#why was this so hard to write it took so long

[chxnsgirl]

방찬 ─── right there

♡  ― 󠀬󠀬[ minors do not interact! ] daddy!chan x afab!reader . praise kink , daddy kink , fingering , reader is just obsessed with chans hands dhjfhdjk

a/n ๑ now hear me out. i have been reading @hyunjins-orange-slice-too fics about daddy channie and oh my lord it activated my daddy issues so hard. i wanted to write something that appeared in my mind not too long ago before work hehe

♡ masterlist

you lay, cuddled up next to your boyfriend, chan, while watching a movie together in bed. he had his arm wrapped around you tightly,  lightly rubbing your side, his eyes still transfixed on the screen in front of you two. 

you and chan had been dating for a few months. it was still new, and you two had just established a new relationship dynamic, one that was mostly your idea. you trusted him, with all your being, but you’d be lying if you said he didn’t still make you shy. 

chan was easily the most attractive guy you had ever been with. he radiated sex appeal without even trying, and he so naturally led the relationship. he took care of you and your needs, always pampering you, spoiling you. but it wasn’t just the fact that he did everything for you–he was beautiful, too. 

you loved everything about his appearance. his plump, soft lips, his pretty, sculpted nose, the pretty little moles on his face, his big, broad shoulders. everything. 

but there were some parts that made your thighs press together and slick coat your panties.. 

you made a mental list about those favorite parts of chan, and you lived for sneaking glances at them whenever you could. you were so thankful he liked being practically naked at home, so you could always sneak little peeks at his waist, which you adored. it was so toned, and so kissable, your mind always wandered to naughty places when you saw it. 

his biceps and forearms also turned you on. you loved the days when chan would come home from the gym and his veins would be on display after an intense workout. 

but your favorite things to look at.. the things you looked at more than anything else?

his hands. god, his hands. they always made you all blushy and squirmy. his fingers were long and knobby, the outside of his hands were so veiny and pretty. his skin was pale, and gorgeous, and his nails were always manicured and well taken care of. 

they were so masculine, but something about them.. seemed delicate. when he’d braid your hair for you, or help you into your pajamas for the night, those hands took care of you. and somehow, that turned you on even more. 

and that’s why, as you watched his hands rub your side, so softly, so tenderly, you felt your tummy twist and your core get tingly. 

you pressed your thighs together and curled up, trying your hardest to ease the tingling sensation between your thighs. you needed friction, bad, because for some reason all the thoughts you had about chan–and his hands– just would not go away.

he noticed your squirming, and finally his attention was on you. “are you okay, baby? are you cold?” he asked you, his voice oh so soft. you shook your head, heat creeping onto your cheeks. “i’m okay..” your voice was even softer, just barely over a whisper. 

he watched as you fidgeted with your sweater sleeves, tucking your hands inside them and trying to make yourself smaller somehow. he could tell something was up, he knew you all too well, despite the short time you two had been together. 

it was obvious something was bothering you. “are you sure? you wanna change into something more comfy?” he turned to face you, his hand retreating from around you only to be replaced by his other one, which was now resting on your hip.

you shook your head no, looking up at him with your pretty, twinkly eyes. 

his fingers flexed against your hip, warm and grounding, but the slight pressure only made the ache between your legs more unbearable. you swallowed, feeling small under his gaze as he studied you carefully, his brows knitting together.

"baby," he murmured, tilting his head, "i know something’s up." his voice was patient, coaxing, like he had all the time in the world to wait for you to open up. "tell me what’s on your mind."

your lips parted, but the words caught in your throat. you felt so silly—so needy—but chan had a way of making you feel safe, even when you were drowning in embarrassment.

you shook your head quickly. "it’s nothing," you whispered, voice barely above a breath.

chan hummed, unconvinced. his thumb started rubbing slow, lazy circles into your hip, making your skin feel hot beneath the fabric of your sweater. "nothing?" he echoed, the tiniest smirk ghosting over his lips. "sweetheart, you’ve been squirming for the past ten minutes, and i don’t think it’s because you’re uncomfortable."

your breath hitched. he was right, of course, but saying it—admitting it—felt impossible. you squeezed your thighs together instinctively, and that was all it took for chan’s smirk to grow, his fingers giving your hip the gentlest squeeze.

"that’s what i thought," he murmured. he leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice a low rasp. "use your words, baby. tell daddy what you need."

heat flooded your cheeks. your fingers curled into the hem of your sweater, twisting the fabric as you tried to find the courage to say it out loud. but every time you opened your mouth, the words dissolved on your tongue.

chan, ever patient, pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his own dark with something unreadable—something that made your stomach flutter. "sweetheart," he murmured, his other hand sliding up to cup your cheek, thumb grazing over the heat there. "you don’t have to be shy with me."

you exhaled shakily, lashes fluttering as you tore your gaze from his. "i just… i…" the words clung to your throat, refusing to come out.

chan didn’t push—he never did—but he didn’t let up, either. his hand slid from your cheek to your jaw, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to look at him. "you want my hands on you, don’t you?"

a small whimper left your lips before you could stop it. you nodded eagerly.

chan chuckled, his voice dripping with amusement and something darker. "that’s my good girl," he praised, brushing his lips over your forehead. "all you had to do was ask." his hand trailed lower, rubbing under your ass and squeezing your thigh. you let out a soft, tiny whine, scooting closer to him subconsciously. 

you and chan had been taking things slow, but he read you so well. he was very attentive to you and your body language, and he knew. he knew you wanted him. “tell me, baby,” he began, rubbing your thigh gently. 

“where do you want my hands?” he asked, his voice smooth and coaxing. 

you blushed even darker, looking down at his hand. you pointed to your skirt, between your legs. “here,” you finally said, your voice no louder than a whisper. 

chan’s expression softened at your cute confession, but his eyes darkened even more. you watched as his hand slid up your thigh, lightly rubbing the fabric of your panties. he could feel how slick you were, and it even coated his fingertips through them. he let out a soft groan, looking down at his fingers. 

“baby,” he started, going back to rubbing the outside of your panties. “you’re so wet for daddy.. how long have you been wanting me?” he asked softly.

your breath hitched as chan continued to rub slow, deliberate circles over the damp fabric, his fingers pressing just enough to send shivers rippling through your body but not nearly enough to satisfy the ache that had been building inside you for so long.

how long had you been wanting this? too long.

you blushed even darker. “too long, daddy.”

your mind had been consumed by thoughts of his hands since the very first time he touched you. the way they wrapped around his water bottle at the gym, veins prominent and flexing with each squeeze. the way they skimmed over your back when he pulled you close, warm and strong, fingers splaying out possessively against your skin. the way they cradled your face when he kissed you, firm yet gentle, making you feel like the most precious thing in the world.

but this—this was what you had fantasized about most.

the feeling of his fingers between your thighs, his touch slow and teasing, unraveling you without even trying. you could barely breathe as he traced along the soaked fabric, a soft hum vibrating through his chest as he took in the way your body trembled beneath him.

"that long, huh?" he mused, his voice filled with something dark and knowing. he pressed his fingers against you a little more firmly, his touch still unbearably slow. "my poor baby… waiting all this time for daddy to take care of her."

a needy whimper left your lips before you could stop it, your hips instinctively shifting toward his touch.

chan chuckled, his other hand coming up to your jaw, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. his fingers, those beautiful, skilled fingers, moved with the lightest pressure, barely enough to satisfy the craving that had been burning inside you for months.

"you love it, don’t you?" his voice was smooth, teasing. "you love my hands on you."

you nodded quickly, your breath coming out in soft, shaky pants.

he smirked, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip before dragging down to your chin. "show me, then," he murmured. "show me how much you love them, baby."

overcome with a sense of boldness, you looked down and pushed your panties down, along with your skirt. chan helped you, of course, tugging them all the way down and tossing them toward the end of the bed. he leaned back against the headboard again, pulling you onto his lap. “let’s see this pretty pussy, hm?” he hummed, kissing your cheek. 

chan’s hand was warm and steady as he guided your thigh apart, his fingers pressing firmly against your soft skin. he used his other to splay out on your tummy, holding you steady against him. his touch alone sent a shiver up your spine, anticipation coiling deep in your belly.

“there we go,” he murmured, his voice thick with amusement and something darker. “that’s my good girl.”

your breath hitched as his hand trailed down, fingertips barely skimming over your inner thigh. the contrast between the strength in his grip and the delicate way he touched you made your head spin. his hands had always been like that—firm, controlling, yet unbelievably gentle when they wanted to be. it was intoxicating.

you watched, mesmerized, as his fingers traced slow, lazy patterns against your skin, his touch setting fire to every nerve in your body. the veins along the back of his hand flexed with every movement, the ridges of his knuckles shifting as his fingers explored, teasing and unhurried.

“i think about this all the time,” you confessed suddenly, your voice barely above a breath.

chan’s hand stilled for a brief moment, his dark eyes flicking up to meet yours. “oh?” he tilted his head, his smirk deepening. “tell me, baby. what do you think about?”

you swallowed, cheeks burning, but there was no turning back now. “your hands,” you admitted, breathless. “i think about them all the time… how they touch me, how they feel…i think about your fingers, too…” your voice faltered as he flexed his fingers slightly, reminding you just how close he was to giving you what you craved.

chan let out a low chuckle, clearly pleased by your confession. “you love them that much, huh?” his thumb brushed against your thigh, slow and deliberate. “i see the way you watch them, sweetheart. you think i don’t notice?”

your heart pounded. he had noticed?

chan leaned in, his lips ghosting over your ear. “every time i touch you… every time i hold you… you get all shy and squirmy.” his fingers traced teasingly close to where you ached for him most. “you’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”

you nodded quickly, unable to deny it. “yes…”

chan grinned against your cheek, his hands tightening around you possessively. “then let me give you what you’ve been dreaming about, baby.”

he nuzzled your hair, holding you against him as his fingers were reunited with your wet heat. he gently rubbed a finger up your slit, gathering wetness before pulling away, showing off the string of arousal connecting his finger to your wet lips. the sight alone made your cunt clench. 

his fingers returned, rubbing circles on your clit, making your thighs tremble and your head spin. “mmm..” you moaned quietly, leaning back against his chest. a proud smile spread onto chan’s face as he listened to the combination of your moans and the slick movements of his fingers working on you. “does that feel good, baby?” he hummed, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. 

you frantically nodded, squirming even more on his lap. he chuckled, his fingers leaving your clit to circle your entrance. “can daddy feel inside, sweetheart?” he asked, rubbing your tummy with his other hand softly. you nodded, opening your thighs more for him. he kissed your cheek before slowly sliding a finger inside you. 

he let out a soft groan. “baby,” he pumped it in and out of you gently, listening to the beautiful, lewd sounds of your pussy. “you’re still so tight,” he muttered, moving his finger faster. you whined, pushing your hips down and against his hand. he chuckled, slowly adding another finger. “whiny baby.” he teased you, pumping his fingers nice and moderately, rubbing the gummy spot inside you. 

it felt so good you nearly cursed, but you didn’t, saving yourself a scolding from your daddy later. you let out a mewl as his fingers worked you over and over, making a pit form in your tummy and your thighs get all tense. “daddy,” you whimpered, turning your head to look up at him. “hm?” he responded, not fingers not stopping. “it feels so good,” you moaned softly, your brows knitted together and your lips swollen from biting them. 

he leaned down and kissed your lips, pressing his thumb to your clit at the same time. you gasped into the kiss, and he used the opening of your mouth to swipe his tongue inside, dancing with your own. he could feel your cunt clenching around his fingers, and your legs were squirming so much more, he had to hold you down firmer. 

“daddy..” you broke the kiss to whimper. “i think i’m.. i think i'm gonna cum..” you panted, looking down at his hand once again. 

chan’s grip tightened as he held you in place, his fingers working you with expert precision. the way he moved—slow, deliberate, teasing yet firm—made your head spin. your entire body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ignited by his touch.

“yeah?” chan murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “you’re gonna come for me, baby?”

you nodded frantically, your breath coming in soft, desperate pants. your fingers clutched at his wrist, not to stop him, but to ground yourself, to feel the strength in his hands that had been driving you crazy for so long. the veins along his forearm flexed beneath your grip, a beautiful contrast of power and control.

“look at you,” he cooed, his tone full of praise. “so worked up just from my hands… you love this, don’t you?”

your whimper was all the confirmation he needed. he smirked, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as his fingers kept moving, relentless and intoxicating.

the tension in your body coiled impossibly tight, every muscle trembling as the overwhelming sensation built inside you. your mind was hazy, filled with nothing but the feeling of him—his hands, his touch, his voice guiding you to the edge.

“that’s it, baby,” chan whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. “let go. let me feel it.”

with one final flick of his fingers, the pressure inside you snapped, sending waves of bliss crashing over you. your breath hitched, your body shuddering against him as the pleasure washed through you, leaving you boneless in his arms.

chan held you through it, his hands never leaving you, rubbing slow, soothing circles along your skin as he murmured soft praises against your temple. 

“you did so good, sweetheart,” he whispered, his lips curling into a satisfied smile. 

as you came down from your high, you curled into his chest, still breathless and dazed. chan chuckled, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.

taglist: @ritsmith @bluesungology @jeonginsleftcheek @babigriin @tirena1 @nickgurl4life

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[lifeasadorkwithnolife]

Monster (Azriel X Reader)

Word Count: 4700

Summary: Everyone thinks that Y/N is a horrible person for what she did under the mountain, and she agrees, but Azriel realizes that things aren't what they seem.

I have not wrote any fanfiction in 5 years, which is absolutely crazy. I've been talking to my boyfriend a lot about story ideas and he asked me, why don't you just write it down? So here it is, it's not exactly what I used to write.

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You had hoped you would die under the caldron-forsaken mountain. The 49 years have cost you everything: your family, your court and your humanity. Amarantha had chosen you to be her right hand, you had no one to lose and everything to gain. You became known as Amarantha’s bitch, arguably a worse title than Rhysand’s. Your job was to keep discipline under the mountain and frequently had to whip and grant Amarantha’s wishes of public torture sessions when the Attor was not around.

Your reputation had made it outside of the mountain and throughout the courts, you were known to be ruthless and would kill without hesitation. You were an absolute monster.

Before Feyre had come along and saved you all from the mountain, the only one who understood your pain was Rhysand. For the first few years of your position, Rhysand would look at you with hatred in his eyes. He tortured people too, but you knew he didn’t enjoy it in the same way you pretended to. Every time you tortured the poor soul who got on Amarantha’s nerves, you would go up to them after the fact and hold their hand and ask if they had learned their lesson.

You had a gift and a curse, your gift was the ability to absorb pain from someone else, but the curse was that pain demanded to be felt eventually. Every whipping, every burn, or every cut that you performed, you took it from them to feel later. You kept this secret to yourself originally, but it’s quite hard to hide things from Rhysand.

On one unfortunate night, he entered your chambers under the mountain and witnessed the blood beginning to pool on your back. “Someone give you a taste of your own medicine?” He smirked, leaning against the door frame.

“Get the fuck out, Rhysand.” You croaked, mouth dry as you felt another blow to your back from the whipping earlier. “If I wanted to sleep with someone, it wouldn’t be Amarantha’s seconds.” You could feel the walls you built to protect yourself from Rhysand crumbling, like they were nothing but paper, and his eyes grew in realization.

He walked over to you and placed your face in his hands, his eyes growing wide with understanding. “You don’t have to bear their pain alone, Y/N.” He whispered, but you shook your head.

“Please go away.” You whispered, tears filling your eyes. Nobody had ever seen you like this under the mountain, “I can handle it, really.”

You felt the next blow and cried out, Rhysand caught you in his arms and held you. You felt him in your mind, and then your physical pain was gone, and it was just you both in your head. He was right there, in front of you, and all you could do was sigh. “I can explain.”

“Are you…. Are you taking their pain?” He whispered, and you nodded. “Why?”

“We’re all trapped here.” You replied, your voice echoing across the black void. “Someone will hurt them either way, at least if I hurt them… I can take their pain away and they can pass peacefully.”

“How long have you been doing this?” Rhys asked, and you shrugged. “I could have helped you, we’re on the same side.”

“It’s my pain to bear, I wouldn’t have agreed to this job if I couldn’t take their pain away.” You whispered back, he nodded in understanding.

From then on, you had one friend under the mountain, and when Feyre became part of the picture, you had two.

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               When Feyre won the trials and you were released from the mountain, you realized that you had nowhere to go. Your court has disowned you and your family was…gone. Rhysand invited you back to Velaris to the dismay of his inner circle, and he agreed that your gift would remain a secret until you were ready.

               You trained as hard as you could and tried your best time and time again to win over the inner circle. You promised yourself you would tell them about your gift eventually but couldn’t bring yourself to do it, feeling like you would be using it as an “excuse” to torture others and end all the lives you did, when it was really inexcusable.

               The member of the inner circle that hated you the most was Azriel, he would immediately leave any room you entered, refuse to go on missions with you and would even stop training as soon as you were in earshot. You could sense him staring at you from afar sometimes, and whenever you would look it would be anger, hatred and maybe a little confusion in his eyes.

               You tried your best to make friends with everyone, but it’s hard to be friends with a sadistic murderer who laughed as they were killing the weak and defenseless. The only people who gave you a chance were Cassian and Feyre, and you couldn’t be more appreciative.

               One night, during one of your nightmares, you awoke to large hands shaking you awake and came face to face with Cassian. He looked at you in concern and placed a hand around your head in a brotherly, comforting way. Tears flowed down your face. “You were shouting your own name, what were you dreaming about?”

               “Cassian, do you think I can be forgiven for what I’ve done?” You whispered, looking up at him. He hesitated, then nodded slowly. “I need to tell you the truth.”

               Cassian was the first person you willingly told your story to, and he looked absolutely horrified. You showed him the scars on your back and told him about the worst things you have ever done. He comforted you for hours, and in return told you his stories about how he’s killed and how guilty he feels about it sometimes.

               It was nice having Cassian after that point, you two would spar, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to throw a punch when he was open. His laughter was a wonderful sound, and he would often catch you staring at Azriel- longing for his forgiveness but knowing that would most likely never happen. You knew he didn’t trust you, and you don’t think he ever would.

               ---------------------------

                “I need you two to go on a mission together.” Rhys explains, looking between you and Azriel. “I don’t care about how much you don’t like each other; this needs to be done. The attor was sighted on our border, and I need him found.”

               You took a quick look at Azriel before turning away, his hands were clenched into fists, and his shadows were swarming around angrily. “I can go by myself just fine.” Azriel snapped, “She’ll just slow me down and you know it.”

               “I need you BOTH to go, which is why Y/N is here.” Rhysand clasped his hands together, looking at you expectantly. “I think she will be helpful in this mission, since the attor is involved.”

               “I am familiar with the attor.” You sighed, peeking over at Azriel. “I may be able to lure him out.”

               “I bet he’s very fond of you,” Azriel turned to look at you, “I bet you killed more people than he did, did you guys keep count like a competition?”

               You stepped back, you had barely spoken to Azriel, but these were his first words with you. Every reassurance that Cassian, Feyre and Rhys had ever provided seemed to disappear.

               “I just don’t understand Rhys, why is she here? The rest of us have killed, sure, but for good reason. She is a monster.” Azriel’s shadows circled the room, and you could feel the hatred coming off him in waves.

               ‘You’re not going to defend yourself?’ Rhys asked you, and you gave your head a slight shake.

               “This is the last I’m hearing of it, Azriel, you better bring her back here in one piece or so help me.”

               After 3 cold days of searching for the Attor, he was nowhere to be found, and Azriel’s snide comments were getting on your nerves. The flight back to Velaris was cold and silent.

               “Hey, I’m sorry that we came all this way and didn’t catch him.” You whispered, staring down at the darkening landscape.

               “I just hoped that you would be useful for something.” He replied, not even looking in your direction. You sighed, your heart plummeting to your stomach. You had hoped, on some deluded level, that this trip would allow you to talk to him and explain yourself and maybe- just maybe- he wouldn’t hate you so much anymore.

