a fucking cucumber. Paige had teased her about it when the tears started, but she still wiped them away tenderly and later, Azzi heard her asking the nurse if they really had to do the needles. “Maybe I will do it.”

Paige looks at her with this doubt in her eyes that she hates. “You will, huh?”

“Maybe,” Azzi reiterates a little nervously, because she can’t promise anything, not when it comes to a long-ass needle going through her flesh. Okay, so, maybe not.

But Paige is almost smirking now and so she says, “I’m seriously thinking about it.”

Paige nods at her, clearly bemused. “Sure, sure. You, the girl who has a scar on her thigh from ripping a needle out of it—“

“I was four!”

“Still,” Paige laughs. “No way you’re getting that piercing. Maybe stick with a lil nose stud, that’d be cute.”

Deep down, Azzi feels a certain tug of competitiveness—all too familiar when it comes to her girlfriend. And, in this case, dangerous, because when Paige challenges her to something, she refuses to lose.

But, this isn’t a challenge. This is just Paige being Paige. It’s not a challenge until someone says—

“I’ll bet you twenty bucks you get a belly piercing,” Paige jokes. And dread curls in Azzi’s abdomen. Because there it is.

Scary needles and crushing anxiety aside—suddenly, Azzi needs that twenty dollars. And she will absolutely not be losing it.

————————————

Azzi is in her room, trying and failing for the third time this week to pack for college, when her mother appears in the doorway. “Hey, Az.”

“Yeah?” Azzi asks without looking up.

“Can you come help me unload the groceries? I can’t carry them all by myself.”

“Uh,” Azzi glances at her suitcase—which needs to have her whole life packed away inside it within the week—and decides it can wait, “yeah, sure.”

She doesn’t notice the twinkle in Katie’s eye as she gets up and heads out into the hallway. As she walks down it, she registers the muttered sounds of her family and realizes she hasn’t heard the dogs in a few moments. Turning back to her mom, she says, “Where are the dogs?”

“Oh, we put ‘em in our room,” Katie says, taking Azzi by the shoulders and ushering her down the hallway.

Azzi furrows her brow. “Why?”

Katie pushes her out into the living room and the first thing she notices is her brothers and dad all gathered there, watching her with—excitement? Anticipation? And she’s about to ask why when Katie takes her by the shoulders once again and turns her so she’s facing the front door, and there’s Paige, knelt down, focused on untying her shoes.

Azzi doesn’t move, because is this real? This has gotta be an stress-induced hallucination, right?

But, no. It’s real. She knows because Paige, her perfect, oblivious girlfriend, hasn’t noticed her yet, and is chattering away like she always does: “So then I was like, yo, it’s not my fault you didn’t buy an extra seat, so like, why would I give you mine? And usually I would’ve given it up but I told her, I was like, I gotta see my girl, I can’t get off this plane. Because that’s serious to me, you know? And I…”

Paige’s rambling trails off only when she finishes taking off her shoes and finally glances up, to find Azzi standing a little awestruck a couple feet away.

“Oh,” she says, smiling almost sheepishly at her as she straightens up, “hey.”

For some reason, that’s what snaps Azzi out of her Paige-induced trance and she sort of forgets about the rest of her family watching them as she crosses the few steps it takes to launch herself into Paige’s arms, nearly sobbing with relief of a weight she didn’t know was there being lifted off her shoulders as she’s wrapped up in an all-too-familiar embrace.

“You’re here,” Azzi breathes, almost unable to believe it. “Why’re you here?”

Paige squeezes her tight, leans down to bury her face in the crook between her shoulder and neck. “Couldn’t wait any longer,” is all she says, and Azzi hasn’t ever agreed with anything more.

————————————

It’s not until later—after a celebratory lunch and family board games and then a celebratory dinner and family movie night, completed with ice cream sundaes—that they get a moment alone.

As soon as they’re stepping into Azzi’s bedroom, Paige is on her in a second, holding her tight by the waist and inhaling deeply into her hair. It’s almost instinctual the way Azzi reciprocates, her body moving on its own accord to wrap her arms around Paige’s broad shoulders and hold her close. It’s not for a few more moments that Paige says something. “Missed you so much, Az.”

“I know,” Azzi nods, pulling away just enough to get a good look at her girlfriend’s face, and though they’ve spent half the day together she still marvels at the fact that she’s looking at her without the barrier of a shitty internet connection, hearing her without the interruption of cackling speakers. “‘M happy you’re here, baby.”

“Me too,” Paige replies, leaning forward so their noses are touching. “We should never do that again, yeah?”

“What? Spend the summer apart?”

“Uh-huh,” Paige replies, her eyes drifting shut as her lips brush up against Azzi’s. “Hated every second of it.”

“Me too,” Azzi breathes, closing her eyes as well at the feeling of Paige’s breath up against her lips, her hands running slowly up and down her back before moving to her stomach, pushing against her. Azzi gasps as her back hits the bedroom door, eyes opening to study her girlfriend’s face, to find her staring back. Her pale cheeks are already a little flushed, and Azzi must be wearing a similar expression because Paige chuckles softly before leaning down and finally pressing their lips together in a soft, tender kiss. Chaste enough but nothing like the few pecks they shared today—this is intimate and weighted and altogether not meant for her family to see.

“Azzi,” Paige mumbles needily against her lips and it’s almost embarrassing how quickly she’s getting wet, just from a closed-mouth kiss and roaming hands on her stomach and an utterance of her name.

But she can’t really bring herself to be embarrassed. Because this is Paige. And it’s been so much longer than either of them can bear.

“Az,” Paige repeats, pressing soft kisses against the corner of her mouth now, “I…can we?” she pulls back and Azzi’s legs nearly give out at the hot, desperate look in Paige’s eyes. “Need you,” she insists.

Azzi glances over her shoulder, at the closed door and the hallway she knows is beyond, her family separated only by square meters and walls. It’s not an ideal situation.

But neither is holding off for another day. Even another hour might destroy her, if the damp spot growing on her panties has anything to say about it.

So, Azzi nods, untangling her arms from around Paige’s neck in order to reach back and lock the door. She can’t help but smile at the excitement in Paige’s eyes when she turns back to her, and at the same time she gives her a look that’s all warning. “We gotta be quiet, though.”

“Got it,” Paige nods, already walking them backwards toward the bed.

“And no strap,” Azzi continues, then squeals as quietly as possible when Paige pushes her down onto the bed.

Paige is back on her as soon as she’s lying down, kneeling on the bed to hover over her, and the pout on her face contrasts almost comically with the heat in her eyes. “But I brought it for us.”

Azzi isn’t all that surprised—of course Paige would bring their neglected dildo to her surprise visit at Azzi’s parent’s house. But Paige becomes sort of feral when that thing comes on and Azzi is no better, often unable to hold in the noises that rip their way out her throat while Paige pounds her.

As Azzi scoots back until her head hits the pillows, wrapping her arms around Paige’s neck so she follows, she knows tonight isn’t the night for rough and filthy. The longing in her belly is heated, sure, the arousal leaking from her downright sinful—but there’s something almost innocent in the way she needs Paige tonight. She needs her as if she’s a piece of her that’s been missing too long, and it’s only natural to come back together like this.

“Paige,” she whispers, pulling her down, “please, just—don’t need any of that. Just need you, right now.”

Something softens almost immediately in Paige’s expression at that, the arousal clouding her gaze clearing just a bit and making way for pure, unadulterated love.

“Aight, baby,” Paige mutters, kissing Azzi again, and this time Azzi opens up for her, salivating when Paige’s tongue meets hers, pushing past to enter her mouth and lick around inside like she’s looking for something. Azzi’s legs go instinctively around Paige’s waist, hands tightening around her neck, anything to bring them as close as possible.

Paige pulls back when Azzi’s breath gets shaky, string of saliva connecting their lips until Paige licks it away. “I gotchu,” she reassures, one hand finding its way from where it’s bracing her on the bed to stroke down her cheek, to her collarbone. “Just relax, baby.”

“‘S been a long time,” Azzi replies, figuring that’s the reason for the lump of anxiety in her throat, the way she’s grasping at Paige as if she’ll disappear. And, sure, it’s only been three months—what’s three months, when plenty couples go years without seeing each other?—but for Paige and Azzi, it felt like an eternity. And Azzi realizes it’s a little overwhelming coming back to something so familiar all at once.

“I know,” Paige says, leaning down to trail her lips delicately against her jawline. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Uh-huh,” Azzi replies, a little breathily now that Paige is moving to that sweet spot on her neck. And when she gets there, she sucks, not quite hard enough to leave a bruise but hard enough for her to feel it. “Paige,” she murmurs, her own hands going to the hem of her sweater, “Wanna—take this off.”

“Okay,” Paige replies, helping Azzi sit up just enough to pull the piece of clothing off and toss it somewhere across the room. It’s dimly lit, only the moonlight and the lamp on Azzi’s bedside table to illuminate the room, but it’s plenty enough for Paige to take in Azzi’s bare torso, eyes flickering from her collarbones to her chest to her face, then back to her chest again where her gaze lingers—Azzi reminds herself to make fun of her for that later—and then, finally, Azzi watches her girlfriend’s gaze travel down the bare expanse of her stomach, to her navel, where her eyes widen and her jaw drops just slightly when she sees the new piercing sitting there.

“You…” Paige mumbles, never ripping her eyes from the piercing, and Azzi giggles. “You actually got it.”

“Had to,” Azzi says, pleased with the reaction. “You owe me twenty, by the way.”

Paige looks up at her then, and her free hand travels down Azzi’s stomach to cautiously touch the stud. “Did it hurt?”

Azzi nods. “Yeah. But it was worth it.”

Paige nods along with her. “Definitely worth it.”

Her lips reattach to her neck, but they don’t linger there, moving quickly down to the dip between her collarbones, her fingers still delicately playing with her piercing. “Got it a couple days after our FaceTime. You remember?”

Paige nips at her collarbone. “Yeah. Thought there was no way in hell you’d get it.”

“‘S why I did,” Azzi replies, tone going a little unsteady again as Paige’s lips travel lower, reminding her of the pulsing that’s beginning to ache between her legs. “Knew you’d like it.”

“I was right, though,” Paige replies, a little muffled as she kisses the pillowy flesh of Azzi’s chest, “it is hot.”

“Tha-anks,” Azzi moans out, clutching Paige’s hair as she finally attaches to a nipple. Her head falls back, relishing in the way Paige flicks her tongue, feeling so much better than Azzi’s own fingers ever could. She’s resorted many times to playing with herself while thinking of Paige, but it’s never the same. And maybe the knowledge of how good Paige is had begun slipping away from her, but it comes back now with sharp clarity as Paige suckles and then smooths down with the flat of her tongue.

Paige moves over to Azzi’s other breast, making sure to litter a few marks across her chest on the way, and she busies herself with removing Paige’s ponytail, fingers fumbling a few times around the hair tie before she gets it off. Paige chuckles against her when her hair falls loose around her shoulders, and Azzi smiles, too, watching through hooded eyes as Paige lifts her head to place a chaste kiss on her lips. “Can we take these off?” she asks, tugging at the waistband of Azzi’s sleep shorts.

Azzi nods, lifting her hips while Paige pulls them down, leaving her underwear on. It’s not exactly a cute pair—she didn’t prepare for sex when she woke up completely Paige-less this morning—but she can’t bring herself to be self-conscious about it.

“Mm,” Paige hums, dragging her lips down Azzi’s chest, to her navel, where the tip of her tongue pokes out, licking around her piercing. Turns out she likes it even more than Azzi thought she would. Azzi watches, lazily, while Paige presses open-mouthed kisses against her. She wants to urge her on but at the same time knows she needs to be patient, needs to let Paige take her time with her.

“Fuck,” Paige mumbles against her skin, then licks down to the hem of her underwear, kissing along it to nip at her hipbone. “Missed this so fucking much.”

“Baby,” Azzi breathes, watching Paige open her legs enough to settle between them, breathing hot and purposeful over Azzi’s clothed core.

“I know,” Paige mumbles, eyes locked on the wet patch on Azzi’s panties. She takes her bottom lip between her teeth as she brings a thumb to rub gently over Azzi’s clit, and it makes her hips push up for more. “I’ma eat you now, okay?” Paige says, looking up at her.

Azzi nods. “Please, P.”

Paige licks her lips, then presses them to the plush skin of her inner thigh, making quick work of pulling the panties off. As soon as she does, she spreads her open even wider, eyes hooded and mouth slightly open when she takes two fingers and spreads her folds. “Look at that,” she breathes, licking her thumb before using it to rub her clit in little circles. “She’s cryin’ for me, huh?”

“Fuck,” Azzi moans breathily when Paige nuzzles her nose up into her. Paige uses her free hand to press down on her abdomen, partly to keep her still and partly to make it feel better, and she tries to stay steady, resisting the urge to arch her hips up.

“Hold my hair, mama,” Paige says, and with shaking hands Azzi does, gathering her long hair away from her face. Glancing up at her, Paige licks a long stripe up her cunt as a reward. Azzi gasps desperately, gripping her hair a little more tightly and pulling her closer, urging her to do that thing she loves. And Paige gets it, smirking against her pussy before dipping her tongue into her hole, effectively drinking her up while her nose bumps against her clit. Head lulling back against the sheets, Azzi throws an arm over her face in a feeble attempt to keep quiet.

“Tastes so good,” Paige moans into her, mouth wide open as she sucks her folds into her mouth. “Missed this shit so bad, mama.”

“Mm-hmm,” Azzi whines, unable to respond or even really register the words with the way Paige is making such a mess of her, spit mixing with Azzi’s own juices, leaking down onto the bed.

Paige licks into her entrance again, the warm muscle exploring that spongy spot inside her and then going up to her clit and sucking it harshly into her mouth. Azzi bites down on her hand—otherwise, she’d sob.

When Paige looks up and catches her struggle, she smirks and wraps her arms around Azzi’s thighs, situating them over her shoulders and pressing a few tender kisses to Azzi’s clit. “So pretty, baby,” she mutters, and Azzi shivers when her hot breath hits her cunt. “Wanna do this forever.” She works her jaw, and Azzi barely has time to register what she’s doing before Paige spits on her, using her hand to rub it in, and then going in and licking it back up.

“P—“ Azzi chokes, scratching her nails roughly through Paige’s hair, holding her head close enough that she doesn’t move when her hips cant up. That warmth in her belly becomes tense, a familiar knot forming there, and her legs begin to shake.

“Close?” Paige asks, knowing all her tells.

Azzi nods urgently, pulling Paige’s head back down, gasping as she presses the flat of her tongue against her clit before flicking it at an impossible speed, her hips grinding up as she rides Paige’s face, head turning to the side to bury into her pillow.

“God, Paige—gonna come,” she says urgently, the feeling of Paige nodding against her only hurdling her closer, “fuck, love you so much. Love you so fucking much, gonna make me come, fu-uckkk!”

She thrashes, legs shaking impossibly hard as Paige licks her through it, her hand rubbing furiously at Azzi’s poor clit while she slurps up the arousal gushing from her, and she doesn’t stop until Azzi’s heels are kicking against her back, palm of her hand pushing at her forehead.

Even then, Paige gives her a last kiss on her clit before surging up to meet her lips, the kiss they share far too tender for what just happened.

“Missed that,” Paige whispers, smiling down at her when they separate.

“Fuck,” Azzi sighs, looking up at her girlfriend almost in disbelief. “Me, too.”

She combs her fingers gently through Paige’s hair, getting the knots, and Paige’s eyes flutter shut. Slowly, she lets her hands wander, down her shoulders, her chest, to her stomach. “Baby,” she whispers, watching Paige open her eyes slowly, “need to see you.”

Paige hesitates and for a moment Azzi thinks she might be too tired, but the next second she’s reaching behind her and pulling her t-shirt off. Azzi’s hands immediately go to those toned abs she loves so much, then up to Paige’s sports bra. “This, too.”

Obediently, Paige pulls the tight material over her head, tossing it along with the rest of their clothes. Azzi doesn’t take her time—can’t bring herself to, not now—bringing her hands up to Paige’s tits and squeezing them. Paige inches up, encouraging her, and Azzi lifts her mouth to one of her hands, separating her fingers to expose a nipple and taking it between her lips. Paige is quick to react, bracing herself on Azzi’s shoulders while she grinds down onto one of her thighs, and Azzi can feel the wetness through her sweats.

While her tongue works over the pert nipple, she lets her other hand wander back down Paige’s stomach, under her sweatpants, and when Paige grinds down encouragingly, she dips her fingers into her boxers. Using her pointer and ring fingers, she spreads her folds, then drags her middle finger up her sopping slit, groaning into her breast at the sheer amount of wetness she feels there.

“Az,” Paige breathes, bearing down on Azzi’s hand, but the angle is all wrong and she pulls of her tit with a pop.

Urging Paige off her lap, Azzi flips them over, knowing Paige would resist if she wanted to. But Paige is needy, hair a mess and lips swollen, chin still a little wet with Azzi’s arousal, baby blue’s wide as she stares reverently at her. “Lay back, baby,” she mutters, making quick work of the rest of Paige’s clothes once the girl obeys.

As soon as she’s naked, Azzi crawls over her, dipping her hand back between her legs, warm heat pooling at her fingers. “So wet, P. I make you like this?”

“Fuck, yes,” Paige replies, and it’s her turn to wrap her arms around Azzi’s shoulders, nails scratching a little when Azzi dips a finger into her hole.

“You want it?” Azzi asks, teasing, rubbing her thumb over Paige’s clit before going back down to her entrance.

“Need it,” Paige insists.

“Gonna be good for me?” Azzi murmurs, leaning down so she’s right by her ear, making Paige shiver. “Gonna be quiet, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Paige says, the submissive tone in her voice rare and so fucking sexy, “promise, baby.”

“Mm,” Azzi hums, relishing in the little noise Paige makes as she slides a finger inside her. Paige arches forward, burying her head in Azzi’s neck, and Azzi presses comforting kisses to her shoulder, shushing her gently. She pumps in and out a few times, getting her ready, before sliding another one in, and she loves the way Paige curls even further into her—not an inch of space between them. She wishes they could stay like this forever.

Starting out slow, Azzi goes in an out, spreading her fingers against the impossible tightness surrounding her fingers. She glances down between their bodies, but it’s hard to see—still, she can just make out Paige’s cunt sucking her fingers in eagerly, and she moans maybe a little too loud.

“Oh, oh,” Paige whines into her neck, clinging onto her as Azzi picks up speed, “don’t stop, so good.”

Azzi bites her lip, concentrating, and on her next thrust she hooks her fingers upward on the way out, letting them drag against that spongy spot deep inside, and Paige sobs, nodding feverishly.

Azzi pulls away, forcing Paige’s head out of her neck so they can look at each other. She uses her free hand to brush a damp strand of hair from Paige’s face. “Right there?”

“Yeah,” Paige breathes, obviously doing her best to be quiet, and Azzi thinks they’ll need to empty out the house tomorrow so they can do this again without so many restraints.

Azzi repeats the motion once, twice, and Paige’s eyes roll to the back of her head. Her thighs clench around Azzi’s hand, abs tightening—she’s getting close.

Nuzzling their noses together, Azzi brings her thumb to Paige’s clit and starts rubbing hard.

Paige cries out weakly. Azzi presses their lips together, regretfully swallowing every noise Paige makes, arm growing tired as she works her over, thrusting fast and hard now. Paige is writhing, hands keeping Azzi close as if she’s going to up and leave.

“Not going anywhere,” Azzi murmurs against her lips. “You okay?”

Paige moans. “Getting close—just…stay right here.”

“Okay, baby,” Azzi whispers. “Just relax, I got you. You’re okay.”

It works, Paige softening around the edges, jaw unclenching and legs falling open, eyes hooded and searching as they look into Azzi’s. Azzi nods at her, kissing her lips and then the tip of her nose, not once slowing the pace of her fingers. “Doing good, baby. Gonna come?”

“Yeah,” Paige breathes, nodding fervently. “So close.”

Azzi punctuates it with a particularly hard thrust, loving the way Paige whines for her. “Missed making you come,” Azzi groans, forehead dropping onto Paige’s. “Missed fucking you.”

Paige swallows thickly, supposedly swallowing down a particularly loud sound, and Azzi rubs at her clit to the point of abuse. Paige opens her mouth as if she’s about to say something but then her jaw goes slack and her eyebrows furrow and she’s coming, hard, choking on a moan, bottom lip trembling like she might cry.

Enthralled, Azzi watches, trying to commit everything to memory—the way Paige’s tits arch up, the way she throws her head back, the way she bites her swollen lips, the way tears form at the corners of her eyes but don’t fall. Azzi hadn’t realized quite how much she missed this until just now.

As Paige comes down, pushing Azzi’s wrist so she’ll pull out, Azzi settles herself gently on top of her, pressing kisses to her face and neck. Paige’s arms soothe down her back then back up, chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath.

“Good?” Azzi asks, giggling tiredly when Paige stares at her as if she hung the stars in the sky.

“Perfect,” Paige corrects, watching as Azzi lazily licks at her fingers, cleaning them off. “We can never be apart again, okay?”

“I can’t promise that.”

“I’ma—like, sneak you into my suitcase if I ever have to leave,” Paige insists, pulling Azzi down so she’s lying fully on top of her. “Gonna fuck you every day, I’on care.”

Azzi laughs, resting her cheek on Paige’s chest. “You’re an idiot.”

“Be quiet,” Paige says, pushing half-heartedly at her shoulder.

“Shit,” she says after a moment.

Azzi lifts her head to look quizzically at her. “What?”

“I really love your belly piercing.”

[hueseok]

can’t stop thinking about husband!yoongi who also happens to be a ceo, the very reason why he has the ability to spoil you rotten whenever he wants to.

“yoongi, come on!” you call out to your husband, seeing him still sitting on a chair while you’ve been here in the pool for a considerably long time now, expecting that he was going to join you shortly after like he said earlier.

however, it’s been roughly ten minutes now and he’s stuck there on his patio chair, scrolling through his phone and enjoying the bottle of wine he opened before you dipped yourself in the water.

“i change my mind,” he says, a bit sheepish. “the water looks cold, babe. i don’t think i want to.”

you roll your eyes, swimming closer to him. “then why did you even book us a suite with a private pool?”

“because i know you’d love it.” he smiles. “and also because i was expecting we’d swim in the daytime.”

“what’s the fun in that?”

“uh, perhaps, feeling fresh and cool and—”

“babe,” you cut him off, leaning now on the edge of the pool, “just join me.”

“yes, ma’am.”

you laugh as you see him hesitantly standing up and taking his shirt off, soon going to the steps of the pool where it leads him deeper and where you’re already waiting for him as well.

yoongi childishly holds out his hand to you, which you take with a laugh, helping him to fully sink himself in the water.

“fuck, it’s cold,” he says with a grimace and a shiver, something that makes you grin, immediately putting your arms on his neck and wrapping your legs around his waist once he goes closer.

“you’re so dramatic.”

“it is, though. look, i have goosebumps.” he raises his arm and you glance at it, snorting.

“okay, point proven, big baby.”

yoongi looks at you and breaks off into a big smile, chuckling and encircling his arms on your waist, giving your lips a quick kiss.

“enjoying this trip so far?”

“yup.” you nod.

“good.”

the both of you kiss again, this time much longer now, with yoongi angling his face to the side so he can do it better, one hand resting on your cheek, his thumb lightly rubbing against it.

you can feel your heartbeat escalating at just the feel of him this near, your skin touching and bringing a little warmth in the cold water. it makes yoongi think that he should have just done this much earlier rather than prolonging it from happening because of his laziness at the thought of taking a shower after this.

“thanks for bringing me here,” you murmur against his mouth, your own curving up in a smile. “i never thought we’d actually go overseas for our anniversary.”

“it’s not like we haven’t done it before.” his hold on you tightens as you place little kisses on his jaw down to his neck, eventually settling on leaning your head on his shoulder. “besides, i think i need to make up for the fact i forgot last year’s anniversary.”

you laugh at the memory. “it’s okay. you already told me that you forgot it because our wedding date and the day we started dating confused you. plus, you took me to that restaurant i love.”

“still though… the first year is supposed to be memorable.”

“no, it isn’t. the first year’s supposed to be the hardest.” you pull back to smile at him. “so, you get a pass.”

“thank god,” he jokes and chuckles, you doing the same.

“but seriously, yoon,” you play with the hair on the back of his head, gazing at his eyes, “thank you. you always go ahead of yourself just to do things for me—to make me happy, you know?”

“why are you thanking me? it’s what i’m supposed to do.”

“no. you could have been a shitty boyfriend, and then a shitty husband but... you’re just the best. you’ve given me everything i could possibly want and been the man i needed. i’m so lucky to have you.”

yoongi gazes at you in absolute awe, that amazing feeling again spreading in his chest and making him feel all giddy and happy.

he wasn’t lying when he said that thanking him wasn’t needed, but the acknowledgement and the appreciation you’re showing surely makes him pleased, heart getting bigger because of it.

“you’re drunk, aren’t you?” he nevertheless asks though, teasing and taking the opportunity of you being lovey-dovey, that you hit his bare chest without hesitation.

“i’m serious,” you whine.

“i know, baby, which makes me glad. but it’s only what you deserve, okay? the reason why i’m doing this, i mean. you’ve been there for me too—when i was in the worst place, when the company almost went bankrupt… you were the one who picked me up to my feet, loved me unconditionally. so… let’s be real. i’m the real lucky one here.”

you smirk, fondly staring at every feature he has on his face, smiling wide. “are we just going to start saying our vows again?”

he snorts. “says the woman who started being sappy.”

“do you want me to apologize for letting my husband know i love him?”

“no,” he shakes his head, not helping himself as he leans closer to you so that he can place his lips over yours again, “i love it when you say that you love me.”

“and i really do, you know. i’ll never get tired saying how much i love you so much,” you agree almost immediately, melting into the kiss again.

he hums contently, caressing your sides. “i love you too, baby. you’re the reason why i thank the heavens for being alive every single day.”

under the stars and the moon that night, until the moment the two of you decide to take that intimate moment right there inside, it feels like a second honeymoon with yoongi.

you know he’s a busy man, a workaholic—and yet the fact that he can spare this much time for you to make you feel loved on the very same day you got married, makes you think all over again how fortunate you are to be with someone like him who works hard for you both but never forgets to cherish you.

[thedevilsoftruth]

♡~" Don't I know you? "~♡

Civil war! Bucky Barnes x f! Reader

Summary: Bucky is still slowly regaining his memories. When he sees you walking into a bar, he swears he's seen your face before, and his awful curiosity for you " accidentally " drags you into his apartment.