               “I just wanted to say sorry- not just for the attor but for everything.” He looked down at you, and you couldn’t tell what expression was on his face. “I’m just- I’m trying to be better than I was under the mountain, the person I was then is not me. I hope you can believe that.”

               He nodded, looking back up at the setting sun. “I believe that you want to be better.” He said solemnly, “But if what everyone is saying is true, then there is no hope for you. You will never change, even if Rhysand and Cassian don’t see it yet.”  

               You couldn’t even bring yourself to nod, you felt the cold tears sting your eyes but tried to blink them away before they could fall. Azriel saw you for who you really were, the murderer. At least he won’t lie to you like everyone else has.

               The silence ticked by when all the sudden, an arrow flew by your head and hit Azriels wing with a sharp crack. He grunted in pain and dropped a couple feet; another 2 arrows swished by and tore through his other wing. “Azriel- land!” You shouted, searching the darkened forest floor for any sign of the attackers.

               “No shit Y/N.” Azriel shouted, his wings pumping as the ground came in closer. You felt Azriel turn to the side as another arrow whizzed towards your head, but he took another arrow to the wing. Did he just…protect you? You two landed on the ground in a heap, but you stood up quickly, knife in hand as you searched the darkness for your attackers.

               You feel a presence behind you, and turn around, quickly taking the archer to the ground and holding your knife to his neck. He was older, with pointed ears and white hair. He barred his teeth angrily, but with your knees holding down his arms and knife against his neck, he was stuck.

               “Why are you attacking us?” You seethed, your knife getting dangerously close to his neck. He struggled.

               “They told us you would be passing through- you killed my whole family you bitch!” he shouted, you froze, “Just kill me! Like you did to all of them!” You stood there in silence, hesitating, trying to remember who it was that you killed. You couldn’t kill this man too, you promised you would never hurt anyone again.

               Suddenly you were under him, his knife starting to slide across your neck. You didn’t even raise your hands to defend yourself, you could see the pain of his loss clearly on his face. You nodded, closing your eyes as you waited for him to finish. You remembered Azriel’s words from earlier, he was right after all, there would be no redemption either way.

               You felt the weight lift from your throat and took a deep breath, opening your eyes and seeing Azriel’s angry from holding up the man. Azriel looked absolutely terrifying in that moment. “No, don’t hurt him- “You started, but Azriel had his knife out and slashed his neck, throwing his body to the ground. You cried out, crawling over to the males bloodied form. His eyes frantically looked around, and you grabbed his hand, but there was no usual tug, no usual surge of power as you took his pain, you looked up again and met with lifeless eyes. The male was already gone.

               “Did you…did you know him?” Azriel spat out, grabbing you angrily by your arm and pulling you up. “He shot me out of the sky and just had a knife to your neck, and now you’re crying over him?”

               “of course I didn’t know him!” You pushed back at Azriel, looking down at the male who was dead. “I just…. I just….” You felt a wave of nausea roll through you and turned so you could dry heave. Another death, because of you, again.

               “You just what Y/N?” Azriel barked, and you flinched from him. “Tell me what is going on.”

               “He’s dead!” You whispered. Azriel looked astounded, looking at the man then at you. He then laughed. “Why are you laughing?”

               “Give me a fucking break, Y/N. Lets go.” He grabbed your arm, pulling you with him.

               You two wandered until you found a cabin, the candles were still burning when you arrived and there was a fire going in the fireplace. You were becoming more worried about Azriel by the minute, his skin was losing it’s color and he was almost limping as he walked. As soon as you both entered the cabin, he sat down in a chair and started removing his leathers.

               “Azriel- are you alright?”

               “I’m fine, I just need to get this arrow out of my wing.” He muttered, looking at you.  You watched him as he reached behind him, failing to get a good grip on it. “Would you mind?”

               “I can help.” You whispered, coming up behind him and looking at his wing. His wings were beautiful, dark and somewhat translucent, you had never been this close to him before. You could see an oddish green color seeping from one of the wounds and your heart dropped, poison.

               You slowly touched the area around the protruding arrow, he tensed up. Your fingers lightly traced the area around it, trying to figure out if pulling it out was the best option or if keeping it in to stop the blood flow would be better. Removing it would probably be best, since it was poisoned.

               “Azriel, I’m going to remove it now, okay?” You said quietly, bracing your hands on the arrow. This would hurt like a bitch, but only for a second. You pulled, wincing as the wing membrane tore open a little more. Azriel grunted. “I’m so sorry, but it should start to feel better now, okay? Let me go outside so we can ice it.”

               “No- don’t go.” Azriel looked back at you, his expression a little less guarded. “There could be more of them out there- it’s unsafe.”

               “I’ll be okay, we really need to keep an eye on this for a little bit.” You reassured him and walked out of the warm cabin and into the harsh cold. You grabbed as much snow as you could fit in your sack and came back in just a few minutes later, as soon as you walked in Azriel seemed to slump in relief.

               “How are you feeling?” You asked him, noting that his complexion had looked possibly worse than before.

               “I’m feeling okay.” He looked at you, his eyebrows scrunching, then a small smile came to his lips. You stopped in your tracks, if Azriel was smiling at you, there definitely was something wrong. “I feel a little funny….I think there was something in those arrows.”

               You nodded, coming over and handing the cold pack to him. He nodded and placed it against his wing, wincing at the cold. “You really confuse me, Y/N.” He admitted, his shadows seemed as lethargic as him as they swirled around you. “I can’t figure out who you are- I just see so many different things and it’s not adding up.

               “Who do you see?” You whispered, and he shook his head, somewhat confused. “You can tell me.”

               “You act like you are kind, and at first I thought it was for show, but you seem to be kind even when nobody knows it’s you.” He explains, his voice somewhat slurring. “You pay attention, you leave out books you know Feyre will like, you leave out Mor’s favorite snacks when she doesn’t even like you.”

               “And I’ve watched you train with Cassian; you refuse to throw a punch even when he’s wide open. Even- even with that guy outside who was going to kill you- you refused to hurt him, and you cried when he died.” Azriel looked at you, without hatred, for the first time. “How can someone who killed so many people, who tortured others and laughed as their families mourn, cry over a stranger? There is something you’re not telling me. Rhys and Cassian can see it, what are you not telling me? I want so badly to be on your side, please, tell me, who are you? ”

               You felt tears fall down your face, because he’s only saying this because he was drugged. “Azriel, I don’t want to hurt anyone ever again.” You whispered, “I’m different than I was under the mountain.”

               Azriel nodded, head leaning back as he winced in pain. You grabbed his hand, not asking for permission, and pulled away his pain. You thought of your family, your last memories with them. Your mother, father and two brothers sitting at the table. Your brothers throwing food at each other whenever your parents weren’t looking, trying to get it into each other’s mouths, and trying to hide your laughter so your parents wouldn’t notice. You could feel him sigh in relief and fall unconscious. You sighed in relief, playing the memory again in your head, missing who you were 50 years ago.

               You woke up with a gasp, the pain from Azriel’s injuries tearing through your back. How did he deal with this much pain without even showing it? You snuck outside past Azriel’s sleeping form, and grabbed some snow into the pack that you had used for Azriel, hoping the cold would help your back.

               After shoveling some of the snow into the pack, you felt a presence behind you and looked up, seeing Azriel in the doorway. “Are you feeling bet-“

               “What did you do to me?” Azriel growled, walking down the three steps to confront you in the snow. “Who were those people? What did you do?”

               “You were poisoned Azriel, I just…I gave you some snow to cool you down and tried to get rid of the infection.” You looked up at him, trying to find the man who you had spoken to so truthfully a few hours before. “You were a little confused, which is expected.”

               He shook his head, “who was that family? Is that another family you killed?” he spat, and you froze in place. You didn’t realize that you had shown him that. “Forgot I asked. Don’t ever touch me again. Get back in here so I don’t have to protect your ass if someone else comes around to kill us.”

               You nodded, leaving the pack in the snow and making your way back up to the cabin. You could feel the chills start but could feel how physically hot your body felt. You laid down on the floor, where you were previously right next to the fire. Azriel stood next to the door, watching you intently like you might try to run away.  

               “Are you alright? You’re shaking.” Azriel stated, and you nodded. He walked over to you, hesitating then placing his hand on your forehead for a brief second. “Y/N, you’re burning up. We need to take off some of these layers.”

               You couldn’t find it in yourself to argue as Azriel ripped off your leathers, freezing at what he saw. He turned you over, but you were pale and nearly unconscious. You could hazily see a hint of worry on his face as you passed out.

The flight back was torturous, the pain had started shortly after you woke up, and with each pound of Azriel’s wings another wave of pain went through you. You noticed that for the first time, you were warm and Azriel kept you close to his chest. You could feel how slow your heart rate was, and the growing pain made your realize that maybe this trip would be the end for you.

“Hey Azzie” You whispered, looking up at him. He was truly so beautiful, especially with he early morning sunrise reflecting off his features and the small beads of sweat. “Are you hurting at all?”

“No Y/N, I’m fine.” He stated, looking down at you confused. “Azzie? Where is this coming from?”

“I think Azzie would be a fun nickname.” You laughed before groaning in pain. “I just wanted to tell you something really important.”

“And what is that?” He looked down at you, if you looked like how you felt, then you could understand the growing concern in your eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt? We could have left last night.”

“I don’t want to argue, please.” You whispered, trying to get closer to him. You felt cold and hot at the same time. “Those people I showed you- I did kill them in a way.” His arms stiffened but you continued. “That was my last good memory before I…. became a murderer. I didn’t protect them, I left and they came and attacked and I was the only one brought under the mountain.” The pain in your chest matched the pain in your back. “I couldn’t take away their pain, I couldn’t hold them as they died, I will never forgive myself.”

“You can’t save everyone,” Azriel whispered, you sighed and closed your eyes again, listening to the thumping of his wings. “Why didn’t you just use the antidote on yourself too, I could have handled it.”

“I can’t use it on me.” You whispered, before falling back unconscious.    

---------------------------

               “I need help in here!” Azriel’s voice boomed, causing you to stir and groan from your position in his arms. “Rhysand!”

               You heard thumping and were placed on a soft surface; you felt a warm hand against your cheek and found yourself leaning into it. Then the pain started, and you felt yourself writhe as the poison worked its way through your back.

               “I’m not sure what happened, one minute she was fine.” You heard Azriel say in a panicked voice, “then she’s shaking from the cold, no matter how hot I turned up the fire. She has a fever, and her skin is cold to the touch. She has been delirious for the past two hours of the flight, talking about forgiveness and you and Cassian knowing the truth. What is going on Rhys?”

               You could feel a set of hands on your back and you screamed in pain as they tried to flip you over. “Don’t do that! You’re hurting her!” You heard a voice yell, and you tried to keep your mouth shut to prevent any more noises from escaping.             

               “High lord, I’m going to need to him out of here if he can’t control himself.” You heard the women say, you recognized her voice, was that the healer?

               “Azriel, what else happened?” Rhys voice asked, you realized that you couldn’t open your eyes, but you weren’t in as much pain, Rhys must be doing something to you.  

               “We were attacked on the way back; I took three arrows to the wing but she didn’t say anything. Hell, I didn’t even see an arrow go towards her.” You could hear, maybe it was worry, in his voice. “Then she healed me somehow, but she didn’t heal herself. She couldn’t tell me why.” You felt a hand grab yours, and from the ridges of skin there could tell it was Azriel.

               “Please, help her.” You heard him whisper.

               “Madja, Y/N an absorber healer, she’s been poisoned.” Rhys instructs; you hear a gasp from the healer.

               “By the cauldrons, I have never met one before, they are so rare.” You hear her say.

               Despite Rhys’s efforts, you feel another wave of pain shoot down your back, but you keep your mouth closed to avoid screaming. “Azriel- get out.” Rhys shouted, and you tried to shake your head in objection. You need Azriel, you gripped his hand tighter, or tried to in your half-conscious state.

               You felt your shirt rip open, and then your hand was released, and steps were taken away from you. “Rhys- what are those- why does she have all those scars on her back?”

               “She can explain when she wakes up.”

               You woke up with a start, a scream on your lips. “Y/N, you’re okay.” A voice said, and you felt two hands rest on your shoulders. You snapped your head to see, Azriel? You looked around, you were in your room, but a chair had been pulled up next to the bed.

               “How long…”

               “3 days.” Azriel stated, settling back down into the chair.

               You nodded, “and…why are you in my room?” You looked around, cautiously looking back at him. He looked…incredulous.

               “Oh I don’t know, maybe I’m just making sure you wake up.” Azriel cocked his head to the side, anger filling his eyes. “Why would you do that Y/N? I would have been perfectly fine, but you almost got yourself killed, you had no right to do that to yourself on my behalf!”

               “It’s not like I can help it!” Your voice was hoarse, and you winced at the scratchiness In your throat. He grabbed a cup of water for you on the nightstand, and you drank almost the whole thing. “Azriel- can I be honest?”

               “Please do, I need a good explanation.” He retorted, sarcasm lacing his tone. His shadows were surrounding you, but seemed almost- relieved.

               “I can’t watch people in pain.” You whispered, “Watching you in pain killed me inside, and even though you hate and can’t stand to be around me, I couldn’t just watch you go through that.”

               “I did hate you.” Azriel says, grabbing your hand. “How else was I supposed to feel? You had killed people I knew, people with families, tortured for fun and acted like you enjoyed it. Hell- I think the whole court hated you.”

               You looked down, nodding, tears in your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

               “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Y/n.” You looked up, locking eyes with Azriel, “I was such an idiot, the signs were there, and you’re a terrible liar. When I saw the scars on your back, I – I lost my shit. Literally. I don’t Madja is going to let me anywhere near the healing quarters anytime soon.”

               “I was just trying to help people the only way I knew how.” You whispered, a tear spilling. He nodded, reaching up and cupping your face.

               “I feel like a monster too, I’ve killed and tortured, but I’ve always done it in the name of our court.” He exhaled shakily, giving you a small smile. “But you are kind, and I have just been so frustrated over the past couple of months because I wanted to hate you so much- but couldn’t bring myself to. Watching you laugh with Cassian and Feyre, I felt so helpless like you could never open up to me like that. I literally couldn’t even be in the same room as you, because I felt so…jealous for no reason.”

               “Rhys- when he told me about us going together, I was angry. Angry that he would put you in danger just for the sake of getting us to get along.” You watched anger fill his eyes, “and he almost got you killed.”

               “I’m okay.” You reassured, smiling through the tears that were still falling.

               “just make me a promise, okay?” Azriel released the grip on your face and grabbed your hand, fiercely. “I never want you to take my pain again, or anyones for that matter, okay? My pain is mine to bear, alone.”

               You nodded, feeling some relief. “Thank you Azriel, I…this means a lot to me. I’ve been wanting to tell you everything for so long.”

               “I want to hear everything,” he squeezed your hand again, and you could feel your heart flutter. “I will never let you get hurt again, and honestly…Azriel is so formal. I’m okay with Azzie….as long as its between us.”

[kwondotcom]

hana— in our first ever conversation, i divulged to you that i've thought of elevatory at least once a week since i first read it. the reason why it took me a bit of time to do a proper rb is because i had annotated it on my second read, needed to take a min to breathe, and ended up only revisiting it now while clearing drafts/my tbr. so, here it is now on read #3!!! THIS WILL NOT BE THE LAST READ (THREAT)

tl;dr one of my favorite pieces of soonyoung writing. the premise in itself is probably the most unique i've seen in a long time, and it just drives me so insane to see such a well-done exes plot. spoilers under the cut. <3

WHAT A KILLER FIRST LINE. an actual art form, really, to have u hook line and sinker in the first sentence!

knew as early as this part that i'd be in for a wild ride. it's very telling of a post-break up sentiment, and it's a stellar set up for the MC's mindset.

there's a lot to love here. the touch of "nine now, but who's counting", the call back of "God hates you" and just. soonyoung's trying to make the most of it. oomf. because of course kwon soony would jump at this opportunity, would try to make small talk w/someone he's been no contact with. it's just his style, and it leads in well to the rest of the story. the next paragraph is actual pure gold: "- sad puppy, you've nicknamed it," following the description of soony as an open book. vicious and accurate read. goes really well with the descriptiveness of this:

(aha. i'm on to you, MC. you can say what you want, but at the end of the day, you can still read him. you still know him.)

i'm more than a little obsessed at a tactless soony + jeonghan, of course, inadvertently being the one at the crime scene.

the first part is already a punch in the gut in itself— the acknowledgement of their differences, serving as a bit of a gravity that explains how the two have acted so far. think the wrong side of magnets clinking against e/o lol. but what amazes me is how hana manages to manifest is a couple of sentences later. soony who winces, who is still obviously pained by his ala-taylor swift the moment i knew moment (i don't even want to think too much of the forgotten birthday scene or i will cry) vs. mc who's 'not sure why [you're] trying to reassure him'.

i said i don't want of the birthday flashback, but it must be said. this fucking line? shot to the chest and i'm in love with the shooter (hana). sighs.

[CAR CRASH] [GLASS SHATTERING] [EXPLOSION] “OH MY GOD” [BABY CRYING] “WAAAHH WAHH” [YELLING] “HELP MEE” [POLICE SIRENS] WEE WOO WEE WOEOO [YELLING] [HELICOPTERS] ‘WE’RE REPORTING LIVE-‘ [EXPLOSION] ‘MY LEG… MY LEG!!’ [BABY CRYING] “AHFUCKK SOMEONE HELP US” [REPORTER REPORTING] oh, this got got me. something about the intimacy of a name, so deceptively simple, and soony feeling the weight of the moment :") man.

this is my favorite flashback scene (and the eventual conclusion 'tried so hard/neither of you tried hard enough) for a lot of reasons. on one hand, there's something my friends and i call the burden of knowledge, which is something i feel jeonghan is vouchsafed in this scene. he's the one who hears out why MC wants to break up with soony, who talks her through it. "little things add up." my god, what a simple truth. part of why i adore elevatory so much— aside from being a study of form, an entire story told in a one-act that no one else besides hana could pull off— is because of the way it aches. it doesn't cut, like some stories might. it doesn't scar. it's just... a dull, familiar sort of throb. like a phantom pain. i think that's the best way to put it. cuts scab over. scars heal. but aches are forever, and this is exactly what that fic does. some old forgotten breakup, some bitterness at the circumstances, some truths packaged in a kwon soonyoung fanfic that remind you right, my pain of that-time-we-don't-talk-about is somewhat universal. it's comforting, in the same way that it's damning, to realize that there are people who know y/our pain that same way. to read it back, though— to have it glaring up at you— is just. a one-of-a-kind experience.

the lead-in to the breakup is devastating, because it really is that, sometimes. you realize love in the tender mundane, which means you can also loss love on a random weekday. "... after realising you had no idea where he kept his cereal bowls" is just an absolute gut-punch. like, ah. this is a life we're supposed to be sharing, a small fact i would know if it weren't for all the distance and time apart (what kind of girlfriend doesn't know where their boyfriend keeps their cereal bowls?!) and it just. little things, as jeonghan had said. also: something so cruel in the breakup starting, and consisting, of MC just saying soonyoung. this, after present-day soony is jolted when MC says his name? yeah. abso-fucking-lutely brutal, man.

won't even try to act like i can be coherent about this when i started crying actual tears the first time i read this passage. even now, my eyes are skipping over the words in an attempt to guard my heart against that impending pain. like, hey, hana. what the fuck! reminds me of a poem, which i'm attaching here. "but i remember our kindness that day, / when it longer mattered."

i can tell you exactly when i first read this (second week of january -ish) and when i read it a second time (earlier this month; the aborted annotation attempt), and i just wish you could've seen the look on my fucking face/the gasp i gusped when it ended with this. i rate about it a lot already in this little post, but it bears repeating: pulling off a one-act/one-setting piece is no easy feat, and you do it with such finesse. the un-chronological order of the flashbacks, the glimpses of their present selves and how they've changed/how they're still like their past versions, and this ending. absolutely bowls me over. hana, you have talent that bursts at the seams. elevatory is living, breathing proof.