Tags/warnings: Smut!!! Literally 4k words for pure and utter smut. A VERY bad idea, one night stand, Dom!Bucky, lots of kissing, Bucky really likes your boob's, cunnilingus, spit/pussy spitting/slapping, choking, Bucky is implied to be a masochist, vaginal fingering, praising, thigh riding ( kinda ) multiple orgasms, piv sex, unprotected, temperature play if you squint, Buckies arms mentioned heavily. Not beta read!

So Bucky won my poll last week, and it took me so long to push this out because I had to rewrite it 4 times. But anyways, big thanks to @evillious-trash for helping me break out of my writers block. I definitely feel like the ending was rushed ( I was working on this specific fic from 7pm to 2am--non stop with no breaks. ) but nonetheless, please enjoy this VERY smutty fic.

Song recommended: Walking In My Shoes by Depeche Mode

Minors DNI! I am not responsible for what you find on the internet.

[ P.S: My marvel request box is back open. Please check my pinned post for more information regarding my request rules. ]

Oh boy, was it a terrible mistake; Bucky deciding to greet you in the bar that night. All he could think about was how guilty he was going to feel about it in the morning. In fact, he was already feeling guilt even in the moment.

As his large hands splayed on your thighs on his kitchen table in his apartment--and as you both engaged in heavy kissing, the question of what In the hell was he doing kept repeating in his head.

He didn't know why he was doing it but he knew it felt right. Even if it wasn't, it was what he wanted; and Bucky Barnes wasn't used to getting what he wanted.

His tongue escaped into your mouth, his hands gripping your thighs tightly. The cold metal of his prosthetic hand sent chills down your body each time It would touch you. Your fingers were curled into the fabric of his long sleeved henley shirt, tugging at them for support.

When he approached you in the bar, he seemed so shy and awkward. The way he would scratch his neck sheepishly, the way he'd keep looking at his hands, the way he spoke so quietly. All of it pointed to him being a shy, innocent introvert.

But this man was everything but shy and innocent.

He kissed you dominantly like he was afraid of losing control of you, he dirty talked you like you were some cheap whore on the streets, and yet--there was something oddly sweet about him in a very bizarre way.

His hand was scarred and had too many callouses to count with the skin on it being cracked and dry; compared to the strange prosthetic hand he has which was smooth and scarless. He never told you his entire left arm was a prosthetic; just his hand. In fact, he didn't say much about himself and even told you at one point that he didn't want to talk about himself or his background. And when you asked him for his name, he just stared at you for several minutes before saying " Bucky " so quietly that you wouldn't be able to pick up on it if it weren't for being able to read his lips.

He told you that you had to leave his apartment once he was done with you, and when you asked why, he responded with " I have business to take care of in the morning. " It was quite strange, especially because he was unemployed.

You were trying so hard to figure out who he really was. You knew you had seen him somewhere, but you couldn't figure out what it was. He was internally doing the same thing with you. Even though it had been almost a year since he left hydra, most of his memories were still gone and the codewords to set him off could still easily trigger him. But when he approached you in that bar, he knew he'd seen you somewhere.

You still remembered the first thing he said to you as he chased after you. It was, " do I know you? "

Not a " hi " " hello", or, " can I buy you a drink? " Just the four words; do I know you?

Bucky pulled back from your lips, panting. He smacked your thigh and cleared his throat.

" Get off the table and turn around. " He commanded breathlessly, stepping back and eyeing you up and down. You hesitated. It was so weird seeing him like that. Once again, this was a man who was afraid of looking you in the eye and averted his gaze each time you'd try to provoke him by opening the top of your dress to reveal more of your cleavage. But even with how weird he acted, you still complied to the order and shakingly got off the table.

The second you were on your feet, he spun you around and pulled you tight against his body. He was incredibly strong, and his grasp on your body was so tight that you felt like you couldn't breathe.

He moved your hair over your shoulder and trailed hot open-mouthed kisses from your jaw all the way down to the crook of your neck. He sucked down at your pulse point, making you whimper. He kept his real arm around your stomach, and his metal hand came up to your neck, tilting your head back against his shoulder. You were starting to become lightheaded.

" Bucky, " you breathed weakly, grabbing his wrist splayed across your stomach. " Can't breathe. " You told him weakly, patting his forearm twice. He slowly eased his grasp on you but kept it tight enough to where you couldn't escape his hold on you. It was like he was a control freak.

His tongue lapped across your neck where he'd been kissing before he parted his lips and gently bit down on your skin, making you squeal.

He let go of your neck, and moved his metal hand down to your cleavage. His lips transported to your earlobe, and he bit and kissed at it as he started playing with your boobs. His hand engulfed one of your tits, taking it in his dominant hold and groping it hard. You moaned softly at his touch and whimpered when he let go to run both hands up your thighs.

His lips found yours from behind your shoulder, and his lips slowly began moving against yours as his hands squeezed your thighs. His arms snaked around your stomach again, and his hips rolled against your backside, making you groan loudly as he did so.

Bucky pulled back from your body and pulled the zipper of your dress all the way down until your back was exposed. He spun you around to face him once more, and then stepped back.

" Take your clothes off. " He told you, crossing his arms across his chest. You stepped out of your dress, leaving you only in your undergarments and your heels. You sat in the table, staring at him as your fingers worked on the hooks of your bra.

He stared back at you with hungry eyes as you rolled your panties down your legs, leaving you completely exposed to him. Bucky was very unpredictable to you. You didn't know if he was going to choke you and spit in your mouth in one instance or kiss you gently and whisper sweet nothings in your ear the other.

You looked at him with a certain gaze that made him hard and absolutely aching for you. There was something so sexy about the way you were sitting on his table, looking so vulnerable but so inviting.

It was like a fucking wet dream, like one of the sick ass fantasies he'd get every once and a while. As he stepped between your legs and stared you up and down, he got a certain nostalgic feeling as he started to remember the many people he used to sleep around with. And you reminded him of one of those people. That was why he was so drawn to you. You were exactly the type he'd run after when he was still in the military. And all he needed with the headspace he was in in the moment was a little reminder of who he used to be.

" Are you going to take me to your bed? " You asked him, running your hand down his chest. He grimaced, looking down at your hand. He scoffed, like the joke was dumb and funny to him.

" I don't use a bed. " He responded. " I don't need one. We can just use the floor or the table. " He finished, running a hand through his thick hair.

It was then and there when you realized that he was by far your strangest hookup. Was he just really drunk and acting weird or was he actually like this?

" Are you sure--"

" Stop talking. " He cut you off, picking you up and off the table without breaking a sweat, carrying you to his couch where he than sat down with you in his lap. He positioned you on one of his thighs and leaned back against the seat, running his hands up and down your sides.

You felt so embarrassed for whatever reason. You were completely exposed to him and he was taking his sweet ass time with you.

Then, he slowly started bouncing you up and down on his thigh, leaning in to attack your neck with harsh kisses like he was doing before.

You moaned softly at the friction between the rough fabric of his leans and your aching core. His hand idly rubbed up and down your back,the other gripping your hip and keeping you in place on his thigh.

Bucky lips parted and he bit at your pulse point before sucking a small little hickey on your skin. You gasped at the contact, and he started bouncing you on his leg faster.

You threw your head back and whined desperately, tugging at his thick biceps through his long sleeved shirt.

" What's the matter, doll? " He asked in a mock-tone voice, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb. " You want my cock, hm? "

He trailed his metal hand down between your thighs and ran his two middle fingers down your soaked slit, electing a loud moan out of you. You curled your fingers into his shirt tighter, rocking your hips against his hand, seeking more friction.

" Stop that. " Bucky growled, grabbing your hip with his other hand to keep you in place. " Or you wont have me at all. " He warned, looking at you sternly.

His fingers started slowly playing with your aching clit, making you whimper and shake in his arms. The coldness of the metal on his fingers made you wince each time they'd touch you. And that was something that got Bucky off; seeing how you reacted to different temperatures.

He circled your entrance with his middle finger. His eyebrows were furrowed, his lips pursed with concentration as he focused on you completely.

He continued to tease you by pretending to stick his finger in only to pull it out and circle around your entrance instead.

" Bucky- " you whined, but he cut you off.

" Lay down. " He told you, patting your thigh, signaling you to get off his lap. Eagerly, you complied, laying down on your back on the couch.

" Spread your legs. " He told you, and you once again, obeyed, opening your legs in front of him. He undid his belt buckle, not taking the belt fully off but just undoing the buckle. All for him to just dip his head between your thighs-- not that you were complaining, but it was just not what you were expecting.

He lifted your legs and threw them over his broad shoulders. He leaned into your sweet cunt and slowly licked a long line from your entrance to your clit. His warm breath and tongue only added to the sensations and made you feel fuzzy. His beard tickled your skin as he began moving against you and he laid his tongue flat against your pussy, shaking his head slowly and making you moan loudly.

You pushed his long curtain bangs back with your hand and curled a fist into his thick brown hair, making him groan in approval as he ate you out. His large hands gripped your thighs tightly, holding them in place and keeping them open for his hungry mouth.

Bucky trailed open-mouthed kisses down your pussy before stopping at your clit. He flicked his tongue up and down your aching bud, making you moan loudly and your fingers curl into his scalp harder. Most men you slept with hated it when you pulled on their hair because it hurt, but Bucky seemed completely unfazed by it; In fact, it seemed like the pain is what spurred him on--if he felt any pain from it all. And mostly, it didn't. Bucky grew very tolerant to pain after all of the experiments and torture hydra put him through.

He flicked his eyes to look up at yours from his spot between your thighs, and your eyes locked for a brief moment before we went back to focusing on your cunt. He pulled back from your pussy and then, without warning, spat directly onto it. He looked up at you and slapped your pussy a few times, making you squeal.

Bucky wiped his hand on his jeans before leaning back in between your thighs. He dragged the tip of his tongue across your folds, spreading his saliva across your cunt. You whined loudly as his lips closed around your clit, sucking at it harshly before he circled his tongue around it.

" So fucking sweet. " He moaned. " You like that shit? " He laughed, looking directly at you and making you feel utterly embarrassed. He laid his tongue flat on your cunt again, shook his head, and then bobbed his head up and down as he sucked on your clit. A mantra of breathless moans escaped your lips as he did so, your thighs shaking violently in his arms.

It felt so good that you wanted to cry. Even Bucky was shocked at how well he was doing, but he figured that most of it came from his past experience and muscle memory. You closed your legs around his face, tugging on his scalp. He let out an annoyed groan and spread your legs back apart.

He pulled back from your pussy and ran the knuckles of his two middle fingers down your slit. He then, finally, dipped his fingers into your warm entrance and slowly started pumping them in and out of you.

He rose from your thighs, sitting on his knees as he continued to finger you gently, giving his jaw a short little break.

" You're so gorgeous. " He told you, tilting his head with a cocky smile as he ran his metal arm down your stomach, giving you goosebumps.

Bucky curled his fingers Inside you, slowly and repeatedly pumping them in and out of you and drawing out long, sweet whines out of your lips. He then dipped his head back between your shaking thighs and his tongue began working with his fingers to completely satisfy you. His eyes flicked up to meet yours.

" You gonna cum soon, pretty girl? Hmm? " He cooed, giving your cunt little kitten licks as he looked up at you. You could just hear the smile on his face as he spoke.

You whimpered in response, your hips bucking toward his face and your back arching off the couch. Your fingers found their way back into his long hair, spurring him on with a harsh tug.

He shoved his long, thick middle fingers as far as they could inside of you, and he curled them once more--directly in your sweet spot, electing a loud moan out of you. Your thighs began to uncontrollably shake around his head, your hips stuttering against his face as he ate you out.

" It's okay, honey. " He purred, rubbing your thighs softly. " You can cum, sweetie. Come on. Right onto my face, gorgeous. " Bucky encouraged against your pussy, his words sickeningly sweet; a complete and utter contrast to his earlier behavior.

The pace of his fingers slowly started to speed up as he became more determined to make you orgasm. He placed open-mouthed kisses onto your soaked folds and he started sucking down on your clit again, the lewd, wet, almost slurping noises that he was making rang through the both of your ears and made him especially ten times harder.

And you just couldn't help it. Your sex began contracting against Buckies thick fingers, tightening around him, trapping him there inside you until you finally came.

Bucky withdrew his fingers from you and he groaned in approval as you came down on him hard. He wiped his hand on his jeans again, eagerly lapping up every last drop of cum coming from you. He closed his eyes tight and moaned as your sweet nectar hit his tongue. He was probably enjoying it more than you. Your entire body was shaking, satisfaction and relief spreading through your body as he helped you come down from your high.

" Fuck, " he moaned, holding your thighs open as his tongue lapped up the rest of your cum.

When he was done, he rose from your legs, panting. His lips, nose, and chin were glistening with your essence, his beard almost completely soaked with it. He chuckled and wiped his face off with his shirt. You laid there, panting, at a complete loss of words.

" You did so good, doll. " Bucky praised, crawling over your body and capturing your lips in a heated kiss. He pecked at your lips multiple times before he slowly started giving you sweet open-mouthed kisses. You could taste yourself on his lips, and that was his goal. He began trailing kisses down your body, starting at the column of your throat, heading towards your collarbone, and stopping at your breasts.

Bucky took one of your breasts into his left hand--the metal one--and he played with it while his mouth paid attention to your other breast. His thumb and index finger tweaked at your nipple. Meanwhile his tongue was circling around your areola before his lips closed around your nipple and began sucking on that gently. The contact made you gasp, your cunt aching for him even more.

He then switched his attention to your other breast, his lips kissing and sucking at your nipple, his hand playing with your other breast. When he was done, he lifted his head and sat down on his knees between your thighs. He was looking down at you with a wicked smile, his blue eyes dark with lust.

" You know, " he started, his hand reaching for his unbuckled belt. His voice was so smooth; sweet like the finest honey there ever was, clear like a bright sunny afternoon. " You've been so good for me, don't you think? " He smiled, tilting his head to the side as he threw his belt down onto the floor. He picked up your leg by the base of your thigh and gently placed a few kisses on it, his eyes never looking away from yours.

" Maybe I should reward you, yeah? " He proposed in a suggestive tone, unzipping his jeans. You gulped hard, looking at his hands and then back at his face. He pulled his pants down slightly and reached within them to pull his cock out; ready for you and dripping with precum.

" Come sit in my lap. " He told you, sitting on his knees and patting his thighs. You weakly sat up, your body still shaking after your intense orgasm. You went to climb in his lap, but he stopped you.

" Other way, sweetie. " He said, turning your body the other way so that your back was facing his chest. He placed his hands on your hips, lowering your body onto his lap. It took him a moment, but he wrapped his hand around his shaft and directed his cock to your entrance.

Bucky then slowly seethed himself inside you, giving you a moment to adjust to his size before he began rocking his hips.

You felt his hand on your back, and he gently pushed your body down and into the couch, keeping his hand there so that you wouldn't move. You whimpered at the contact, your mind wandering to all the things he could do to you in that instance. Just thinking about those things made you even wetter for him.

Bucky slowly dragged his cock across your velvety, warm walls before pulling out just a little bit below his tip, and then shoving himself back in; setting a medium-fast pace for himself. The poor couch squeaked underneath your joined bodies, and you tried to prop yourself up on your elbows, but Bucky pushed you back down.

" Bucky! " You yelped his name as he began to move faster. He bent over your body and kissed your shoulder sweetly, his hand coming to rest on your hip.

" Yeah, doll? " He whispered in your ear, nipping at your earlobe and sending shivers down your spine and an electric sensation through your pussy.

" Go a bit slower? " You panted, looking at him with heavy lidded eyes and an open mouth. He chuckled at the request, and chuckled and the look on your face. He ran his hand down your cheek.

" But we've barley started. " He fake whined, sitting back on his knees. He kept his metal arm on your back, holding you down as he proceed to fuck you into oblivion. You gripped the cushion of the couch with all your might, your faced smushed against the cushion and your hair splayed messily all over your face.

The sight was our heaven for Bucky. Him sitting on his knees with you in his lap, his cock buried deeply inside your wam little cunt, your back faced to him. He pulled out again and slammed back in, this time with more force, and this time setting off with a much harsher and faster that sent his cock deep within you.

Your eyes rolled back in ecstasy, your mouth leaving out a chant of endless moans that only made his cock harder. He reached his other hand around you to slowly circle around your clit, making your body jump and you gasp.

" Oh. " Bucky laughed. " Did that feel good, sweetie? " He purred directly into your ear, rolling his middle finger around your sensitive little bud. You nodded your head, your brain becoming foggy as drool started to leave your mouth. Bucky removed the hand on your back and instead began to use it on your mouth. He dragged his metal thumb across your bottom lip, playing with your saliva and running it over your puffy wet lips.

He sat back up and redoubled his efforts on his thrusts. He began rolling his hips to give you slow, deep and hard thrusts, thrusts that literally made you see stars.

And then, he started hitting your sweet spot once more--and he could tell he was doing so by the loud mewls you were letting out for his ears to drink it. The loudness of your moans only egged him on more.

And then, he started hitting your sweet spot once more--and he could tell he was doing so by the loud mewls you were letting out for his ears to drink it. The loudness of your moans only egged him on more, an she wrapped his hands around your hips hard and started pushing you off and on his cock with his harsh thrusts.

You bit your lip and whined desperately, your nails digging into the couch and your toes curling in immense pleasure.

" Holy fuck.. " you panted. " Bucky ahh... Gonna cum again. " You told him, nearly choking on your own moans. Although you thought you were going to be cumming soon, Bucky had different plans for you. Plans he'd think you wouldn't enjoy that much.

He smirked widely and smacked your ass hard, the skin on skin contact echoing through the empty halls of his apartment along with the yelp you let out when he did so.

He felt your muscles contract around his cock again and, just before you could release, he pulled out of you, panting. You were left feeling empty and unsatisfied.

" What the hell?! " You snapped, looking at him from over your shoulder. " I was almost there. " You whined. He fake pouted.

" Well that's too bad, isn't it? " He purred, flipping you onto your back. You were getting so tired and frustrated at that point, that all you wanted to do was have one last orgasm and be done with it and go home.

How he was able to keep up so long without running out of steam was a wonder to you. You only came once, and you felt like you were going to pass out.

Bucky grabbed your legs and pinned them to your chest, practically folding you in half. Your cheeks turned bright red as he slowly pushed back inside you; embarrassed by the new position though it was very sexy.

He now had a front view of you, a view he thought was even better than the last. Because in the position, he could see your face and the way you reacted to every little thing he did. He could see the way your tits would bounce with each thrust he gave you, and he could even see your pretty little pussy better.

Your face contorted into one of pure pleasure, your eyebrows quirked and your puffy lips quivering. To Bucky, it was the hottest fucking thing ever. With this position he was able to sink his cock even deeper within you, so deep until his entire thing was stuffed inside you.

He was starting to feel a build up in his abdomen, and he was wondering if you were feeling the same.

For a brief moment, he pulled out, all to spit on your cunt one last time, spreading his saliva out around your over-sensitive folds with his fingers. He grabbed hold of the base of your thighs as he slowly sunk himself back into you, looking you in your eyes deeply. He started to get that familiar feeling again, as he sped back up and listened to your sweet moans echo off the walls. The familiar feeling that he had seen you somewhere before.

And you were absolutely oblivious to it. The only thing that was on your mind was how hot he was and how good the sex felt.

You reached out for his thick bicep through his shirt, your fingernails digging into his skin.

" Feeling good? " He asked you, giving your calf a kiss while looking you in your eyes. You nodded, panting, trying to remain eye contact.

" I'm getting so close, Bucky.. " You moaned, your back arching off the couch.

" Me too. " He responded, bending down and bracing his arms beside your face, caging you away from the outside world.

His cock kissed and touched every single inch of your cunt that was hyper-sensitive, and he kept thrusting into you at a steady, fast pace until a milky white ring of your cum started to appear around his cock.

He slowed down, looking down at the liquid spilling out of you. He bit his lip, looking back at you.

" Oh honey, " he breathed, " look at that. "

---

By the time the both of you were finished, it was almost 4 in the morning. You were putting your clothes back on, and Bucky was already starting to feel that awful sense of guilt wash over him.

" I don't know how appropriate this is to say, " you chuckled as you began putting your heels back on. Bucky rose a brow at you. " But you kind of look like that winter solider guy that's everywhere on the news right now. "

Bucky immediately felt the blood drain from his face the moment you said that, and his eyes went wide, and he became speechless. And that was all just for you to laugh loudly, and immediately brush it off as nothing serious.

" I'm just messing with you. Have a good night. " You told him, snorting. And just like that, you were out the door like he had requested at the bar earlier that night.

That night, you were finally able to pinpoint where you knew his face from, but even as the next day rolled on, Bucky still couldn't figure out who you reminded him of.

[blainesebastian]

ex-something

word count: 11,109 ship: Nick Leister x reader rating: NC-17 (for some smut, suggestive sexual language and expletives) summary: Just because you and Nick are broken up doesn’t mean that you’re over one another. notes: really appreciate the overwhelmingly positive response on my first nick x reader post :) hope this is just as enjoyable! i have a masterlist! notes 2: gifs from this gif pack

You get it—relationships change, that’s true with anything. You’ve had friendships that have evaporated into thin air or have fused together thanks to one night, boyfriends who promise they’d hand you the moon but couldn’t even show up when you needed them. You’re also different, you’re not the same person from year to year, nor day to day. Small, minute shifts sometimes make the greatest ripple effects. It’s good to see how something can adapt, how you can realize one thing and decide on another. 

Maybe you should have realized that you and Nick were never going to work—a thought that’s ugly that sprouts in your mind like a weed. Like ivy twisting around your ribcage and squeezing. You know him like the back of your hand, have been part of the same circles for so long—the orbiting around one another felt inevitable. 

So maybe the disintegration was too. 

Nick’s come a long way since you’ve known him in opening up, both of you bringing so much baggage to the table that you could no longer see the surface. Everyone has their own weight to carry, their own shit to get through, but it felt like…what you were carrying was no longer heavy when he was around. You both shared things, secrets in the dark, things you felt like couldn’t be shared with anyone else. While that should have caused the bond between you to strengthen, it created cracks and fragments that were sharp enough to cut the skin. 

Nick has trouble trusting that people won’t leave him, and you have trouble trusting that something will last the way it’s supposed to. As awful as it sounds, you never thought you and Nick would be together long-term. It’s not about him, but about yourself—about not deserving something good, about losing someone you were never supposed to have in the first place. 

When you began to pull away, creating distance and space, Nick overcompensated by yanking harder. He leaves you before you can leave him. The break-up, though surprising, is…somehow amicable, even though the devastation of it ending was clear on both your faces. Like a roadmap of a decimated city, the skyline crumbling into itself. 

The sudden destruction is so ugly that neither of you can look away. There’s regret almost instantly, that much is obvious, and yet neither of you speak up to change anything. You just…part ways, Nick leaving first.

You let him go, you allow him to push you and keep that chasm of space, because it was never meant to work out, right? 

“He’s in love with you, babe,” Jenna tells you one night over her house. “That’s never gonna change.” 

“Guess not enough.” You mumble—but you’re not innocent. You didn’t chase after him. 

“Well I never said he was smart,” Jenna teases, attempting to lighten the mood, and a smile twitches the corners of your mouth but you can’t reply. You shake your head, running a hand over the side of your face before lying back on her bed. 

But Nick is smart. He’s smart, and calculated, and even though he sometimes thinks with his fists, he knows the consequences of actions before he makes them. He knows exactly what choice he’s made and why he’s done it. 

Which is one of the reasons you can’t bring yourself to tell him he’s wrong. 

—

You miss Nick like you never knew you could. It’s one of those cliché things that you don’t understand what’s missing until it’s gone. There’s an absence that feels like a force, that sits on your chest, that makes it hard to breathe. An ache that begins behind your ribs and pulses outward. You miss things that aren’t altogether obvious—things you never knew you thought about until they pop-tap-pop like morse code in your mind. 

You miss his hands, the way they felt on your body, his fingers brushing through your hair or lingering along your hip. The squeeze on your knee or the gentle pattern of circles along your spine. You miss his mouth, the way the corner quirked up when he found something ridiculous, the way it felt on your own, his lips on your cheek, your shoulder, between your legs. You miss the way your bodies felt lined up, curled up in bed to sleep or slotting together during sex. You miss the sounds he used to make. You miss the gentle crinkle of his nose before he laughed, you miss that too; the laughing. 

But most of all you miss the way he stood by you, protected you, cared about you, a driving power that’d run anyone else over if you needed something. You miss the way he made you feel loved, actual love—something real and tangible and consistent. Something you didn’t know you deserved. 

It’s too late to take back what you’ve done and you lay awake at night, sometimes, wondering what would have happened if you would have tried to talk to him instead of letting your thoughts get the best of you. 

—

Just because you and Nick are broken up doesn’t mean that you’re over one another. 

—

Jenna drags you to Anna’s party—literally, she has to drag you. 

“Enough moping,” She sing-songs. “Time to put on your tightest dress and your best lipstick and have a fucking good time.” 

You roll your eyes but…she’s not wrong. So you follow her lead. Little black dress, comfortable shoes, red lipstick. It brings out the color of your eyes, it matches with the tiny, ruby, heart-shaped earrings you’re wearing and it draws people to look at your lips. But most of all? It makes you feel good. Your mother has always had a saying, to ‘dress your best when you feel your worst’, and you suppose that’s what you’re doing. 

Surviving. 

And sometimes? That’s more than okay. 

“Wish this party wasn’t here, though.” You comment, a soft sigh leaving your lips as you enter the lavish home of Anna. Anna who is probably salivating at the concept that Nick’s single again. You’re sure he’s here tonight, you don’t need to ask Jenna to know. You smooth your fingers along your dress, adjusting your small purse so it sits on your hip. 

You and Jenna wouldn’t exactly call Anna a friend…a frenemy, maybe? Maybe not. But Jenna smiles over her shoulder, “Shouldn’t let her expensive booze go to waste, should we?” 

You let out a soft laugh—you suppose that’s true. 

The night swirls forward with a lot of dancing, a messy game of darts, and almost too many shots. You roll your hips to the beat of the music, a grin on your face as Jenna bounces in time to the base, her hands finding yours and squeezing before giving you a twirl. It’s in that spin that you see him, leaning against the back of the couch on the outskirts, watching you. 

Or maybe that’s a trick of the light, or the hazy alcohol licking your common sense. Either way, you don’t look back over your shoulder towards him, you can’t. You wish that Jenna doesn’t call over the music that she needs water, because your knees suddenly feel like jello at the concept of staying on this makeshift dance floor alone. So you don’t. 

You make your way through the crowd to follow her, lingering, and hate yourself for your eyes being pulled from the task at hand…towards Nick. 

He looks gorgeous tonight, but you suppose that’s not a surprise. Jeans, a white t-shirt, an oversized jacket. It’s pretty textbook and yet it’s enough to practically sway you off kilter. Without being close to him, you can smell the leather of his jacket, the expensive cologne, something purely him tying it all together. You can feel the heat of his body, the chill of the thin silver chain he’s wearing and the rings on his fingers over your skin. 