You were once deeply and irrevocably in love with Kwon Soonyoung, and it’s incredibly hard to avoid that fact when he works literally two offices down from you. It’s even harder to avoid when you’re stuck in a broken elevator with him for hours, and he seems determined to dissect everything that went wrong three years ago.

⇢ pairing: kwon soonyoung x f!reader

⇢ genre: angst, fluff, exes!au, lawyer!au

⇢ wc: 5.6k

⇢ warnings: minor alcohol consumption, lots of flashbacks

⇢ a/n: early happy new year!! this is my gift to u all <3 thank u to @haologram for hosting this collab and for just being alive. and thank you SOO much to ally @lovetaroandtaemin and em @gyuswhore for beta'ing i appreciate u both endlessly 💗

as part of the don’t hate, litigate! collab hosted by the wonderful @haologram

SOMETIMES IT TRULY feels like God, or the stars in your skies, or whatever the hell is controlling your fate down on this measly earth, hates you.

Sometimes it truly feels like this indefinite being is determined to deal you the worst set of cards, and this – this trumps all. Being stuck in an elevator with your ex-boyfriend sounds like the beginning of a shitty romcom, except it’s not. It’s your life, and it’s been your life for the past eight minutes, since the metal box you stepped in ground to a creaky, noisy halt halfway between the sixth and seventh floor. 

And it takes eight minutes before Soonyoung sighs resignedly. “Are you just going to ignore me forever?” 

Forever, you think, is your least favourite word. There were a lot of things you thought you’d have forever, and one of them is standing right next to you.

You swallow thickly. Your reply comes measured and clipped. “For as long as possible.”

When he speaks next, you can hear the attempt at a forced smile in his tone. “Well, you kinda just failed.”

You stay silent. If anyone had told you five years ago that Kwon Soonyoung would be begging to talk to you and you’d be ignoring him, you would have called them crazy; and yet, here you are. Ignoring him like your sanity depends on it, because actually, it does. So for the past eight minutes – nine now, but who’s counting? – you’ve barely spoken a word. You’re both stuck; the recovery team can’t make it for two hours at least; and God hates you, basically.

Soonyoung’s trying to make the most of it, and you’re not letting him.

He says your name, ever so softly. “Really, though. How – how have you been?”

It’s weird, going from years of no contact to working together. It’s been a year since Soonyoung joined your company, but it hasn’t become any easier. Not when he’s such an open book, so fucking easy for you to read. Every time you cross paths, he gets this look in his eyes – sad puppy, you’ve nicknamed it. Now is no different.

“I’ve been okay,” you say finally, stiltedly. You’ve never been able to resist that face, and you’re pretty sure he knows it too. “What about you?”

The silence is painful, but the way he says fine stings a little bit more. You know when he’s lying, and he never used to do that to you.

“So…” He shifts his weight awkwardly, huffing out an uncomfortable laugh as he gazes intently at his shoes. “This is weird, right?”

You match him with an equally uncomfortable smile. “The weirdest.”

“Our longest conversation after forever,” he says. “But I wasn’t expecting it to go like this.”

You cock your head to the side, fixing him with a questioning gaze. All hopes of ignoring him are sailing out the hypothetical window. “How were you expecting it to go?”

Soonyoung looks up at you with one of those embarrassed, endearing smiles. “Better.”

There’s a pregnant pause, and then – “You know, Jeonghan calls you the one that got away.” 

He’s always had a habit of dropping things like that on you; things that leave you a little winded.

“That makes it sound like I escaped,” you say, with an ease you don’t feel.

Clearly, Soonyoung doesn’t feel it either — he exhales heavily. “Maybe you did. Escape, I mean.”

You snap your head towards him, eyes almost owlish in your surprise; “You’re not serious.” When he doesn’t say anything, you continue haphazardly, “Soonyoung, that’s not — there wasn’t anything to escape from.” 

Your ex-boyfriend looks miserable. Avoids eye contact, staring fixedly at his shoes with a dejected expression he can’t properly disguise; even throughout the three years of your relationship, you rarely saw him like this. He looks…

Heartbroken, your mind suggests.

“I’m serious,” you insist again, pushing the thought out of your mind. “You weren’t a bad boyfriend, Soonyoung.”

He snorts then. “Okay, we both know that isn’t true.”

“It is!” 

“If we had, like, a counter of who fucked up however many times, I would leave you in the dust.”

You don’t know how to tell him this might even be half of it. This weird pedestal he puts you on – it’s not even guilt-tripping. You’ve seen that, but never from him; Soonyoung just truly, sincerely feels bad. Whenever you look back on your relationship, which is more often than you’d care to admit, it’s plain as day. He truly, sincerely feels that he has never deserved you. Like you’re something out of this world, out of his world. 

“Wow.” Soonyoung huffs out the one word, and it’s half a laugh, half admiration. “You are so out of my league.”

“Stop,” you whine, pushing his shoulder lightly. “Don’t say stupid things like that.”

“Well, not everyone gets to date the prettiest girl in law school,” he retorts quickly, lifting his brows. “Not sure why I of all people get to, but thank you.”

“Stop it,” you repeat, rolling your eyes and fixing the tie he’s wearing. “You’re gorgeous and you know it. You should know it, at least.”

“Not just that!” he protests quickly. “I just mean… you’re so smart. And good. And kind, and funny, and — ”

“Ah, yes! Of course, Kwon Soonyoung, known famously for being mean and horrible and extremely unfunny,” you say sarcastically, before tugging his tie and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “I choose my league, and you’re the only one in it.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” he murmurs, slightly breathless.

“Oh, shut up and kiss me.”

There were a lot of things that went wrong with you and Soonyoung. You’d started off wonderful: both of you bright, flaming, drawn to each other like magnets. You managed the stresses of law school, graduated together, and lined up jobs – jobs that were miles and miles from each other.`

There were lots of things that went wrong with you and Soonyoung, but if you had to pick one, it would be long distance.

“When did we stop trying?”

The question makes you snort. “What, you want a date and a time?”

Soonyoung smiles ruefully, but there’s nothing happy about it. It’s more of a painful grimace. That’s always been the way with you both: you deflect, he feels. He doesn’t hide the way you do, not from anyone. And for a few years, he was the only one who you didn’t hide from. 

Maybe that’s what has you opening your mouth again. “I could probably give you one. A date, I mean.”

Soonyoung hugs his knees to his chest, eyes searching your face. You can read him so well it physically makes you ache. The hint of uncertainty in his eyes, the twitching of his fingers – he’s nervous. He’s torn between wanting to know what you have to say and the strong sneaking premonition that it might hurt. “Go on,” he says finally, just as you knew he would. 

Honestly, you don’t have an exact date. Things fell apart slowly, and then all at once. A toppling tower – leaning, leaning, leaning, until it crashed. 

“There were probably a few things,” you say, softly. “My birthday, for a start.”

He winces reflexively. “That…” he begins, and then breathes out, shutting his eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make up for that.”

“I mean, in the end, it wasn’t that big of a deal.” You’re not sure why you’re trying to reassure him, even if it's true. You forgave him almost immediately.

“Shit.” 

Soonyoung’s first eloquent word when he walks into the apartment only means you become sure of what you already suspected. He takes in the half-eaten cake on the table, candles blown out and tossed to the side, the scraps of wrapping paper littering the floor, the cards; you take in his face. And you know, as quick and as simple as that – he forgot. 

Some small part of you had been holding a sneaking hope that maybe this was just an elaborate attempt at a surprise. You’d told him once, months and months ago, that you didn’t think ignoring people on their birthday to surprise them later was a very nice thing to do. But you’d rather he forgot that than your entire birthday.

His eyes meet yours, both of you frozen to your places. Him at the doorway, you at the table. The distance between you isn’t more than a few metres, but suddenly it feels like an engulfing abyss. Still, even from the other side, you can feel the guilt pouring out of him. 

“Shit,” he says again, before rushing his words out. “Shit, baby, I’m so sorry.”

You haven’t cried all day. You haven’t let yourself, but this has your eyes brimming over before you can control it.

“I’m going to bed,” you say finally, hugging yourself tightly, making yourself smaller. The apartment is warm, but you suddenly feel freezing. And despite your best efforts, there’s a waver in your voice, verging on a crack. “I’m tired.” 

You glance over the remains of your birthday party, one that you plastered a fake, painful smile on the whole way through, and then you turn to leave. 

“Baby, wait,” he implores quickly, and takes a step towards you — you mirror it immediately with a step back, and it makes him pause, his expression falling even further. “Baby.”

“You’re not allowed to call me that.” Your voice is obviously shaking now. “Not today. Maybe — maybe tomorrow.”

Maybe tomorrow you’ll be able to hear his excuses, his promises, but today, you’re allowed to be upset. You’ll let yourself have today, at the very least.

He’d driven hours to see you that day, but he’d still forgotten why he was there. You hadn’t really celebrated your birthday before you met him. Soonyoung was the one who made it a big deal, back when you first started dating, and even now, there’s a sharp pang in your chest when you remember how hurt you were that day.

“You made up for it tenfold,” you remind him now, because it’s true. He made the rest of the week practically a utopia, once you banned him from apologising. And he’d been so busy at work, so incredibly tired the whole month before, and you could understand. Both that he upset you, and that it was an innocent mistake. And you’ve never seen more sincere apologies than those that came from Soonyoung.

He looks grim, shakes his head, but doesn’t say any more. Probably because you’ve had this conversation a few times already, both of you too stubborn to give in. 

“Keep going,” he says, then, looking at you head on. “What else?”

All of a sudden, you don’t want to talk about what else. All of a sudden, you’re annoyed with him, his stupid face, this stupid elevator. “Do we have to do this?” Your voice has switched from somewhat reassuring to harsh – for want of a better word, angry. It makes his brown eyes a little round with surprise, his mouth parting a little.

“What?”

“What else and what if have been on my mind for three years, Soonyoung,” you say acidly. “Forgive me if I don’t really want to talk about it to your face.”

Again, his mouth opens a little bit, stays open as he tries to form words. Until he gives up, seals his lips and nods. “Alright. Okay. That’s fine.”

“I know it’s fine!” you cry out, only more angry that he won’t argue back. You’re lawyers, it’s what you do. And just to be petty, you add — “Besides, I bet your girlfriend wouldn’t be happy about this anyway.”

Finally, his passive poker face drops, and he looks a little confused. “My what?”

Immediately, you regret opening your mouth, but it’s too late to back down. “Your girlfriend. You know, that girl from accounting.”

“The girl fr— You mean Rachel?” Soonyoung gapes at you, and something in you bridles, until he continues. “Mrs Choi, who's married to her wife and adopting a kid next year?”

Well, now you feel stupid as fuck.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he continues, and if you weren’t afraid to look at him right now, you’d swear he was hiding a smirk.

“Whatever. I don’t care. Why are we even talking about this?” you snap, irritated and embarrassed.

He still sounds smug. “You brought it up.”

“You sit with her every lunch hour,” you mutter, heat creeping up your neck. “I just assumed.”

“Well, there’s nothing there. So don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried! I don’t care who you date, Soonyoung!”

He looks a little taken aback, blinking once or twice, cockiness gone without a trace. “Wow,” he says, finally. If you didn’t know him as well as you did, you wouldn’t notice the slight tremble in his voice. “That’s the first time you’ve said my name since — ”

He cuts himself off, but you complete the sentence in your head — three years ago. Three years since you packed up and walked out of his life. It feels like a decade ago; it feels like last week. You’d been so sure that you wouldn’t see his face again after that, that it was a decided end of a full four years of your life. Until last year, when he’d waltzed straight back into your life, this time at your workplace.

“This is the new hire.” Your boss is speaking, but you’re still finishing up the last sentence on the document you’re working on, and you listen absently as he fires a couple instructions — “Jeon, you’ll show him around. Filing system, get him logged on, the works.”

You look up then, to cast Wonwoo a knowing smile, because he always gets lumped with showing around the newbies, but halfway to making eye contact with your friend, you catch the familiar tilt of a jaw, the soft lines of a nose you know so well.

You’ve seen Soonyoung in a hundred people since you left him. You’re always looking over your shoulder at the bus stop, at the grocery store, at the library, finding a tiny piece of him in everyone and everything, a tiny piece that lodges itself tight and sharp into your throat until you take a second look, until you see unfamiliar eyes or too dark hair or shorter legs. Until you find something to make you swallow, exhale, and keep walking.

Now, your second look doesn’t yield anything unfamiliar. Except maybe his hair, gone from blonde to black, but everything else — everything else. It’s him, and he looks just as shocked to see you as you are to see him. There’s a heavy moment that seems only heavy to the two of you, everyone else still talking, the boss still giving instructions, but you and Soonyoung are looking at each other, dumbfounded, and all you can think about is the distinct taste of bile in your throat and the tie he’s wearing is the one you got him for his birthday.

Your initial plan is to avoid him. He foils that plan within two hours, cornering you in the break room, whispering urgently, “I had no idea you worked here, I swear I’m not, like, following you or – ”

The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind, and you just pin him with a blank stare. 

“I could quit.”

You’re shaking your head before he can even finish the sentence. “I’m not so butthurt that I can’t be a professional.”

“Right,” Soonyoung nods, breathing out a little. His lips are chapped. He never used to wear lip balm, just used to borrow yours. You hate yourself a little for remembering that.

The memory almost makes your lips twist with an sardonic smile. “I was so pissed when you showed up here.”

You can see his half smile, rueful and charming, through your peripheral vision. “I felt so bad about it, you know. But you just seemed annoyed when I saw you in the break room, so I figured you weren’t… mad or upset or anything.”

“I went straight from the break room to cry in the bathroom for fifteen minutes,” you admit truthfully. “I had to tell Wonwoo I had curry for breakfast.”

“You cried?”

You scowl. “I’m not saying it to be pitied, Soonyoung. I’m just saying, I’m not, like, some heartless jerk with no feelings. Of course I was upset.”

“I know that,” he says quickly, vehemently. “Of course I know that.” He hesitates, and then continues, words practically inching out of him. “It’s not really my place to ask, but… you and Wonwoo… are you guys…?”

“You’re right,” you say, and press your cheek onto your knees to fix him with your eyes. “It’s not your business. But that’d be hypocritical of me, so… no. No, we’re just friends. I’m friends with his girlfriend too, Cam, she works at the plant shop down the road.”

Soonyoung tilts his head back, lets out one of those breathy laughs that aren’t really laughs. “It’s so weird that you have new friends now.”

“Thanks,” you say, dripping with sarcasm.

“Not like that! I just mean I’m so used to – like, it used to be our friends, you know what I mean?”

“Not since three years ago,” you say with false lightness, because when you lost Soonyoung, you lost the friends he brought you too. You catch the glint of pity in his eyes again, and scoff. “It’s not a big deal. They were your friends first.”

Frowning, he speaks again. “First doesn’t matter. It didn’t matter to them either. Seungkwan said you were the one who stopped answering their calls.”

It’s true, and the feeling still burns a little, because Seungkwan and Jeonghan had called so many times. Even Vernon called a couple times, and you weren’t even that close to him, but Soonyoung has always attracted good people. Like calls to like. Maybe that’s why you ended up leaving.

“I was trying to make it easier,” you say bluntly., “for them to choose you.”

Your ex-boyfriend clicks his tongue, rakes a hand through his dark hair. “It’s not about sides, ___, for fuck’s sake.”

“Well, it felt like it at the time, alright?” Your words come out louder than you mean them to, and you pause, trying to quell your defensiveness. 

Soonyoung raises his hands in half-hearted surrender. “Alright. Alright.”

Something in your stomach feels acidic. Leaning your head back against the cool wall of the elevator, you manage to meet his eyes apologetically. “How – how are they, though? Seungkwan and everyone?”

Graciously, he ignores your quick show of temper. “They’re good. Seungkwan’s working freelance photography now. Jeonghan still hates his job, but keeps getting promoted anyway.”

Jeonghan. You told him you thought you were going to break up before you even told Soonyoung. You wonder if he remembers it, because that night is seared into your memory – New Year’s Eve, three years ago.

You’re much drunker than you ever intended to be when you finally find a place to sit in the cramped apartment, waved over by a sympathetic looking Jeonghan. He pats your head affectionately as you groan. 

“Feeling alright?”

“No,” you say elaborately.

Jeonghan never pries, which is probably what makes people tell him everything. He only raises his eyebrows at you, a hint of scepticism toying with his smile.

You look away, eyes drawn immediately to your boyfriend, laughing in the middle of the kitchen. Throwing his head back, squeezing his eyes shut, looking so fucking happy; when you see him like this, your heart always feels so incredibly warm and so incredibly full. 

Except today, there’s something else intertwining it, something similar to dread, and it causes the faint smile on your face to fade a little.

Jeonghan sees it, of course, and when you look back at him, his eyebrows only raise higher. 

You sink further into that horrible, looming feeling. “Jeonghan.”

“___.”

“I think I’m going to break up with him this year.”

If you didn’t know Jeonghan as well as you do, you’d think the information hadn’t affected him at all; his features remain completely impassive, but you catch the flash of surprise in his eyes. He stays quiet for a long time, the silence between you filled with thumping bass and indistinct conversation, until finally, he asks the only question there is to ask. “Why?”

It’s ridiculous, how one word can bring you to the verge of tears. But that one word holds so much weight – why would you break up with him? Why would you, when you’ve pictured a future with him a thousand times over? 

Why would you leave the best thing that ever happened to you?

You blink back the tears, and Jeonghan waits.

His voice is soft, but you still hear him under the din of the party. “Is this about your birthday?”

You shake your head quickly. “No.” You stop. “Maybe. It’s – there’s just – little stupid things.”

“Little things add up,” Jeonghan says gently. You hate how he’s already understanding.

“Sometimes – ” You swallow thickly. “Sometimes I just feel so far away from him.”

You don’t have to explain that you don’t mean physically. Because that’s part of it, but it’s not all of it, but without you saying that, Jeonghan knows. You barely notice when he takes your plastic red cup from your hands, setting it on the table next to him. “And I know he loves me, and he’d never hurt me on purpose, and – he’s been so good to me, Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan only hums, waits for you to continue. And you do, the alcohol only pushing more words out of your mouth. “The distance,” you say, “is killing us.” You rub furiously at your eyes. “No matter how hard we try, Jeonghan, it’s not working, and I feel like – I’m the only one who can see that. He’s ignoring it, but we can’t keep going like this.”

Jeonghan hesitates for a second, looking torn, more torn than you’ve ever seen him look. “Do you still love him?”

Tears blur your vision again, but don’t quite escape this time. “I don’t know how to stop.”

When you kiss Soonyoung after the countdown, your cheeks are wet.

“Long distance.”

“What?”

“You asked what else,” you say, picking at your nails. “I think it was the distance. I think that’s what – you know. Broke us up.”

Soonyoung has that look in his eyes, the one where he wants to argue but knows he’s going to lose, knows that you’re right. He breathes out, licks his lips and tries to speak. “We tried so hard.”

It’s not even a counter-argument. You agree with him, even. The two of you were brilliant at long distance, until you weren’t. Hours-long video calls, surprise weekend visits, staying over for the holidays, until it all started collapsing. Weekly movie nights kept getting postponed. Visits had to decrease in number. You were missing each other’s calls – if one of you wasn’t working late, the other always was. It was like the entire universe was working against you both, and suddenly, you felt like a burden rather than a lover, and Soonyoung would probably say the same. It’s hard not to feel that way, when you’re celebrating your anniversary over FaceTime and both of you keep dozing off while the other talks.

In a way, Soonyoung is right: you both tried so hard. In a way, he’s so wrong: neither of you tried hard enough.

Towards the end of it all, you were too tired to fight. Both of you were. The breakup was a quiet affair, mostly. You brought it up first, standing in the kitchen of Soonyoung’s apartment after realising you had no idea where he kept his cereal bowls.

“Soonyoung?”