An ache begins low in your stomach, which only turns sour when his eyes flitter to you and then look away. It’s so quick it feels like a slap to the face, his own expression impassive, like he has a million better things to do than be standing around at this party. You know his masks well, the ones he puts on when he thinks no one is looking, the ones he peeled off when he was around you. You know this is his favorite one—pretending he doesn’t care, when he does. 

Chewing on your lower lip, you take a step towards him though you’re not sure why. To speak to him, maybe? To make a joke about how his face looks like it was carved in stone? That if he keeps making that expression it’s going to stick like that. But then he shifts when someone comes up beside him—

fucking Anna. 

You stop short, trying to tell yourself to turn around, to get some water, to go back to having fun with Jenna. And yet, like a car crash, you can’t seem to look away. Anna has always been obvious about her feelings for Nick, whether it’s something genuine or just purely physical—it doesn’t matter. She practically molds herself to his side, a pretty grin on her face, talking about something that you can’t hear about—but her hand glides down his arm. 

There’s a small, gentle tilt to Nick’s lips, ever so subtle, but it’s enough to make it feel like the floor is opening up underneath you. 

Turning on your heel, you move through the crowd towards the bathroom, trying to quell the nausea rolling in your stomach. You try to tell yourself that you’re overreacting, that it’s not fair for you to have a reaction like this, that Nick is single and he can do whatever the fuck he wants… regardless that Anna is the worst. 

It hasn’t been too long since you’ve broken up, and yet you find yourself trying to rationalize that it shouldn’t hurt like this. You know that’s a defense mechanism, that trying to convince yourself that you’re okay is just something to keep yourself from hurting. But maybe it’d be good to feel that hurt, to let it in instead of shoving it deep in a box that’ll remain unopened. 

Maybe if you let yourself hurt, you wouldn’t be spiraling over Nick’s almost smile at Anna. 

When you go for the bathroom door, it’s locked, and a groan leaves your lips because of course. Running a hand over your forehead, you lean back against the opposite wall, waiting, allowing your eyes to close as your head tips back. 

“You look a little nauseous.” 

Nick’s voice jolts you out of your position against the wall, almost setting you off balance. When your eyes dart to him, there’s that playful quirk to his lips, warm amusement in his brown eyes. His jacket is missing—you hate that you wonder if it’s around Anna’s shoulders. You straighten your shoulders, letting out a breath as you turn to look at him. 

He’s not wrong, you are nauseous. But it’s not from the alcohol. “Think this house just does that to me.” 

Nick smirks, shaking his head as he takes a few steps towards you. He stops short, too short, leaning his shoulder against the wall. His eyes dance over your form, making you squirm, hating how he seems to see right through you. Like you’re made of glass. Heat gathers low in your stomach and pulses between your legs, that familiar ache comes back in the center of your chest. You miss him and you fucking hate that you do. 

Tearing your gaze away, you curl your hair around your ear, glancing back towards the bathroom door. Sheesh, what is someone doing in there? 

“Is it the house or is it someone in particular?” 

You scoff out a soft laugh—fuck, he’s got a lot of nerve. “Is that any of your business?” 

The smile he gives you is something slow and knowing, his gaze wandering to your lips, lingering on the red lipstick there. Butterflies erupt in your stomach, fluttering up towards your ribs, living there on the bones. The way he’s looking at you digs under your skin in the best way. 

“Think it’s completely my business.” He replies, sticking his one hand in his pocket. You can picture his fingers flexing, maybe trying to resist touching you. You love the sound of that. It’s one of the reasons you decide to flip the script, to take a little power back when he won’t stop staring at your mouth. Two can play this game—whatever game this is. 

Taking a step towards him, you say, “Is my lipstick your business?” 

Nick draws in a slow breath, it may seem causal, but you can see the heat darken the color of his eyes. Regardless of how things have played out between you two, things that maybe should have never happened in the first place (breaking up sounds like it was a stupid idea), you know that you feel safe with him. It’s that safeness that has you eliminating space, the toe of your shoe bumping into his. 

He’s not that much taller than you but it feels like he’s towering, eyes zeroed in on your lips. He lifts his hand, brushing his thumb over your lower one, purposely smudging your red lipstick, 

“You never seemed to be jealous of anyone when we were together.” He whispers, his breath fluttering over your cheek and yet it feels like a bucket of ice water tossed over you.  A reminder. Dick. 

You lean further into his touch, your noses bumping, close enough to kiss him but you don’t. Nick goes dangerously still and licks his lips. 

“Unsurprised that you didn’t seem to know me very well.” 

And with that you pull back, putting distance between your bodies. You wish it was enough to get your head on straight. Nick rubs his fingers over his thumb, erasing any traces of lipstick, like it never even happened. 

You wished it didn’t sting to see it. 

“I’m sure you wouldn’t want to keep Anna waiting.” You cross your arms over your chest, a clear defensive move but almost creating a shield as well, protecting yourself. 

You’re not looking at him but he lingers, a soft hum leaving his lips. He then moves to the bathroom door that…still hasn’t opened? Jesus, who’s in there? Though you try not to think about how often you and Nick found an empty bathroom during a party, a dark corner, a place where hands could roam and lips could nip. 

He jiggles the handle and pushes, your mouth falling slightly open—

“The door sticks,” He says, amused, eyes bright. And then turns to head back down the hall. 

Well, fuck. 

—

Nick leaves the party before you do but you’re not going to deny that you feel a zing of enjoyment that Anna’s left behind. And she looks pissed. 

—

Time crawls forward—it’s somehow achingly slow at the same time that it spins like a top. You and Nick are unfortunately like magnets, stuck in one another’s orbit. You suppose that’s the downside of having the same group of friends, seeing one another is unavoidable. It’s not…the worst thing, despite the prickly conversations you’ve been having. You know the fallout is a reflection on how good your relationship could be. There’s still strong emotions lingering—guilt, regret, love. It stains everything around you both. 

There’s a moment that comes and goes, just like your feelings, about having a conversation with Nick. About explaining to him why you were pulling away—that your parents have a shit relationship, that their divorce and their problems and their burdens sometimes sit in your bloodstream in a way you can’t put into words. You’re used to people disappointing you, you’re used to relationships not carrying merit—the only good one you’ve ever been in had been with Nick. And sometimes you were afraid that you weren’t worthy of it, that eventually he’d realize it too. 

That he’d leave. That all good things come to an end. 

Maybe then he’d crack wide open and explain that he likes to hurt people before they can hurt him. That it was a mistake. 

That you can start over. 

That thought is gone as quickly as it comes. Everything happens for a reason, right? There’s no need to go backwards when you need to focus on what’s ahead. Just because a relationship didn’t work out doesn’t mean that…you and Nick can’t be what you were before. 

Friends. Good friends. 

—

“Can you check again, please?” You ask, rubbing the back of your neck as you hold up a line at this charity event that your parents were supposed to attend. 

Well—your parents decided to get a divorce three months ago and neither of them wanted to get dressed up and go. You get it, you really do, they don’t want to spend time with one another anymore. They want to continue separating their assets and not be in one another’s lives unless they have to. You're the bridge between and that’s…that’s something you’re coming to terms with. 

You tried to explain to both of them that you’ve been wanting to go to this, that this charity event is about donating money to cleaning up the ocean. That plastic removal and creating turtle sanctuaries and doubling-up efforts on proper recycling is really important to you. It always has been—this shouldn’t be some sort of surprise. 

And yet neither of them can get their shit together to just be present. To go with you. 

So whatever, fine. At this point you’re used to feeling like you’re doing things by yourself, and that’s how you decide you’re going to go. By yourself. 

Except for some reason, your name isn’t on the guest list. 

Vanessa, who’s in the same social circles as you, scowls behind the podium. She must be some sort of volunteer in whatever rotations that rich kids fall into, her nose wrinkling as she taps her fingers down the so-called list that you’re missing from. 

“Sorry—who are you again?” 

You feel your cheeks heat in frustration, refusing to get flustered even though you’re sure that’s her intention. There’s this group of girls that are always hanging out with Anna at any party you’ve ever been to. Vanessa knows exactly who you are. 

You bite down on the inside of your cheek, can feel people getting restless behind you, wanting to get inside to escape the chill in the evening air. You’re not sure whether your parents took themselves off the guest list when they decided they weren’t attending or whether Vanessa is just being a bitch. 

“Y/N,” You say your name and add your last, just in case there’s any confusion. 

Vanessa purses her lips, about to say something nasty, when her gaze catches something over your shoulder. Her entire demeanor changes—her shoulders relax, there’s an easy smile on her face, eyes soft. You already know who it is before he speaks. 

“Is there a problem?” Nick asks, the warmth of his body at your back. You feel yourself bristle, not turning around. 

“Nick, hi,” Vanessa offers. 

Nick ignores her, his gaze falling to your own when you finally tip your chin. You turn a little, crossing your arms over your chest. He’s dressed in all black; slacks, dress shirt, overcoat, it makes the softness of his brown eyes and the golden curls in his hair stick out even more. 

“You alright?” He lifts his eyes away from you just briefly and you know he’s checking the crowd for your parents who aren’t there. 

“She’s not on the guest list.” Vanessa sounds altogether too pleased at informing him. 

“Your parents made these reservations months ago,” His attention doesn’t waver from you.  

You swallow, giving him a small smile as another podium opens up to get guests inside since this one is obviously backlogged. You resist the urge to just give up, to head back down the steps and go home.

“I know.” You reply, and Nick’s head tips back just slightly, recognition flashing in his eyes. Months ago. Your parents. The divorce. 

He turns to Vanessa, finally acknowledging her. “There’s space at my table for her.” 

“Nick,” You say gently, touched by the sentiment, by him trying to help, as Vanessa visibly bristles. 

“All the tables are filled—“

Nick cuts her right off, voice cold and sharp as glass. “Then I suggest you figure it out, Vanessa, because Y/N’s my plus one.” 

Vanessa scoffs, waving us in, muttering whatever under her breath. Nick’s hand falls to your lower back, encouraging you to step forward to walk inside. You roll your lips together, glad you’re not wearing lipstick tonight before turning to look at him in front of the coat-check. 

“You didn’t have to do that.” 

Nick gives you a soft smile, motioning you to turn around so he can help you take your coat off. “Like I’d get in-between you and saving the otters tonight.” 

You can’t help the bubble of laughter that threatens to slip out, amusement pulling your mouth into an honest smile. Something warm and comfortable and feels far too familiar with him. 

“Sea turtles.” You correct. “I’m worried about the sea turtles.” 

You’re not sure why he’s here if he doesn’t really know what the event is for, but you bite down on the inside of your cheek from saying that to him. A twinge of warmth butterflies your stomach in hopes that he came because he knew you’d be here. 

“Yeah, that’s what I said.” 

Your lips twitch and you smooth your hands down your dress, removing imaginary wrinkles. “Thank you.” You add. 

Nick’s hand slides effortlessly into yours to tug you towards the open doors and awaiting tables. He doesn’t say anything back, but he does squeeze your fingers. 

—

When you donate an amount at that charity event, Nick doubles it. 

—

It’s easy to get lost in those simple touches, it’s always been something so easy between you and Nick. That communication runs deep. Sometimes, you think, that words often get in the way. A misplaced phrase, a misunderstanding, syllables stuck under tongues or behind teeth. There’s never been any confusion in how you touch one another, in how Nick’s hands convey a love language that maybe words can’t. 

The problem is that touch between you two is sometimes too much, too honest, too real. Too complicated. 

How are you supposed to move on and get over him if you’re constantly near one another? If one brush of his fingers turns into a playful squeeze at your hip, if one lingering gaze ignites into him brushing his lips against your temple? 

You convince yourself that you can somehow create space, that it won’t be so difficult, that the universe has to be on your side here—that even though it’s hard? It’ll be good for you in the long run. 

Turns out the universe is a bitch. 

—

There’s too many moving bodies on the dance floor, it pushes you and Nick closer and closer together. 

To be fair, you’re in a tight circle of friends and beats are pulsing through the tight spaces. You’re in a tiny slip dress, a pair of high-top converse sneakers to move easily, which just ends up being a bunch of bouncing and swaying to the beat at a wicked pace. Jenna’s grin is wide as she throws her arms around you and you laugh, tipping your head back towards the ceiling. 

You love nights like this, the feeling of freedom, your heartbeat loud in your ears, no concerns other than when the next drink is gonna be bought. Lion tugs your dance partner away, twirling her into a circle and you back up to avoid the spin—

And bump right into Nick. 

The man is like black hole—endless, all-encompassing. He’s dressed simply, but he could probably wear a paper bag and still have the same sex appeal. Lean, tapered body, intricate line tattoos on muscled biceps and you try not to think about the set of Roman numerals that you used to love to kiss on his collarbone. You’re close enough to see the light sheen of sweat sticking to his skin, deepening the scent of his cologne and him somehow. You want to run your hands through his curls and tug—

You must show how you feel right on your face because Nick steps closer, his hand reaching for you, sliding it around your waist to pull you flush against him. It’s so confident and knowing that it nearly takes you out at your knees. 

You know you could pull away and that he’d let you, but the moment his fingers curl against your back, the moment he gathers a bit of the fabric of your dress between his fingers—you know you’re not going anywhere. 

The weight and heat of his body against your own feels like coming home. 

You dance like that for a while, pressed against one another, your arms resting on top of his shoulders, fingers against his neck, curling into the bottom of his hair. He slips close enough at one point to press a kiss to your shoulder, something that you ignore. You have to. 

And yet your fingers dig into his shoulders and Nick pulls back, eyes dark, on your lips. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

You’re about to say something, maybe mention grabbing water or stepping outside—but Nick’s thumb begins to trace circles through the thin material of your dress against the underwear line on your hip. A struggled gasp leaves your lips, and he must feel it more than hear it, a slow smile curving his handsome mouth. 

“I need to—“ You take a step back, almost running into someone else. Nick’s arms stabilize you from stumbling, even though he eventually lets you go. You immediately regret opening your mouth. “Bathroom.” 

You turn and make a b-line towards the restrooms before he can say anything. The sharp coolness off the dance floor manages to shake reality into focus and you run a hand over your face, a soft laugh rumbling in your chest. 

Jesus. 

You don’t end up using the bathroom, just leaning against the wall near them and breathing, trying to center yourself. It’s blissfully devoid of people back here and you need that. Your body aches in a delicious way, a throb of heat still present between your legs. 

And apparently it’s not going to go away, because Nick rounds the corner. 

“Nick—” His name barely slips out from between your teeth before he’s pressed against you again, and your resolve goes right out the fucking window, your mouth crashing down onto his. 

You thread your fingers into his hair and yank him forward and you can feel him chuckle against your body as he has to balance himself with his hands on the wall on either side of you. His thigh slides between your legs and a full body shudder passes through you as you allow yourself to lean down into him. 

Fuck. 

Nick pulls back just a little, brushing your lips together. His hand slides between you, tugging your dress up so that the only thing between your cunt and his jeans are your underwear. 

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks, mouth at your ear. “I can stop.” 

That’s something you’ve always loved about Nick—he checks on you, he makes sure you’re okay. Doesn’t matter if it’s something soft or like this, heated and desperate. You know you shouldn’t—you know that this will only complicate things that are already complicated…

And yet you don’t want to stop. 

“No,” You reply, assure your response with your hips pivoting down, grinding against his leg. Nick’s hands fall to your waist, holding you in place, a groan vibrating in his chest. 

The pulse of the music is muffled, you can hear the uptick in his breathing, can feel how hard he is against you. You’re not ashamed of the tiny whimpers that leave your lips as you roll your hips down against him, the pressure incredible but not enough—he feels so fucking good. You’ve missed him terribly. All logical thought evaporates when his one hand comes up and cups your breast through your slip dress. 

“Can feel how wet you are for me,” Nick says. “Desperate for it, aren’t you?” 

Jesus. You need more. You need him to help—to do something. You can only use the momentum of your legs to get off on him to a certain point. There’s not enough leverage, there’s not enough friction to sate the heated ache quickly building in your lower belly. 

“I—I need—”

“No,” He nips at your lower lip. “If you want to cum, you’re gonna have to do it just like this.” 

An exasperated noise leaves your mouth, and you’re stuck between wanting to throttle him and kiss him. He drags your hips down, and you wish his fingers were inside of you, wish his thumb was circling your clit. The thought alone is enough to uptick your pleasure, and you’re so fucking close. 

“Nick,” You moan, “Please.” 

He licks his lips, smiling a little as his hand tugs down your dress over your breast. “So polite.” He teases, before he dips his head, taking your nipple into his mouth. 

There’s a snap of your hips when he drags his teeth over your puckered flesh and then you’re shattering. He holds your body up as you shudder, waves of pleasure slamming into you like the base of the music pulsing in your ears. 

He doesn’t let you go, even when your breathing settles, even when his leg moves out from between your thighs. You’re sure you look absolutely wrecked—you feel it. Underwear ruined, sweat sticking some of your hair to your neck, your heart thrumming for a completely different reason. 

Your eyes find Nick’s, the port that’s always been in the center of your storm, and a sudden thick emotion lodges itself in your throat. 

“I miss you.” You choke out, blaming the almost waterworks on endorphins, on the bliss that’s still kissing your nerve endings. 

Nick visibly swallows, brushing your hair over your shoulder after he fixes your dress. You think he might say something, he even opens his mouth, but no words come. 

Jesus. One good orgasm and you’re tumbling head over tincups into emotions too heavy to come with words. Nick broke up with you—you should be furious, you should push him away, except this is how the whole problem started. You pushed first. 

You straighten your shoulders and he takes a step back. You expect him to turn and leave, but he doesn’t, hovering—waiting? You’re not sure for what. He runs both of his hands through his hair, as if to compose himself, as if there’s words stuck in his throat that he doesn’t know how to say. 

Instead of saying anything at all, he reaches his hand out for you to take. A peace offering, of sorts, a promise that even though things aren’t okay, the door isn’t completely closed off. 

You discreetly wipe away a tear that’s slipped down your cheek and take his hand. 

—

You don’t talk about what happened at the club but things don’t change between you. It’s the same heavy glances, the same shared, soft smiles, the same brushing of fingers and calling it an accident. 

It should be fucked up. But it’s not. 

—

You haven’t been to an underground car show and race in a while, so the thrum of engines and the smell of gasoline is exciting. Comforting, even. You come with Jenna even though you know Nick will be there. Avoidance doesn’t work and trying to ignore the crackling energy between you two just…ends up with you getting off on his leg in a darkened corner at a club. 

“Don’t get me wrong, babe,” Jenna says over her shoulder as she moves to lean against her car. “I love Nick, I really do. But…whatever this is between you two—”

“I know,” You put your hand up to stop her. 

She smiles a little, “I was hopin’ you two would talk, figure it out.” 

“Oh, you mean you ruining my favorite pair of underwear wasn’t ‘figuring it out’?” You laugh a little, rubbing the back of your neck. Despite it probably not being the best decision…you can’t find yourself regretting it either. 

You still love Nick. You don’t think that’ll change. 

You look down at your shoes, a pair of sneakers, high waisted jeans  and a crop t-shirt. You’re showing off your shape but nothing that overdoes it; comfortable. You feel like you need that tonight. 

“I told him I missed him.” In an orgasm induced haze, but still. “And he didn’t say anything.” 

You know Nick isn’t exactly very forward with his words all the time, his actions speak the loudest. But…you needed to hear something then, you needed some sort of assurance that…maybe you both made a mistake. 

Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking on your part. You can’t quite picture ripping yourself wide open to talk to him about why you pulled away if he can’t admit he purposely let you go. 

You run a hand over the side of your face, glancing over at another set of cars pulling up and guys getting out, greeting one another, the space turning into an outside party with music and beer. While you’re glad you came, it’s been a while, part of you feels like curling under your comforter at home with a book. 

“Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to branch out?” Jenna asks, tossing an arm over your shoulder. “Not saying you need to have another orgasm,” You laugh softly. “But maybe talking to some handsome strangers wouldn’t hurt either.” 

You breathe in through your nose, looking out at the crowd of cars and people. You suppose it wouldn’t hurt. 

—

Turns out talking to guys about cars is fun. You don’t know much about them? But they like responding to your questions—and none of it has been mansplaining, which you’re grateful for. You’re really not in the mood tonight…just trying to sink into your own skin, enjoy something that’s a little different, not think about Nick. 

Even though you can feel his eyes on you. 

You know he’s here because you saw him drive in, park his car, and find Lion and Jenna. He doesn’t come find you; wouldn’t be surprised if Jenna told him to give you some space. Either way, you can feel his gaze every so often, lingering, something open and warm that you miss. That you feel like you can dive right into. 

Your heart flutters in your chest as you lock eyes, the guy you were talking to, Pete, headed to the bathroom. Nick crosses the pavement, giving you a small wave. 

“Hi.” 

You smile, the word somehow too simple , but you say it back. You try to think of something else to say, to fill the space between you, 

“There’s not a race tonight, is there?” 

His eyebrows crinkle together, smiling, “Why? Did you want to give driving a shot?” 

You laugh and he takes a step closer, “No, I wouldn’t stand a chance. Even when you’re driving too fast sometimes I get nauseous.” 

“I’m always under the speed limit.” 

“You are not,” You scoff out a sound but you’re grinning. 

“Very responsible,” Nick tacks on with a playful tilt of his lips, sticking his hands into his pockets. 

The banter is familiar but it makes you miss him even more. That gnawing pit in your stomach rears its ugly head as you think about the other night, about saying something so vulnerable and it not being reciprocated. Nick must see the shadow pass over your face because he clears his throat, tilting his head in the direction of the bathrooms. 

“I’m gonna—” He trails off and he turns to leave but then pauses, “I’ll see you later?” 

The question sinks into your skin and blooms before you give him a small nod. You then look at your shoes, unable to watch him walk away. 

—

Having another sip of the drink in your hand, you smile as Pete finishes his semi-cute rant about the first car he ever owned. Some sort of thing he and dad fixed up together, which is how he’s come to love cars. It’s nice, having that connection to something special, something that becomes a passion project. You thought for a long time that might be art for you but…you’ve learned that you’re much more someone who appreciates viewing art than creating it. Maybe you’ll end up going to school for something that involves the ocean.

Shifting on your feet, you curl your hair away from your face. There’s a soft headache pinching the back of your head, behind your ear, but it’s probably from the muffled sound of music constantly pulsing against the concrete down here. 

“So would you say you like driving or fixing up cars more?” You ask, running your thumb over the rim of the cup. 

He opens his mouth to reply, but then his gaze narrows to someone behind you. Turning, you come face to face with Nick, who looks furious. It’s not so much in his face, it’s the way he’s holding his body—like a tight band about to snap. He zeroes in on the cup in your hand, 

“Give that to me.” 

You blink, “What? No.” Seriously? You thought you kinda parted from one another on good terms and now he’s here? In your business while you’re trying to talk to a guy? To have a decent night that doesn’t include him? 

You open up your mouth–

“Y/N.” There's something in the way that he says your name that makes you feel cold, your gaze wandering down to the cup. It only takes a moment to connect to dots about why Nick would approach you like this, pissed. A sour feeling develops in your stomach, connecting to pinpricks of dread as the cup leaves your hand.

Nick takes it, your fingers brushing, setting it down on the pavement. And as if he wasn't moving carefully before, he suddenly whirls his body in precise movements, suckerpunching Pete in the face. His body bows and he lands on the ground, screaming about his face—

"You broke my fucking nose!"

"You think someone wasn't going to hear you in the bathroom, you fuck?" He snaps and you stumble a step back, bumping into the driver's side of a car nearby. You’re trying to piece together what’s going on but your thoughts are sluggish, which just serves to make you feel more panicked. 

"I didn't know she was your girlfriend, man, she said she was single." 

You put your hand over your mouth, swaying a little on your feet, though you're not sure if it's because Pete...he put something in your drink or because of the blood on Nick's knuckles as he throws another punch, this time hitting him square in the jaw. Pete's head snaps back like a ragdoll but all he does is groan. 

It’s unclear if Nick says anything else because the garage begins to spin and you let out a short, sharp breath, bending a little at your waist to close your eyes. Fuck. Whatever Pete gave you? It's strong and working fast—you only had a few sips of that drink. Terrifying to think if you'd been alone with him...

Someone comes up beside you and wraps an arm around your waist and you begin to squirm until you hear Nick's voice against your ear, "Shh, it's me." A small, uncomfortable whimper leaves your lips—your body feels weird, like it's disconnected. Bone by bone, muscle by muscle. Your cheeks are hot and your stomach is dipping in nausea. "I know, I got you. Hold onto me." 

You stretch your arm across his shoulders, squeezing your eyes shut as everything spins. There's movement, but you have no idea how you're even walking with how heavily you're leaning into Nick's side. 

Flashes of movement, sound, and pitches of light. You can feel warm leather underneath your body, head lolled back against the headrest, Jenna's voice? Then Nick's. 

"No, I got her." He closes a door, opens up another, "I get it Jenn, but it’s not happening. I’m not leaving her.” Confusion prickles along your forehead, unable to make heads or tails of that conversation. You want to ask but your veins feel like they're filled with cotton as the world goes black. 

--

Sleep is uncomfortable and dreamless. You wake up several times with a pounding headache, a sour stomach, and shaking that makes you feel like there aren’t enough blankets in the world to keep you warm. When you wake up and it sticks, you blink as you try to get your vision to adjust. The room is a little dark, sun trying to shine through drawn curtains. There’s an anvil that’s been placed on your head, there has to be, because when you turn to lie on your back the pain in your temples is unheard of. 

You close your eyes again, pinching the space between your nose and forehead with your fingers. It doesn’t help. A weight sits down near your legs, an arm stretched over them. When you manage to pry your eyelids back again, Nick comes into slow focus. He looks tired, eyes not as bright, curls a bit mussed. 

“How you feeling?” He asks, voice nearly a whisper. 

“Like I swallowed a tire and then was run over.” You wince, sitting up just a little, which somehow makes everything worse. Your hand covers your face and Nick threads his fingers through your hair, brushing the strands over your shoulder. The room is quiet for the moment, birds chirping outside, the even movement of Nick drawing in breath. 

“I can't believe this happened,” You mumble, “I feel like an idiot.”

“This isn't on you,” He says, voice gentle but firm. “If Pete knows what's good for him, he'll never think about doing shit like that again.”

You raise your eyebrows, the corner of your mouth twitching in a smile as you finally look at him. “What are you, like, the mafia? Did you cut off his hands?”

A wisp of a smile, and yet something dark in those eyes that make you swallow, “No, but I did threaten to slam them in his car door if I ever saw him at another event you were at.”

You shake your head even though your entire body bursts with warmth. What does it say about you? That you're willing to accept such a violent sentiment? You draw in a long breath through your nose. Maybe a thought for another day when you don't feel so sick. 

One of Nick's hands lace through yours, his thumb brushing circles around your knuckles. "Seeing you like that..." He was scared, you realize, you can see it on his face—plain as day. He's quiet for a moment, licking his lips before he speaks again, 

"Can I get you anything?" 

You shake your head, not wanting him to leave, drawing in a breath as you finally notice that you're in his bedroom and not your own. You pick up hints of the smell of laundry detergent and his shampoo on his sheets. He drove you back to his place, 

"Didn't think I'd end up in your bed any time soon." It's a small joke, just something to break what feels like a vice-like tension around your ribs. 

Nick's gaze holds your own for a moment, something unweighted and unsaid, "I miss you here." 

You swallow over an instant lump in your throat and you have to tear your eyes away and blink, trying to get rid of the sudden onslaught of tears. Partly because of the situation that landed you here, but also because you didn't realize how much you needed to hear him say it, to hold that same sentiment as you. 

You sniffle, a tear slipping down your cheek as you try to play off the comment with a light laugh, "Well your bed does have the best pillows." 

Nick doesn't reply but instead leans forward until his arms are wrapped around your back, gently pulling you to his chest. His one hand slips through your hair as you press your face into his shoulder, while the other rubs up and down your back in firm, even strokes. 

Nothing is fixed between you two, not by a long-shot. But some of the visible cracks, you think, begin to heal. 

—

You were wrong. 

That much is clear. You’ve had so many good moments with Nick that you’re not sure why you allowed your unfounded anxiety to control you, to convince you of something that wasn’t true. But that time spent with him in his bedroom after the whole Pete thing only solidifies what you’ve been feeling for a while. 

You fucked up. 

You pulled away based solely on fears that were baseless, something you thought you didn’t have a claim to. But you do. You do deserve to have someone be there for you, to take care of you, to look out for you. To miss you. 

You’re ready to own that you didn’t make the best choice…but Nick needs to own his mess too. 

Y/N: Can we talk? 

It takes a little for your phone to buzz— Nick: You’re not gonna convince me that diner food is somehow better than Italian, you’re just not. 

A small smile tugs the corners of your mouth, Y/N: I mean…

You’ve had this banter back and forth before and it’s easy to fall back into similar patterns, something comforting. That feels like home. 

Nick: You’ve never had homemade carbonara. Life-changing. 

Y/N: Are you offering? 

Not what you were originally trying to text him about but spending time with him wouldn’t suck, either. Who says you can’t bring up past mistakes over pasta? You chew on your lower lip, as you wait for a response. 

Nick: What do you want to talk about? Nick: I might be out of London next week, my dad is traveling for work and I think I’m gonna go with him.

You stare at the messages for a moment, almost getting whiplash. You know that tone completely disappears sometimes with texting but…you also get the sense that you and Nick are on the same page. And he doesn’t want to be. 

You swallow over unspoken words in your throat, not wanting to lose your nerve. If Nick leaves, you’re almost worried that you’ll be at square one when he gets back. 

Y/N: Something important. 

You curl your hair around your ear, pulling yourself up in bed. You do your best not to pace, trying to clean up your room instead, something more productive than wearing the carpet down. When your phone pings, you deny practically diving for it. 

Nick: Then I’ll make time for you. 

—

That conversation doesn’t happen. Not because neither of you want it to happen, but because the next day, your grandmother passes away. It’s not something you were expecting—you thought your grandma was in pretty good health for her age. You just saw her a month ago…went over to her house, baked cookies and watched episodes of Magnum P.I., because your grandmother’s thirsting commentary over Tom Selleck was one of your favorite things to participate in. 

You were close. Sometimes you talked to her about relationships  because she was married to your grandfather until he died a few years ago. They were in love in a way that made you feel like…like maybe it’s one of the best and worst things to happen to someone. That maybe not all relationships are doomed from the start. Your gram talked about her husband every day, even after he passed, something warm and gentle in her eyes. That love never faded. 

Sometimes you and her talked about Nick. 

When your parents tell you, you don’t cry. You just kind of stand there staring at them, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for someone to turn this into a warped joke, a morbid sense of humor. It doesn’t feel real. How does one day have your grandmother in it and then the next just…doesn’t? How are you supposed to keep going through each of them moving forward without her? Someone who was always willing to listen, someone who made you laugh and feel at home in your skin. 

Someone who just saw you. There’s only been one another person in your life that’s made you feel like that. 

The days slip forward but you don’t end up leaving your room, spending time in bed, unmoving. You ignore your laptop, your pinging phone that eventually dies, the pleas of your parents to eat something. You just…you can’t. Not right now. There’s an ache in your chest that is beyond anything you’ve ever felt before, it immobilizes you. In the back of your mind you know you should take care of yourself, that the last thing your grandmother would want is this. 

But today isn’t that day. 

You shift in bed, adjusting your head on your pillow, hearing your bedroom door open. You don’t turn to look at who it is—probably your mother, either setting food on your nightstand or maybe deciding she’s gonna force your hand. Yank the covers off and encourage you to get a shower. You cover your face with your hand, listening to the movements as the door closes again. 

Blankets are pulled back, but someone crawls in, your heart lurching into your throat as you realize who it is. 

Nick drags his hand down your arm, shuffling closer until his front maps against your back. “You don’t have to say anything,” He murmurs, “But I’m going to lay here with you. Alright?” 

You lick your lips, the bridge of your nose stinging as you realize he’s supposed to be gone this week. He mentioned he was going to travel with his dad and yet he’s here, with you, offering you comfort and space all at once. You lean back just a little into him, a silent reply, squeezing your eyes shut. Nick’s hand rubs your shoulder, thumb tracing back and forth along your elbow, a kiss pressed to the back of your neck. 

The weight of his body and the heat of his skin make tears gather in your eyes. You’re not sure how your heart can feel so full and empty all at the same time. Sniffling, you turn your body so that you’re facing him, Nick leaning back just a little. His hand comes to rest on your waist, his head perched on your one pillow. Your eyes begin to trace the soft blonde curls that are near his forehead, the slope of his nose, his strong jawline and full lips. 

He’s here—and you love him even more than you already do, which doesn’t feel possible. 

Nick’s eyes explore your face, his one hand cupping your cheek and brushing underneath your eye, removing invisible tears that haven’t fallen yet. “I’m so sorry.” He whispers. 

You bite down on the inside of your cheek, trying not to cry, but on the next intake of breath tears spill over your cheeks. You cover your face with one hand, your shoulders shuddering, and Nick closes the space between you. He draws you into his chest, tucking you under his chin, and you find yourself clinging to him as each sob wracks your body. All the pent up emotions you’ve had since you found out empty against his chest—and Nick takes it all. 

He steadies you, wrapping his arms tightly around your frame, pressing his nose and lips into your hair. He squeezes every so often, your fingers gathering his shirt into your hands as if you can ground yourself in him. 

“That’s it,” He threads his hand through your hair, rubbing his thumb against the back of your neck. “Just let it all out.” Nick knows you far too well, knows that you haven’t given yourself time to feel, to be. To let it all wash over you. That you need this and didn’t realize how much that was true until it was happening. 

You exhaust yourself, until you’re a mess of sniffles and stumbled breathing. Nick pulls back a little, cupping both sides of your face to brush your hair behind your ears. He presses a kiss to your forehead, reaching over your shoulder to grab a few tissues from the box on your nightstand. 

“Thank you.” Your voice is a bit strained from lack of use and you try your best to clean up your face, crumpling the tissues into your palms. You’re not just thanking him for the tissues though, it’s for everything, for being here. 

Your chest hurts but…you feel a little bit better. You’re not sure when you’ll feel like yourself again, but it’s a good, small, first step. Your gaze finds Nick’s, who’s watching you with a careful expression. Not because he thinks you might start crying again, but because he’s concerned. Worried. You lift your hand and brush your thumb over his lower lip, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“I love you.” You tell him, feeling him go still beneath your touch. You know this might not be the best time, that maybe these thick, heavy emotions are driving forth how you make decisions, but…if anything? You’ve just been reminded that life is short. That you shouldn’t go through it without sharing how you feel about things, about people. 

“I know it’s…I know we still have to talk and I understand if—” If you don’t feel the same way, is what you want to say but the words get trapped underneath your tongue. 

Nick’s hand falls to your neck, tipping your chin up with his thumb, “I love you too.” He replies, stealing the air right from your lungs. “That’ll never change.” He holds your gaze a moment, playfully pinching your chin between his thumb and fingers. “Okay?” 

You give him a soft, watery smile, nodding before he tucks you in close again. 

Nick stays as long as you need him. 

—

A handful of weeks pass by—the pain of losing your grandmother doesn’t completely disappear. But you do feel better. They say that time is capable of healing all wounds, and maybe that’s true, but honestly? You think it has everything to do with Nick. 

—

Jenna’s birthday is celebrated at her house, a large party underway. You’d expect nothing less at celebrating someone so vibrant. You’re over there early to help set up, to hang out and do your makeup, to eat a little too much cake with sweet icing. Her house fills up fast, people you’ve never even met before spilling into all the rooms of the lavish London estate. You’re looking for someone specific though. 

You and Nick haven’t spoken with the intention of clearing the air since your grandmother passed. He’s been giving you space to breathe and work through your emotions, which…you appreciate, but you don’t want space anymore. You don’t want to spend one more day caught between a ‘sometimes’ and an ‘almost’. 

“You seen Nick?” You call out to Lion who’s mixing drinks in the kitchen. 

“Playing pool I think.” He volleys back. 

Making your way through the crowd of people, you turn towards the dining room were the pool table is located, but stop short when you hear Anna—

“C’mon Nick, at the very least we used to be good friends.” 

“Jesus Anna, I’m just trying to take a piss.” Which tells you she cornered him outside the bathroom. You chew on your lower lip, debating turning the corner and revealing that you’re standing there or going about your business to the dining room…or maybe even go back the way you came. 

You shouldn’t be eavesdropping, you know you’d be annoyed if someone was listening in on you, but…your feet feel glued to the carpet. You’re not sure you can move even if you decided to. 

“I’m just trying to say,” Anna replies, softer than before. She must have stepped closer to him because her voice is no longer carrying like it was. “That I miss you.” 

There is no reply from Nick. 

“We’ve always known how to have a good time.” 

When Nick finally does speak, his voice is matter of fact, “That hasn’t been true for a long time.” 

Anna bristles, “I just thought that since you’re single now, free from that—”

“Don’t,” Nick interrupts, a warning. You can picture the muscle in his jaw working, the way it clenches when he begins to get pissed off. Then, “You thought wrong.” 

A door closes, effectively ending the conversation. You know you should probably move as Anna storms down the hallway, but you don’t and when she turns the corner, her eyes go wide. You straighten your shoulders at her scowl, offering her a bright smile…before heading in the direction she came from. 

Down the hall, towards Nick. 

You wait patiently outside the bathroom for the door to open, his eyebrows lifting in soft surprise as he sees you leaning against the far wall. Warm amusement blooms over his face, erasing the earlier attitude lines from his expression.  Nick’s shoulders drop from his ears, his entire demeanor relaxes around you, as if he’s peeling away a version of himself. That he’s showing you something real. You have no idea why you hadn’t noticed it before. 

He props himself against the doorframe, “This feels vaguely familiar.” He smirks, glancing down the empty hall. 

You move towards him, a fond smile on your face, “I was looking for you.” 

Nick draws in a soft breath, tipping his chin down as you come to stand in front of him. “How have you been doing?”

It’s a large question, one you’re not sure you have a complete answer for, but you love that he asks, “I’m alright,” You nod, “Some days are better than others.” 

He nods, silence stretching between you both but it’s not uncomfortable. Your heart hammers a little into your ears and you resist the urge to straighten your dress when you know it’s perfectly fine. 

“I’m not keeping you from anything, am I?” You ask after a moment, “Anna waiting to have a good time?” 

Nick lets out a soft laugh that sounds like a breath leaving his nose, rolling his eyes, “Heard all that, did you?” 

And yes, you may have admitted that you were eavesdropping, but he doesn’t look put off in the slightest. “Was a valiant effort on her part.” 

His gaze is warm as he shakes his head and suddenly the silence between you two feels electrically charged. “She didn’t come close.” 

You feel heat splotch across the back of your neck and fuck, you have no idea what it is exactly about Nick and how he can make you feel like this. Like everything you thought you knew has been flipped upside down. You breathe in through your nose to settle the butterflies, straightening your spine in resolve so you don’t chicken out—

“This…distance between us, it’s…it was my fault.” 

Nick’s eyebrows draw together a little and he takes a step forward and you’re almost breathing the same air. You can feel the heat of his body through his clothes, his cologne achingly familiar, his fingers brushing yours as he takes your hand into his. You turn your wrist, your thumb playing with a ring on his index. 

You expect him to make a joke about there not being distance at all, but instead, he shakes his head, not allowing you to take all the blame, “I knew what you were doing,” Pulling away, “and instead of trying to talk to you, I made it worse.” 

“You wanted to hurt me,” You admit in a small voice. 

Nick glances away, a twitch in his jaw that tells you everything without him even having to say it. Not something he’s proud of, yet true. 

“Is that what you really wanted?” You ask, quickly clarifying when pain flashes in his eyes. “To break up?” 

He lifts his hand and plays with a strand of hair near your ear before tucking it behind. There’s a soft smile playing with the corners of his mouth, but it’s like he’s afraid to give into the full emotion. 

“Think we both know I’m not exactly over you.” 

You smile back, “So I’ll take that as a no then—”

Nick leans down to kiss you. It’s gentle at first, wary, asking for permission—just in case. But the moment you thread your fingers behind his neck, when you lean your body into his and make a soft, pleased noise, that’s all it takes for him to deepen the kiss. The atmosphere shifts around you and Nick leans down, lifting you up into his arms, backing up into the bathroom as your legs wrap around his waist. 

Sometimes Nick reminds you of fire—warmth, crackling energy, unpredictability. All-consuming. It’s one of your favorite things about him, how undeniable he is. 

The kiss breaks for a moment, you breathe and Nick’s one arm keeps you close while the other slips between you. His hand cups your cheek, thumb toying with your lower lip. “Whoever thought breaking up was a good idea is an absolute tool.” 

A giggle slips out, making Nick smile against your lips, and he backs up until he becomes flush with a wall. When that happens, he carefully loosens his arms so that you end up back on the floor, pressed against him. Your arms lazily wrap around his waist, up and under his jacket, a soft squeeze following. 

He purses his lips, “You think Jenna would be angry with us for leaving her birthday party early?” 

You really like where that thought is going, “I think she’ll understand,” You tip your chin up at him, smiling, “Besides, I have one of those faces that’s hard to say no to—sure she can’t be mad at it, either.”

Nick sighs softly, grabbing your hand to lace his fingers with your own. He begins to tug you from the bathroom, “Don’t I know it.” 

You grin, wandering back down the hallway and through the party towards the front door where all the cars are parked. You pass Anna on the way out, her eyes zeroing in on your joined hands. You know it’s petty of you to wave goodbye to her with your other hand—yet you do it anyways. 

—

Nick’s kitchen is filled with the scent of spices, herbs and fatty pork. He kept his promise about making homemade carbonara and you should have known that if he was going to cook, he was going to go all out. You lean against the counter as you sit on a high stool, chin pillowed in your hand, eyes on the back of him as he twirls pasta on the stove with tongs. Your gaze follows the long line of toned muscles in his shoulders, down to his waist. 

One of the hottest things a guy can do, you think, is cook. 

Jenna playfully snaps her fingers in front of your face, breaking your staring contest. You’re not even embarrassed, you just grin at her. She shakes her head, amused, “I’m so glad you’re back together, babe. No offense, I love you, but you both were just absolutely insufferable.” 

You scoff out an affronted noise, your hand on your chest in mock offense as Nick turns around to plate pasta. He’s smiling, his eyes flickering to yours before concentrating on the task at hand. He pulls long noodles from the pot, twisting even helpings onto serving plates. 

Everyone eats their fill—Jenna, Lion and Giles headed towards the pool for a late night swim. You and Nick will join them, eventually, but for now you have another helping of pasta as Nick cleans up the kitchen. You smile a little as you hear Jenna laugh outside, splashes of water. A pleased breath is drawn into your lungs as you eat the last bit of pasta on your plate. 

It’s gone—a tragedy. 

“Not going to lick the plate?” Nick asks, voice full teasing, a warmth in his gaze as he takes the plate from you. 

You narrow your eyes a little, “I mean, it was good, but check your ego.” 

Nick smirks, “Alright, so what’s the verdict?” You pretend to give it some serious thought, pausing for dramatic effect. Your boyfriend laughs suddenly, shaking his head— “Oh come on, you’re not serious.” 

“I’m still thinking!” 

“What’s there to think about?” He asks, “Homemade carbonara.” 

“Yeah, but like…have you ever ordered a cheeseburger with a perfect side of cinnamon pancakes?” You ask, purposely trying to jerk his wire, “Only a diner can do that.” 

Nick sets the plate down behind him, turning to lean against the counter. He gives you an incredulous look, “You are absolutely wrong for that, don’t know how else to put it.” 

You preen, a grin on your face, “You love me.” You toss it out rather carelessly, not expecting Nick to catch it. 

And yet he does, handles it with care, keeps it close. “Yes,” He nods, a small smile on his face. “I do.” 

A soft breath catches in your throat and warmth, affection, gathers in the center of your chest. The sensation used to make you feel like running away, but not anymore. You tilt your head a little, 

“Come over here and kiss me.” 

Nick pushes himself off the counter, rounding the island counter as you shift your body on the stool. He’s moving almost too fast, eager, and you don’t have time to open your legs for him as he leans down and captures your lips. That’s just fine though, his hands splay your knees apart before he sinks between them. 

A soft noise leaves your lips, an ache beginning in your stomach and blooming lower, your one ankle hooks around the back of his leg. There’s a distant thought in the back of your mind, shouldn’t we be getting back to our friends? — but that is quickly overshadowed when you feel the beginning of Nick’s hardness against your inner thigh. 

He seems to read your mind because in one quick motion, he’s lifting you up into his arms and you steady yourself with your legs around his waist, arms draped over his shoulders. 

“What are you doing?” You laugh, noses brushing as he tips his head up to look at you. 

“Making up for lost time.” And carries you towards his bedroom. 

[cutebat]

Yandere Batfam x Neglected, but Defiant Reader

The Other Half

Warning(s): Yandere themes (at the end), neglect, mentions of pills (but she doesn't actually take them), a lot of swearing, stealing, mentions of cheating and bribery, attempted guilt tripping, forcing to drop out, reader is just a millennial in the 2020s

(This chapter is basically the other part of the prologue, and I fixed some things. Most of this chapter just shows reader's personal life at school.)

~~~~~

How long has it been has you stopped being Batgirl?

Days... Weeks... Months... A year?

Honestly, you don't really care. It's more like you don't feel to care anymore.

After you threw out your costume in that dumpster, you just lost all hope of whatever you'll become.

You were walking down the hallway of the Wayne manor as you think about all of this.

If nobody really cared about what you did, then why bother keep going? I mean, your family didn't really give you a lot of praise.

You let out a heavy sigh as you enter the bathroom. When you locked the door, you couldn't help but stare at yourself in the mirror.

Your eyes were still kinda empty but a little bright at the same time. Your hair feels so smooth and soft. And your skin... it just looks so perfect. This makes you think to yourself...

Since when did you become so pretty?

After staring at yourself in the mirror, you were about to leave the bathroom before you gaze lands on something.

It was an orange pill bottle.

"SSRI..."

You mutter out as you read the label.

You opened the door to peak to see if anyone was in the hallway. Coast clear.

With that, you took the pill bottle and put it in your top since you didn't have any pockets.

~~~~~

The first week when you started eighth grade came by quickly.

You were just wandering down around the hallway alone as many students walked by you to either go to class or skip to go somewhere.

As you walked down the hallway, you spotted someone approaching you.

"Uh, hey."

The voice calls out to you as the person walks towards you.

It was a guy with slightly bushy blonde hair with brown eyes. He seems to be around your age.

You only blinked before you spoke up.

"Hi."

You responded blankly.

"Um, are you new here?"

He asks as he rubs the back of his head.

"I've been going here for two years."

You said as you just stood there, staring at this boring looking guy.

"Oh, cool... I just thought that since I've never seen you around here before. Anyway, do you know where your classes are?"

He asks which makes you tilt your head to the side a bit.

"Kinda. I've seen all of the classes here around this building, so I think I'm going to be fine."

You said as you place your hand on your hip.

"Okay, that's cool. I'm Peter, by the way. What's your name?"

The guy whose name is Peter introduces himself with a small smile.

You were silent for a bit, surprised that someone actually spoke to you. You decided to... be nice, I guess.

"(name)."

You simply replied with your hand still on your hip.

"Aw, cool. It was nice meeting you (name). Hey, if you want, maybe we can hang out. You know, as friends? Maybe more...?"

Peter said as if he had high hope.

You just blinked before you replied.

"I literally just met you."

"Well... yeah, but-"

The guy tries to explain himself before you caught him off again.

"Well, I'm going to find my class now. See ya."

You said before you turned and walked away.

Was that guy really trying to hit on you?

~~~~~

You enter the classroom that seems to look like any other classroom.

"Ah, we have our first tardy student. Welcome to English 2. My name is Ms. Tucker, what is yours?"

The teacher said as she turned to you.

You stayed by the doorway for a moment, looking unfazed.

"Um... Beyoncé?"

You replied which made the students in the class laugh.

"Settle down! I have to look it up in the attendance sheet, then..."

Your teacher said with a sigh before she pointed at an empty desk, indicating that your new seat was.

As you sat down, Ms. Tucker speaks up again.

"Alright then, now I see that everyone's present, I want to start off with some first day reading. Basically, like silent reading time."

She said before a girl raised her hand.

"Can we read manga?"

She asks, which makes the teacher raise her eyebrow.

"Is that like... a comic book?"

"Does it even matter?"

"Well, I don't think they're fitting for your age."

"You literally just said to 'read a book'. Manga is technically a book."

"I'm not sure if that's school appropriate."

"I just saw a manga section in the school library earlier, how the fuck is that not school appropriate?"

"Not getting to the point here. I'm just saying to read something more like you kids would like."

"And what's that?"

"How about... The Catcher in the Rye? Written by J.D. Salinger?"

Everyone fell silent before you spoke up.

"You're such a fucking white mom, it's not even funny."

This made everyone in the class burst out laughing.

"Excuse me, young lady?"

"You heard me, bitch."

The students laughed even more.

"Go to the headmaster's office!"

Ms. Tucker yells as she points to the door.

~~~~~

"You're on thin ice on the first day, (name)."

The headmaster said with her hands on her hips.

"It's not my fault that Ms. Tucker is such a bitch and also, there was this other girl who interrupted her."

You said as you were seated in front of her.

"Don't shift this onto someone else, (name). We're talking about you right now."

"So, what am I supposed to do? Accidentally call my teacher a fucking white mom?"

"You're supposed to follow the school rules and not insult your teachers. You should've known this."

"I do."

"Then, why did you do it anyway?"

You purse your lips before you respond.

"Because it's funny."

Your response made your headmaster sigh to calm herself down.

"Well... if this doesn't work out for you, we can always transfer you in an alternative educational system instead."

She suggests using a calm, patient expression on her face.

"I swear to god if you put me in one of those schools that have nothing but those weird, delusional people who believe in 'those' kinds of inclusivity topics, I will actually bully the fuck out of all of them."

You told her with a slightly irritated expression on your face.

"I wasn't implying to those schools, (name). We have other educational systems for students who don't seem to get along."

Your headmaster said which made you raise your eyebrow.

"Really now?"

"I wouldn't try to get into them if I were you. Please believe me when I tell you that the school you're in right now is actually a good thing."

She explains to you which made you seem to be in more thought.

~~~~~

Later in lunch, you were sitting at a table alone as you stared down at the food that Alfred made for you.

"Damn, it's fucking freezing in here. Why do they always turn up the AC?"

You mutter to yourself as you slightly shiver.

"Fucking tell me about it."

A voice pipes up that makes you look up to see two girls who are wearing the same uniform as you, walking over to you.

"Oh, sorry. Were you guys sitting here? I can move if you want."

You said before one of them shook her head.

"Nah, it's fine. You seem cool."

She said as she and the other girl sits down in front of you.

"I'm Noelle, and this is Sasha."

The girl in the bob cut said as the other girl nodded.

"I'm (name)."

You said in a bored tone.

"(name)... such a cute name. I like it."

Noelle said with a small smile.

"So, where did you come from?"

"The headmaster's office."

You said as you roll your eyes.

"Damn, the headmaster's office on the first day? What did you do?"

Sasha asks as she rests her chin on the palm of her hand.

"I told Ms. Tucker that she was a fucking white mom."

You respond in an emotionless tone.

"She is, isn't she?"

"Yeah, except I don't think she's married or anything."

"You don't need to be married to be a mom."

"That's true."

"Anyway, that was really good."

"I know."

You said with a small smirk on your face, feeling a sense of pride in yourself.

As the three of you were chatting, someone walks up to your table.

"Hey, guys. Hey, Sasha..."

Looking up, you see a slightly tall guy with brown hair, towering over the three of you.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Sasha asks as she glares up at the guy.

"It's me. Ian? I was in your social studies class last year. You know, year 8? You used to copy off of the tests that we took. I'm also in your geography class right now."

He said as Sasha just blankly stared up at him.

"Okay... cool."

"So, anyway, I actually wanna ask you something."

Ian said as he glanced down at the three girls below.

"Who?"

You ask with your eyebrow lifted.

"You, actually."

"Wait, me? Why?"

"I heard about you calling Ms. Tucker names and got sent to the office for that. I want to say that's actually pretty cool."

"Thanks, I guess."

"Yeah, so, anyway... I want to know if you're free either tonight or tomorrow."

"Why do you want to know?"

"I actually want to... take you out on a date."

"A date?"

You ask out loud with your eyes wide.

"Yeah. It's not going to be too extreme... just a simple night out at my favorite spot."

Ian said with a smile.

"And where's that?"

You ask with your eyebrow raised.

"The arcade at the alleyway."

"An arcade? Out of all the places, an arcade is your go to spot?"

"Yeah. It's pretty old, but it's also kinda cool."

You just blinked as you were in thought. The guy himself seemed pretty boring, but on second thought, you don't really want to go back home after school.

"Yeah, sure."

"Wait, really?"

Ian said out of suprise.

"Yeah, I have nothing else to do. My home life is pretty shitty anyway, so I have no problem."

You tell him.

"Oh, sweet. Okay, then. I'll give you my number to send you the location. It was nice meeting you."

He said before he placed a piece of paper in front of you before he walks off.

"Holy shit..."

Noelle mutters out.

"You got asked out by a grade 9 student."

Sasha said as she stared into you.

"Yeah... Is that a problem?"

You ask.

"No, not at all. It's just that... you got asked out by someone on the first day. That's pretty impressive."

Sasha said in an amazed tone.

"Yeah. I won't be that surprised that it's a super lame dude, but an older dude is kind of just... wow."

Noelle said with her eyes wide.

"So, if I get asked out by an older guy, does that mean it's a good thing?"

You ask as you lean back to your seat.

"Well, it depends on the guy. If he's just a few years older than you, that's fine. But really old dudes, no way."

Sasha said as she stares at your food.

"Hey, are you going to eat that? My mom won't make me anything cause I told her that her new haircut looks like a really trashy lesbian would have, and the school lunch here is just not it."

"Yeah, sure, go ahead. The temperature in here made me lose my appetite."

You said as you pushed your lunch towards her.