“Babe, I told you, it’s the third cupboard from the left,” he calls, but he’s rounding the corner to his kitchen anyway. He stops in his tracks when he sees your face, smile fading, and for a second, time freezes.

“Soonyoung,” you say again, quieter.

And he knows. “Don’t,” he says, faintly, but there’s no weight behind it, because he knows.

Tears are already brimming your eyes, and you’re wrapping your arms around yourself, shaking your head. “I can’t,” you say, and you’re not sure what you mean. I can’t end it. I can’t keep going.

The picture before him is enough for Soonyoung, and any defence, any fight he still had in him (because he’s always been the more tenacious) drains. He gives in, same as you. 

“Okay,” he says, in a voice that’ll haunt you for years to come, a clashing harmony of gentle and damning. “Okay.”

You try to formulate words. You fail. All that you can say is “Soonyoung.” before you trail off. 

You don’t finish. He gives you a tired, forced smile, says something about, “We had a good run, didn’t we?”, but you’re too busy trying to wrench the tears back into your eyes to focus properly. Your efforts are in vain, of course, tears slipping down your cheeks hot and heavy, no matter how much you try to stop.

“I’m sorry,” you say tearfully, but he shakes his head.

“Don’t be sorry.”

After that, he only helps you load your bags into your car and says thank you when you give him the house keys. He does everything so quietly, so methodically, so defeatedly. It’s like he’s just lost a war he’s been fighting for far too long.

It turns out that in the end, four years can be reduced down to this: two cardboard boxes, three bin bags, and two broken hearts.

It’s your fault, in technical terms. You finished this. You’re the one who said the words, or almost said them, the one who spelled out what was so obviously ignored. More than once, because you’d tried this before, six months ago. Soonyoung was the one who fought back. He’d said no, of course, that first time. He’d said no with tears in his eyes, like it was a surprise to him, like he couldn’t see it the way you saw it — that you were on two very different paths. 

Soonyoung didn’t believe in following diverging paths, he believed in forcing yourself straight ahead hand-in-hand, come hell or high water. He believed in it, until he didn’t, and then he let you go.

When it’s time for you to leave, he accepts the hug you can’t help but fling on him just before you step in the car. Both of your arms around each other, fitting into place like you have a hundred times before, but so much tighter and so much briefer this time. Soonyoung clings to you like he’s never going to see you again, because he isn’t. You cling to him like this is the last time you’ll ever hug him, because it is.

And then both of you are pulling away, laughing awkwardly at the wet patch you’ve left on his shirt, and then you’re getting in your car and he’s waving you off and it’s over, just like that.

“It’s kind of ironic, isn’t it?” There’s an acerbic quality to Soonyoung’s laugh as he continues. “We broke up because of distance, and here we fucking are.”

There’s a metre and a half between you two.

“Maybe it was a dumb reason,” you say. Voicing the thought that’s tormented you since the day you drove away. Because maybe it was stupid. Maybe it was a temporary rough patch, and if you’d stayed, if you’d fought a little more and a little longer, you’d still have Soonyoung.

But you didn’t, and you don’t.

There’s a heavy expression on Soonyoung’s face, a strange mix of anger and confusion and guilt. “Maybe,” he says, at last. There’s the vaguest trace of bitterness, the little tiny sting that reminds you again that you’re the one who called it quits. 

“It felt like the weight of the world at the time,” you say ashamedly, squeezing your eyes shut for a second.

Soonyoung takes the chance and scoots closer to you, sitting against the wall with you, shoulder-to-shoulder. (How easy it would be to just rest your head there, as you’ve done a thousand times before.) “It can’t have been easy,” he says, patting your hand with his own. Warm and familiar in its unfamiliarity, which is when you realise you’ve misread him, for once – he’s not bitter. He’s empathetic.

“It wasn’t stupid,” Soonyoung continues softly, rubbing his eyes, “but God, I wish you’d just talked to me. Actually — I wish we’d talked to each other.”

“Yes, well,” you say dryly, wondering if he’s going to catch your reference, “I’ve always had a problem with communication.”

He catches it; it makes him pause, lift up his head, give you a tiny smile.

It takes you a minute to register that the seat across from you has been occupied. When you do look up, you realise Soonyoung’s mouth has been moving since he sat down, and you haven’t heard a word of it. Also, somewhere between the class you guys shared two days ago and his presence in the library this morning, his hair’s gone from a discreet dark brown to a particularly indiscreet blond.

“I’m sorry,” you shake your head, taking out your earphones and setting down your pen. “What?”

“I said – do you have a problem with communication or something?” Despite the nature of his words, he’s practically beaming at you.

You blink at him, bewildered. “I mean… maybe? But — what?”

He holds up his phone. “Project,” he explains elaborately. “I’ve been texting, and I didn’t get a reply, and then I saw you over here, so I thought I’d ask.”

You frown, grabbing your phone. “I didn’t get any texts.”

Soonyoung mirrors your expression, tapping at his screen, and you’re struck by how much the blond suits him. As did the brown. As did the black he had a semester ago. Not that you’ve been keeping track, but it’s hard to not notice someone like Soonyoung. Even if the first time you talked to him was two days ago to organise the project you’ve been paired up for — you know him. Of him, at least.

He swivels his screen round to face you, showing you a contact with your name and what you quickly realise is almost your number. You smile a little awkwardly, tapping the last digit. “That’s meant to be a seven. You’ve got an eight.”

“Fuck,” he exhales, “that explains it. Who the hell have I been texting about litigation then?”

Something about his expression and his tone is so comical it makes you laugh, which surprises him a little – he glances up at you with a blatantly admiring smile, and he taps the edge of the desk. “Your eyes light up when you laugh, did you know?” And as quickly as he says it, he moves on, gesturing to your phone. “I’ll text you about the project, okay?”

He’s like a hurricane, and you’re trying your best to keep up. “Okay,” you agree confusedly, still hot-faced from the sudden compliment. “Yes. That’s — yes.”

As he gets up to leave again, he shoots you another one of those blinding, dazzling smiles, and sticks his hand out. “We’re friends now, right?”

His question sounds childishly sweet, and you can’t find it in yourself to do anything other than agree. 

Your one little reference sets you both off. You spend the next two hours talking and talking and talking, every other sentence beginning with “Remember when…”, as the two of you dredge up the long-buried memories of four long years spent together.

Soonyoung talks about the massive crush he had on you before you even got paired up for the project. You talk about how you never believed him, even when he did ask you out – it took three tries before you understood how serious he was. And then you remember the time Soonyoung sprinted from campus to his accommodation and back just to get you the calculator you forgot for your exam – and the time you both went to a frat party and ended up playing the most intense game of UNO in the bathroom with Vernon, which ended in a drunk Soonyoung trying to flush the cards down the toilet. 

He talks about the surprise party you threw for his birthday, and you talk about the time he tried to make you pancakes for National Girlfriend Day and failed horribly. You ate them anyway.

You don’t, however, talk about other things, even if you remember them. You remember Soonyoung kissing your forehead every morning he woke up next to you. You remember him buying your favourite flowers for your favourite vase every week. You remember coming home after a long day to food already delivered and paid for when he was working hours and hours away. You remember being so incredibly in love that it made you giddy and so in love it made you calm. And you don’t talk about it, just store it away somewhere as a reminder of what love is meant to feel like. If four years with Soonyoung brought you anything, it’s that: it taught you how to love and be loved.

When the recovery team finally arrives, you leave the elevator feeling like a new person. It doesn’t hurt when you look at Soonyoung anymore, there’s only a vague, warm fondness. And he can look you in the eye now, which he does. He smiles at you, sticks out his hand the same way he did all those years ago.

“We’re friends now, right?”

an / AHHH!!!!!! i know this fic is only like 5k but it took a lot out of me so i’d love to hear your thoughts. literally any thoughts. i wanted this fic to be longer but it happened this way and. what can i do. i may be the author but im NOT in control. it’s not a fic i’m 100% proud of but i think it’ll still hold a special place in my heart!!!! i love an angsty exes au.

anyway — this will be my last fic this year!!! see you all in 2025 and thank you so much for all the notes and all the reblogs and all the wonderful conversations this year i love you

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[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

HELLOOO👋🏻

Since your requests were open could you do a Leona x fem!reader??

Where the reader is initially wary of men due to past experiences back in her world. So when she's in twst world (more specifically in NRC) she's cautious around boys, but Leona notices and tries to gain her trust. Alot of people misunderstood him being a player, womanizer, mean cruel man etc when he's actually not like that. I guess you're my only hope for a Leona x reader request lololol 😭

Hope you have time to do this req!

Thank you for the request! I've been itching to write more Leona content, and you gave me an excuse to take a moment away from my The Rain series to do so! (I've had a somewhat similar idea rolling around in my head for months, but I'll save that for another fic ;))

I tried not to let the story or its themes veer too far off into. . .unsavory directions/topics, but some things have to be at least acknowledged in a vague way when discussing this topic. I tried to do so as respectfully as possible, but if I failed, please tell me so I can do better!

Synopsis: Fem! Reader who is wary of men grows to trust Leona.

TW: mentions of the reader having previous bad experiences with men, but I tried to keep it rather vague; reader has anxiety about being in a school full of men as well as having to stay with them in the events of book 3; reader gets chased by a guy that wants to beat her up near the end, but Leona steps in (I tried not to make it a princess in distress situation, but tell me if it comes off too much that way)

Being thrown into an unfamiliar world is awful. Being thrown into an unfamiliar world and being stuck in an all male school there? You had to question what kind atrocities you committed in your past life to deserve this fate.

It took you a while, but you managed to make. . .friends here. However, even those bonds were rather unsteady and fragile.

It's not that you hated men. You were simply wary of them. You had had past experiences that were. . .unsavory: being catcalled, the uncomfortable conversations with men who approached you in scarcely populated gas stations at night, the jokes no woman in her right mind would find funny, and even some experiences that to this day keep you up at night wondering what your fate would have been if you had done even the slightest thing differently.

You tried to trust the clearly good-hearted people who you logically knew had no ulterior motives hidden behind their kindness, but it was hard. Traumas are not easily forgotten or healed.

That's why, when the events with Octavinelle went down, you were on the verge of hyperventilating. You were friends with Ace and Deuce, and you trusted them as much as you could muster yourself to allow, but that was them. You didn't know, and certainly didn't trust, everyone who resided in Heartslabyul.

Jack's offer didn't seem much better to you, but when it came down to it, you didn't exactly have any other options.

The arrangement ended up being that you would stay with Leona in his room. You weren't sure if you'd prefer this over staying in a packed room with more people.

He barely acknowledged you, or, at least, it seemed that way at first. As your short time staying with him passed, you noticed some things. For one, Ruggie always complained that when he was waking up Leona, the lion wouldn't even wait for Ruggie to get out of the room to begin getting dressed, but Leona had always changed in the bathroom connected to his room for as long as you had stayed there. He also never got too close to you; and when anyone else did, he'd come up with a conveniently timed task for them to do. He didn't use his bathroom for anything other than changing while you were there, and instead used the dorm showers, leaving you his bathroom to yourself.

Don't get me wrong, he didn't go easy on you. He simply respected you and your right to space and privacy. You aren't sure if this was simply how he was raised, if he had noticed your wariness and acted so as not to worsen it, or if it was a mix of both.

By the end of your stay in Savanaclaw, you had somehow managed to find a sense of security in being there with the lion.

As time passed after your stay at Savanaclaw, you found yourself continuing to sit in the botanical garden during lunch. When Crowley decided you would be required to join a club, you joined the Spelldrive Club as a manager. On the rare occasion you had joint alchemy classes with Leona's class, he was unexpectedly present to class and would always 'begrudgingly' agree to be your partner.

However, what really cemented him in your mind as someone who could be trusted was the incident.

You had to stay after school as Grim had caused trouble again and gotten the two of you into detention. You were allowed to leave a bit early as you hadn't caused as much trouble, and you did because you had errands you had some items you needed to pick up from Sam's shop before it closed for the night.

As you walked through the hallways, you were distracted making a mental grocery list. In your somewhat spacey state, you bumped into another student.

He accused you of bumping into him purposefully and it soon became clear he wasn't planning to let you go unscathed. He was massive compared to you, so you knew that if things were to get physical you wouldn't have a great chance of coming out of things on top, so, you did the only thing you could do at the time and ran.

The other student shouted after you and took chase. You ran for what felt like an eternity. Your legs burned so bad you were astonished you were still managing to take steps, and your lungs felt as though they were on the verge of imploding. You weren't consciously thinking of where you were going as you ran, but you found yourself approaching the botanical garden with the other student hot on your heels.

Telling yourself that if you just gained a little more distance you'd be able to find a spot in the plants to hide without him noticing, you urged your legs to pick up the pace.

However, luck wasn't on your side, and, when you got into the garden, you tripped over an uneven brick on the path and toppled face first into the unforgiving stone. You skidded painfully across the bricks, your knees and palms being skinned in the process.

You did your best to scramble to your feet, but your legs had finally given out.

"Gotcha."

You heard a sickening voice not that far away as footsteps approached you at far too fast a rate for you to crawl into a bush before he reached you.

It was when you were searching the foliage on the sides of the path that you noticed what you had at first mistaken as a stick laying in the path, but upon further inspection you realized to be a tail.

You took in a deep breath before screaming "LEONA!" and praying it would be enough to wake the lion.

"The hell are you babbling about!" The voice of the other student snarled before you felt a harsh grip on your collar yank you up. "I was originally just gonna make you pay up for bumping into me so rudely, but after that chase you put me through, I think my fists have some anger pent up."

You ducked your head and braced for impact, but it never came. What did come was a soft warmth that caught you and held you up once the student's hand had finally released its grip on you. When you opened your eyes, you saw a clearly ticked off Lion.

He had one arm snaked under your shoulder and around your stomach to keep you up, and his other had a firm grip on the guy's wrist.

You were too dazed and hyped up on adrenaline to take in the words the two exchanged, but you swore you heard a crack moments before Leona let go of his wrist. The guy fled and were sure that if he were a beastman he'd have his tail between his legs.

You were torn out of your daze by an uncharacteristically soft, but still gruff voice: "Can you walk?"

It took you a moment to form words, but you eventually managed to reply: "I'm not hurt, but-"

Before you could finish your sentence, your legs were swept out from under you. A brief "'scuse me" left Leona's lips as he picked you up, and an unfamiliar feeling blossomed in your chest.

Seeing the shift in your expression, Leona sighed "Look, I know you like your personal space, but you can't walk and I'd feel like crap if I left ya out here, so I gotta carry you to the infirmary. I woulda asked, but it's not like I could get ya there any other way. You can punch me later if ya want."

The trip to the infirmary was silent. Thoughts raced through your head, but one of the most prominent was: "I called out for him."

You had no other choice but to come to terms with the terrifying realization that you trusted this man. For better or for worse, you trusted him. . .and while it scared you, it also bloomed this warm feeling in your chest.

You let your head fall against his chest as he carried you, and if he took note of that, he didn't let it show.

After you got checked out at the infirmary and reported the incident to Professor Crewel (because we all know Crowley is too incompetent at his job to do anything), Leona walked you back to your dorm.

The two of you never verbally acknowledged the events of that day again, nor did you talk about the feelings that came with them.

He was never not there after that, and you didn't mind the company.

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[gf2bellamy]

Hi, I love your Spencer fics, literally bright up my days every time I read one.

I was wondering if you could do one where bau!reader is obsessed every time Spencer wear his glasses (S2 Spencer is my weakness) like reader gets so flustered and shy when he’s around. And he KNOWS IT and he secretly does it because he likes to see reader all flushed and shy. It could be tooth-rotting sweet and the slowest of burns. I love shit like that 🤭

You can do whatever it feels right, I’m sure I’m gonna love it whatever you chose to write 💜

Thank youuuu so much ✨

glasses — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: mention of an old case , a/n: i had the best time writing this bc i fear i relate to reader too much

“Oh, God,” you mumbled under your breath as you walked into the conference room with Elle.

There he was. Spencer Reid. Sitting at the table, his glasses perched on his nose, his focus entirely on the file in front of him. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, and you had to force yourself to keep walking, to not just stop and stare. 

Elle chuckled softly beside you, clearly noticing your reaction. “Well, this is going to be a fun day,” she said, her teasing as she gave you a playful look.

She headed straight for a seat, deliberately leaving the one next to Spencer free. Of course she did. You shot her a quick glare, but she just smirked, clearly enjoying herself. 

You hesitated for a moment, your stomach doing a little flip as you slowly made your way toward the empty seat. Spencer glanced up as you approached, his lips curving into a warm smile as you sat down next to him.

“Good morning,” he greeted you, his voice soft and warm, and your breath literally caught in your throat.

Why did he have to look so good with glasses on? It wasn’t fair. 

It took you a second too long to realize you were just staring at him like an idiot. “Hi, hello, morning,” you blurted out, your words tumbling over each other in your rush to respond.

You mentally face-palmed yourself. Smooth. Really smooth. 

But Spencer didn’t seem to notice your awkwardness—or if he did, he was too polite to mention it. He just smiled at you again before turning his attention back to the front of the room, where JJ was beginning to brief the team on the case. You were grateful for the distraction.

If Spencer had looked at you for even a second longer, you were pretty sure you would’ve passed out on the spot. 

As JJ started talking, you tried to focus on the case details, but it was hard when Spencer was sitting right next to you.

Every time he adjusted his glasses or scribbled something in his notebook, you had to force yourself to look away, to not get caught staring again. 

Elle, of course, was no help. Every time you glanced in her direction, she was smirking at you, clearly enjoying your struggle. You made a mental note to get her back later, but for now, you were too busy trying to keep your composure. 

The universe, it seemed, had it out for you.

Just thirty minutes later, you found yourself sitting in your usual window seat on the jet. But then, of course, Spencer sat down right next to you. Again. You mentally face-palmed yourself.

Why does this keep happening? 

Spencer turned to you, his glasses catching the light as he adjusted them slightly. “So, what are you reading this week?” he asked, his tone curious.

The two of you always talked about the books you were reading—it was kind of your thing—and since you hadn’t seen each other over the weekend, he was clearly eager to catch up. 

You looked up at him, and immediately regretted it.

Bad idea. Terrible idea. Awful idea.

Oh my God, how does someone look this good? The way his glasses framed his eyes, the way his hair fell just so, the way he was looking at you with that soft, expectant smile—it was too much.

The blush crept up your neck and spread across your cheeks as you quickly averted your gaze, trying to remember how to form words. 

“I, uh—” you started, your mind going completely blank. What the hell were you reading? Suddenly, you couldn’t remember a single book you’d ever read in your entire life. Your brain had officially decided to betray you. 

Spencer seemed to notice your struggle. “Oh, have you finished Lord of the Flies yet?” he asked, practically throwing you a lifeline.

“Oh, right, that book,” you said, nodding a little too enthusiastically as you toyed with the sleeve of your sweater. “No, I haven’t finished it yet.”

Spencer watched you, a small, knowing smile creeping up on his face. He might be oblivious to a lot of things—like social cues and subtle hints —but he was most definitely not oblivious to how you reacted to him when he wore glasses.

He’d noticed the way your eyes lingered on him, the way your cheeks flushed, the way you stumbled over your words. And, if he was being honest with himself, he kind of liked it. 

His smile grew wider as he saw you toying with your sleeve, a nervous habit you always had when you were flustered. It was endearing, really, and he couldn’t help but feel a little smug knowing he was the cause of it. But as much as he enjoyed seeing you like this, he decided to give you a break.

For now. 

“Well, I’ve been reading—” Spencer started, seamlessly shifting the conversation as he launched into a ramble about the latest book he’d picked up.

As Spencer continued, you noticed the way his glasses slipped down his nose every so often, and how he’d push them back up without even thinking about it. It was such a small, mundane gesture, but for some reason, it made your heart skip a beat.

Did you also mention that the universe had it out for you?

Because it seemed like your wonderful unit chief, Aaron Hotchner, had decided to join in on the cosmic joke. As the team gathered to discuss the next steps in the case, Hotch turned to you and Spencer with that calm, authoritative tone of his. “Since this is an old case, we’ll need to go through the archived files. You two will handle that. The rest of us will focus on the new leads.” 