~~~~~

After school, you went through a very long day.

You had your date with that Ian guy at the arcade. It's pretty trashy but kinda fun. He even got you this massive bunny plushie. After the date, he wanted to take you home, but you just left before he could say anything else. Then, you end up meeting a guy who seems to be around a few years older than you on your way home. He took you to an abandoned building, but he ended up falling asleep the second you two entered. So, you ended up taking his wallet for an Uber. Once the driver dropped you off, he gave you his number for some reason. It was weird, but you took it anyway cause, why not.

~~~~~

"Whew, what a day..."

You muttered to yourself as you entered the Wayne manor.

"Miss (name), where on earth have you been?"

Alfred, the family butler, asks out of shock as he comes downstairs to find you coming inside.

"At an arcade."

You reply in a blank tone.

"So, I'm supposed to believe the story of you being at an arcade after school all night?"

The old butler wonders with his eyebrow lifted.

"All night? I was there for about what... Two or three hours."

"It's two in the morning, miss (name)."

"Oh, wow. I really hung around that building for that long?"

You mutter to yourself out of surprise.

"What building are you talking about, miss (name)?"

Alfred asks as he walks up to you.

"Some abandoned building I went to after my date at that shitty arcade."

You tell the butler as he kneels down to your height.

"How far away were you? Did you walk? Your uniform is a mess!"

He asks as he took a look at you.

"Nah, I got myself an Uber. It's fine."

You tell him with your tone still blank as ever.

"Miss (name), I don't think it's a good idea to accept rides from strangers."

Alfred said with a heavy sigh as he led you upstairs.

"That's how Ubers work, Alfred. You just find someone pretty close to your location and let them drive you anywhere you want. It's like going on a taxi."

You explain to him as he takes you to your bedroom and lets you sit down on your desk chair.

"I suppose. However, you could have given Master Richard or Master Jason to pick you up. I think that'll be a safer option."

Alfred said in reply as he took out some comfortable clothes from your closet and handed them over to you.

"Why the hell should I call these fuckers? They don't give a shit about me anyway."

You snap at the butler as you snatch your clothes from him and go inside your own bathroom.

It was silent as Alfred stood in front of your bathroom door with a concerned expression and a heavy heart. Then, he speaks up again.

"I tried to talk to them again today, especially to Master Bruce. But, I got no response from all of them. I really tried. I'm really sorry, miss (name)."

His words made the old butler pursed his lips as he let out a sigh. He feels guilty that he didn't try enough for your family to at least give you a glance. He's been doing this ever since you got neglected and tried every single day with no response.

That's when you open the bathroom door with you wearing the clothes that he gave you. A yellow sweatshirt and a black skirt.

"It's fine, just forget about it. I appreciate though."

You tell him as you look up at him.

"Sorry for snapping at you a second ago..."

You added as you put some of your hair strands behind your ear.

However, the butler only smiles as he kneels down to your height once again.

"I understand, miss (name). It's not your fault. None of this is."

He reassures you as he places both of his hands on your shoulders.

"Even though they might not pay attention to you that much, I will always be by your side."

He tells you that made you smile a little.

"Thanks, Alfred."

You mutter out.

"Also, let's keep me coming back home a secret, okay? I know that they won't care if they find out, but still."

You add with a chuckle that made the butler smile.

"Alright. But, I will advise you to go to bed now. It's a school night, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know."

Meanwhile, unknowingly to you, someone was beside your bedroom door, listening in the conversation.

~~~~~

Since then, you've never felt so... free.

You became friends with those two girls from lunch, and more guys asked you out while you two timed them the same time, and some of the teachers were so easy to bribe off that you ended up skipping most of your classes. At least you were still passing.

You also stayed up at night to do stuff like going out, doing some more lame dates, and most of all, just chilled out.

As long Alfred kept quiet about all this, then none of this would have a problem. Not that you have too much to worry about.

Life is going so well for you.

For now.

~~~~~

When the first semester ended and winter break started, you had a packed schedule ahead. You're planning to go on dates for the next two weeks straight. It was going to be tough, especially hanging around with a bunch of weird guys, but hey, at least they're buying you things that you want.

As you entered your bedroom because you forgot your phone, you were suprised to see...

Bruce?

He was sitting on your bed and seemed to be deep in thought before he looked up to see you standing by in the doorway.

"What are you doing in here?"

You ask as you walk into your room.

Bruce seems to be nervous before he lets out a sigh.

"(name)... we need to have a talk."

He said as he looked straight into your eyes which made you groan.

"Oh my god... Can we talk about this later? I have a date to go to."

You ask that made him a little frustrated.

"You're not going anywhere tonight, (name)."

He said that made you a little surprised.

"Why the hell not?"

"Watch your tone, young lady."

"Since when did you address me that?"

"Not the point right now."

Bruce lets out a sigh before he looks down at you.

"Look, I... was told about your behavior for the past months and I took a look through your things to check up on what was going on. I... didn't know what you were going through. None of us did. We didn't know that this the reason why you're behaving like this at school and started hanging out with the wrong people."

He tells you as he places his hand on your shoulder.

"I'm really sorry, (name)... I really am. Even though you can't forgive me for what I did, I'll try my best to be the best father you've ever had. I told the others about this and they'll start behaving and treat you the way that you deserve."

You just stood there, as if you heard the biggest news of your life, except not in a good way. It's as if something hit you right in the gut.

"Oh, shit! Um... okay."

You mutter out as you just stare at your adopted father.

Sensing your tenses, Bruce decided to go into more detail. Which was not a good idea...

"Because of this, I decided that you should be around people who me and the others will find alright. Since I don't know who you're around, Damian will check who your friends and the people you date are. Also, the family wants you to be around them. Such as spending time with them and basically having fun. Something that you never got to experience."

Now, this. This felt like a nuclear bomb dropped into your head.

"Are you serious...? Like, are you actually fucking serious right now?"

You ask as your eye twitches a bit.

"You really thought I could just accept whatever shit that comes out of your mouth because you suddenly remember what you and those other fuckers treated me? Now, you want me to drop out of the life that I kinda enjoy? You sure are funny, are you?"

You said in a bitter tone before your lips curled into a snarl.

"I will never forget about the shit that I went through to please you and that shitty family that I was forced to be a part of."

You added as you walked to Bruce and got in his face before you spit out the next two words out of your mouth.

"Fuck you and your family."

With that, you stormed out of your bedroom as Bruce calls out for you.

~~~~~

Your mind was flooded with so much anger that you ended up forgetting about the three dates that you were supposed to go to today.

This wasn't the way you wanted to start your winter break.

You don't know why, but you stormed into the attic and sat down on the floor.

"Fuck!"

You yelled out as you panted slightly.

As you were panting, you looked down to finally notice a glittery diary in your hand. Since when did you get your hand on this?

You can't help but open the diary to find all the pages empty. It's not really a suprise then you never used it in your life. You don't even remember when you got this.

So, you looked around before your eyes landed on a random pen lying on the ground. Without thinking, you picked it up and opened the diary to the very first page.

With that, you started to write your 'entry'.

It's time to show the world of this game that you're forced to be in.

•

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[supernotnatural2005]

Hey love! Could I request Dean and wife!reader who have been trying for a baby and reader is finally pregnant and then during some celebratory sex, Dean has a moment where he realizes that he might have a tiny (massive) pregnancy kink? Maybe we can traumatize Sammy with it a little too just for fun

Burning for You

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: You're pregnant and it's awoken something feral, something instinctual in Dean.

Word count: 4.7k

Prompt: "But you said..."

Warnings/tags: Smut (18+), Canon divergence, 'fix it fic', fluff, pregnancy kink, established relationship. Kind of spoilers?

AN: Okay so I've done a 3 in 1 one with this one!😅 What originally started as inspiration from this gif 👆🏻 by @heytheredeann, then turned into writing up this prompt, which then felt like it would work well with this request too! 😂 This is set during and after the events of 'Carry On'. Yes, another "fix it fic" because, why not? 😂 I hate that ending! But, I hope you enjoy this one @sir-thisisadndserver and also excited to kick off my second @jacklesversebingo card 😁

Main Masterlist

JVB Masterlist

“But you said…”

“I know, baby.” You sighed, pausing as you folded a shirt into your duffle. “I promise, once this case is over, we will. Okay?”

Dean didn’t respond right away. When you glanced over at him, you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing. He sat on the edge of the desk, head bowed, fingers fidgeting in his lap—like a little boy who’d just been told Disneyland was off the table. No tantrum, just pure, pitiful disappointment.

It was tempting to give in. But this was a decision you both had made—one final hunt, one last job, and then you were done. No more blood-soaked motel rooms, no more chasing monsters in the dead of night, no more wondering if you’d make it back alive.

Just a normal life. A real future. And maybe, just maybe, a family.

You, Dean, Sam—even Eileen—had all agreed. It was time. Let the next generation of hunters take the wheel. You’d earned your way out.

Of course, the universe had a sense of humour, because your last job wasn’t just any hunt. It was pulled straight from John Winchester’s journal—a cold case, buried since 1986.

Akron, Ohio. A family torn apart. The father drained of blood, the mother’s tongue removed, and the kids—vanished. Classic vamp MO, the kind John had chased for years but never managed to put down. Now it had circled back, like some twisted full-circle moment. And it was up to you three to finally put it to an end.

You sighed, taking pity on him and crossed the room, stepping between his legs. You let your arms slide over his shoulders, fingers curling at the nape of his neck, and his hands instinctively found your hips, thumbs stroking the skin just beneath your shirt.

“Look,” you murmured, tilting his chin up. His pout was as ridiculous as it was endearing. “I’m all for trying, I am. And if this is really it, our last hunt, then we’re gonna have all the time in the world to, you know…” You smirked, voice dipping suggestively.

Dean’s eyes lit up instantly, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Oh, hell yes.”

He leaned in, pressing a firm but chaste kiss to your lips before pulling back just enough to study you. His fingers tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, then skimmed down to your cheek.

“It is the last one,” he said, voice rough with conviction. His hands squeezed your hips like he needed you to feel it. “I want to stop. I want to do life with you.”

One of his hands then slid lower, resting over your belly where, for months now, he’d been dreaming of something more. A future. A family.

“I wanna make a baby with you.”

Your heart swelled, and your hand came to rest over his. “I want that too.” It left you in a whisper, but the second the words were out, Dean lit up—equal parts awe and that boyish joy that melted you every time.

“So…” he grinned, already pulling you in closer, “why not start now? We’ve got, what—” He flicked his wrist dramatically to check his watch. “Fifteen minutes before we hit the road. And technically, this is our last hunt…”

His eyebrows waggled as his hands slipped down to squeeze your ass, all charm and mischief.

You closed your eyes with a quiet sigh. “You’re impossible.” You huffed humourlessly as you pulled away. “I am not potentially conceiving our child during a quickie, Dean.”

He’d been pestering you for days to ditch the last layer of caution, but you’d held the line. You wanted to be sure—really sure—that this was the end of the road. No more hunting. No more living out of duffels. Just you and Dean, grounded in something real.

“Hey, some of our hottest moments have been on a time crunch, and you know it.” He pointed at you as if daring you to argue.

And honestly? You couldn’t. He had a damn point. Your wedding night, for instance—sinful, passionate, right there in the chapel, until an angry Elvis had chased you both out onto the Las Vegas strip.

But that was beside the point.

“C’mon, I’ll make it worth your while,” he coaxed as he stepped up behind you, strong arms wrapping around your waist. His lips ghosted over your neck, trailing to that sensitive spot just below your ear, the one that had you shivering in his arms.

Goddamn it.

Twenty-five minutes later, you slid into the backseat of the Impala, cheeks still warm and hair slightly out of place. Dean climbed behind the wheel, looking like the cat who got the cream—smug, satisfied, and grinning like the devil himself.

Sam was already in the passenger seat, arms crossed, jaw tight. The moment Dean turned the key in the ignition, Sam glanced between the two of you, narrowing his eyes.

First at the faint, fresh bruise on Dean’s neck.  Then at you, subtly tugging your rumpled shirt into place.

And it clicked.

“Guys. Seriously?” Sam exhaled through his nose and shook his head like a disappointed parent.

You bit your lip, fighting back a laugh. Dean didn’t even try.

“What?” he said, full of faux innocence. “I can’t show my girl a little love, but you can have phone sex with Eileen?”

Sam’s jaw dropped. “I—what? I wasn’t—”

“‘Course you weren’t, Sammy.” Dean smirked in triumph, looking far too pleased with himself. He may have accidentally overheard his little brother’s, not-so-innocent, conversation with Eileen over the phone as he passed by his room on the way to you. 

To further prove his point, Dean continued, in a terrible imitation of Sam’s voice, “I can’t wait ‘til I can see your—”

“Dean!”

“Dude!”

You and Sam shouted in unison, cutting off whatever he was about to say. Dean just burst into laughter, the sound echoing as the car pulled out of the garage.

You shook your head, fond and exasperated all at once.

In all the years you’d hunted together—fought monsters, cheated death, faced down the end of the world more times than you could count—some things never changed.

This. Your family. And now, another chapter awaited. One you were looking forward to the most.

All it needed was for the three of you to make it out in one piece. Then, finally, that dream could become reality.

Three months later…

You couldn’t stop picking at the skin on your thumb, nerves fraying with each tiny tear you made. Your leg bounced restlessly, the stiff white paper beneath you crinkling with every tremor, filling the quiet exam room with a sound far too loud in the silence.

It smelled like antiseptic and latex gloves. That sterile scent that clung to medical offices, mingled with the chill of the air conditioning and the hum of fluorescent lighting above. Your palms were clammy and your mouth tasted like metal.

The door was closed, but every creak in the hallway made your breath catch in your throat.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, willing your heart to slow down, to stop pounding against your ribcage like it was trying to escape. It didn’t work. It never did. Especially without him.

The gentle knock came a moment later, and you startled slightly before forcing a smile as the nurse reentered the room. Her scrubs were a soft lavender, her badge clipped to her chest. Julia, RN.

“Sorry about the wait,” she offered, voice light as she moved toward the counter to update something in the chart. “Dr. Harlow’s busy with another patient. So I’ll be doing your ultrasound today.”

You nodded, swallowing thickly. Her practiced small talk filled the air like a balm—something to distract you from the gnawing anxiety. You let her ask the usual questions: last menstrual cycle, any spotting, morning sickness. You answered automatically, a little detached, but you caught her eyes flickering to the empty chair beside you.

You saw it—the subtle flicker of sympathy before she masked it again with professionalism, and you cleared your throat trying to stay composed.

“Will I... will I see anything yet?”

“Depending on how far along you are, yes,” she said gently. “We will be able to detect the heartbeat, too.”

You hesitated. “Can you tell if it’s a boy or girl?”

She gave you a soft smile, probably used to all these questions. “Not until around 18 to 20 weeks. But if you’re about twelve weeks, we should get a good look at the gestational sac, yolk sac, and your baby.”

Twelve weeks. You’d done the math a dozen times already. Calculating to the day you’d left for your last hunt three months ago. Where Dean had seduced you right before. Ironically, you’re certain that ‘quickie’ is what knocked you up in the first place. 

Dean.

Your eyes drifted to the door and you blinked quickly, instead focusing Julia’s instruction to unbutton your jeans and tug your top up beneath your bra line. You did as she asked, shivering slightly as the cold of the exam room kissed your skin. 

“This’ll be a little cold,” Julia warned, twisting the cap off the bottle of coupling gel.

Just as she lifted the tube, the exam room door clicked open.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” came a breathless voice—his voice. “Damn roadworks blocked off half the street. I had to park three blocks away and run the rest.”

Dean was flushed, chest rising and falling with each breath, a faint sheen on his forehead. He moved straight to your side, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple before easing into the chair beside the exam bed.

Your hand reached for him instantly and he caught it without hesitation, wrapping both of his hands around yours, lifting your knuckles to his lips for a quick kiss.

Julia paused, arching a brow as she looked between the two of you. “I take it this is the father?”

Dean gave a crooked grin. “Well, I sure hope so.” You smacked his arm lightly, and he let out a playful hiss.

Julia chuckled under her breath and resumed her position beside the ultrasound machine, gliding the gel tube across your belly and dispensing a generous amount on your skin. You hissed slightly at the sudden chill, muscles tensing.

“Alright, let’s take a look,” she murmured, lifting the transducer probe and pressing it gently against the gel.

The machine beeped softly as she began her sweep, shifting the probe at various angles, the monitor flickering with black-and-white static before resolving into grainy anatomical structures. She adjusted the gain and depth on the control panel with quick, practiced movements, her eyes scanning the screen.

Dean leaned in instinctively, his brow knit with quiet intensity, both of his hands still wrapped tightly around yours. His thumb stroked over your knuckles—slow, nervous, steadying. You could feel the tension vibrating through him. Neither of you were breathing properly.

The room stilled.

Just the soft hum of the machine and the rhythmic taps of Julia’s fingers on the keyboard filled the silence.

Then—

“Right there,” she said softly, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She angled the screen toward you both, her hand still steady on the probe. “That’s the gestational sac. And see that little oval inside? That’s the yolk sac.”

You both leaned forward, eyes locked on the image, as she adjusted the probe slightly, changing the angle.

“And here,” she continued, pressing a few more keys, “is your baby. Measuring around 12 weeks. Everything looks perfect.”

Dean’s grip on your hand tightened as if grounding himself. You could feel him trembling ever so slightly.

Then with a few more taps, the sound came—soft and crackling at first, then unmistakable.

Womp womp womp.

“There’s the heartbeat,” Julia said with a warm smile. “153 beats per minute. Nice and strong.”

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move.

There on the screen was the tiniest flicker of life. A rhythm. A pulse. A flutter of motion in a shape no bigger than a lime, with arms and legs now starting to form—so tiny, but so perfectly human. A miracle, unmistakable, undeniable. It was real. Yours. A heartbeat separate from your own, yet part of you. A miracle forming inside you.

Your chest ached, breath caught somewhere between awe and disbelief.

Dean was completely still beside you, his thumb frozen on your skin. When you looked over at him, your throat tightened.

His eyes were wide and wet, his jaw clenched as though he was holding back everything he was feeling—but it was there. Every ounce of emotion was written all over his face. He looked like he was seeing the world for the first time.

Julia printed the sonogram photos and gave you some paper towels to wipe the gel from your stomach, all the while murmuring about your follow-ups and OB appointments before she stepped out for a moment.

Silence settled over the room again, and you both looked down at the black-and-white strip in your hands. Dean reached for it first, holding it so delicately between his fingers like it might crumble if he breathed too hard.

“That’s… ours,” he whispered, voice cracking around the edges. “We made that.”

A tear slipped down your cheek with a quiet sniffle and before you could wipe it away, Dean turned to you, cupping your face gently in both hands. His thumbs brushed across your cheeks, catching the tears before they could fall any further. His eyes shimmered with unshed emotion, the vulnerability in them something you rarely saw—raw and unguarded.

The moment was made more intense for the fact you’d almost lost him on that hunt. A few more inches to the left and he would've had a rebar shaped hole in his heart. Could you imagine how ridiculous that would’ve been? 

“I love you,” he breathed and your heart swelled to the point of pain, your lips parting on a breath. 

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your voice thick and trembling.

Dean leaned in and kissed you softly—slow, reverent, like he was trying to pour everything he couldn’t say into that one touch. Your hand tangled in his flannel as you kissed him back, your foreheads resting together as the kiss broke.

Then you both looked back down at the sonogram again. Two pairs of eyes locked on the tiny life that was half him, half you. A piece of each of you growing into something whole.

Excitement blended with your nerves for what came next. For the journey you were about to take—together.

By the time you made it back to the bunker, the emotional buzz hadn’t worn off. If anything, it had only deepened, sinking into your chest like warmth after a long cold spell.

Sam and Eileen were already up, rounding the corner at the sound of you and Dean descending the steps. Miracle was right behind them, tail wagging like he sensed the joy radiating off you both.

Eileen’s face lit up as soon as she saw you, her hands already moving. “So?” she signed eagerly, her smile wide with anticipation.

You couldn’t help the grin that pulled at your lips as you reached into your bag and handed both her and Sam their own copies of the sonogram. Your fingers trembled slightly, the moment sinking in all over again.

Eileen gasped softly, lifting a hand to her mouth as her eyes scanned the blurry black and white photo. Tears welled in her eyes almost instantly. She looked up at you, her gaze shining. “It’s real,” she signed with a shaky laugh. “You’re really having a baby.”

You nodded, lips wobbling as you fought back a fresh wave of tears—only to lose the battle completely when Sam looked up at you, his eyes already glassy.

“This is… wow, I don’t even know what to say,” Sam breathed, laughing a little as he shook his head. He then pulled you into a careful hug, one arm around your shoulders, the other hand cradling the back of your head. 

He kissed your hair before stepping back, visibly choked up. “I’m so happy for you both.” He said softly, his voice thick with emotion.

Then he turned to Dean, and the brothers embraced briefly, but it was more than the usual back-pat—it lingered, unspoken gratitude. Dean’s eyes looked a little misty when he pulled away, but he just cleared his throat and rubbed at the back of his neck.

Eileen was already pulling you into her arms, sniffling softly against your shoulder. “You’re going to be amazing,” she signed when she stepped back, voice trembling as she spoke it aloud.

The celebration that followed was cozy, full of soft laughter and teasing. Dean poured a round of whiskey—apple juice for you—and you couldn’t help but grumble about your temporary drinking ban. But truthfully, you didn’t feel like you were missing out. Not tonight.

By the time the excitement had settled, it was late and you were exhausted. You and Dean said your goodnights, and headed down the hall to your room hand in hand. But the moment your bedroom door shut behind you, Dean turned and pressed you gently against it.

His mouth was on yours before you could catch your breath, his hands threading into your hair, tilting your head just right as he kissed you deep, slow, like he needed you to feel what words couldn’t say.

Your surprised squeak turned into a soft sigh, your hands finding the back of his head, fingers curling in the short hair there. His mouth moved against yours with aching tenderness, stealing your breath as easily as he always did.

“You’re really pregnant,” he murmured against your lips, voice thick with awe. Like seeing it on the ‘big screen’ solidified it. “We’re really doing this.”

You nodded, heart thudding as you cupped his scruffy jaw. “We are.”

He kissed you again—softer this time—and then, without warning, bent to lift you into his arms. You gasped and instinctively clung to his shoulders as he grinned, carrying you across the room like it was the easiest thing in the world.

He laid you down like you were something delicate, something precious. His lips brushed your forehead, your cheek, and then he kissed you again—slower, but with simmering heat.

Then he trailed down. Along your neck. Across your collarbone. He pushed up your shirt, his rough hands gentle as they skimmed along your skin, and pressed soft kisses down your stomach.

There was the faintest bump, only a hint of life growing inside you, and he paused at your navel, hands cradling your hips, thumbs moving in slow circles.

“That’s our kid in there,” he whispered, voice rough and reverent. “Our baby.”

Your fingers threaded into his hair, heart pounding as you looked down at him. The look on his face nearly undid you—pure awe, disbelief… and something else. Something darker. Needier. Hungrier.

Dean froze, staring at you like the air had been knocked clean out of his lungs—eyes wide, pupils blown.

“What?” you whispered, breath catching in your throat.

He let out a breathless, almost disbelieving laugh and dragged a hand down his face. “I don’t know, I just—” He shook his head, voice dropping, eyes darkening. “The idea of you carrying my kid? It’s so damn hot.”

You blinked, caught off guard for a second—then grinned. “Yeah?”

“I’m serious,” he rasped, voice low and rough as he slid back up your body, his gaze locked on yours, all heat and hunger. “You’ve always been sexy, sweetheart, but now?” His hand came to rest on your belly, possessive and tender all at once. “Knowing you're mine… and that you’re carrying my baby? That’s—fuck, that’s next level.”

He groaned as he kissed your jaw, your cheek, your mouth—like he was trying to devour you piece by piece.

Your breath hitched at the sheer intensity in his voice, the look in his eyes like you were something holy. Then your mouth met his in a crash of heat and urgency, and he answered with equal fervor—like something inside him had just snapped loose.

You tugged him closer, breath hitching as his hands gripped your waist, his body pressing into yours like he couldn’t stand a second of space between you.

You were both surprised by it—that sudden, burning need. But the more it sank in, that you were carrying his child, something primal flared to life in him. It rewired everything. Made him want to claim you all over again.

It wasn’t just lust—it was need. Raw, instinctive, protective. It was a part of him he hadn’t even known existed, But now, now it was fully awake.

And it had only just begun.

One month later…

You and Dean were curled up on the couch in the ‘cave’, the flickering images of an old action movie dancing on the TV screen, but neither of you were paying much attention to it. 

Dean’s body was pressed flush against yours from behind, the heat between you simmering as he slowly moved inside you, his large hand splayed possessively across your belly—now rounder, more pronounced as your pregnancy progressed.

Your leggings and panties were long forgotten on the floor. Dean’s jeans and boxers were shoved haphazardly down to his knees, giving him just enough freedom to move inside you with that torturous, maddening pace—slow, deep, controlled. His cock dragged against your walls in that way that made your toes curl, made you arch back against him for more, always more.

“Fuck,” he rasped against your skin, voice low and reverent, “you feel so fuckin’ good like this. So full, baby.”

His lips grazed your neck, then your shoulder, kissing and nipping every inch he could reach while still moving inside you. His breath was hot and uneven, his mouth trailing along the shell of your ear as he rocked into you again, the thick heat of him stretching you open like he belonged there—because he did. God, he did.

And still, that hand never left your belly.

It was possessive. Proud. Worshipful. Like he couldn’t quite believe you were his—like he needed the physical reminder that you carried something he’d made.

Your eyes fluttered shut, your fingers digging into the couch cushions for purchase as your body trembled. You could feel him twitch inside you, thick and throbbing, pushing deeper with every roll of his hips. His other hand slid beneath you, rough and greedy, cupping your swollen breasts, teasing your sensitive nipple with a practiced touch that made your back arch and a strangled cry escape your throat.