Your stomach dropped. Of course.

Of course Hotch thought it would be a great idea to pair you and Spencer together. The case you were working on was an old one, which meant hours—possibly days—of sifting through dusty boxes of files, reports, and evidence logs.

And you’d be doing it in a small, confined room. With Spencer. Who would undoubtedly be wearing his glasses. 

The idea of being stuck in close quarters with him, surrounded by stacks of paperwork, while he looked unfairly good in those glasses, sounded like a special kind of hell. You could already feel your cheeks heating up at the thought. 

As Hotch finished speaking, Elle glanced at you, her lips curling into a knowing smile. She raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying your predicament. You shot her a frown, silently pleading for her to stop, but she just smirked and gave you a subtle thumbs-up.

Traitor, you thought. 

An hour later, you were settled in the small, dimly lit room, surrounded by stacks of case files and boxes of evidence. The two of you worked side by side, the silence occasionally broken by Spencer’s ramblings about the case.

You tried to focus, you really did, but every time he adjusted his glasses or leaned over to show you something, your brain short-circuited a little. 

At some point, Spencer stood up and left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the mountain of paperwork.

You took the opportunity to fan your face and mutter a quick, “Get it together,” under your breath.

But just as you were starting to regain your composure, he returned, holding two cups of coffee. 

“Here,” he said, handing you one of the cups. “Be careful, it’s hot.” 

Your fingers brushed slightly as you took the cup from him, and you almost dropped the entire thing. Yep, you were officially incapable of doing anything when he was looking at you with those glasses on.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper as you took your first sip. 

Big mistake. The coffee was hot. Like, scalding-your-tongue, why-did-I-do-this kind of hot. But at least he got your order right. He always did.

As you kept working, the two of you eventually found yourselves sorting through the same box. Your hands brushed more than once as you exchanged small comments about the case, each touch sending tiny sparks up your arm. You tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the pages in front of you. 

“Wait, look at this,” you said, flipping open a file. “Isn’t that—” you paused, scanning the document. “Isn’t that connected to—” 

Spencer leaned in, peering over your shoulder. His breath was warm against your skin, and suddenly, you forgot what you were even saying. 

“No, wrong year,” he pointed out, his voice low and right next to your ear. 

“Oh—oh, right.” You blinked, forcing yourself to focus. “Didn’t see that.” 

But then you made a mistake. A terrible, life-altering mistake. You turned your head to glance at him, and—oh. Oh no. 

You were close. Too close. His face was right there, mere inches away. The soft glow of the desk lamp reflected off his glasses, highlighting his features, his slightly parted lips, the look in his eyes as he studied you. 

Panic surged through you. Nope. Nope, absolutely not. Your heart kicked into overdrive, and before you could stop yourself, you whipped your head back toward the file so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash. 

Spencer didn’t move away. If anything, his lips quirked up slightly, amused. Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing. 

And then, before your brain could filter your thoughts, the words tumbled out. 

“You need to stop doing that.” 

The moment they left your mouth, you bit your tongue, regretting them instantly. 

Spencer raised an eyebrow, that infuriatingly small, knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Doing what?” 

You opened your mouth, then closed it. Because what were you supposed to say? Looking ridiculously good in glasses? Standing too close? Making my brain short-circuit every time you exist? 

You dropped a file onto the table with a dull thud, turning to face him—oh, big mistake. Your brain short-circuited. Again.

Completely empty. Nothing. Not a single coherent thought in sight.

But somehow, by some miracle, you managed to get one word out. 

“That,” you muttered, forcing yourself to look away again. 

Spencer was enjoying this. You could feel it. He was getting closer—closer to making you say it out loud, the thing he knew you were dancing around. And God help you, the teasing glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t about to let this go. 

“That?” he echoed, feigning innocence, his voice lilting in playful curiosity. 

You swallowed hard. He was pretending not to know, dragging this out like some kind of game. And you made the fatal mistake of looking at him again. 

That was it. Game over. 

Your eyes locked onto his, and the world around you seemed to blur. The corners of his lips were twitching like he was holding back a smirk. The glasses only made it worse—made him worse. The soft glow of the desk lamp reflected against them as he waited for you to crack. 

And, of course, you did. 

“God, where are your contacts?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. 

The moment the words left your mouth, your stomach dropped. Oh. Oh no. 

Spencer blinked, then—he laughed. 

You shut your eyes, mortified. Maybe if you pretended hard enough, the universe would grant you a reset button. 

But no. That wasn’t happening. 

You forced yourself to open your eyes again, only to find him looking down at you, his face still lit up with amusement, his lips curled into a small, knowing smile. 

“I left them at home,” Spencer said, his voice still carrying traces of laughter. 

Then, as if to drive the dagger even deeper, he added, “I thought you liked my glasses better.” 

Your mouth fell open. 

What. 

There were no thoughts. Only static. 

Spencer tilted his head again, watching your reaction with barely concealed amusement. You could practically feel the smugness radiating off of him, and it was infuriating. 

“I—what—” you stammered, unable to form a single cohesive sentence. 

His grin widened. Yeah, he knew exactly what he was doing. 

And you? You were done for. 

You opened and closed your mouth like a fish out of water, desperately searching for a response—any response—that wouldn’t make you sound like a complete idiot. But your brain had officially abandoned you. 

Spencer just stood there, watching you with that infuriating little smirk, completely and utterly enjoying himself. 

“Oh my God,” you groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “You know what you’re doing.” 

Spencer blinked at you innocently. Too innocently. “I really don’t,” he said, but his tone was dripping with amusement. 

You squinted at him, crossing your arms. “You do.” 

His lips twitched. “Do I?” 

You let out an exasperated sigh, turning away as if that would help you escape this absolute nightmare of a conversation. But you weren’t that lucky. 

Because, of course, Spencer took a step closer. 

Your heart nearly stopped. 

The small archive room suddenly felt way too small. The scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating off of him—it was all-consuming, and your body reacted before your brain could catch up. You stiffened, fingers tightening around the file you’d completely forgotten you were holding. 

Spencer’s voice dropped just slightly, lower, smoother, as he leaned in a fraction closer. “So… you don’t like my glasses?” 

You turned back to him, already shaking your head. “I didn’t say that.” 

“Hmm.” He tapped a thoughtful finger against his chin. “So you do like them.” 

You gasped. “That’s not—” You stopped yourself before you could dig your own grave even deeper. 

But Spencer was grinning now. He had you. He knew he had you. 

“You’re blushing,” he pointed out, oh so smugly. 

“Am not,” you shot back immediately. Which was a bold lie, considering your face felt like it was on fire. 

Spencer’s grin widened. “You are.” 

You groaned, letting your head fall back in defeat. “You’re insufferable.” 

“I’ve been told,” he said, completely unbothered. 

For a moment, you just stood there, arms crossed, staring him down like you could somehow will him into dropping this whole thing. But Spencer Reid was nothing if not persistent. And very entertained. 

Finally, you sighed, deciding the only way out of this was to own it. “Fine.” You lifted your chin. “Maybe I do like your glasses. So what?” 

Spencer’s eyes lit up, and you immediately regretted saying anything at all. 

“Oh,” he said, slow and teasing, his voice practically dripping with satisfaction. “That’s… interesting.” 

You scowled. “Shut up.” 

He just beamed. “I didn’t say anything.” 

“You’re thinking things.” 

“I think things all the time.” 

You let out an exasperated sigh, shoving a case file into his chest. “Read, Dr. Reid. Before I murder you with this very heavy binder.” 

Spencer chuckled, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Anything to distract you from my unbearable attractiveness, I suppose.” 

Your jaw dropped. “Spencer!” 

But he was already flipping through the file like nothing had happened, looking far too pleased with himself. 

And you? You were never going to live this down. 

[sippy--sippy]

wedding date (miya atsumu x reader) - summary: you meet atsumu at your friend's wedding and steamy shenanigans ensue CW: smut, car sex word count: 9,774 A/N: if you know me in real life do not read this oh my goooooooood i can't have people knowing i write smut. ya’ll this is almost 10k words LOL this holds the record for the longest one-shot i’ve ever written. this idea came to me because i went to like 5 weddings last year and none of them were my own so i'm getting desperate. enjoyyyyy! !! MINORS DNI !! also, reader is written as AFAB and wears a dress

One would think you’d be more excited to see the cumulation of hours and hours of hard work come to a head once your best friend’s wedding came around. Working closely with the bride-to-be (Kumi) and the maid of honor (her sister), it took months to plan your best friend’s perfect fairytale wedding. Tiring, grueling nights of research, long phone calls, nonrefundable deposits and arguing had finally paid off.

Kumi had found the most beautiful countryside venue for her ceremony. The venue was surrounded by lush forest, spattered with cherry blossom trees that were thankfully in bloom at this time in April, giving the area an ethereal feeling. Rows of white chairs lined the grass, an aisle nestled between the rows that was dusted with white rose petals and cherry blossoms, leading to an elaborate archway decorated with drapes of tulle, ribbons and flowers.

Wedding guests were already in their seats, talking reverently amongst themselves as they awaited the wedding processional, soft romantic music filling the background. You couldn't have asked for better weather either. It was a sunny, clear skied day and since it was April, it wasn’t stiflingly hot.

So why weren’t you giddy with happiness? 

Because you were nervous. 

You wanted this to be the most perfect day for your friend, one that she’ll cherish forever. What if something went horribly wrong? What if someone in the procession tripped? What if the caterers for the luncheon give everyone food poisoning? What if someone breaks their ankle on the dancefloor?

A million possibilities ran through your mind of what could possibly go wrong during the next couple hours but the procession was actually the part you were most worried about. Usually, there would be some sort of practice rehearsal the day before to make sure everyone knew what order to walk out in, how to timely do so, and to make sure everyone knew where to stand. Unfortunately, a rehearsal wasn’t done due to half of the procession still traveling from Tokyo the day before and not making it into town until late that night so no one was able to practice.

Behind a remodeled rustic barn that served as the inside portion of the venue and out of sight from all the guests, everyone was scrambling to get in the proper order to walk out. The officiant was going to walk out first so he could take his spot under the archway. Next in line was the groom who, besides the utter chaos around him, looked as cool as a cucumber.

Due to living a pretty large distance away from each other, you didn’t have the chance to get to know Kumi’s boyfriend, fiance and now almost-husband very well. From what you have learned though, was that Kita Shinsuke was the calmest, sweetest and most brutally honest person you had ever had the chance of meeting. While you were almost scared to talk to him at times, you could see how your friend had fallen head over heels for him. He was so gentle and soft spoken, especially to her. She was going to have the most peaceful life with him.

He looked very sharp with his tailored light grey 3-piece suit and his dainty baby pink bowtie. His hair wasn’t styled much different than what it usually looked like. If anything it looked just the slightest bit wind-swept with the small breeze that blew through the air. How he managed to look so nonchalant at a pivotal moment of his life like this, you had no clue. 

Following him was Kita’s grandma and Kumi’s mother who were going to walk down the aisle together, both dressed in cream dresses. At the tail end of the party, Kita’s little nephew and Kumi’s niece acted as the ring bearer and flower girl. Behind them, hidden from Kita’s view just inside the barn, Kumi was waiting to emerge with her older brother who was going to walk her down the aisle, as her father had passed away years ago.

Sandwiched right in the middle of the party were the groomsmen and bridesmaids which is where the real issue lay. Since no one was able to practice the procession, none of you knew who you were supposed to be walking down the aisle with and it didn’t help that Kita had asked practically his entire high school volleyball team to be his groomsmen. Luckily, your friend had picked just as many bridesmaids so there were even numbers but there were 10 different couples. 20 bridesmaids and groomsmen in total. Which was absolute lunacy in your personal opinion. 

The maid of honor was whisper-shouting the names of each couple that were supposed to walk down the aisle together. She was paired with Kita’s best man, a tall dark-skinned man named Aran Ojiro. As she went down the list, each bridesmaid and groomsman scrambled to find each other and get in the procession line. She called a couple names before she finally called yours. 

“(L/n) (Y/n) and Miya Atsumu.”

You were briefly surprised when she called your partner’s name because she had already called another Miya to partner up with a different bridesmaid. He was tall and handsome, dark brown hair swooped to the right, looking casual but put together at the same time. Were the two related? You didn’t have to think for long as a warm body sidled up to you.

Definitely twins, was your first thought. They looked eerily similar, especially since they were wearing the same outfit. All of the groomsmen wore a white button down shirt with a light gray suit vest and slacks, all tied together with a baby pink tie. This twin however, had blonde hair that was styled to gently swoop to the left and he seemed to be slightly broader than his brother.

Extremely handsome, nonetheless. Almost unnervingly so. 

He looked down at you with a casual smile and flashed a perfect set of pearly white teeth. “Are you (L/n) (Y/n)?”

You suddenly felt very self conscious about the way you looked. How were you supposed to walk down the aisle on the arm of a man that looked like- well- that? The pink dress you wore to match all of the other bridesmaids felt too hot and restricted. You were suddenly worried you were going to sweat through your dress. Did your hair look alright? Was your makeup smeared?

Realizing you had just been staring at him, all you managed to squeak out was a pathetic “Yes”.

He probably noticed your raging blush underneath the heavy layer of makeup covering your cheeks but he didn’t say anything about it, instead choosing to lead you over to the procession line to stand behind his twin and the bridesmaid he was linking arms with. 

Atsumu held out his ridiculously strong looking arm to you and you hesitantly looped your hand into the crook of his elbow. You could feel the bulge of his bicep beneath his shirt and you felt yourself getting woozy. You couldn’t tell if it was because of the sudden temperature spike, how painstakingly gorgeous the man who stood next to you was, the nerves or a combination of all of it.

You didn’t realize that you were shaking until Atsumu dipped his head down to look at you in concern. “Are y’ alright? Yer tremblin’.”

He had the same Kansai accent that Kita had. You couldn’t deny that it fit him beautifully. You nodded and gave him a tight lipped smile. “Yeah, I’m alright. Just nervous I guess.”

Atsumu huffed in amusement and nudged your ribs with the elbow you held onto. “What for? Yer not the one gettin’ married.”

With the hand that wasn’t holding onto his elbow, the hand that held a small bouquet of pale pink and white flowers, you very delicately tapped his chest in retort. You couldn’t smack him as hard as you wanted to, in lieu of destroying the fragile bouquet. “I know that! I just- I don’t know. I want this to go as smoothly as possible. Kumi and Kita deserve the most perfect wedding and what if I trip over these stupid heels walking down the aisle or something.”

You shifted on your feet to prove your point, your heeled feet squishing into soft grass you stood on. Atsumu looked down to watch you squirm in place, then surprised you by lifting his free hand up to pat your hand that rested on his arm.

“I’ll catch you if y’ fall. Or fall with you, so yer not as embarrassed if yer really that worried ‘bout it. We can humiliate ourselves together..”

You looked up at him with a raised brow. He’d do that for you? You couldn’t deny it made your heart race that this attractive man that you’d met not two minutes ago would go to such lengths to calm your nerves, even if that meant embarrassing himself. You gave him a genuine smile this time, squeezing the soft muscle of his arm.

“Thank you for the offer, that’s very sweet of you. Let’s just both agree to not fall for the next 20 minutes and save our humiliating moves for the dancing later tonight.”

Atsumu smiled at that idea and straightened up. “Save me a dance?”

Butterflies exploded in your stomach and suddenly you weren’t so worried about the ceremony anymore, instead looking forward to the night to come. “Absolutely.”

A venue employee motioned for the start of the processional to begin and the officiator made his way out from behind the barn to start down the aisle, followed a handful of slow seconds later by Kita who’d take his place next to him. Kita’s grandma and Kumi’s mom followed after and then next were the bridesmaids and groomsmen. Atsumu and yourself were 6th in line so it took a while before it was your turn. Once Atsumu’s twin made his way out, a couple of seconds passed before the two of you started your walk.

Instead of keeping his free hand down by his side like all the groomsmen before you had, Atsumu kept his free hand resting over yours that sat nestled in his arm. You realized he was doing it to help keep you steady if you needed it. If your legs weren’t wobbly before, they certainly were now.

The slow walk down the aisle felt ages long but probably took about 30 seconds tops. It was terrifying having all the attendees watching you walk down the aisle but you kept your cool and kept a soft smile on your face. You couldn’t see it, but Atsumu was cheesing the whole time. He loved weddings, especially when he got to walk down the aisle with a pretty bridesmaid.

Once the both of you reached the end of the aisle, Atsumu gently let go of your hand and you hesitantly let go of his arm to join the line of bridesmaids. You couldn’t help but look at him before you parted. Everyone was focused on the couples behind you anyway so no one was paying attention to you two at the moment. Atsumu gave you a sly smile and a wink before turning to take his place in the line, not before giving a nod to Kita who gave him a rare gentle smile.

The rest of the ceremony went swimmingly. Kumi looked so beautiful walking down the aisle with her brother. The ever stoic Kita had tears in his eyes the second she came into view, and his voice even wobbled as they exchanged vows. You were embarrassed to admit that half the time the officiator was talking, you weren’t watching the happy couple, instead focusing on the line of groomsmen behind Kita. 

Atsumu had a sort of magnetism to him you couldn’t deny. He seemed to be having the same problem as you because you made eye contact on multiple occasions and his smile broadened each time. The ceremony flew by and Kita and Kumi officially became husband and wife with a sweet kiss, prompting cheers from all the attendees.

The newlyweds made their way back up the aisle, smiling and holding hands while being showered in white flower petals. The bridesmaids and groomsmen then linked back up with their assigned partners to follow them once they were through. While most linked arms again, Atsumu surprised you by interlocking your fingers and tugging you down the aisle with him in giddy happiness. His energy was contagious and you were laughing right along with him through the white petals.

Once the exciting energy of the ceremony wound down, it was time for pictures which took an awful long time. There were a large variety of shots. Large family pictures, pictures of just parents/grandparents, Kumi and all the bridesmaids, the groomsmen tossing a rather hesitant Kita into the air, etc. There was only one picture where you were placed next to Atsumu (to your disappointment) but when he put his hand on the small of your back while everyone smiled at the camera, you decided you wouldn’t complain.

The luncheon followed next, which you helped oversee to make sure everything was running smoothly. By the time it was time to actually sit down and eat, all the circular tables towards the front of the room where the other bridesmaids and groomsmen were sitting by the head table had been filled from what you could see. You were about to find an extra seat at one of the emptier far tables but before you could, Atsumu waved you over to his table where a seat next to him was being saved. You thanked him profusely and sat down just as Kumi’s sister gave her maid of honor speech, followed by Kumi and Kita giving their own speeches. You couldn’t help but tear up as they spoke, their adoration for each other very apparent. 

While they spoke, caterers brought plates of food around to the tables. The main course consisted of salmon smoked to perfection with a side of rice straight from the family farm Kita owned and operated. Along with a couple other sides, cups of sake were passed around to those who wanted it. 

It wasn’t until the tail end of Kita’s speech when you noticed Atsumu had draped his arm over the back of your chair. Your bare shoulders could feel the heat of him through his white shirt.

Once speeches had wrapped up, everyone dug into their food and started casual conversation. Most of the people around the table were groomsmen, and you quickly learned all about their high school volleyball days and learned that almost all of them, including Atsumu to your absolute pleasure, still played professionally. Atsumu’s twin, Osamu you learned, was happy to tell you all about it.

“‘Tsumu’s both the most popular and most hated volleyball player in all of Japan. He’s talented, sure, but his PR skills are absolute garbage. This scrub gets cancelled on Twitter at least once a month. You’d think with as big of a head as he’s got, he’d have a bigger brain and NOT get into a fight with some 12 year old kid who said Kageyama’s a better setter than ‘Tsumu will ever be.”

Everyone at the table laughed, yourself included. Atsumu growled and tried to punch Osamu, who ducked out of the way. They scuffled for a little bit as you got to know the other people at the table. Aran and Suna were fun to talk to, both of them professional volleyball players as well. Aran was one of the strongest players in Japan which you were very interested in learning about, and Suna had the most social media followers of any professional volleyball player in the whole world. 

They asked a lot of questions about you too, which got Atsumu’s attention enough to finally stop fighting Osamu. You told them about your career in Tokyo and the simple life you were leading. Nothing compared to theirs, you assured them, which they disagreed with you on. 

The rest of the luncheon was filled with pleasant conversation and laughter. Before you knew it, the caterers came around to clear the tables and it was announced that there would be a break until the reception started so the guests could go do as they pleased. There were still a couple hours until the reception and none of you knew the location well enough to leave the venue to explore so everyone stayed and lounged around. 

You got up and took some time to make sure everything was in order for the dance portion of the reception and songs were queued in the right order. The cake was your next target, making sure it was ready for the cutting. After checking a couple other odds and ends, you made your way back to the table where the conversation had fizzled out. A couple of the men were on their phones, Osamu seemed to be sleeping with his head on the table, and Atsumu was just looking around the venue at all the lights and decor. When you slid back into your chair, he smiled and straightened up, angling his body towards yours.

He led you into a conversation about your life, and you asked questions about him, very interested in his blossoming career as a national league setter. As you spoke, you didn’t notice his arm moving beneath the tablecloth until you felt his fingers brush your thigh. Your dress was on the longer side, so he wasn’t able to reach any skin but that didn’t stop him from flattening out his large palm over the fabric. Your words caught in your mouth as you looked at him in surprise. His head was propped up on his other hand, and he didn’t look the least bit guilty as his pointer finger started to twirl in lazy circles.

His hand wasn’t unwelcome, you realized very quickly, and you enjoyed the feel of his warm fingers running over your thigh. The tablecloth covered your legs and his hand so you didn’t worry about people seeing, but it was still risky. You were thankful for your longer dress because if he had any access to more of your legs, you were sure he’d be exploring and you doubted you’d be able to keep any noises or reactions you made very discreet.

His hand stayed on your thigh for a quite while and you didn’t realize how much time had passed until you looked at the clock. The reception was set to start in half an hour and you needed to make sure the caterer’s were getting the refreshments in order.

Grabbing Atsumu’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, you deposited it into his own lap and excused yourself. You stood up and wandered back into the kitchen to talk to the manager of the catering business, talking lightheartedly with him and praising him and his team on his work. The refreshments looked amazing, a blend of sweet and savory dishes spread across trays to bring out once the reception guests started to arrive. Thanking them for all their hard work, you left the kitchen but you didn’t get very far because someone grabbed your arm and yanked you behind a stack of crates and refrigerated boxes brought by the caterers. It was secluded from sight, but you wouldn’t be hard to spot if one of the workers came looking for a stack of extra cups.

Atsumu smiled down at you as you stared at him in surprise. In his hands was a plate stacked with pastries from the kitchen. Your mouth watered at the sight, but you couldn’t help but scold him first.

“How did you get those? We’re not supposed to eat these until the reception starts,” you whispered. Even so, you grabbed one and stuck half of it in your mouth anyway, almost moaning at how good it was.

Atsumu quietly laughed and ate one of his own. “I grabbed some while you were distractin’ the workers. I haven’t had sugar all day so I grabbed a couple. I figured they won’t notice a couple missin’. Thought you’d want a taste too.”

As he finished his sentence, he held your stare as he licked a dash of the cloudy frosting off his thumb. He knew what he was doing, making sure to take his time as his tongue flattened over the tip of his finger to get every drop. God yes, you wanted a taste.

Gulping, you shoved the rest of the pastry in your mouth in haste, trying to push the sinful thoughts aside. This was not the place, nor the time (as much as you wished it was). Dusting your fingers of crumbs, you licked your teeth to make sure there wasn’t any pastry residue stuck there. Atsumu gazed at you the whole time, hands gripping the plate, staring at your mouth. 

“W-We should… get back to our table-”

Atsumu’s restraint snapped it seemed, surging forward to pull you into a fierce kiss. He dropped the plate of pastries on to the nearest box and used his now free hand to cradle the back of your neck. You were surprised, but melted into the kiss shortly after. A little fun wouldn’t hurt, right? 

You draped your arms over his neck as he guided you back to rest against a stack of boxes. The hand that didn’t hold your neck slid down your side and hooked underneath your thigh, pulling it up to hook around his leg as high as your dress would offer. His hand kneaded the flesh behind your knee as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue making an appearance to swipe across your lips, probably gathering up a trail of powdered sugar left there from the pastry. 

You were on cloud 9, eyes fluttering as you happily let his tongue dance with yours. Atsumu let out a soft grunt as one of your hands slid into his hair, grasping at the blonde strands. As much as you wanted this to continue, in the back of your mind you knew you couldn't go further than this. Hoards of people were due to start showing up any minute for the reception, and you’d be found for sure. 

Relishing in a couple more pushes of his lips against yours, you pressed your hands to his cheeks and pulled his face away. He slowly opened his eyes to look at you in hazy, lust-filled confusion, a hum of question rising from his throat as you squished his cheeks together.

“We can’t do this here. Someone’s gonna catch us and we need to get ready for the reception.” As you spoke, you stared at his lips, both because you wanted to kiss him again and because the dark lip tint covering your lips was smeared across his mouth.

Laughing lightly, you ran your thumb over his lips, picking up the color as you went. His eyes softened at your laugh and he stood still as you worked, hand dropping your leg so he could instead rest his hands on your hips. 

“Are ya sure? We can make it quick, I promise. I’ll be real quiet, baby,” he whispered.

You shook your head and pushed his chest so he’d back up. He holds tightly to your sides as you adjust your dress back down your legs and fan your face to try to make your flaming blush go away. Atsumu hesitantly let you go as you started to herd him out from behind the boxes as nonchalantly as possible, holding the plate of pastries in one hand. 

New guests were starting to show up and join the greeting line to say congratulations to the happy couple, leaving piles of gifts at the front entrance. Atsumu had a pep in his step as the two of you neared your table, pulling out your chair for you which you embarrassingly thanked him for, shrinking under the curious gaze of everyone else. Osamu was particularly curious, raising a brow as Atsumu plopped into his chair with a sly grin. You busied yourself with watching the sea of people, smiling as they praised Kita and Kumi on their wedding and gorgeous reception. 

Atsumu and yourself ease back into the table’s conversation to wait for the greeting line to disperse. Atsumu’s hand found its way to your thigh again, this time brushing higher than it did before. You nearly jumped out of your seat when he forced his digits against the strain of your dress to drag over the crotch of your panties. You snatched his hand away as discreetly as you could, choosing to interlock your fingers with his instead, holding his hand in your lap. Atsumu seemed fine with this change and relaxed against his chair to tune back into Aran’s story of how he met his new girlfriend. 

By the time it was announced that it was time for the cake cutting, you were nearly asleep in your chair. It had been a long, eventful day and you were starting to feel the effects of it. Your eyes opened from their drooped state when Atsumu stood and pulled you up with him to gather around where the newlyweds were about to cut into their cake.

Smacking your cheeks to clear your head, you let him lead you to the crowd of people surrounding Kumi and Kita. Osamu clocked your intertwined hands immediately but didn’t say anything. Atsumu let you stand in front of him so you could peek through the bodies to watch, the heat of him grazing your spine as you watched the couple try their cake and laughed as Kumi smashed a bite into Kita’s surprised face. 

Once the cake had been wheeled away, it was time for the dancing. Everyone stood around the dance floor as Kumi danced with her brother, which brought a tear to your eye, and gentle Kita danced with his grandma which really made you cry. Then, Kita and Kumi danced together. They held each other close as they slowly danced, whispering to one another. It was a sweet moment, and you watched them with adoration, unaware of the gentle gaze Atsumu had on you, not the couple. 

As they finished their song, anyone who wanted could go out to join them for another slow song. You twisted your fingers together and watched a large handful of couples head to the dancefloor. A shock of electricity ran down your spine when a warm hand fully rested on your lower back and Atsumu pushed you forward. You had no time to decline, as he had already pulled you in front of the crowd so you’d look pathetic if you backed out now.

Gulping nervously, you shyly looked at him as he took your left hand into his right, bringing his other to rest on your lower back to tug you flush against him. Your free hand moved to rest hesitantly on the back of his shoulder when he started to sway to the soft music. You buried your face into the warm expanse of his chest to hide your blush and he brought his head down to rest against the side of yours. 

“Yer shakin’ again, beautiful,” he murmured into your ear.

Squeezing the hand that held yours, you murmured back a quiet “fuck you” which made his chest rumble with a low laugh. You didn’t say anything the rest of the dance, slowly relaxing into his hold which he noticed, pulling you impossibly closer. The end of the song came too soon and people started rushing the dance floor when a much more upbeat song came on. 

Before you had the chance to look at him, Atsumu was dragging you into the bouncing crowd, the beginnings of a mosh pit bubbling. You were swept into another dance with him, this one much more full of life. Deciding to just let go, you gave into his advances, swaying your hips and laughing loudly as the bass of the song shuddered through you. Atsumu laughed too, bouncing on his feet to the beat. The rest of your table came to dance around you, some more energetic than others, but there nonetheless. 

The more songs that played, the looser everyone got. Even Kita was getting into it. Osamu found one of the bridesmaids to dance with, a little liquid courage from multiple cups of sake flowing through him. Aran wouldn’t dance with any other ladies, as he did have a girlfriend, but that didn’t stop him from dancing with Suna who was surprisingly fluid as he danced. Atsumu focused all of his attention on you, save for the one time Suna started throwing it back, also a little drunk. Everyone’s attention was caught by that.

Besides that though, Atsumu kept close to you and got closer and closer as you danced. At one point, you helped him loosen his tie and threw it around his neck. Since everyone else was too preoccupied with dancing, and no one was going to even notice you doing it anyway, you pressed your ass against Atsumu’s slacks, hips moving in time with his to the beat. His breath was hot against your neck, large palms keeping your waist warm as you brought a hand up to scrape your nails over his dark undercut.

You could feel his excitement start to tent his light grey slacks against your backside. Looking up at him with hooded eyes, you both had a silent but simple conversation.

You needed him and he needed you. Atsumu wasn’t ashamed to admit that if you kept grinding on him like that, he’d take you right here on the dance floor.

Showing some restraint and taking your hand tightly in his, Atsumu tugged you out of the sea of dancing bodies, an excited determination in his walk. As much as you wanted this to happen, there was only one problem.

“Atsumu, where are you planning on taking us? There’s nowhere private we can go in this building.”

He halted in his steps as he took in your words, realizing that you were right. There weren’t many rooms in this barn, save for the kitchen which was packed with caterers, the bathroom which had a constant flow of people trickling through, and the occasional storage closet which were too close to the reception to be able to sneak into without being easily spotted.

Drumming his fingers on his thigh, he looked around the venue in a desperate attempt to find some sort of secret alcove or something. Just when you thought that maybe it wasn’t meant to be, Atsumu perked up and grinned.

“I’ve got an idea.” He started tugging you along again back to the table the two of you had been sitting at all night. Letting go of your hand, he started rummaging through the pockets of the light jacket he had brought along with him that had been abandoned over the back of his chair all day. 

The muffled clacking of something in the jacket pocket gave away his idea as he pulled out a simple set of car keys. Flashing you a smile, which you eagerly returned, he snatched up your hand again to start walking out to the gravel parking lot that sat a couple hundred yards away from the venue. You tried to slow him down and make it less obvious to those around you what you were going to do but he seemed to be too excited to care.

The cool outside air was refreshing against your heated skin and the sky was gorgeous as the sun started to dip below the horizon. The parking lot was packed with cars, attendees constantly trickling in and out of the reception. Depending on where he was parked, the parking lot would be just as risky as using the bathroom inside. Luckily, he led you back to the far corner of the lot where a gorgeous white car sat. Your car knowledge was slim, so you didn’t know what type of car it was but you could tell it was expensive. It had very dark tinted windows as well, which was an extra bonus.

Atsumu had backed into his parking stall, a spot at the very end of the lot so no cars were parked behind him or on one side of him giving you both the perfect spot to hide away (unless the owner of the one car next to him showed up).

“Nice ride.” You joked as the both of you stopped by the driver’s side door. Atsumu chuckled as he fumbled his keys in his hands, trying to unlock the vehicle. 

“Thanks! ‘Samu says I got an expensive car to compensate for my ‘tiny dick’, but we’re twins, so he knows that’s not true. We had one too many naked fights in the locker room durin’ our volleyball days, so I know I’m packin’ just as much as he is. Front or back seat, gorgeous?”

You giggled as he finally got his car unlocked and opened the door for you to peer inside. As nice of a car as it was, you doubted Atsumu would be very comfortable in the back seat given his size. It was a pretty slim car. 

“Front. Wouldn’t want to squish you into the back seat.” You gave Atsumu a once over as he stood with an arm resting on the hood of the car. “Plus, I’d like to ride those thighs of yours.”

Atsumu had the goofiest smile. He looked like a kid in a candy store. “You’re readin’ my mind.”

You stood watch as Atsumu worked on getting his car ready, moving the driver's seat as far back as it could go and reclining it enough so it would be comfortable for him. He cracked open the two windows on the passenger side of the car, the side that faced the forest, so some fresh air would breeze through. Finally, he slid into the car and threw the keys into the passenger's seat. If you weren’t turned on already, the sight of him lounging in the seat, outfit rumpled from the dancing, tie slung around his neck and powerful legs spread just waiting for you to settle onto them would definitely do the trick. 

Kicking off your heels, you left them sitting on the gravel outside the car and made one more cautious look around before you bunched up your dress to your knees so you could get into the car with more ease. Atsumu looked at you like you were the most gorgeous person on the planet as you moved to straddle his lap, dress hiking up a little more to rest around your thighs. 

The second you closed the door behind you, Atsumu’s mouth was attacking yours, tongue instantly pushing past the seal of your lips to explore every inch of your mouth that he could reach. His large palms kneaded the flesh of your ass through the thin fabric of your dress, and you moved to frantically rake your fingers through his dark undercut. The flex of his powerful thighs underneath yours was driving you insane, cords of muscle dragging against your skin through his slacks. You were sure his slacks were a size or two too small, because you could feel every inch of him like he wasn’t even wearing pants. 

After a couple of breathless minutes, the two of you finally separated, a string of spit keeping your mouths connected. Just like earlier, your dark lip tint was smeared over Atsumu’s lips again. When he went in for another kiss, you pulled your head back which prompted a whine from Atsumu as he tried to chase your lips.

“The makeup ‘Tsumu, remember? It’s gotta last for at least one more hour.”

Atsumu pouted and grumbled out a “fine” before focusing his attention on your neck. While he started attacking the soft skin just underneath your jaw, you started unbuttoning his vest and shirt. The more of his torso you exposed, the wetter you felt your panties get. He was gorgeously tanned and toned. Once you had unbuttoned all the buttons you could reach, besides the few that were tucked into his slacks, your hands started exploring his smooth skin. His shoulders were gorgeously sculpted, the dips of his collarbone deep. Your hands splayed over his chest, fingers brushing over his nipples which pebbled at your attention. 

His chest heaved at your ministrations, groaning in pleasure. You felt him shift his hips up into you, member straining against his slacks as he dragged it against your clothed core. Tightening your legs around his thighs, Atsumu held your hips tightly against his as he ground against you, working your neck with his teeth. You keened as his bulge dragged over your sensitive clit, shuddering as Atsumu nibbled at your ear. 

Tired of waiting, you reached beneath you to fumble with his belt, tossing it into the passenger seat with his keys once you’re able to pull it free. You make quick work of the button on his slacks, tugging down the zipper and pulling his pants and boxer briefs down just enough to bunch underneath his cock which stood at attention against his abdomen. 

Osamu was definitely wrong when he assumed Atsumu got a fancy car to compensate for a tiny dick, because it was anything but tiny. He wasn’t outrageously long, but he was thick. Thick enough that just the thought of him dragging inside of you had your eyes rolling back. 

WIth his cock now free, the friction between your panties and his member had Atsumu’s thighs quaking under you. He released one of his hands from the vice-grip it had on your hips to reach behind him and hold onto the head rest. 

“Hng- Christ, baby.” His voice was deep and scratchy, breathless as you rubbed your core against the underside of his dick, squeezing it between your body and his stomach. 

You mouthed at his throat which bobbed against your lips as he sat forward. Wrapping an arm around your back, he started digging through his center console. When he grunted in annoyance and leant forward even more to start shifting through his glove box, you nipped at his ear and huskily asked, “What’s wrong?”

Atsumu was pulling handfuls of objects out of the glove box and throwing them onto the floor in front of the passenger seat. “Shit- can’t find a condom.”

Dragging your tongue over the shell of his ear, you reached down and wrapped your hand around the base of his shaft. His cock twitched in your grip and his arm tightened around your back as he paused his searching.

“Are you clean?” you asked, slowly sliding your hand up over his velvety skin. All Atsumu could do was nod. “Then I don’t mind. I’m on birth control, but try to pull out if you can.”

Atsumu nodded again in agreement and leant back in his seat, watching with one of the most lustful gazes you had ever seen as you rose up on your knees to push your panties to the side, exposing your already drooling core to him. He gripped your thighs as you collected as much spit as you could in your mouth to spit onto your palm. Rubbing the liquid over his length as well as all of the pre-cum he’d already leaked, you gave him a couple pumps for good measure.

He tilted his head back to rest against the head-rest with a guttural groan as you positioned yourself over him, teasing his tip through your folds. With one hand guiding his length and the other gripping the shoulder of the seat, you sank slowly onto him. Both of you moaned in unison as he filled you surprisingly easily considering the lack of proper lubrication and the sheer size of him. 

You stopped with him half-way seated, gazing adoringly at his rosy cheeks and mussed hair. He looked back at you just as fondly. With a preparatory breath, you braced yourself on the seat and started to set a slow pace. Every thrust brought him a centimeter further into you as you adjusted to the stretch of him. He held your thighs in his hands, letting you take control for the time being and enjoying the view. 

It took a minute of work before you were able to fully sheath him inside yourself. You threw your head back and gasped when you did, the stretch of him hurting so deliciously. It didn’t help that the hard teeth on the zipper of his slacks rubbed against your sensitive folds and the button would occasionally brush over your clit.

Atsumu was barely holding it together. Your core hugged him so tightly, warmly pulsing around his cock in such a way that he probably could’ve come right then and there. Something about you just fit him perfectly in a way no other partner of his ever had. 

Once you felt like you had adequately adjusted, your pace quickened. Bouncing up and down on him, he enjoyed the view of your covered breasts bouncing in sync. He leant forward to suck on the small sliver of breast that was visible above the neckline of your dress. You whined and scratched your nails over the back of his neck. 

After a couple minutes of this, he couldn’t take it anymore. Gripping your hips tightly, Atsumu took control and started bouncing you on him himself, hips thrusting up to meet you. The new angle had you seeing stars and you didn’t care about your makeup anymore, smashing your lips to his in a kiss that was messy and wet.

Every force of your hips into his had your clit rubbing against the hard metal of his slacks and the brush of pubic hair at the base of his cock. It gave you the friction you needed to bring you closer and closer to the edge. Atsumu wasn’t faring much better - his thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier and his hold on your hips getting less and less controlled. 

You didn’t have much time to prepare before you came, yelling his name as you gripped his broad shoulders, your fluids covering Atsumu’s thrusting member. It seemed Atsumu didn’t have time to prepare either because he came suddenly with a groan and spilled his load into you, groaning your name.

Pumping yourself up and down a couple more times, this time much slower to ride you both down from your highs, you rested your forehead against his in utter bliss. Breath mingling, you slowed to a stop and sat there in silence, relishing in the stretch of him seated completely inside you, the warm feeling of his spend mingling with your own deep in your core. 