“You like that, sweetheart?” he whispered, grinning against your skin. “You love when I fuck you like this, don’t you? Wrapped around me, nowhere to go…”

“Yes,” you breathed, whimpering as your body tightened around him again, helpless to the sensation. “God, Dean…”

You pushed back against him, chasing that edge, chasing him, needing it—needing him. The friction was heaven, his cock dragging slow and hard inside you, until you were right on the verge of—

The door creaked.

“Hey, I grabbed those chips you were—OH MY GOD.”

The sound of Sam’s voice cracked through the haze like a gunshot.

You both froze. For one hilarious, horrifying second, and then with a gasp, you scrambled for the blanket Dean had kicked to the floor after his wandering hands had convinced you to let him fuck you right here on the couch. 

“Are you serious?” Sam exclaimed, hands flying to his face in an attempt to block his view, but it was clear he’d already seen far too much.

Your face went up in flames. You scrambled to yank the blanket up over you both, heart hammering in your chest. Dean didn’t even flinch—he just let out a low, unbothered scoff like his little brother had interrupted a commercial break, not mid-fucking.

“Don’t be jealous, Sammy,” Dean drawled with a smirk, voice thick with satisfaction. “One day you’ll knock up Eileen and then you’ll get it.”

“Dean!” you gasped, horrified, smacking his thigh as your eyes widened in disbelief. “Oh my God.”

Dean just chuckled, the sound deep and smug, like he was proud of getting caught. You practically shrivelled into the couch, trying to disappear into the cushions as Sam let out a dramatic groan, turned on his heel, and slammed the door behind him like he’d just witnessed a crime.

Dean snorted. “Damn kid needs to learn to knock.”

You covered your face with both hands, mortified, still curled up in Dean’s arms as the aftershock of the interruption pulsed through you. “Dean,” you groaned, voice muffled behind your palms. “This is the communal room.”

Dean just shook his head, utterly unbothered, and gently peeled your hands away from your face. “Hey,” he murmured, eyes soft with amusement as he looked down at you. “You weren’t complainin’ a minute ago.”

You tried to glare at him, but it faltered when he leaned in and kissed your burning cheek, then your jaw, then your lips—slow and deep, like he wasn’t done with you. Not even close.

“Whose side are you on, sweetheart?” he hummed against your mouth.

You opened your mouth to retort, but it turned into a shaky breath when his hand slid down again, settling right over your belly with that same heavy, grounding pressure. Possessive. Reverent.

And then you felt him.

Still hard. Still inside you. Still twitching.

The heat flooded back like a wave, washing out the embarrassment and replacing it with a low, simmering ache. You shifted, breath catching as you clenched around him involuntarily.

Dean felt it too.

“Oh, baby,” he groaned, a crooked smile pulling at his lips. “Yeah... I’m definitely not done.”

And just like that, your argument disappeared. Along with any thought of Sam—or the damn chips.

You couldn’t help it.

Sam had become an unfortunate, unintended witness to this very new phase of your relationship with Dean—one that involved a whole lot more skin, a whole lot less shame, and a very inconvenient inability to keep your hands off each other.

Since finding out you were pregnant, something had shifted in him. Desire had always been a part of your relationship, but now… now it was constant. Insatiable. Like some primal instinct had flipped inside him. He touched you with a reverence that bordered on obsession. It wasn’t just sex anymore—it was possessive, protective, feral.

This wasn’t some generic “pregnancy kink.” No, this was Dean losing his mind because you were carrying his child. The thought alone seemed to short-circuit something in him.

And honestly? You were just as wrecked. Yes, you’d been mortified more than once—especially by Sam’s increasingly bad luck—but at the same time, it turned you on beyond belief. The way Dean made you feel, like you were the most beautiful, most desired woman in the world. It made your body hum.

Unfortunately for Sam, that devotion came with side effects.

Take a couple of mornings ago, when you were making pancakes, for instance. You’d opted for a pair of loose shorts despite the bunker’s steady chill, thanks to another hot flash, but it was enough to drive Dean out of his goddamn mind. Your body was changing—hips a little wider, breasts heavier, ass just a little more plush—and Dean worshipped every new curve like it was the first time he was seeing you.

He’d come up behind you at the stove, his hands spreading over your stomach with that now-familiar, possessive touch. His hips pressed into your backside, already hard, already needy. His mouth found your neck, and his fingers slipped beneath your waistband, teasing your soaked folds like he had all the time in the world.

You’d barely gasped his name when Sam walked in—right as Dean slid a thick finger inside you.

Poor bastard hadn’t even gotten to the coffee pot.

And then there was the library. After dinner. Dean, completely unprovoked, hauled you up onto the nearest table and sank to his knees, muttering about wanting ‘his dessert’. You’d barely managed to stifle your cries when Eileen walked in, book in hand, and promptly turned on her heel like she'd never been there.

You tried to be discreet. Truly. But Dean didn’t care. Hell, he seemed proud when someone caught a glimpse of just how thoroughly he worshipped you.

And as mortifying as it all was, deep down… You loved it.

You loved him.

This time in your life could’ve been scary. Lonely. Uncertain. But Dean had made it something else entirely. He made it intimate. Raw. Beautiful. He made you feel like a goddess, like you were his whole damn universe—and he wanted the world to know it.

So maybe Sam had to suffer through a few mental scars. Maybe Eileen was avoiding eye contact for a while.

But as Dean curled around you again on that couch, hand warm and protective on your belly, still deep inside you, his lips brushing against your cheek like he’d never get enough—

Yeah.

You figured it was a price worth paying.

AN: Okay, so this was a new one for me, I've never been pregnant so most of this is research or from my friend. Plus shout out to all you moms out there, I know this isn't entirely accurate, but if I had me a Dean like this 😮‍💨. Let me know what you thought, and again thank you for the ask @sir-thisisadndserver, I hope this is what you were hoping for ❤️

If you would like to be tagged in this series or my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

Dean Winchester Tag List:

@bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter

@tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2

@deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown

@jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom @cevansbaby-dove @shadysoulangel

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@impala67stellawinchester @youroldfashioned @bonbonnie88 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @bejeweledinterludes

[cosmopretty]

Hard Launch

Caitlin Clark X Fem Blurb

Synopsis: After dating for a year Caitlin decides today would be the best day to hard launch your relationship together.

———————————————————————————————————

I can’t believe all of the amazing things that have happened to me this year especially my girl that has stuck with me through thick and thin :) I’m so grateful for her ;) Love you baby

aliyah.boston my babies 🫶🏽

y/n y/l aw love you to cc

gabbie.marshall can’t believe it’s been over a year congrats guys

katemartin your welcome 😊

caitlinclark22 @katemartin stop taking credit for my relationship

y/n y/l @caitlinclark22 she did force us together baby

sabrina_i cuties ❤️

overtimewbb goals

lexiehulll best couple out here

paigebueckers favorite gay couple 🙏

y/n y/l @paigebueckers don’t make me say it paige

paigebueckers @y/ny/l IM SORRY

nalyssasmith my girlssss 🖤

You reply to a few of the comments under Caitlin’s post seeing a few comments from some fans that made you smile at how supportive they were. That didn’t take away from the trolls and rude comments as well but you ignored them because the good comments out weighted the bad.

Caitlin comes over to you on the couch slinging her arm around your shoulder, looking over you to see your phone “See I told you people would support us” she says proud of herself and her fans for making her right, once again.

“But some people said this” You point to some of the mean comments dissing your relationship. Reading the comments Caitlin grabs your phone shutting it off and putting in her pocket “So what? Those are a few random people your never gonna meet in your life. Who cares what they say I love you and that’s all that matters right?” Caitlin asks you her hand coming to hold your cheek in place so she can look at you.

Eye contact was always important to her, she loved looking into your eyes knowing you were looking back at her. You nod leaning into her hand “Yeah I know I love you too” you say quietly, that is she weren’t sitting infront of you herself she wouldn’t be able to hear you.

Her hand pulls you closer to her until your lips connect, you kiss her back. This wasn’t a normal kiss it was her showing you how much she loved you. The kiss was soft and slowly her hands holding you to her, all she wanted to do was protect you from the world. She never kept your relationship a secret more so private, for the past year she was scared for you, and what the fans would say or do to you. But with all the media and fame she has gotten, with getting drafted she wanted the world to know she was yours and you were hers. She loved you more than anything, that’s why you moved with her all the way to Indiana, so she could live her dreams with you by her side the whole time.

Caitlin pulls away from the kiss first, her thumb caresses the side of your face “You mean everything to me you know that right?” she asks you. This isn’t the first time she asked you something like this, she always made sure you knew how much she loved you and cared for you.

“Yeah I know you mean everything to me too that’s why we’re here with me by your side while you live out your basketball dreams” You reply to her your hand coming to hold her waist, rubbing up and down on the soft skin under her shirt. Caitlin visibly relaxes when your hands touch her skin, her eyes softening as she looks at you.

Now the whole world knows you together, which means she can show you off to everyone as her girlfriend. Caitlin jumps up from the couch “Come on get ready let’s go out so everyone can see you’re my girl” she beams excitedly.

Your furrow your brows “Baby you all ready posted it. Who are we seeing outside?” you ask her confused as her hands pull you up from the couch. She shrugs “I don’t know fans maybe, someone, a rando I don’t care” she tells you dragging you into your shared room.

All Caitlin could think about was how you were her girl and everyone now knew it.

[lovrre]

|HAUNTED

Wally Clark x blk female reader

Word count: 6k.

Warnings: cursing, mentioned of death, smut, unprotected sex, a little bit of cock warming, slightly rough. And probably some other stuff

Summary: The ghost of Wally Clark has been stalking Y/N since she step foot inside of Split River High, his obsession only growing as the years went on. During her last year of high school Y/N finally gets to meet secret admirer…

Author note: I found this in my draft from early season one and haddd to finish it because it's so good, this is also like very season one Wally which isn’t that different but it’s differentt!. This wasn't supposed to be so long but now you understand why it took 8 years enjoy pookies.💋

Wally watched kids come in and go from that school year after year and had no interest. Until you, you had a presence that demanded attention, and he had no issue giving it to you. Your pretty face, smooth skin, and sweet laugh were enough to keep him intrigued for a lifetime. He knew you couldn’t see him, but he didn’t care, he’d follow you from the minute you walked on campus to the moment you went home. He’d read your friends' texts over their shoulder to see if you were still coming and if you were even a minute late.

Sometimes, when you’d fall asleep in the study hall, he’d sit next to you and play games on your phone and pretend you knew he existed. (He knew your password, of course). Sometimes he’d go through your messages and notes to get a better understanding of you. At first, he felt guilty, but then it became the highlight of his day. Seeing pictures of what you did outside of school and who you hung out with. What boys were you talking to too? He knew it was silly, but he got jealous every time he opened your phone to see you were texting your ex again.

“C’mon girl, what happened blocking his ass?” Wally mumbles, putting his feet up on the table in front of him. You mumble something like you can hear him and Wally sits quietly for a second, enjoying the fantasy.

It was a Friday and your best friend convinced you to keep her company at the football game as she cheered for her boyfriend. You usually didn’t come to games, but you weren’t opposed to it. You sat on the cold bleachers trying to concentrate on the game even though the cold ass air blowing in your face was making it almost impossible. Kat was getting you two hotdogs. So Wally decided to keep you company, (even though you couldn’t see him). During the game, your eyes drifted to a Wally Clark memorial on the scoreboard.

“Who’s Wally Clark?” You ask the empty seat next to you, forgetting Kat was away getting the hotdogs. When the words left your mouth, Wally felt like his heart dropped in his stomach. He didn’t know how to react. When you remember Kat left, you pull out your phone to Google. Wally looked over your shoulder into your phone intently as you searched for “Wally Clark Split River High School” in the Google search bar.

Wally couldn’t help but celebrate at just the idea of you knowing he even existed. He watched as he read an article with his least favorite picture in the upper right corner. “Aww…he was such a cutie,” you say, letting out a small sigh. “You think?” Wally asked with a big smile on his face, forgetting for a second you couldn’t hear or see him.

“That line was long as hell”, Kat says, waddling through the bleachers with two hotdogs in hand. “I told you to wait until half-time,” you say, taking a hotdog from her. “Then it would have been WORSE if that was even possible,” Kat says getting herself situated. “Probably,” you say slightly muffled taking a bite of your hotdog. Wally watches everything in awe, just happy he’s been acknowledged, and called cute. You finish chewing and wiping your face with a napkin Kat brought. “You ever heard of Wally Clark?” You ask, stuffing the napkin in your pocket. “The guy's name on the banner thingy?” Kat asks seconds away from stuffing her hotdog in her mouth. “Yeah, I just looked it up, he was a footballer player here in the 80s, he got tackled on the 5-yard line and broke his neck, died on the scene, ”

“ Technically I didn’t-“ Wally tries to cut in.

“-Damn,” Kat says, still muffled by the hotdog in her mouth. “I know, right? "He was a cutie too”, you say, showing Kat the picture of your phone. “DAMN”, Kat says, mouth still full. “Right?” You say, nodding with a smile of agreement. Wally sat behind you smiling ears to any of the other ghosts he’d look insane. “Rest in peace beautiful”, Kat says, finally swallowing her food, looking up at the sky, shaking her head from side to side. You laugh and do the same. “Ooo you should do one of your rituals and try and connect with him like you did with Lee,” Kat says, taking a sip of her drink.

“Hard pass,” you say, trying to return your focus on the game in front of you.

“Why not?” Wally and Kat say at the same time. “It worked, didn’t it? "You can have a hot ghost friend?” Kate says before taking another bite. “ Yes, but I don’t do that shit anymore, I get nightmares,” you say taking another bite of your food. “Welp, who’s winning ?” Kat says sitting back slightly returning her attention to the field. “I have no idea,” you say making the both of you laugh.

On Monday you stayed after school a little later to study. You only did three assignments before passing out like you usually did. Wally had been a bit busier so he didn’t have time to watch you as intently. As he usually did, but when he found you in the library, he pulled out the chair next to you and started doodling on the edge of your paper. Once he was bored with that, he picked up your phone and started his daily scroll. He scrolled through TikTok for a minute, then Instagram, and found nothing fascinating. Then he went to your camera roll and his heart dropped. There were pictures after pictures of him. You went on a deep dive after the game. Something about Wally felt familiar, you just wanted to know everything. You found out his mom was your neighbor and that you two even shared a birthday. You wonder if you were born at the same time as you were friends or if was he the dick jock type.

“Someone’s got a crush”, Wally says smugly, scrolling through the screenshot of him on your phone. You quickly jump out of your sleep like you’ve heard a loud noise. You jump back once your eyes land on Wally. “Can you see me?” Wally asks, unable to hide his excitement at the possibility. “Excuse me? "Is there any reason in particular you’re so fucking close to me WHILE I'm SLEEPING?” Wally tries to answer but just starts stuttering. He looks familiar to you, but you don’t know where you're from. “AND WHY THE FUCK DO YOU HAVE MY PHONE,” you say, attempting to grab the phone outside his hand. Your hand goes straight through his palm like he’s not even there, and you try the same thing again. And suddenly it hits you, “the football player?” You say not even sure of yourself.

Wally gives a small nod the fear from your interaction seconds ago still on his face. “Oh, this is a dream” you smugly laying back on your seat. “No, I don’t think-“ Wally starts, but is cut off by you. “No, I have these sometimes when I get obsessed with something,” you say laying your head back on the table. “You’re obsessed with me?” Wally asked the big smile from earlier right back. “Obsessed is a big word,” you say putting your head down” A word that YOU used,” Wally says with a smirk.

“Doesn’t matter because this is a dream” you say, closing your eyes.

“It’s not”

“It is”

“It’s not!”

“It is!”

“ it. Is. not”

“Yes.it.is.”

“Are you OK sweetheart?” the librarian says, placing her hand on your shoulder. Suddenly, you become very aware of the fact that you have been yelling. “Yeah, sorry I was just trying to tell-“

“-Good, good because I overheard you talking to yourself. "I was worried you’d lose it”, she says with a small chuckle.

“Oh uh… I talk in my sleep sometimes, it’s terrible, eyes open and everything. "Thanks for checking up on me though,” you say with a tight-lipped smile, before beginning to quickly pack up your stuff, internally panicking. “Nice save”, Wally says when she finally leaves. You ignore him speedily, walking out of the library. 

“Hello? Y/n, can you still see me” You continue to ignore him walking to a hidden corner of the school. “HEY, HEY, HEY I know we got off on the wrong foot but don’t ignore me that’s brutal”. You quickly pull your phone out of your pocket holding it to your ear. “Hello?” You say almost embarrassed. “You know the phones off right?” Wally asks scrunching his face in confusion. “Yes dumass, I’m trying to not look completely insane,” you say trying to keep your voice down.

“Oh,” Wally says sounding a little defeated. “Sorry, I’m not trying to be a Dick, I’m just not trying to go back to a mental hospital,”

“You’ve been to the nut house before?” Wally asks lifting an eyebrow. “Yes, and nobody calls it that anymore,” you say walking down the hallway phone still to your ear. “Oh, my bad,” Wally says trying to keep up with you. “it’s ok you didn’t know,” you say checking the time on your phone. “Shit I gotta go,” you say walking a bit faster, “wait wait wait,” Wally says standing in front of you in an attempt to keep you from leaving. “I’ve been watching you since sophomore year, And I know how weird and crazy that sounds but you don’t know me I think I know you pretty well, And I don’t know if you know this but, “This” he gestures between the two of you.

”isn’t normal, This isn’t like an everyday occurrence, I haven’t spoken to a Living person since the 80s. So I’d like to talk to you before you run back home” Wally says speaking a mile a minute.

“Wally- Wally right?” You say slightly unsure. He nods “Well Wally, I’d love to, I really would but this just seems like it’s gonna end up with me on more medication than I’m already on or a 48-hour involuntary hold wearing grippy socks. I don’t know if you know this but TALKING to ghosts is also something that doesn’t happen every day, and quite frankly I don’t know if you’re real or some hallucination, and I’d rather not find out.” You say walking away from him.

“Wait- let me prove it to you,” Wally says catching up to you.

“How will you do that?”

“Just follow me”

Wally runs ahead down the empty hallway and you follow him until you two stop in front of your now-empty history class. “Open it,” Wally says gesturing for you to turn the knob. You do and surprisingly it opens, you’re greeted by a dark empty classroom. “Why am I here again?” You ask Reaching for the light switch. “No, Don’t turn it on,” Wally says with his hand slightly outstretched. “The janitors walk past this room a lot and they’ll come and check if the lights are on, use your phone flashlight,” Wally says jumping up to sit on the teacher’s desk. “ok…” you respond with a nod and drop your hand from the light switch.

“How does this prove you're real again?” You ask turning on your phone flash. “Because I’ll tell you exactly what’s in Mr. Kankerys desk,” he gives it two hits to bring attention to the desk under him. “then you’ll check and if I’m right, which I will be, because I’m real, Dead, but real” Wally says with a chuckle,

“ok, what’s in the desk?” You ask walking a little closer to Wally. “ wait, Stay over there” Wally says jumping off the desk and opening the drawer. “Ok so…there’s a stapler on the left next to some color-full sticky notes and a blue calculator.

There are also a couple of old lady candies scattered around. “Ok, you’re turn,” Wally says moving from behind the desk. You walk behind the desk and open the drawer to see exactly everything Wally described. “shit…it’s all here” you mumble under your breath. “Is that a bad thing?” Wally asked confused by your reaction. “I don’t know…what if I saw what was in his desk while asking for help or something and just imagine you looking at I’m just talking to myself right now.” You say your words coming out a mile a minute. “We both know you haven’t walked up to Mr. Kankerys in at least 4 months,” Wally says stealing candy from his desk.

“Yeah…..Wait how do you know?” You ask scrunching your eyebrow in confusion before quickly remembering. “Oh yeah…that whole stalking me since Sophomore year thing,” you say walking from behind the desk. “Uhhhh I wouldn’t call it stalking, more like admiring from a distance…or sometimes not so distant,” Wally says walking slightly closer. “Oh!” You say surprised. “So You’ve been watching me sleep and stuff?” You ask slightly worried. “No, no, no,” Wally rushes out. “Nothing like that, I can’t even leave here”

“Like at all?” You ask walking out of the dark classroom. “Like at all,” Wally says following behind you. “So what happens when you try to leave?” You ask walking down the hallway to your locker. “I just poof back on the field where I died,” Wally says still walking behind you. “Damn…so what can you do,” you ask opening your locker. You lock eyes with a janitor at the end of the hall and he gives you a worried slash weirded-out experience. “Shit, I forgot,” you mumble pulling out your phone and placing it in the crook of your neck. “Sorry to say that again I couldn’t hear you,” you say desperately trying to look normal. He walks away but you keep the phone up to your ear.

“ to answer your question, not much, I can eat, I can interact with everything, but it just won’t change the living world. Like with your phone, I can pick it up on play on it but as soon as you leave with it, it leaves too” Wally says leaning against your locker as you stuff your book bag. “ OMG YOU WENT THROUGH MY PHONE TOO!” you yell almost dropping the phone from your shoulder. “Ummm” Wally hums not knowing how to answer. “…yeah, but not like in a creepy way, like in an I’m bored I have nothing else to do way,” he says trying not to scare you off.

“Okkk….well it was nice to meet you Wally, but the sun is almost completely down and I have to get home before that happens so... I think this is where we say our goodbyes,” you say putting on your coat. “Can we hang for just a little longer, I haven’t talked to a living person in yearssss, Years y/n, PLEASE just 20 more minutes” Wally asks almost begging.

“I can’t, I wish I could but I have to get home before my mom goes to work” Wally's face visibly drops “Here let’s make a Deal,” you say closing your locker. “We meet again tomorrow at lunch, in the library”

“What if it doesn't work?”

“Then it was nice to meet you,” you say with a smile

“But I have soo many questions,”

“Well you can ask me while I walk,” you say putting on your book bag and being your walk away.

“Are you a Chris still together?”

“Wow you really know all the tea”

“Yes or no times ticking” Wally says tapping on his bare wrist.

“No, we broke up last month”

“Did Kat ever find that expensive bracelet?”

“No, she didn't”

“ ok, I know The pink haired girl who used to be in your class stole it”

“What-Anne?” you ask genuinely confused.

“ yep, she's been wearing it since the first semester, she added a K charm on it”

“Oh my god…I asked her about that too,” you say slightly shaking your head. By the existing doors. “are those all of your life-alternating questions?” you ask, the rays from the setting sun outside on the side of your face. “No, but I'll ask the rest tomorrow,” Wally says looking into your eyes. The pre-existing crush plus the sunlight make you look like an angel. “Tomorrow,” you say with a nod “It was nice to meet you, Wally,” you say giving him a sad smile. Wally watched you leave through the exit doors a for the first time in a long time he felt alive.

~~~~

The next morning you woke up more confused than you had been in a long time. Did you dream all of it, was he really a ghost, was everyone right were you actually a nut case? You didn’t know all the answers but you did know you were late for school. You hurried to get ready putting in a little extra effort just in l look case your hot ghost wasn’t a figment of your imagination. On the way to school, you picked up Kat and stopped for a Big burger.

“Is that all?” the worker asked over the speaker after you finished Kat's order. “Uhh, no could I also get two big burgers with extra cheese one with extra tomato” you order leaning your head out the window slightly. “Your total is $21.35 you can pull up to the next window. “Thank you,” you say before driving up the window. “Extra hungry today” Kat chuckles looking through her purse. “Didn’t eat dinner��� you lie.

Lunch felt like it took years to arrive, as greedy as you were you never found yourself so excited for lunch. You convinced yourself it was because you wanted to know you weren’t crazy and not because you just wanted to see Wally again. You sat at your usual study table waiting for something, anything that showed signs of life or at least undead life but it was started to seem like you’d be eating two Big burgers for lunch.

“Miss me?” You hear from behind you making you jump. “Shit, sorry I didn’t want to scare you” Wally apologized quickly sitting down in the chair next to you. “What took you so long I was starting to think I really lost it,” you say slightly irritated. “You usually wait outside Kates class before lunch so I went there, and then when I got here you were reading that book you like so I didn’t want to interrupt and I usually just watch so-“ Wally cuts himself off taking in your facial expression.

“Too creepy?” He asks raising an eyebrow

“a little” you nod, you see someone watching from the corner of your eye so you put in an earbud. “You wanna go somewhere a little more private” Wally whispers “Here’s fine” you respond with a shrug. “Is it?” Wally asked looking around at the library packed with students.

“Come on, I know a place,” Wall says standing up. “I’d like to remind you that people can still see me, please don’t lead me anywhere that can get me expelled,”

Wally leads you to a room on the first floor hidden behind some old door in a corner of the school you haven’t seen before. “You think anyone saw us-well me” you correct “I don’t think so, and there are no cameras in this wing, hasn’t been updated since the 90s,” Wally says cutting on the lights to reveal a slightly dusty old teachers' lounge that looks more 70s than 90s.

“You hang here often?” You say dusting off an orange couch before sitting down. “Only when I want some privacy,” Wally says sitting next to you on the couch while also giving you your own space. “ why would a ghost need privacy?” you chuckle. “I mean I still” Wally starts but you cut him off “Eww on this couch,” you say laughing “No, no, not that- well that too, but I mostly come here when I don’t want to be bothered”

“Bothered by who? Are there other ghosts?” You asked interested “Yep, there’s a good bit of us here” You scrunch your face in confusion as you take the burgers out of your bag, “ I wonder why I can only see you,” you think out loud grabbing your water bottle. “Maybe we have a special connection?” Wally suggests with a flirty smile “Maybe” you shrug looking for napkins in your bag.

“Is that for me?” Wally asks pointing to the other burger you put on the coffee table. “Mmh” you nod with a mouthful, Wally grabs the burger unwrapping it excitedly.

“A Big burger with extra cheese and tomatoes, I haven’t had one of these in forever” Wally announces excitedly before taking a big bite. “How did you know?” Wally asks his mouth still full. You finish chewing before answering, “You said you could eat and I read it was your favorite on your obituary” you say before taking another bite. “Who’s the stalker now?” Wally says with a smug smile as he takes a bite. “Still you” you respond covering your half-full mouth causing him to chuckle.

This had become your routine—lunch in the lounge with Wally. Kat had a different lunch period, so she never questioned why you always ate alone. Some days, you grabbed food from the cafeteria; other days, Wally asked you to bring something special, something he hadn’t eaten in years. You quickly learned that while he could interact with food, he couldn’t consume it in the living world. So, you shared. It was an odd arrangement, but you liked it. You liked him.

~~~

The air was crisp as you stepped outside, the garbage bag swinging lightly in your grasp. The scent of damp leaves lingered in the evening breeze, the sun close to setting. As you reached the trash bins, a movement from the neighboring yard caught your eye.

An old woman, frail but steady, stood just outside. Shimming a blue cardigan over her shoulders. Her white hair was neatly curled, and her wrinkled hands trembled slightly as she gripped the railing. You had seen her before, countless times, in passing but it wasn’t until now that recognized her.

Wally’s mother.

You stopped in your tracks at the realization. You had seen her picture before, in old articles and on Wally’s obituary. His only family. The woman who had pushed him to be the best, and in doing so, had lost him forever.

She glanced up, her tired eyes meeting yours.

“Evening,” she greeted her voice kind but carrying the weight of loneliness.

You hesitated before offering a sweet smile. “Evening, ma’am.”

That was all the encouragement she needed. Her expression brightened, and she took a few small steps toward you. “I don’t think we’ve ever been properly introduced,” she said. “I’m Mrs. Clark.”

You nodded. “I’m Y/N. I live just over there.” You gestured toward your house behind you.

“Oh, so close!” she mused, then chuckled softly. “I swear, I hardly know my neighbors these days.”

There was something achingly sad about the way she said it. Before you could dwell on it, she clapped her hands together suddenly.

“I just was making dinner and made a little too much stew,” she said, eyes twinkling. “Would you like to come inside? It’d be a shame to let it go to waste, if you don't eat it, it'll just get frozen, lost in my abyss of a freezer.” She chuckles

You hesitated, but the eager look in her eyes made it impossible to refuse. “Sure,” you said with a small smile.

Her home smelled warm and like spices and slow-cooked broth, a scent that wrapped around you like a comforting embrace. The house was modest but well kept, though there was an undeniable emptiness to it. You could tell it was once a home. Old school Pictures of Wally and other family members decorated the wall. Wooden steps worn out in the middle from years of use, you imagine Wally walking up and down them, as a child or teenager leaving for school and such.

“So, what school do you go to, honey?” Mrs. Clark asked as she placed the bowl in front of you breaking you out of trance.

“Split River High,” you answered, picking up your spoon.

Her hands stilled slightly before she sat across from you. “My son went there,” she said, her voice softer now. “He… passed away some years ago. On your football field.”

You nodded, feigning a casual curiosity. “Wally Clark right? I’ve heard of him.” You downplay, “my teacher said he was a great kid very…personable” you chuckle.

Her eyes brightened slightly, followed by a sad smile. “He really was” She rose suddenly, moving toward the bookshelf. “A lot of people don't know but Wally was quite the handsome young man, he used to have girls line up at the door” His mother reminisced with a chuckle. “ should have seen the flowers those girls left on my porch after the wake” she chuckles, “but it was Girls like you he especially liked”

“Like me?” You ask slightly confused

“Pretty girls,” she clarified “With nice smiles and brown skin, he’d like you ,” she says causing you to involuntarily smile. “can see him now in mind catching glimpses of you across the living room, stuttering over his words” she smiled again to herself.

“I have pictures! Would you like to see them?” She asks breaking herself from her trance.

Before you could answer, she was already pulling out a large photo album. She settled beside you, flipping through the pages with a kind of reverence only a mother could have.

And there he was, Wally. His grin was the same, full of cocky charm, his big brown eyes bright with life. In one photo, he stood in his football uniform, helmet tucked under his arm. In another, he was just a kid, quite the chunky one , no older than ten, holding up a trophy with pride.

“This is when he was still my chunky monkey,” she chuckles finger tracing the picture. “Used to scarf down damn near the whole kitchen before he hit puberty and got tall, I told him my kitchen was not an all you can eat”

It was your turn to chuckle “his appetite was always big?” you smile.

“always” she responds amused flipping the page. She landed on a picture during a college tour, the together smiling holdings flags with the school logo.

“He was such a determined boy,” Mrs. Clark said, her voice thick with emotion. “determined to make me pleased”. She sighed, her fingers ghosting over a picture of him laughing at his last birthday party, cake on his chin. “I pushed him too hard”

You swallowed, unsure what to say.

Instead, you listened.

You listened as she told many stories bout his stubbornness, his humor, and his love for extra cheese on everything. About how he’d sneak out past curfew, how he once tried to fix a broken fence and made it worse, how he never left the house without saying goodbye.

And for a moment, Wally wasn’t just a ghost. He was someone’s son. Someone’s whole world.

You stayed longer than you meant to, eating warm stew and flipping through pages of his life. When you finally left the comfort of the couch to use the bathroom, you walked past an open room door. The light blue walls of a room catch your attention. You reverse taking two steps back, curiously, and you peek inside, before checking down the steps to see Mrs. Clark seated on the couch. You open the slowly sliding into the room. “ it was undeniably Wally’s. Almost every genre of Old movie poster scattered the wall, two or three tasteful Playboys, footballs, and metals on top and the floor of his dresser.

You walked over to his bed, sitting on it softly imagining what it would be like to be here with him, watching him fill the space of the small room. You looked around the room Against your better judgment you bent down to smell his pillow hoping Ms. Clark was still downstairs. you inhaled the smell of old wood almost masking his sent, it was so light you almost didn't catch it, a mixture of cologne like a musk and grease most likely from his hair. All these years later and you could smell Wally on his sheets. You savor it for as long as you can without being overly creepy, not knowing if you’ll ever get the chance to smell him again.

You stand up from the bed looking around once more, an untouched prom suit hanging in the closet stopped you in your tracks cause your chest to tighen, how was it possible you were grieving someone you could still speak to every day? You turn your attention to his wooden desk filled with a bunch of items. Old movie tickets, sketches, and lots of composition notebooks. A gold ring catches your eye, lying on top of some dog tags you assumed belonged to him grandfather.

“You can take something, if you see anything you like,” Ms. Clark says behind you causing you to jump slightly. “ I've been meaning to donate some of this stuff but…” her words die out in her throat. “I think he’d like the fact some pretty girl to have something of his more than another old lady at the goodwill,” she says with a smile. “Ok, I‘ll look,” you say with a smile, with that, she turns on her heel back down the stairs. You take the ring and on of the beat-up composition notebooks. On you way out you see a blue jersey poking out of his bottom drawer, you quickly take the jersey stuff it into your purse.

“It was nice to meet you Ms. Clark” you say with a tight smile.

“You aswell” she responds with a small nod, “feel free to visit whenever” she suggestes with a hopeful smile.

“Of course I will, you know where to find me if you never need anything”

You're Goodbye to Ms. Clark is a sweet one filled with tight hugs and a promise to visit, you left feeling like you gained a friend and simultaneously also like you lost one.

The next day, you sat in the lounge, eating off your lunch tray in front of you, Wally moving in close behind you, leaning over eating a fry off the tray, using another to balance on his fingertip.

There was something there between you two an electricity you felt even through his undead body. But you knew better than to act on it. Wally was a ghost, and you were alive. It could never work.

That didn’t stop you from noticing him, though.

And it definitely didn’t stop him from noticing you.

Like today. It was hot, so you had on a tube top, your braids pulled back into a ponytail—exactly how he liked. Your shorts were just a couple of inches shorter than the dress code allowed, but Wally wasn’t complaining. At the end of the day, he was still a teenage boy. Correction: a horny teenage boy.

“I met your mom last night.”

The fry slipped right through his hand and onto the floor.

“What?” He sat up, his full attention now on you.

You told him everything, minus what you felt didn’t need to be shared(aka sniffing his sheets and stealing clothes)

Wally was silent, his expression unreadable. Then, finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Well It’s good to hear you’re getting along well with the in-laws,” he muttered. “OH MY GOD Wally ” you yelp “Can you be serious for one moment?“ he doesn't respond staring at you blank-faced.

“What?” You ask genuinely confused.

“That was me being serious” Wally responds causing you to roll your eyes.

“Did She pull out the albums, ?”

You nodded. “ Yep, and She has all of your stuff exactly how you left it.

A ghost of a smile played on his lips before fading into something sadder. “She was always sentimental even though she hate to admit it.”

You hesitated before reaching out, your fingers passing through his arm. You sigh internally “She misses you.”

His jaw tightened. “Yeah. I miss her too.”

A pause. Then, in a softer voice, “Did she seem… okay?”

“She’s lonely,” you admitted. “But she’s holding on.”

Wally let out a slow breath, leaning back against the couch. “I always figured she’d move away. Start fresh somewhere. Guess I was wrong.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you let the silence settle between you.

Then, after a long moment, Wally chuckled, shaking his head. “You really sat there, eating my mom’s stew, flipping through my childhood like some kind of undercover investigator?”

You smirked. “I do my research.”

He laughed at that, a genuine, full-bodied laugh that made the weight in the room feel lighter.

“Damn,” he said again, shaking his head. “I wish I could’ve seen her and you together .”

You looked at him then, his usual bravado had cracked just enough to let something real slip through.

Maybe, just maybe, the ritual was a possibility.

Your eyes returned down to the leftover food on. Your tray, you took about fry dipping it in your ketchup mayonnaise concoction before offering Wally. You didn't notice at first but a bit of mayonnaise fell on your lip. “You finished?” you asked, completely unaware of the effect you had on him. He bit his lips holding back his inappropriate joke. Unaware You wiped some mayonnaise from the corner of your mouth, and Wally’s eyes tracked the movement, laser focused on your lips.



“Yeah I feel bloated,” he joked, forcing himself to look away.

“Ghosts can get bloated?” you giggled, wiping your mouth with a napkin.

“This ghost can,” he said, flopping onto the couch across from you. In reality, he wanted to lie on your couch rest his head on your thighs, and let you play in his hair. A fantasy he kept to himself when he was bored.

But today, something was different. Maybe it was the heat. Or the thought of you being in his room touching his things or Maybe it was the way you looked at him through your lashes, sipping your drink, eyeing him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention. Whatever it was, the words slipped out before he could stop them.

“I wish I could touch you.”

Your stomach flipped.

“Where did that come from?” you asked, chuckling, trying to keep your cool. Wally let out a breath. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but now that it was out there, he wasn’t going to take it back.

“Do you think… if we had met under normal circumstances, you’d like me?”

Your fingers tightened slightly around your cup. “Like, or like like?”

“Like like,” he clarified.

You took a moment, pretending to think about it, but you already knew your answer. “Well, I wouldn’t have started a fan club in your honor or anything, but…” You popped a fry into your mouth, shrugging. “You’re attractive. And nice. I could maybe see myself having a little crush.”

Wally sat up straighter, intrigued. “You think I’m attractive?” He says with a cocky smile. You roll your eyes “And you maybe could’ve had a crush on me?”

“Don’t let it go to your head, You just seem like you’d be a good boyfriend,” you admitted.

Wally grinned, leaning forward. “I’d be the best boyfriend.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Hell yeah,” he said, suddenly animated. “I’d carry your books—well, your laptop, ’cause let’s be real, who uses books anymore? I’d pick you up for school in my car, you’d love it. I had a black 1970 Chevrolet Monte Carlo, sleek as hell. We’d go on so many dates and trips, plus unlike Chris, I’d have no problem posting you on my Instagram.” He said, causing a laugh from you.

“Chris was a dick”

“Chris was a double dick,” Wally corrected. You chuckle into your hand causing Wally's face to scrunch in confusion, “What?” Wally asks like a lost puppy. “your age is showing” you laugh again unable to contain yourself. “ no one says that anymore, actually don't think anyone ever said that”

“ Well, I’m trying to say You deserve someone better, someone who is proud shows you off, Thst woudn't be a problem for me.”

You stared at him for a beat too long, your pulse fluttering. It was stupid, how easily he got to you. How easily he made you want.

“Too bad you’re dead,” you say as a joke but you sound more disappointed than you intended. “Right” Wally mumbles coming to sit next to you, bored or out of curiosity he begins trying to poke your arm, and when that doesn’t work he starts mindlessly putting his whole hand through your body. “What are you doing ?” You ask confused. “Hoping for a miracle,” Wally says throwing his head back. “There has to be a reason only you can see me, this doesn’t just happen,” he says. “I mean you’re not the first ghost I've spoken to” you admit.

.“What? You’ve talk to other ghosts?” Wally asks surprised and slightly jealous. “Well one other ghost, my older brother Lee” you say putting your cup on the coffee table. “I remember you saying something about that at the football game” Wally recalls

“You were there too?” You ask surprised “ I go with you everywhere y/n, we’ll accept the bathroom” he confessed “That’s…good to know,” you say with a smile, it was weird but you felt a sense of comfort knowing he was always around even when you couldn’t see him, like a guardian angel. “How did you speak to your brother?” Wally asks breaking you out of your daze,

“I did a ritual,” you admit. “Something my great grandma told me about. She told me where descendent from witches but she’d never really told me the history behind it. She’d flip through her big old book telling me what each spell did what.She also told me never to do it, that the spell, that lt was too unpredictable. But he died so suddenly, he had a heart defect he had always dealt but I thought it had gotten better. he Just went to sleep one night, coming back from some frat party and never woke up. He was away at college at that time an just had no closure. I just wanted to talk to him one last time, to tell him how much I loved him and missed him.”

Wally stays quiet, watching you. He never thought it was possible to feel so close to something yet so impossibly far away. Some days, he wondered if it was better when you didn’t know he existed because now, being acknowledged but unable to touch, unable to truly be with you, felt worse than being invisible. All he wanted was to hold you close, comfort you.

“The spell worked at first,” you continue. “I got to talk to him. I even got to hug him, like really hug him as if he was actually alive.” you pause takinga breath. “But then… after it was like he haunted my mind. I’d dream about him calling me, begging me to help him, to let him free. Sometimes my dreams were just red, like blood, with his screams echoing in the dark. I’d wake up drenched in sweat, screaming my chest tight. It went on for over a month. And when I finally told my parents what happened, they sent me to a mental hospital.”

Wally listens, completely still.

“While I was there, I called my great-grandma and told her everything. She said it was because I disrupted his passing—that Lee didn’t want to leave, so he tried to use me to come back.” You exhale shakily. “I don’t know what she did, but I was told she came down from Louisiana for a weekend and when I got home, the nightmares were gone. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably chalk it all up to grief.”

Wally is quiet for a long time, his fingers drumming idly against his knee. You could tell he’s thinking, the gears in his head turning as he pieces something together. Then, suddenly, he sits up straighter, eyes locked onto yours with a determination in your eye.

“You could try it again,” he says.

You blink. “What?”

“The ritual,” he clarifies. “You could try it on me.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. “Wally—”

“I know what you’re gonna say,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “That it’s too dangerous. That it didn’t end well last time. But it’s

different with us.”

You raise your eyebrow slightly confused “How, exactly?”

He leans forward, his gaze intense. “Because I’m not like Lee. I don’t need to reach you through dreams, and I’m not trying to cling onto life, I already exist here, with you. You see me. You hear me. I just… can’t touch you.” His voice dips slightly, frustrated. “But maybe the ritual could change that.”

You exhale, shaking your head. “You don’t know that.”

“I don’t,” he admits, “but it’s worth a shot, isn’t it?”

You hesitate, your mind racing. Every instinct told you this is a bad idea. This is exactly what your great-grand

Ma warned you about. But then Wally looks at you, really looks at you with his big brown eyes you know you’re gonna fold.

What if it worked?

What if, for once, things didn’t end in heartbreak?

You swallow hard, in an effort to push down the thought. “…I’ll think about it.”

A slow grin spreads across Wally’s face. “That’s not a no.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real bite to it. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Monte Carlo.”

But even as you try to play it off, you can’t ignore the way your heart pounds in your chest, in anticipation Because deep down, you already knew, you were gonna do it.

~~~~

You placed Wally’s folded jersey on your vanity inside the circle of chalk you created, your new makeup brushes replaced with lit pink candles. You’d brought up the fire extinguisher from the basement just in case and left a window open so his soul could enter. You didn’t know how to feel, a part of you felt scared that you might do something wrong and not be able to talk to Wally again, or worse you’d stop his soul from possibly moving on. But there was another part of you that felt excited, excited to Really see Wally for the first time. Look into his alive eyes touch his skin, hold his hand possibly more.

You cleaned your room top to bottom, lit one scented candle took a nice everything shower, and put on your cutest pajamas. You felt more like you were getting ready for a sneaky link than a resuscitation, but it was always better safe than sorry.

“Might as well start” you say taking a deep breath walking up to your vanity. You quickly opened the old notebook belonging to your great grandmother. Reading over ritual once more, You prick your finger with a pin causing a small drop of blood to form. Putting down the pin you smear your blood onto a small bay leaf with your request scribbled on it before taking a match to burn it. You hold the burning bay leaf in your hand until it turns completely into ash. For some unknown reasons it didn’t burn you, honesty you couldn’t even feel the heat. You pace your ash covered hand on his jersey before speaking.

I would like to speak with Wally Clark” you say with your hand placed on his jersey eyes closed . When the words leave your mouth you feel a chill down your spine. “ I invite Wally Clark into my home, his spirit, and his flesh” As you speak you feel a gust of wind through your room, there was a sense of electricity running through you, you could feel it the strongest in your fingers. “I offer my blood as his living passageway, I invite him to breathe my air, live his life if only for tonight” As soon as the final words left your mouth the wind blew through your window blowing out your candles.

When You open your eyes you’re surrounded by mostly darkness, the only light being the fairy lights above your bed. Before you could decide what to do the candles were re-lit. But nothing, with your brother, his bracelet disappeared and he appeared right in front of you but now nothing. Just when you were about to start putting everything up you felt a tap. You scream turning around when your eyes land on him.

Your hands fly to your mouth. “WALLY!”

His eyes are wide, stunned like he barely believes it himself. “It worked.” His voice is rough, breathless. “I can’t believe it fucking worked.”

You practically launch yourself at him, arms wrapping around his neck, feeling his warmth, his solidity, the realness of him. His arms come around your waist instantly, holding you tight, one hand sliding into your hair. He turns his head into the crook of your neck taking in your sent. “You smell so fucking good” Wally whispered absentmindedly into your ear. He genuinely couldn’t help himself.

His words causing you to feel a shiver all the way down to your core, you’d hope for your dignity say he stop. “Thank you” you whispered slightly breathless removing your head from his chest.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, pressing your hands against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart. You look up at him, breathless. “It’s like you’re alive.”

“I feel alive,” Wally murmurs, his hand trailing down your back, gripping your waist.

You suddenly realize how close you are, how his body heat radiated against yours, how you could smell him, just like on his pillow some type of cologne and a natural warm, not quite musk but close something uniquely him.

Your breath shudders as your fingers mindlessly trail lower, brushing over his stomach.

You glance up, suddenly shy. “Sorry. I just… I never thought I’d be able to actually touch you”

“Don't Apologize.” he says with a big smile lifting the same hand to leave a quick Kiss on your knuckle, “How long does it last?” He asks his eyes falling to your lips before returning to your eyes.

“I don’t know, a couple of hours probably, with my brother we only had two, and during the ritual, his bracelet disappeared. So I had no way of contacting him again. But your jersey didn’t disappear so…”

“I could come back again” Wally finishes with a smile. “Yeah” you respond almost dazed staring at him, it wasn’t like you didn’t see him every day but it was different now, the scent of him now lingered in the air, and you could feel the body heat radiating off of him, it was different a good Different. “Wait…did you take my jersey?” Wally asks with a smug smile spreading across his face . “Maybe…” you say with a small shrug. “But I’m still the stalker?”

“Yes, exactly” you respond with a chuckle

“Right” Wally drags looking around the room “Your room just like I imagined it,” Wally says walking around. “Well with more teddy bears,” he says picking up a stuffed unicorn from the big stack of stuffed animals on your bed. “Don’t Judge, I remember your mom saying something about you sleeping with a Stuffy” you say taking the unicorn from him. “She told you about Stuffy?” Wally asked a mixture of surprise and embarrassment. “Mmh, she told me a lot of things”

Wally raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

You bit your lip, debating whether to indulge him. Finally, you shrugged. “She told me about your chunky monkey days,” you say with a sly smile. “She showed me pictures too” You continue pressing your lips together in an effort to hold your laugh.

The color drained from Wally's face instantly. “What” Wally muttered the embarrassment visible in his face. You chuckle at his reaction “Don’t worry, I think you looked cute with a little meat on your bone” you joke causing Wally to drag a hand down his face. “I can’t believe she showed you that”

You giggled,“ I think she just wanted someone to talk to, I told her I’d come over again to visit,” you say readjusting one of you’re figurines. “ will you?” Wally asks looking at you as he walks around the room. “ of course, we're friends now” you respond honestly. He smiled at you before returning his attention to your room.

You watched as he wandered around your room, fingers grazing your desk, your bookshelf, the little trinkets and photos you had scattered around. It was surreal seeing him interact with your world like this. Normally, he just hovered watching, talking, existing in a way that felt just out of reach. But now?

Now he was here.

Really here.

You couldn’t stop staring. His presence was tangible—the warmth of his body, the way the scent of cologne and old leather clung to him. His movements had weight. You could hear the soft shift of his shoes against your rug, the quiet exhale of his breath.

It made your heart race, It made you think.

“So,” Wally said suddenly, turning back to you. “You got me for a couple of hours. What now?”

You hesitated, a hundred different thoughts running through your head, but only one stood out.

“…Do you want to go for a drive?”

Wally’s expression flickered, something unreadable passing through his eyes before he grinned. “You serious?”

You nodded. “You had that whole speech about picking me up for school in your car. You loved that thing. If I were you, the first thing I’d want to do in a real body again is drive.”

Wally let out a low whistle. “Damn. You get me Girl”

You laughed, grabbing your keys from your nightstand. “Come on, before this shit wears off.”

The night air was warm, thick with the lingering heat of the day as you and Wally slipped outside. The street was quiet, the world oblivious to the impossibility of what you’d just done.

Wally looked around like he was seeing everything for the first time. The streetlights, the parked cars, the trees swaying in the faint breeze. He ran a hand over your car’s hood, fingers splayed against the cool metal, before turning to you with a soft smile.

“Shotgun,” he said.

You rolled your eyes but unlocked the doors, sliding into the driver’s seat as he got in beside you.

When you turned the key in the ignition, the dashboard lights flickered on, casting a soft glow over Wally’s face. He looked almost reverent like he was trying to soak in every detail. You pulled out of the driveway and onto the empty road, the hum of the engine filling the silence.

“This feels… insane,” Wally admitted, watching the streetlights blur past. “I forgot what wind felt like.”

You glanced over, watching the way he stuck his hand out the window, fingers cutting through the air like he was trying to hold onto it.

You smiled. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

He nodded, looking over at you. “You feel good.” Your breath hitched. Again Wally's brain spoke for him, as much as he enjoyed the feeling of the wind on his face and the adrenaline of a late-night car ride. Nothing felt better than your small hands running down his chest, how your breast felt pushed up against him. For you It wasn’t just the words, it was the way he said them. Low, warm, like he wasn’t just talking about the drive. Like he was talking about you.

Your fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

“I—” You cleared your throat. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Wally didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, quietly, “Me too.”

You drove for a while, neither of you in a rush to get anywhere. The town looked different, a lot different than Wally remembered but somehow it also didn't. New stores sprinkled the streets, plazas new street lights, but the roads were the same, and when you turned the corner Big Burger was exactly where it had always been. Now remodeled of course, but the bench he sat at so many times in his youth was stationed in front of the restaurant right where he left it. at night the street were quieter, softer, like it existed just for you two.

After a few minutes, Wally reached for the radio, flipping through stations until he landed on an old rock song.

You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Really?”

He grinned. “What? This is classic.”

You snorted but let the music play, the familiar tune filling the car. You let your mind wander to a reality, a different time where Wally would be driving, you’d be in the passenger seat fixing your makeup and singing to music while he drove you to school. A different reality where he wasn't a resurrected ghost.

Wally leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes for a moment, just existing. And he looked alive, real. The air between you was electric. It wasn’t just the thrill of the ritual working it was the way his presence filled your space now, the way he felt real in a way he never had before. You could hear the faint sound of his breathing, feel the warmth of his body near yours, and when his fingers brushed yours when you put the car in park—whether by accident or intent—you felt it down to your bones.

More real.

More dangerous.

You parked in the driveway, shutting off the engine. Neither of you moved to get out.

“…So,” Wally said, voice softer now. “Same time tomorrow?” he joked but a sense of seriousness laced his tone. You turned to look at him, taking in the way the porch light cast shadows over his face, highlighting his strong jawline, and the dark warmth in his eyes.

Something inside you snapped, the last string of restraint.

“…Yeah,” you murmured. “Same time tomorrow,” you said you're eyes lingering on his.

“You keep looking at me like that,” Wally murmured, “and I’m gonna start thinking real crazy.”

You swallowed, pulse hammering in your throat. “Like what?”

“Like maybe you brought me back for more than just a joyride.”

Your stomach flipped. He wasn’t wrong.

The truth was, you had imagined it. Countless times. What it would be like if he were alive if you could touch him. You’d pushed the thoughts away because they were pointless, but now? Now nothing was stopping you. So you did the one thing you’d wanted to do for weeks. You reached out, placed your hand on his chest, and felt his heart beating beneath your palm. His breath hitched.

“Holy shit,” he whispered.

Your fingers flexed against him, feeling the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. Your eyes met his, and for the first time, you saw something different in them—something hungry.

“I don’t know how long I have,” he admitted, voice rough. “I don’t wanna waste a second.”

You exhaled shakily. “Then don’t.”

That was all the invitation he needed.

Wally was on you in an instant, his lips crashing into yours, all heat and desperation. His hands cupped your face, thumbs tracing your jaw as if he couldn’t believe you were real. You melted into him, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more.

He groaned when you pressed against him, his grip tightening. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“So do you,” you whispered between kisses.

You stumbled back into your room, His hands were everywhere—your waist, your thighs, slipping beneath the hem of your pajama shorts, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You gasped when he bit gently at your neck, his voice a low growl against your skin.

“I’ve been wanting you since the first time I saw you,” he admitted, his breath hot against your collarbone. “Every time you walked around in those tiny ass shorts, every time you licked your lips when you ate—fuck.”

You arched beneath him, dizzy with want. “I want you to fuck me so bad Wally.”

His eyes darkened. “Really?” he asks almost not believing it

You nodded. “Yeah.”

And he did. Wally quickly helped you remove your top, his eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of you. "God, you're fucking gorgeous," he growled, reaching out to grab your waist and pull you onto the bed with him.

You straddled his hips, grinding down against the hardness you could feel his girth pressing against your core. "Someone's eager," you teased with a chuckle before leaning down to press a kiss to his lips.

"You have no idea," Wally groaned into the kiss, his hands roaming your body, caressing and squeezing every inch of exposed skin. You broke the kiss, trailing your lips down his neck and chest, pausing to bite at the skin.

"Fuck, Y/N," he gasped, his hands fisting in your hair. Grinned up at him, giving him another bite before sliding further down his body. You tugged at the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down his legs and tossing them aside. His cock sprang free, hard and throbbing, the tip glistening with pre-cum.

You moan at the sight electricity running straight to your center. “oh my god” you whisper wrapping your hand around his shaft and giving it a slow stroke. Wally let out a low moan, his hips bucking up into your touch. His eyes were heavy-lidded with lust. You leaned down, running your tongue along the underside of his cock from base to tip. Wally cursed under his breath, his hands gripping the sheets tightly. Emboldened by his reaction, you took him into your mouth, sucking him deep and swirling your tongue around his head.

"Fuck, Y/N," Wally panted, his fingers tangling in your hair. "Just like that. Your mouth feels so fucking good baby."

You continued to work him with your mouth, taking him deeper each time until he hit the back of your throat. You gagged slightly, but pushed through, determined to bring him to the brink. Wally's moans grew louder, his hips thrusting up into your mouth as you sucked him hard and fast. He didn’t push your head down, his hand coming to your head to gather your braids into a ponytail away from your face.

"I'm going to cum," he warned, his grip on your hair tightening. "Fu- Fuck shit Y/N, I'm cumming!" With a loud groan, he bucks his hips into your mouth as he pulsed in your throat his hot seed spurting down into your stomach. You swallowed it all, every single drop and you enjoyed the feeling of his warmth dripping down your throat. Continuing to suck him until he was well spent. Whiney mess above you until he was as gently as possible trying to pull you off of his dick. “shit baby” he says whining out a moan. “ I can't take anymore” he says his voice shaking slightly.

You released him from your mouth with a pop, licking your lips. “And I thought you were innocent, Now I definitely can't let you out my sight,” Wally chuckles before he pulled you into a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep as he tasted himself on your lips.

"Your lips are so soft" he smiles against yours. You breathed when he finally broke the kiss.

"I wanna try so many things with you." He groans, With a sudden move, he flipped you onto your back, settling between your legs. He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, spreading you open for him.

"You're so fucking wet," he groaned, running a finger through your slick folds. "You get wet like this from sucking me off” he chuckles ”I can't wait to taste you." He smiles excitedly. You squirm underneath him, his finger rubbing against your clit. “You like that?” he asks with grin Rubbing his fingers against your wet center the warmth making it hard to stop. Wally enjoyed watching as your chest rose and fell faster, the small moan you contained by biting your lip. “You want me to taste you?” He asks the cocky smile never leaving his face. You don’t respond, audibly nodding eagerly. “ I want to hear you say it” Wally says with a mischievous smile. “ I want you to taste me”

Wally shakes his head, “No baby say my name”

“ I want you taste me Wally” you comply causing him to groan in satisfaction. “Good girl” he smiles

With that He leaned down, burying his face between your legs and licking a long stripe up your slit. Before looking back up at you to savor your reaction. You cried out, your back arching off the bed as pleasure shot through you. Your responses only spurred him on further

Wally groaned against your core lapping at you like a man starved. Looking back up every

once in a while to enjoy your reaction., every often to He circled your clit with his tongue, flicking and teasing the sensitive bud with his fast paced thumb until you were a writhing mess beneath him.

"Fu- Please, Wally," you begged, your hands fisting in his hair. "I can’t”

“You got it, baby, you can do it” he hummed against your cunt the vibration causing your leg to shake. “take this tongue, and ill give you this dick,” he groans talking you through it, his eyes locked onto your face. Sliding two fingers inside you and curling them just right. “Tell me how much you want it” he demands and you physically can't answer Your head falling back against the pillow. “ Tell me baby” he repeat. “ I want it so fucking bad baby” you moan out as he worked you with his fingers and tongue, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Just as you were about to cum, he pulled back, leaving you panting and desperate.

"Not yet," he said with a wicked grin. "I want to be inside you when you cum." he groans positioning himself at your entrance. He pushes into you slowly enjoying the feeling of stretching you out until he was all the way inside, filling you.

"Fuck," he groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as he struggled to maintain control. His hands roaming over your torso, “This is my pussy”

"You're so tight. So perfect for me." He groaned starting to move, thrusting in and out of you at a steady pace. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper as you met him thrust for thrust. He wanted so badly to go harder to fuck you into the mattress until your legs were jello but he didn't want to hurt you.

"Harder," you demanded, digging your nails into his back. "Fuck me harder."

“ I won’t be able to stop” he warns with a chuckle and you nod in acknowledgment Wally complied happily, slamming into you with renewed vigor. The bed creaked beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall as he pounded into you relentlessly. You were grateful your mom worked nights because you were sure your neighbors could hear you two. Wally looked down every so often to enjoy the sight of your wet cunt sucking him in. “ you take me so well baby”

"Don't stop," you cried, your walls starting to flutter around his cock. "I'm going to cum."

Wally reached between your bodies, rubbing tight circles on your clit as he thrust into you. That was all it took to send you over the edge. You came with a scream, your body convulsing beneath him as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. Wally didn’t stop chasing his orgasm pound into you until your cream coated his cock.

When he did cum he, burying himself deep, pulsing inside you. He collapsed on top of you, both of you panting and sweat-slicked as you tried to catch your breath. You tried to move slightly his big now soft cock twitching inside you. “ let me stay in a little longer” he hums against your throat. His hands wander down to your waist. “ it’s so warm” he smiles against your skin bucking into you slightly, he thrusts two times before pulling himself out.

"That was... fucking incredible," Wally murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

You smiled up at him, running your fingers through his damp curls. "It was," you agreed with a small smile.

“I don't think I’m not done yet," Wally confesses looking down between you at his somehow hard cock.

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"I want you from behind" Wally confesses with a smile biting at your shoulder causing you to giggle.