After a minute, you pulled your head back to look at him. His face was flushed, eyes drooped in satisfaction and chest heaving from the exertion. The two of you started laughing in euphoria and Atsumu peppered kisses over your shoulder. You slid your fingers through his unkempt hair and pressed a kiss to his temple.

“That was really something, ‘Tsumu.” You hummed, giggling as he wrapped his arms tightly around you to hold you to his chest. 

“Sure was. Sorry ‘bout not pulling out. I really was gonna try but you just do somethin’ to me I can’t explain. I didn’t expect to cum that fast.” His hands explored your back, fingers running lightly over the fabric. 

“It’s alright. I’m not complaining.”

He pulled back to give you that handsome goofy grin again before kissing you sweetly. You gave him a chaste kiss before pulling away and looking down at the mess you made. Luckily, most of the mess was still trapped inside you thanks to him but if you weren’t careful, it’d get all over his slacks once he pulled out.

“How should we do this? You can’t go back in with a giant cum stain on your pants.”

He hummed in thought, looking around his car. He didn’t have any rags or towels handy, but he did have a load of napkins that he threw onto the floor when looking for a condom. Holding you closely to him, Atsumu reached over to scoop up as many napkins as he could reach. The shift of him had you both groaning at the overstimulation. 

Gathering a handful of napkins, he held them under you as you slowly slid off of him, catching as much fluid as possible. You both hissed at the feeling of him leaving you. Thankfully, he was able to catch almost everything with the napkins, save for a few splatters that got on his expensive leather seats.

“Shit, sorry ‘Tsumu. I can help pay to have that cleaned.”

He shook his head immediately, cleaning himself off with the napkins and dropping them on the floor next to his seat. He worked on tucking his length back into his boxer briefs and slacks while you cleaned yourself as best you could, pulling your panties back into place and fixing your dress. Turning your head, you pulled down his sun visor and opened the mirror to get a better look at the state of your makeup.

It was mostly intact, save for your lip tint that was slightly smeared which was fixed with a little swipe of a napkin and your hair was easily tamed since Atsumu had avoided running his fingers through it. There were remnants of your lipstick covering your neck from where Atsumu had furiously attacked. Atsumu had his own stains on his neck from where you had been kissing him. You made eye contact with him through the mirror as he gazed at you with a smirk. You huffed in amusement and cleaned up your neck, then turned to clean up his. 

He didn’t take his eyes off you as you did, watching you carefully wipe the smears off his skin. You wiped his mouth last, taking your time as you watched him part his lips for you. Once you were done, you dropped the napkin on the floor with the rest and sighed at him longingly. If only you had more time. You’d let this man do whatever he wanted to you. Unfortunately, you had a wedding reception to get back to. 

“Well, thanks for the good time ‘Tsumu.”

He watched your face carefully and you noticed the ever so slight crease fold in his brow. “Yeah. O’course.”

The silence that followed was a bit awkward, so after a second, you moved to open the car door but he grabbed your hand before you could. “Wait.”

You turned back to him and raised a brow, deciding to busy yourself with buttoning up his shirt and vest. He suddenly seemed very shy, rubbing his fingers over the flesh of your waist in little circles. Finally he spoke.

“When are ya headed back to Tokyo?”

You stilled your fingers which were working on the last button of his shirt. “Tomorrow.”

He nodded and seemed to be deep in thought before drumming his fingers against you in nervousness. “I fly back tonight but… wouldya be interested in meetin’ up sometime? I don’t have much free time but I’ll find the time for ya.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest at the offer. “Like… a date?”

Atsumu’s cheeks turned a shade darker in the almost nearly setting sun as he grumbled, now looking at anything but you. “I mean, yeah? Unless you don’t want it to be, then it doesn’t have to be a date I guess. Could be a friendly hang out or somethin-”

You cut him off with a brief but strong peck. You didn’t want to risk getting more lipstick on him. “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

He perked up and squeezed your sides. “Really?”

You giggled and nodded. “Yes! Of course I would, you big airhead.”

The next couple seconds consisted of him raining kisses all over any part of you he could reach with you laughing and trying to push him away, begging him not to ruin your makeup. After losing the battle and cleaning lipstick off of him again, you finished buttoning up his vest and pulling your dress into place before you left the car.

You slid your heels back onto your aching feet while Atsumu refastened his belt and gathered up all the used napkins, making a mild sound of disgust at the large amounts of viscous fluid covering most of them that was getting all over his hand. Once his car was locked up, you both walked hand-in-hand back to the reception where it seemed no one even noticed the two of you had left.

After tossing the napkins into the nearest trash can, the both of you went to the bathroom to clean up any remaining mess before returning to the crowds. Plopping down at your table, the two of you gulped down multiple cups of water and started digging into the refreshments. Atsumu had consumed at least 3 onigiri and 2 little bowls of miso soup on his own before Osamu plopped down next to him, looking weathered from the dancing.

“Where have you two been? I lost track of ya like half an hour ago.”

You felt your cheeks heat up and you focused on your bowl of miso soup, stirring the broth around with your spoon. Atsumu seemed to be much less embarrassed, chest puffing up in pride as he finished off his next onigiri. Osamu raised an eyebrow and studied the two of you before looking at Atsumu’s neck, where a very obvious hickey was starting to bloom and groaned in disgust.

“Jesus, y'all are nasty. Where the hell did ya find a place to jump each other’s bones around here, huh? Out on the grass? There are kids here.”

You covered your face in embarrassment as Atsumu angrily started defending the two of you. “O’course not, jackass! Do you really think so little of me? You really think I’d do that?”

Osamu instantly agreed that he would, in fact, probably do that. Atsumu grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and shook him around. “No! We did it in my car, thank you very much. And it was amazing. Have you ever done it in a car before, ‘Samu? Doubt it! No chick will ever want to go down on you if you keep cruising around in that beater of yours!”

The twins really started getting at it now, yelling at each other and rolling around on the ground, trying to get the last punch in. You tried to avert your eyes and pretend you didn’t know them. Kita, bless his heart, came up to separate the two who instantly fell to their knees to apologize for making a scene at his wedding. 

Atsumu came to you after, pouting about his brother and sporting a busted lip. You coddled him, helping clean the blood off his chin. Osamu gagged from his place at the table, now sitting next to you instead of Atsumu so they didn’t try to fight each other again. 

The rest of the night went smoothly. The dancing finally wrapped up and the send off was magical. The newlyweds ran through the line of guests who held sparklers above their heads, making for a magical exit into the night as the couple set off for their honeymoon. You had to stop Atsumu from starting Osamu’s hair on fire with his sparkler shortly after, taking both men’s sticks from them to put in a water bucket. 

All of Kita��s old volleyball friends stuck around to help clean up, helping put away the tables and chairs, and taking down the decorations. By the time it was over, you were wiped and ready to go back to your hotel room to sleep until noon. 

As you were loading up the last of the boxes into the trunk of your car, you felt someone come up behind you and ghost their hands over your stomach, pressing a tender kiss on the back of your neck. You smiled as you closed the trunk, reaching a hand up to slide through Atsumu’s soft hair. He buried his face in your neck and the two of you stood there for a minute, savoring the warmth of each other in the brisk darkness. 

“I wrote my number down on a napkin and put it in yer purse. Call me when y’ get back to Tokyo tomorrow, ‘kay? Wanna make sure y’ get back safe and sound.” 

You smiled and turned to face him, running your fingers over the tie that still hung loosely around his neck. “I will. I’ll text you when I get back to my hotel so you have my number, and you text me when you make it back to Tokyo tonight too. Need to make sure my date makes it back in one piece.”

He smiled and nodded in agreement, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. 

A day you thought would be full of nerves and worry, had turned into one of the best nights of your life.

-

If you thought Kita and Kumi’s wedding was nerve wracking, it didn’t hold a candle to your OWN wedding. 

Pressed close to Osamu’s side, you waited anxiously as the wedding procession in front of you started their walk down the aisle. Since you had no living male blood relative that you wanted to walk you down the aisle, your now almost brother-in-law was immediately your first choice. He was surprised, of course, but said yes in a heartbeat. Atsumu’s twin had easily weaseled his way into your heart soon after you started dating Atsumu, as rocky and embarrassing as your first night meeting him was.

He gave you a free meal every time you visited Onigiri Miya, and charged Atsumu full price to make up the difference. He gave you the most embarrassing pictures of Atsumu in his phone to use for blackmail. He was the ring-leader in making sure everything was perfect the night Atsumu proposed to you, keeping a crowd of people at bay to make sure you and Atsumu were alone when he dropped to one knee in the middle of a large gorgeous bridge at the popular tourist site, the Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden. He got yelled at in many languages that day from the angry tourists who wanted to cross the bridge, but it was well worth it. Suna, who held off the swarm of people on the other side of the bridge, would agree.

Just like you had the day of Kumi and Kita’s wedding, you were trembling and clutched Osamu’s arm desperately. He looked down at you and smiled. 

“You’re ok, (Y/n). Everything is going smoothly. All you have to do today is make it down that aisle to ‘Tsumu and enjoy yourself for the rest of the night. We’ll take care of everything.”

You looked up at him with a teary smile at his words. With no siblings of your own, your relationship with Osamu meant the world to you. Standing on your tip-toes, you softly kissed his cheek. “Thanks, ‘Samu.”

It was finally your turn to walk down the aisle. With a deep breath, Osamu slowly started to lead you into the room packed with family and friends. It was a gorgeous building. High steepled ceilings, white and burnt orange flowers scattered over every surface available. Since it was mid December, an outside wedding was impossible with the cold but you couldn’t have picked a more perfect place to get married in. 

The actual place itself didn’t matter though, as much as the man who waited down the aisle did. Atsumu was dressed in a gorgeous black tux that was pressed to perfection with a sleek black tie to match. His hair was styled the same way it had the day you met him, brushed casually to the side. To your surprise, Atsumu was already crying.

Seeing you walk down the aisle in your beautiful dress, on the arm of his life-long best friend broke him down immediately. You couldn’t help but tear up yourself as Osamu brought you to him. Osamu softly gave your trembling hand to Atsumu, kissed your temple, and gave Atsumu a crushing hug before taking his place at the front of the line of groomsmen. Speaking of groomsmen, you noticed many of them were also already crying. 

Atsumu’s teammates were lined up next to him. Kita and Aran both had tears lining their eyes. Hinata and Bokuto, who you became fast friends with, were almost on the verge of full-on sobs. Suna wasn’t crying but had a smile on his face. Sakusa wasn’t crying either but didn’t seem as bored as he usually did. 

“You look so beautiful.” Atsumu blubbered out in a whisper as he moved to take both of your hands. Your wet eyes sparkled as you took in every inch of him.

“So do you,” you teased, which made him laugh. 

The rest of the ceremony both flew by and dragged on. You stumbled through your vows, trying to keep your tears at bay which proved mostly unsuccessful. Atsumu was in the same boat, barely able to make it through his own vows without choking up. 

By the time Atsumu dipped you into a fierce kiss, you were sure your makeup was already ruined from your tears. Everyone cheered loudly in joy. Osamu was hooting and hollering. Hinata and Bokuto finally succumbed to their emotions, crying hysterically. You were breathless by the time Atsumu brought you back to your feet, steadying you with his hands as you smiled widely at the crowd.

Interlocking your fingers, Atsumu led you back down the aisle through the shower of white confetti just like he had the day you met him. In fact, your photographer captured the moment almost in the exact same way that Kumi and Kita’s photographer had. You loved the photos so much, they were hanging up side-by-side in your and Atsumu’s house. 

In both pictures, the two of you were smiling more than you ever thought was possible, holding hands and looking at each other with such tenderness you could feel it through the photo. You didn’t really believe in love at first sight, but looking at the photos side-by-side, you realized the two of you had looked at each other that fateful day the same way you looked at each other on your wedding day.

[embbarnes]

This took me so long I'm so sorryyyyy. I meant to do this like, last week. I've just been busy prepping for my new addition lol.

I adored this one, you did such a good job writing him and I think this is one of my fav Logan fics from you!

Like always my thoughts and such are below the cut ~

He hates how commercialized the holiday is thanks to the multi-billion dollar corporations that fill department stores with trinkets the second that Christmas is over. He hates all of the pressure and unrealistic expectations that come with planning the perfect date. And as much as he hates to admit it to himself, he hates that it's a stark reminder that he's just as alone in this universe as he had been in the last one.

My first thought was yes, I feel this hard.

He'd never admit it aloud, but just maybe the fact that he can’t keep his thoughts from straying to a specific next door neighbor certainly doesn’t help. He hates to use the word crush at his grown age, but he can’t really think of a better word for it. If it’s not a crush, why else would he be wondering what your plans are for this evening? Why else would he feel the unmistakable, undeniable twinge of jealousy when he thinks of the mere possibility of you spending your night in the arms of someone other than him?

I love a jealous Logan. I love the neighbor trope so much too, it was one I never really thought about until reading your fics.

“Oh, no. Not a date,” you correct him quickly with a bashful grin. “Well, maybe. Is it considered a date if I’m dining by myself?” “You’re going to dinner by yourself?” Logan asks, unable to hide the surprise in his tone. “Looking like that?”

Ay ay ay...Logan, don't judge. Sometimes it's nice to go out and treat yourself

All it takes is one look at the table that the host takes the two of you to for Logan to realize that he has indeed never had Korean barbecue. You don’t appear to be the slightest bit confused so he assumes that the circular grill built into the middle of the table is normal, though he’s never seen anything quite like it in a restaurant before. You giggle when you notice the curious expression on his face. “It’s kinda like hibachi,” you begin. “Except instead of someone cooking it in front of you, you cook it yourself.” Logan takes in the array of various meats on the tray to the left of him. You pick up a piece of what appears to be some kind of beef with a pair of tongs, and place it on the grill. It sizzles, and he watches as you add a few more pieces of meat onto the hot surface. “Isn’t that kinda the whole point of going to a restaurant? To have someone else cook the food for you?” He asks the question as gently as he can, not wanting to hurt your feelings. He’s just happy to be here with you – even if he doesn’t fully understand the appeal of going to a restaurant to pay to cook your own food.

I've never been to a place like this or had Korean bbq at all and my first thought was the same as his, but I've always wanted to try it lol.

“Last week, when we got stuck in the elevator together,” you begin in a low voice. He swears that your eyes flicker to his lips for a split second before meeting his gaze once more. “Were you nervous?”

She's better than me I'd NEVER work myself to ask him this lmaoo

“Do you wanna come up to my place?” you breathe, nodding your head in the direction of the apartment building. “What? You don’t wanna come to mine and hang out with Al?” he teases, nudging you in the direction of the building’s entrance. “As tempting as that sounds…” You trail off, following his lead. The second that the elevator door comes to a close, his hands are back on you. He backs you up against the wall, his hands gripping your hips as you spread your legs enough to allow one of his thick thighs in between them. This time, he’s the one who kisses you, wasting no time in slipping his tongue between your lips. You whimper into the kiss, your tongue fighting his for dominance.

Yesss this is what I was waiting for! She's so playful lol and he's a big ol' tease.

“Fuckin’ hell,” you groan. “Not this again.”

No no...this is good.

There’s a mischievous look on your face. Before he can question you, you’re sliding down the wall until you reach the floor. You reach for his belt with your hands, making quick work of undoing the buckle and then the button to his jeans. Oh. All Logan can do is stare down at you in wonderment as you tug his zipper down. “This okay with you?” you ask, but the look on your face says that you already know the answer.

This okay with you - girl, he's about to bust rn. He's def okay with this lol

Later, he tells himself. He’ll get you naked later, in the privacy of your apartment, where there’s no risk of the elevator doors sliding open at any given moment.

A gentleman, don't argue w me.

Your cunt tastes as sweet as the fruity wine from the restaurant did on your tongue. He eats you like he wants to get drunk off of you, alternating between soft licks through your folds and fervent kisses to your swollen bud. He feels your legs quiver around the sides of his head. He supports you from below, letting you go all but limp above him. He glances up at you, your head thrown back in pleasure and your chest heaving with ragged breaths.

He is diving in there 😩 Grab his hair and tug -

“Do you.. wanna wait until we get back to your..?” “God, no,” you exhale, and pull him to you by grabbing his flannel in your fists.

LMAO same girl 😭

“Mind if I still come back to your place? I know we just…” He trails off, glancing down at where he’s still tucked inside you. “But I just realized I forgot to pick up cigarettes for Al and she isn’t gonna be too happy with me.” You roll your eyes, and playfully push him away from you so that you can tug your skirt back into place. “I think I can find a way to be okay with that,” you smirk. “If we ever get out of this fuckin’ elevator.”

This ending was so hilarious too I absolutely loved it from start to finish. The fin little moments and the build up, the smut scene was HOT and the funny little quips added into the fic were MUAH. You did sooo good with this one ~ 💕💕💕

either way, i'm going your way

logan howlett x reader (worst!logan x reader)

word count: 4k

summary: logan doesn't remember the last time he celebrated valentine's day, and he doesn't have any reason to believe that this year will be any different. then he runs into you, wade's neighbor, who happens to love the holiday despite not having anyone to celebrate it with.

warnings/tags: smut, 18+ only mdni, sex in a public place kind of, oral (m&f receiving), unprotected p in v, logan's pov, neighbor!reader, reader is afab, reader is described as being shorter than logan, no use of y/n, hints of grumpy x sunshine

this is my entry for @yxtkiwiyxt & @lubdubology valentine's writing challenge! thank you both for hosting this, i can't wait to read the other submissions ❤️

logan howlett masterlist

Logan has been alive for two centuries worth of Valentine's Days. He can count on one hand how many he’s actually celebrated, and he can't recall the last time he had a reason to even acknowledge the day.

To him, Valentine’s Days have always been just another Tuesday, or Thursday, or whatever day it falls on that year.

He hates how commercialized the holiday is thanks to the multi-billion dollar corporations that fill department stores with trinkets the second that Christmas is over. He hates all of the pressure and unrealistic expectations that come with planning the perfect date. And as much as he hates to admit it to himself, he hates that it's a stark reminder that he's just as alone in this universe as he had been in the last one.

Technically he can't say that he's entirely alone. Romantically? Yes. Sexually? Yes.

Physically, however, he’s lodged between a blind eighty-year-old cocaine addict and a ten pound living tumor - the latter of whom keeps trying to French kiss him.

Wade might be out with Vanessa for Valentine’s Day, but for Logan, this is any other Friday night – watching Who Wants To Be A Millionaire reruns with Al and Mary Puppins.

Something about his current predicament makes him feel even more alone than if he actually were alone. Maybe it’s how unfamiliar and foreign this universe still feels in so many ways – he’s been here for some months now, but there’s some things that remind him that he still has a ways to go in terms of adjustment.

He'd never admit it aloud, but just maybe the fact that he can’t keep his thoughts from straying to a specific next door neighbor certainly doesn’t help. He hates to use the word crush at his grown age, but he can’t really think of a better word for it. If it’s not a crush, why else would he be wondering what your plans are for this evening? Why else would he feel the unmistakable, undeniable twinge of jealousy when he thinks of the mere possibility of you spending your night in the arms of someone other than him?

He has no one to blame but himself, and he knows it. He had the perfect opportunity to ask you out just last week, and he didn’t take it. The two of you were both taking the elevator up to your neighboring apartments when it broke down for the third fucking time in the last month. It took nearly an hour for maintenance to get it back up and running, and he couldn’t find the nerve to simply ask if you have any plans at any point during the time you were trapped in the fifteen square feet of space together. Instead, he awkwardly rambled about he had walked in on Wade and Vanessa in a compromising position the day before.

He cringes at the memory, tossing back another swig of whiskey when he realizes the bottle is empty. He sighs, earning a side-eye from Mary Puppins.

If this is how he’s going to be spending his evening, he should at least be a little intoxicated.

“I’m going to the liquor store,” Logan announces as he transfers Mary Puppins from his lap to Al’s before standing up from his position on the couch for the first time in hours. “You need anything?”

“Pick me up a couple of scratchers and a pack of Newports.”

Just her usual requests, then.