~~~~~

Later, when you lay tangled together in the sheets, your body still thrumming with pleasure, Wally traced lazy circles on your bare hip.

“We should make a deal,” he murmured.

You turned your head, meeting his gaze. “A deal?”

He smirked. “You summon me every night. And we do something new. Could be anything. A drive, a date, a movie…” He kissed your shoulder. “Or more of this.”

Your heart pounded. “Every night?”

“Every night,” he confirmed. “Until we figure out how to make this permanent. After tonight…” he paused his finger tracing down the spine of your back.”you're really never getting rid of me”

You turned staring at him, searching his face. He wasn’t just talking about sex he was talking about being with you.

You bit your lip. There was no way possible way this could end well but for some reason you responded  “Okay.”

His grin widened. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whispered.

His fingers tightened on your waist, and he kissed you again, slow and deep. His body pressing hard against you.

Suddenly a hefty breeze hit your face knocking the air from your nose. And just like that, he was gone, a poof followed by a breeze left you alone in your bed, the warmth of his hands gone. The only proof he was there was the sticky slick between your thighs. You rolled over in your bed rolling yourself tight in your blanket tears stinging your eyes and as you drifted off to sleep you wondered…what would tomorrow bring and, how the fuck where you gonna explain this to Kat?

Author note : GUYS FEEL FREE TO COMMENT I LOVE READING COMMENTS

[thehouseofurmotha]

In all honesty, I'm such a fan of the bakugo x aizawas daughter!reader series (if i can all it that)

I'm in NEED of new oneshots basically anything will do

AHH PLEASE TYSM @kitthefanfickat FOR REQUESTING THIS I LITERALLY LOVE ANY EXCUSE TO WRITE DADZAWA <33

Pt. 3 to loud blonde <3 (as for all of them could be read on its own as a standalone one shot.)

Pt. 1, pt. 2

Summery: y/n starts feeling really left out of her father's life, and her loud blonde boyfriend is there to comfort her and fix the pieces of her that have broken.

Warnings: swearing, angst, mommy issues!! Mentions of mental abuse snd neglect,

You loved your father, and you knew how much he did for you. But sometimes you couldn't help but feel left out of his life. Recently he's started spending the little free time he has training a kid in your general studies class.

Hitoshi Shinsou, you've talked to him on more than one occasion. You and him have a very similar personality, and in reality he kind of reminds you of your father. Which is why it makes sense that he took a liking to the kid. But fuck did you feel like shit.

You knew that your father loved you too, and that there wasn't anything that he wouldn't do for you. But you still, couldn't help but feel left out of his world. The world of being a hero, you suppose.

You've never once regretted your decision to not become a hero like your father. Maybe it was from your mother drilling it into your head as a child that hero's are bad, and you should never want to be one.

For the first 5 years of your life you were raised by a mother who simply did not care about you. Maybe she saw to much of your father in you to ever truly love you. She had left your father before you were born, as a child you fantasized about him coming to save you and take you away from your mother. But even as a child, you knew the chances were unlikely as the chances he knew you existed were very slim. Your mother would tell you that, all the time. She would constantly remind you that no one loved you, and nobody was coming to save you.

For a long time you couldn't come to terms with the truth that your mom was an awful person. You wanted to hate her but she was still your mother. No matter how much she neglected and manipulated you.

The day of your 5th birthday, your mother finally snapped. She hadn't been taking care of you in months, you were practically skin and bones. Your hair was in one huge mat.

As a child, most kids were excited for their birthdays. Not you, your birthday just reminded your mother more of 'mistake' she made by not getting rid of you. You woke up and made your way to the kitchen in hopes she would have made herself breakfast and you could steal whatever scraps ended up left.

You were lucky that morning that she did. Or so you thought, she had went to the couch to watch her show while she ate. And you saw this as the perfect opportunity to eat a little bit of the food she had left over, even if you couldn't have much it was better than nothing.

You quietly dragged a chair over to the stove and picked at the extra eggs and bacon lying in a pan. You thought your mother had been preoccupied, but she must have forgotten something, you didn't really know.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?" She screamed some how louder than she ever has at you before. You immediately burst into tears stuttering an apology over and over again.

"I was just so hungry mommy I'm so sorry- I- I won't do it again-" She looked at you with burning hatred as you begged for her forgiveness. You didn't understand what you had done to deserve this.

"Get the fuck out of my house." You sob even harder at this. You were just a kid where were you supposed to go.

"Mommy please-" you beg, you don't want to get kicked out. You just wanted her to love you.

"Get out. Now." She was unnaturally calm while saying this. You kept sobbing and sobbing as you stood on your tippy toes to reach the door handle. Suddenly you were no longer in that house, and surrounded by a cold uncaring world.

You don't know how, but you managed to make it to a police station. You knew that these people would help you. You just wanted to be saved, like the people your father helped. Why couldn't he help you.

You push the large doors open, not without struggle though. You see a pretty woman sitting at a desk in front of you with a kind smile.

"Hi honey, where are your parents?" Her comment makes the tears that had previously stopped come back even harder. No body had ever been that gentle with you.

"M-mommy kicked me out-" You sob and hiccup throughout the sentence and the lady gives you a look of pity. She quickly gets up from her desk and wraps you in her warm arms.

"You're safe now sweetie, you're safe." You shove your face into her chest and sob harder. Never having felt such loving touch. "Can you come with me honey? We just need to ask you some questions so we can figure out how to help you."

You look up at her and give her a small nod. You're brought back into an interrogation room, but the kind lady never leaves your side. She sits in the chair next to you asking if you need anything. She offers you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

"don't know what that is.." It's hard for you to admit, you really didn't know what anything was. It was a miracle that you had learned how to talk at all.

"It's a very yummy food, and it'll help you feel better." She adds the second part after heading your stomach grumble. You not giving her approval, "I'll be right back honey." She says this as she walks out of the door leaving you alone.

You pull your knees to your chest. You were so scared, you just wanted your mom to love you.

You wake up from the nightmare, if you could even really call it that. It was nothing but the truth, the harsh reality you had to face that your mom had abandoned you.

You hazily make you way out of bed, tears gently falling from your eyes. You make your way straight to your father's bedroom, it's a Saturday so he should still be in bed asleep. But he's not and an overwhelming panic sets onto you. You go and search the rest of the house hoping that he just woke up early today.

As you're searching you find a letter on the kitchen counter, and it reads

'Hi hun,

Left to do some training with Shinsou, I'm not sure when I'll be home. But if you want me to pick up food or anything on the way home just text me. Have a great day.

Love, Dad'

The letter only manages to make you sob harder. You just wanted your father, and he was just with another kid. With this thought, you started to spiral. With the thoughts that your father's going to leave you, just like your mother did. Maybe you should have become a hero, maybe he'd like you better. You start thinking of all the things you could've done wrong, all the things that could make him hate you like she did.

Eventually you start to recognize that you are not in the state of mind to be alone. But texting your father asking him to come home now seems like the scariest thing ever. So you settle on the next best person.

As soon as you had just simply said please he knew something was wrong. You never invited him over without telling your father. You respected your father to much for that.

As to his promise, Katsuki arrived 15 minutes later. He pounded on the door until you opened it; you weren't sure if it was because he was worried, or this was something he would always do if you didn't wait outside for him. But today you simply didn't have the energy.

You walk over the door quietly unlocking it before sitting back on the couch. Your boyfriend obviously hears you unlock it cause he's bursting through the door a second later. He scans the room looking for you and as his eyes land on your disheveled body, with tears still running down your face.

He gently wraps you in his arms, holding you as close as he can. "Talk to me doll what's goin on?" He just wants to know how to help you. The softness in his voice seems to only make you sob harder.

"He- he's gonna leave me- he's gonna leave- I'm not good enough he's gonna leave-" This only left Katsuki with more questions. Who was 'he'? It couldn't be your father would it? What would he have done to make you feel like this, Katsuki thinks he may kill your father if it was him.

"Who baby? I need to know so I can help you, I just want to help you." He gently rubs your back, the soothing motion help you to start sobbing a little less. But in the moment Katsuki thinks that any progress is good progress.

"My- my dad- he's gonna- he's gonna leave me just like she did-" Katsuki's suspicions are confirmed with this. It was about your father, and he could only assume the she was your mother. He knew a little bit of what had happened. He knew that you didn't have contact with your mother, but that was pretty much the extent to what you had told him. He really didn't know what to do, so he texted the one person who might.

"You good sensei? You look even more miserable than normal." Shinsou and Aizawa have always had a sort of playful banter while sparring. And even though they're on a water break they normally keep it going. And when Shinsou noticed that Aizawa was staring at his phone with his brows creased, of course he was gonna do some teasing.

"Sorry to call it quits early, but I have to go kid. Something's going on with my daughter." Aizawa is really panicking internally, wondering what he could have done to upset you. He doesn't know, he thought you had been fine. But obviously not.

"Oh you're all good, I didn't know you had a daughter Sensei." Shinsou was a little taken aback by that comment. Never having heard about this mysterious girl.

"Yeah.. have a good day Shinsou I'll see you Monday morning before classes."

"Alright see you then sensei, thank you." And with that Aizawa gets in his car has fast as he can. Thoughts racing, he just wants to know what's wrong with his daughter. What he did, so he can fix it.

He doesn't want you to feel like he's going to leave you like your mother did. He never would. He definitely speeds a bit on the way back to your guys apartment but honestly, he doesn't care. He just wants to hold his daughter and tell her that everything will be okay.

He quickly arrives at your guys apartment, due to the fact that it's not very far U.A. He rushes up the stairs to get to get to your apartment.

As he opens the door, he's greeted with the sight of you sobbing into Bakugou's chest. The boy looks up at him with a puzzled look on his face. This tells Shouta that he's made no progress figuring out what sparked this.

Quickly he makes his way to you and picks you up out of Bakugou's lap. The boy goes to resist it but he just sends a glare at him and the boy takes the hint. Allowing him to carefully cradle you to his chest, the way he would when you were upset as a child. This action causes you to only sob harder.

"I'm not leaving hun, I'm not going anywhere's. I'm not leaving." He just keeps repeating that he's not leaving you. And this manages to get you calm enough to form semi coherent sentences.

"Msorry- I was just being dramatic- I'm sorry-" you mumble this out with your face shoved into his chest.

"Honey, if you're this upset it's not dramatic I promise. I need you to tell me what's wrong hun, please. Let me fix this." With a sigh he holds you closer, he just wants to make you feel better.

"I just- I had a dream- more a nightmare I guess- of um- the day my mom you know- kicked me out- and then you weren't here.. and you've been spending so much time out of the house. And I know your training Shinsou and he's a nice kid and would make a good hero- but I don't know- I feel like he's taken up the little bit of time that we would spend together- it's stupid but part of me thinks you like him better because he wants to become a hero and I don't.." Once it starts to come out you just couldn't stop. You had told him everything you had been feeling. He looks at you with a look that makes it impossible to tell how he feels.

"I'm so sorry, kid. I should've thought about you would feel about this, but I need you to know nothing you could do could ever make me love you less, or love someone else more. I need you to know that I'm not going to leave you, not ever. I will not abandon you like she did. I promise I'll make extra effort to hang out with you, I'll call out of patrol tonight. Me and you, as well as Bakugou if you would like, can all hang out and have a movie night. Or whatever you want to do, anything to make you feel better. I'm so sorry." You start to cry again, but this time more of relief than anything. You had finally gotten the reassurance from him that you needed.

"Also hun, I don't care about you not becoming a hero, all I want is for you to be happy and do something you love. And I know analysis is that thing."

"Thank you dad.. but you um- you don't have to call out tonight I'll be fine."

"Nah it's alright, I'll just get Hizashi to cover and he'll do it no complaints." This causes you to giggle, you truly do love your father and Hizashi's relationship.

"I love you dad." You say this with a smile on your face looking up at him.

"I love you too kid."

The two of you sit in silence for a while before you're the one who breaks it. "I think that I want to try and contact her.." You whisper this not knowing how your father will feel about this.

"If you think that's what you need to do, then I'll support you 100%." The reassurance that he's not upset at the idea is comforting.

You notice that at some point your boyfriend had left. You figured that he just went outside, to the benches at the front of the building. Because you know that Katsuki would never leave you with out saying bye.

You spend the rest of the night sitting between your two favorite people feeling more content than you had in a while. And even though there was anxiety about trying to talk to your mother, you know that they would get you through it. And that was all the comfort you needed.

Okay so I definitely meant to finish my Shinsou x reader one shot before I finished this, but I got a little carried away when I started- soooo! Anyways I hope you enjoy! Happy reading <3

[captain-hawks]

dee what am I going to do with all these oliver x period sex thoughts you need to either kill me or tell me yours

18+, explicit period sex (fingering, oral f!receiving, unprotected p in v, creampie, blood)

being with oliver aiku is an exercise in acknowledging that you're but one of the many that have come before. the shape of his lips, the brush of his fingers, the stretch of his cock—you're well aware you could never hope to be any kind of first for him by any means.

sexually, that is.

(love, perhaps, but that's a conversation for a different day.)

and it's why it catches you entirely off guard on a rainy sunday morning when he glances from your horrified expression to the slick red that stains his fingertips, tilting his head to the side thoughtfully as he muses, "honestly, i haven't done this before."

embarrassment burns hot in your gut as you stare at the blood, watching as he rubs his thumb across the pads of his pointer and middle fingers to smear it over his skin.

"i'm sorry," you manage to get out before burying your face in a pillow.

(which is where it had been moments earlier, when you tiredly rolled over onto your stomach and moaned softly as oliver kissed the back of your neck, tugged your panties to the side, and slid two fingers through your sensitive folds, groaning over how wet you were.)

"why're you sorry?" oliver asks, pressing a kiss to the back of your shoulder.

you turn your head sideways, taking his confused face. "i didn't—i should have realized it was going to start soon..."

oliver blinks, leaning a little closer. "your period?"

you scrunch your eyes shut and nod, another hot wave of embarrassment hitting you, and you belatedly snap your thighs closed. because this happened years ago with your ex, and he was disgusted, and it was awful, and—

"do you not want me to touch you while you're bleeding?" he asks.

you open your eyes, and he looks honest to god earnest.

"do i not want you to?" you echo in confusion (because of the way he's phrased it, what it implies—)

"i haven't done this before, but if you wanted to..." he trails off, sheepish.

you breathe in slowly, trying to digest his words. "you don't...don't you think it's gross?"

oliver nudges your shoulder and your hip, urging you to roll over onto your back.

"i never really thought about it until right now. but feeling how wet you are, seeing it on my fingers..." he looks down at his hand.

you, in turn, notice just how hard he is, cock straining against the confines of his briefs.

"oh," you breathe out. because you feel incapable of getting any other words out at this revelation.

(because it's always been an idle thought, a depraved, filthy fantasy—)

your cunt aches.

"we don't have to do anything if you don't want to—" oliver starts.

(he has no idea.)

"please."

-

you should have known oliver aiku is nothing if not a meticulously thorough lover.

because it wasn't enough for him, slowly teasing the outer rim of your fluttering, empty hole until you were bucking your hips and begging for it. sliding two thick digits into your dripping, hypersensitive cunt. palming his cock through his briefs as he groaned over how hot it was—the red liquid smeared over your cunt and across your inner thighs. the obnoxious wet squelch of blood and arousal as he fucked you on his fingers till you went toppling over the edge (gasping for breath into a messy kiss as he rasped against your lips how beautiful you looked).

it wasn't enough, nearly coming on the fucking spot when he eased his flushed, leaking cock into your pussy (because he's so fucking thick and there's always a stretch as he eases into your tight walls but he slid right balls deep in one slick stroke).

it wasn't enough, the way you trembled and gasped in pleasure, clawing at his back and babbling nonsense and whimpering his name as you begged him to fuck you harder, harder, harder. the sloppy, filthy, depraved feeling of him fucking his cock into your bloody, wet hole.

it wasn't enough for oliver, fingering you and fucking you into a cock drunk mess atop a pile of stained, ruined sheets.

because it still surprises you, after everything, when you feel him nudge your thighs apart once more after he pulls his softening cock out of you.

you shiver as he drags two fingers through your folds, coating the digits in your blood and his cum.

"oliver—" you breathe out, watching as he brings his fingers to his mouth.

as he licks them clean.

"can i?" he asks.

(you're fairly certain you're on the verge of blacking out when oliver brings you to the brink of your third orgasm, red smeared across his chin, fist wrapped around his cock and your fingers buried in his hair. with his tongue buried in your sopping wet cunt as laves at your throbbing clit and laps up every last drop of blood and cum until you're sobbing his name.)

[nebulaafterdark]

Dracarys (Part 3)

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: if you know, you know. Post Dance AU

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

18+ ONLY MDNI Targcest, knife!play, smut, angst

This night Y/N decides, she is going to kill Aegon. When his back is to her, when he is least expecting it, she pulls out her knife. Stalking up behind him, she counts to steady her breathing. On one, two-

Aegon whips around, his own dagger held between them.

All the air leaves her lungs as he grins at her.

“Do it,” he dares her. “Or I will.”

Her hand trembles. “How shall I do it?”

“A clean cut across my throat, that’s what I would do. Make it quick.”

“Do it then,” Y/N decides. “Do it, free us both.”

“Providing a way out which allows you to cling to your precious virtue is not nearly as stimulating. I want my blood on your hands. I want you to bathe in it, choke on it.”

Y/N keens as he backs her against the wall, now trapped beneath their blades.

“Is it not what you want?”

“At times.” She breathes.

“What do you want in the rest of the time?”

“You said yourself, you and I are fated to dance.”

His lips are on hers then, before either of them can do a thing to stop it. Drawn together by an invisible string, one neither of them are able to press down and sever.

Her blade nips Aegon’s skin and a low groan rumbles out from his chest. “Sorry,” she apologizes, realizing what she’s done. “I am sorry.”

He drags the tip of his dagger along the front of her gown, tearing it open. “This is where I ordered my guards to cut your mother, so Sunfyre would smell blood.”

Suddenly she doesn’t feel guilty for cutting him, wishing only that she’d done it deeper.

“Even my dragon did not want to harm her.”

“Mayhaps that was your sign from the gods.” Y/N challenges.

“The same gods which sent you to me? I care little for their signs anymore.”

Y/N moves her blade to her side.

“Ah, ah, ah, my dearest love.” He brings her knife back to his neck, “we must get it out of your system.”

“No,” she whimpers.

Aegon clicks his tongue at her. “I wasn’t asking. Either we end each other here or you stop fighting me.”

“I do not know how to stop.” It has been too long, years of betrayal between them.

His eyes search hers, she is telling the truth. “It would require forgiveness.”

“Could you forgive me? Well and truly, for all of it? Tell me now.”

“Say please.” Aegon licks his lips.

“Tell me now, please.” This is a mockery. A performance, a show, but she wants-

“I could, in time. After all, I have little choice. We can’t go on like this.”

Y/N burns, the awful part of her tethered to him, pulled taut. “Please, I want to touch you.”

Aegon grits his teeth. “You will never raise a blade to me again. Swear it.”

“I swear this to you, on the memory of my mother.”

Aegon bats her knife away, “touch me.”

Y/N buries her hands in his hair, kissing him in earnest. Licking into his mouth, along the backs of his teeth, dancing along his tongue.

Aegon nips at her lips, peeling her away from the wall to sit on the bed. The ruins of her tattered dress join his clothes. “Is this what you want?”

Y/N hesitates, before nodding.

A slow smile spreads across his lips, “why?”

“Because there is no point in denying myself the comfort of being one with you.” You are all I have.

Aegon traces the line of her jaw with his index finger. Trailing down her neck and sternum, past her belly, to her cunt; finding her dripping. Without a word, he lines up his cock, splitting her open.

She lurches toward him in surprise. Pressing against his chest, “fuck.”

“Hush now.” He takes her wrists, pinning them to the sheets, on either side of her head. Staring down at her hands, curled into fists; he is overcome by the urge to hold them. Slowly he unfurls her fingers, linking his own between them and squeezing.

Y/N squeezes back.

“Keep your eyes on me.” Aegon breathes, rocking against her.

She pries her lids open, perfect lips ajar, fighting for breath. Any time he called for her in his bed, her eyes were screwed shut.

“Terrifying, isn’t it? To desire something so badly, beyond all reason?” He moves faster, fucking her in earnest and not just to pass the time.

“Yes,” she breathes.

“Be mine,” he murmurs. “Be mine and the rest will sort. You will not be lonely, you needn’t be angry or afraid, you will be mine and nothing more.”

“And you would be mine, in return?”

“If that is what you want.”

Y/N feels the coil in her belly tighten, “that is what I want.”

Aegon reaches down to her pearl, rubbing in tight circles, until her breath hitches. “I love you still.” He rests his forehead against hers. “I do not want to, I have tried so desperately to stop.”

“Please.” Y/N shakes her head, a fresh batch of tears falling upon her cheek.

“You need only say it once.”

“I cannot.” Y/N sobs, “I will die if I say it.” From the guilt and the shame, from the bitter truth of it all.

“The words taste of fire and blood, but you will feel better once you’ve purged them.”

Y/N grapples with it, though in the end, she is as powerless as she’s ever been to stop it. “I love you.”

The world explodes around them, collapsing in on itself, as they both burn.

Reborn from the ashes.