Logan throws on his leather jacket, dreading the cold and dreary February night but willing to face it for a bottle of bourbon and some cigars. He’s been out of those since yesterday, so a trip to the nearest convenience store is much needed, anyway.

The door to the apartment complex’s singular outdated elevator is sliding to a close when Logan hears a familiar, feminine voice call out.

“Hold up!”

Logan immediately pushes the hold button, freezing the door in place. A second later, you appear in the doorframe. You’re slightly out of breath, with a relieved expression on your face.

“Thanks,” you greet him as you lean against the wall of the elevator, smoothing your hands over the fabric of your plaid skirt. “I’m running late to my dinner reservations and really didn’t wanna have to take the stairs in these.” You glance down at the heels of the uncomfortable looking thigh high boots that you’re wearing.

Uncomfortable looking and hot, he thinks, before your words sink in. Dinner reservations – of course you’d have plans tonight. He feels a slight pang of disappointment (and jealousy, if he’s being honest with himself) at the realization, but he isn’t surprised.

“Well, let’s cross our fingers that we don’t get stuck in here again and that you make it to your date on time,” Logan says with a forced laugh and smile as he pushes the button once again to close the door, followed by the button that says lobby.

“Oh, no. Not a date,” you correct him quickly with a bashful grin. “Well, maybe. Is it considered a date if I’m dining by myself?”

“You’re going to dinner by yourself?” Logan asks, unable to hide the surprise in his tone. “Looking like that?”

Your eyes widen in shock. “What’s wrong with how I look? And what’s wrong with going to dinner by myself?”

“Nothing!” Logan begins to backtrack when he realizes how his questions came across. “You - you look great. I'm just a little surprised. Would’ve assumed that you had a date tonight is all—”

He trails off when he realizes that you’re pursing your lips together in an obvious attempt to hide a smirk. The mischievous glimmer in your eyes gives you away.

“I’m just fucking with you, Logan,” you snort with a playful slap to his arm. “I know it’s a little unconventional to take yourself out on Valentine’s Day. But I’ve always loved the holiday despite being painfully single, so I thought why not? Better than sitting at home and sulking all night.”

The corners of his lips threaten to twitch upwards at the words painfully single as he contemplates the rest of your response. He can’t help but admire your way of thinking. He was content with staying holed up inside the apartment and drinking himself into a stupor, but he can’t deny that your outlook on the holiday is far less depressing and boring than his.

“What about you?” you ask as the elevator comes to a stop with a melodic ding. You exit, looking back at him over your shoulder. “Are you on your way to your Valentine’s plans?”

He chuckles at the question. For a second, he considers lying to you. He considers telling you that yes, he is on his way to pick up his date right now, just so he doesn’t have to tell you the truth – that he’s on his way to buy bourbon, cancer sticks, and lottery tickets for him and his elderly roommate. But with his luck, you’d run into Wade tomorrow and he’d open his big fucking mouth about how Logan actually spent his night, and the thought of that is even more mortifying than telling you the truth to your face.

“Not unless you count making a liquor run as Valentine’s plans,” he sighs, averting your gaze as he opens the door to the apartment building for you. “The only thing I plan on doing tonight is listen to Althea scream at her game shows.”

You come to a stop outside of the apartment building, wrapping your coat tightly around your chest to fight off the chilly night air. There’s a peculiar look on your face that Logan can’t quite read – something between amusement and hesitation.

“You could have worse dates, I suppose,” you laugh.

“That’s true,” Logan agrees. “At least I have Vanessa to thank for a Wade free evening. But I’ll let you go, don’t wanna make you late for your—”

“Do you like Korean barbecue?”

Logan freezes, taken aback by the question. He snaps his mouth shut, realizing he’s staring at you like a deer in the headlights.

“Korean barbecue?” He asks lamely. “Don’t think I’ve ever tried it.”

He’s had barbecue. He’s had Korean food.. maybe? He’s been alive a really long time, he’s sure he’s had Korean food at some point in the last two hundred years.

But he can’t say that he’s had Korean barbecue.

A nervous looking grin appears on your face, and you cross your arms over your chest before taking a small step towards him.

“Are you hungry?”

••••••

All it takes is one look at the table that the host takes the two of you to for Logan to realize that he has indeed never had Korean barbecue.

You don’t appear to be the slightest bit confused so he assumes that the circular grill built into the middle of the table is normal, though he’s never seen anything quite like it in a restaurant before.

You giggle when you notice the curious expression on his face.

“It’s kinda like hibachi,” you begin. “Except instead of someone cooking it in front of you, you cook it yourself.”

Logan takes in the array of various meats on the tray to the left of him. You pick up a piece of what appears to be some kind of beef with a pair of tongs, and place it on the grill. It sizzles, and he watches as you add a few more pieces of meat onto the hot surface.

“Isn’t that kinda the whole point of going to a restaurant? To have someone else cook the food for you?” He asks the question as gently as he can, not wanting to hurt your feelings. He’s just happy to be here with you – even if he doesn’t fully understand the appeal of going to a restaurant to pay to cook your own food.

“It’s about the experience,” you explain with a shrug. “To be fair, when most people come to a Korean barbecue restaurant, they usually come with a group of people – hence the large amount of meat.” You nod towards the arrangement of the meats that have yet to be cooked.

“It’s a social thing. But all of my friends had plans with their significant others tonight, so…”

You trail off as the server places another tray on the table – this one covered in various colorful side dishes that he’s definitely never had before. He wouldn’t exactly describe himself as adventurous when it comes to trying new foods – for the most part, he lives off of ham and cheese sandwiches and frozen TV dinners. But he tried shawarma when he’d first arrived in this universe and ended up loving it, so he’s determined to try a bite of everything on this table.

“Sounds like it’s a good thing that you ran into me, then,” Logan murmurs when the server walks off.

You take your eyes off of the pieces of meat that you’re paying careful attention not to overcook, looking up at him through your lashes with a soft smile.

“I'd say that you’re right about that.”

••••••

Despite the breeze and the chilly night air, Logan feels perfectly toasty on the walk back to the apartment thanks to your tight hold on his arm and the wine that you had insisted that he try.

He'd learned a lot tonight – a lot about you; your hobbies and your interests. He’d learned all about Korean barbecue, and that he likes bulgogi and buldak.

Most importantly, he'd learned that he was stupid for ever being nervous about asking you out.

He feels at ease with you. He already knew he enjoys your company from all of the times that you’ve joined Wade’s movie nights and get-togethers – but he’d never been alone with you (with the exception of getting stuck in the elevator with you last week). Wade, Vanessa, Al, Peter, Yukio, and countless others always seemed to be present, making it near impossible for him to get to know you in the way that he’s wanted to since he first met you.

But now, with your arm intertwined with his and the scent of your perfume hitting him each time there is a gust of air, he knows that he is going to do all that he can to keep having moments like this with you.

“I have a question,” you state as the two of you turn onto the street where your apartment building is. Logan glances down at you in curiosity, but you’re not looking at him – you’re looking ahead, your teeth biting into your lower lip.

“What’s that?” Logan murmurs.

You hesitate, your eyes flickering up to him before quickly looking away again. “Did you actually like the kimchi?”

Logan can’t help but cackle, taken off guard by the question.

“That’s your question?” he laughs, thinking back to the spicy and tangy flavor of the fermented vegetables.

You come to a stop next to a streetlight outside of your apartment building, pulling your arm away from his to stand just inches in front of him.

“No,” you admit with a smirk. “Though I am curious about that, too.” You take a step closer to him, your chest ever so slightly brushing against his. He feels his breath catch in his throat at the way that your eyes twinkle in the glow of the streetlight.

“Last week, when we got stuck in the elevator together,” you begin in a low voice. He swears that your eyes flicker to his lips for a split second before meeting his gaze once more. “Were you nervous?”

He thinks back to his nervous rambling in the elevator, to how you looked so pretty that he found it difficult to hold direct eye contact with you, and to how it felt like half of his brain was screaming at him to ask you out and the other half was screaming at him to not make himself look like an idiot.

Yeah, nervous is accurate.

“That obvious, huh?” he sighs.

“Just a little,” you shrug. “But don’t worry. I was too.”

“Is that right?” Logan asks, trying not to give away just how happy the confession makes him. “And what about now?”

He doesn’t have to ask – he's standing close enough to you that your increased heartrate is easy for him to detect.

“Something like that,” you whisper, and before he fully process what’s happening, you’re raising up on your tippy toes to capture his lips in yours.

The taste of the fruity wine from dinner still lingers on your lips. He places his hands on the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. Your hands cradle his face, pulling him down closer to you. The warmth of you is a balm against the brisk night air, making him feel like he can’t get close enough to you. You don’t pull away until you’re breathless, looking up at him with dilated pupils in the florescent street lighting.

“Do you wanna come up to my place?” you breathe, nodding your head in the direction of the apartment building.

“What? You don’t wanna come to mine and hang out with Al?” he teases, nudging you in the direction of the building’s entrance.

“As tempting as that sounds…” You trail off, following his lead.

The second that the elevator door comes to a close, his hands are back on you. He backs you up against the wall, his hands gripping your hips as you spread your legs enough to allow one of his thick thighs in between them. This time, he’s the one who kisses you, wasting no time in slipping his tongue between your lips. You whimper into the kiss, your tongue fighting his for dominance.

It isn’t until he pulls away for air and opens his eyes that he realizes the elevator has come to a stop. It couldn’t have been moving for more than ten seconds –

“Fuckin’ hell,” you groan. “Not this again.”

Logan looks at the panel of buttons to his left. Sure enough, the number reads that you’re still a floor beneath your apartments. He beats his fist against the elevator wall, as if that’s actually going to help the matter.

Still pinned between his body and the wall, you pull your cell phone out from an interior pocket of your coat. You quickly find the number for building maintenance in your call history, but it just rings, and rings, and rings.

“I could probably pry the doors open,” Logan muses as he begins to pull away from you. He thinks back to how it took maintenance nearly an hour to get the elevator back up and running last week, and knows that he wouldn’t have the patience for that now. The thought of having to wait even a fraction of that long to get back to your apartment…

“Let’s not do anything that could potentially put the elevator out of commission permanently, yeah?” You pull him back to you, grabbing his face in your hand and making him look at you. “I think that we'll be just fine right here for a while.”

There’s a mischievous look on your face. Before he can question you, you’re sliding down the wall until you reach the floor. You reach for his belt with your hands, making quick work of undoing the buckle and then the button to his jeans.

Oh.

All Logan can do is stare down at you in wonderment as you tug his zipper down.

“This okay with you?” you ask, but the look on your face says that you already know the answer.

He nods, his mouth suddenly feeling too dry to speak. He helps you shimmy his boxers and jeans down enough for his cock to spring free. He glances around the elevator, double checking that there aren’t any security cameras. Considering this elevator is ancient and doesn’t even function half the time, he isn’t surprised to see that there aren’t any.

You take the base of him in your hand, languidly massaging the length as you tease his slit with your tongue. You lap up the beads of pre-cum before easing him past your lips.

The sight of you on your knees for him is enough to have him twitching in your mouth. Add in how your soft lips and tongue feel working his length, and he knows he won’t last long like this.

You bob your head around him, gagging when his head juts against the back of your throat. You pull off of him, leaving a thick rope of saliva that trails from his cock to your mouth.

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything prettier. He could spend hours looking at you like this.

But this isn’t how he wants to finish – in your mouth, before he’s even had a chance to make you feel good. So as much as it nearly kills him to do it, he pulls himself away from your sweet lips and yanks you back up by the tops of your arms. There’s the slightest hint of disappointment on your face, but it quickly disappears when he pushes your coat off of your shoulders and down your arms. It falls to floor, leaving you in still too many articles of clothing for Logan’s liking.

Later, he tells himself. He’ll get you naked later, in the privacy of your apartment, where there’s no risk of the elevator doors sliding open at any given moment.

For now, he settles for pushing the restrictive fabric of your skirt upwards, bunching it around your waist. He sinks to the ground in front of you, splaying his palms on your inner thighs and spreading your legs open for him. He rubs the pad of his thumb over the soft material of your panties, right over your clit. He feels shudder at the sensation, and notices the goosebumps that appear on the skin of your thighs.

He hooks his index finger through the cotton fabric, pulling it to the side. He looks up to see if there’s any kind of hesitation on your face, but you quickly pull him to your center by the back of his head, erasing any doubt. He chuckles lowly, and flattens his tongue over your slit.

Your cunt tastes as sweet as the fruity wine from the restaurant did on your tongue. He eats you like he wants to get drunk off of you, alternating between soft licks through your folds and fervent kisses to your swollen bud.

He feels your legs quiver around the sides of his head. He supports you from below, letting you go all but limp above him. He glances up at you, your head thrown back in pleasure and your chest heaving with ragged breaths.

His name slips through your lips, your voice strained with desperation. He loves the sound of it, and wants more than anything to hear you keep saying it. He snakes one of his hands between your thighs, and teases your hole with the tip 9t his finger. You involuntarily sink down, nudging the tip of it past your entrance.

He groans against your clit at how fucking tight you feel around his finger. God, he can’t wait to be inside you. He pumps the digit, your walls already clenching around him.

“Logan,” you moan from above him. “I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he hums against your clit. “Let go. I got you.”

Your climax washes over you with a sharp cry of his name and Logan mentally prays that the elevator walls aren’t as thin as the apartment walls.

When you go still above him, he reluctantly takes his mouth off of you and stands up. His jeans and boxers are still bunched just above his knees, his erection painfully hard and his balls full. He wipes the excess of your slick from his mouth with the back of his hand, and then begins to stroke his own length in his fist.

“Do you.. wanna wait until we get back to your..?”

“God, no,” you exhale, and pull him to you by grabbing his flannel in your fists.

His lips crash against yours as he nestles himself in between your legs, teasing your slit with the head of his cock. He coats it in your juices and eases into you slowly. You groan into his mouth and he has to try not to cum on the spot.

You’re tight, and warm, and your walls flutter around him just right. He hikes one of your thighs over his hip, deepening the angle before he pulls almost all the way out. He rocks back into you, working up to a steady pace.

The small, confined space is filled with the sound of your body meeting his and the sweet noises you make that are music to his ears. You grip around him like a velvet vice and he knows that he isn't going to last long.

“Gonna cum, honey,” he warns in a grunt next to your ear. “Ya feel too fuckin’ good.”

He feels your walls pulse around him at his words and he can tell that you're just as close as he is. A few more deep thrusts that hit your cervix just right and he’s spilling into you as you cum around him.

When he’s empty, his movements cease but he doesn’t pull out. He nuzzles his face against your throat, pressing kisses to the soft but sweat-slicked skin.

“Happy Valentine’s Day to us,” you murmur in a borderline delirious voice. He laughs, pulling back just enough to press his lips to yours.

“Mind if I still come back to your place? I know we just…” He trails off, glancing down at where he’s still tucked inside you. “But I just realized I forgot to pick up cigarettes for Al and she isn’t gonna be too happy with me.”

You roll your eyes, and playfully push him away from you so that you can tug your skirt back into place.

“I think I can find a way to be okay with that,” you smirk. “If we ever get out of this fuckin’ elevator.”

not my favorite thing i've ever written by any means, i've been feeling really unmotivated to write and have felt kinda burnt out, but i still wanted to get this out before valentine's day bc if i didn't then i never would have finished it at all, lol. so i'm sorry it's short 😭 hope you still enjoyed

reblogs/comments are always appreciated, thanks for reading!

[httpsdana]

I saw that ur doing a fake-dating trope for pau but i think it would work so well for alejandro too 😭😭 maybe him and the read r both in la masia and he wants to get his family to stop pestering him about his partying habits so he convinces the reader to go along with it

Too Real~Alejandro Balde

・❥・prompt list

・❥・ masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who i write for

・❥・a/n: this will be my last post till the middle of march when i finish my finals 🫶🏻

“Fake date? Really?” y/n almost rolled her eyes at Alejandro’s words.

“Please. I just need my parents to get off my back for a while. They think all I do is go to parties and hang out with random girls,” he said.

y/n gave him a pointed look. “But that’s what you’re doing,”

He let out a sigh, his hands flopping by his sides. Then he looked down at her, his eyes pleading.

“Just one dinner. I promise it wouldn’t be bad. I really need you to do this to me,” he said, not breaking eye contact. The intensity of his gaze made her look away.

“And what do I get from all this?” she raised her eyebrows, making his face light up with hope.

“Anything you want,” he said with a smile.

“Can we get ice cream after that dinner,” she said, making him chuckle with an amused smile.

“I just gave you the chance to ask for whatever you want and you want ice cream?” he didn’t hide his amusement, his eyes looking softly at her.

Her cheeks flushed from the look of his eyes, trying to bite back a smile.

“Well yes, what did you expect?” she said

He shrugged. “I don’t know, but not this”

“Well I’m a simple girl who loves ice cream” she responded

“Which is why I chose you for this . My parents will love you,” he replied, reminding her about their main topic here.

“right…” she murmured, kind of regretting her decision but there was no turning back now.

“Don’t worry, preciosa. If you feel uncomfortable, we can leave as soon as we get there,” he suggested, making her nod.

Maybe this fake date can make him notice the crush she has had on him for so long now.

y/n let out a sigh as she glanced at herself in the mirror one last time. She made sure to look as good as possible, without making it seem that she’s trying too hard. A mid-length black dress that showed just enough skin, with thin straps and matching heels. Fixing her lipstick one last time, she took a deep breath as her phone rang on the nightstand.

Alejandro’s name appeared, making her heart skip a beat as she hit accept quickly.

“Hello?” she said nervously, her voice shaky.

“Hola preciosa, I’m almost at your house. Are you done, or do you need more time?” he asked.

“uh…No I'm finished,” she mumbled, not trusting her voice much.

“Don't be nervous. I’ll be by your side all evening,” His voice broke the silence. She didn’t know why but the softness in his words made her nerves ease a bit.

They hung up as Alejandro arrived, while she sprayed her perfume and got her purse, rushing down to open the door.

Alejandro stood there, wearing a full black suit with a bouquet of red roses. His eyes raked her body, taking in every detail of her before looking at her face.

She never felt more thankful that her makeup wouldn't show how flushed her face felt

“Hola hermosa,” he said, his voice charming like always.

“hey,” she murmured, suddenly finding more interest in the heels she was wearing

“These are for you,” he handed her the roses, watching how her face twisted in confusion.

“that's the least I could do for you,” he shrugged. “and my mom would kill me if she found out i picked up my ‘girlfriend’ without bringing her her favorite flowers”

She had so many questions. So many that the only one she managed to ask was, “how did you know I love roses?”

Alejandro grinned proudly, his smile wide.

“oh i remember you mentioned it before at one of the team dinners back in the day,” he said so casually.

Her heart leaped in her chest at his little confession. He remembered that?

“Come on gorgeous, we can't keep them waiting for too long,” he snapped her out of her thoughts.

She quickly placed the roses in some water and followed Alejandro to his car.

The drive to the restaurant was silent. She was too anxious to say a thing, to the point where Alejandro thought he had done something to upset her.

As they reached their destination, Alejandro got out of his seat and to her side of the door, opening it for her and helping her out of the car.

“You look breathtaking,” he whispered in her ear, before reaching down and intertwining their fingers. Her face burned from the compliment and all she could do was give him a small smile.

“take a deep breath. you'll be fine,” he mumbled, pressing a small kiss on her hair and starting to make their way inside, his hand never leaving hers.

The waiter led them to their table, where his parents and brother were sitting.

Alejandro watched her hesitation as she looked at his family. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before speaking

“This is y/n. My girlfriend,” he introduced. She gave them a soft smile reaching over to shake his mom’s hand at first, giving her the two traditional cheek kisses.

“When Ale told me you were beautiful I didn’t imagine you this gorgeous,” his mom said. And before she had the chance to look at Alejandro he cleared his throat.

“Let’s sit down shall we?” He moved a chair for her, helping her sit down before settling next to her.

“So tell us y/n, how did you and Alejandro meet?” his dad asked before sipping out of his glass of wine.

“Oh we were at La Masia together,” she answered politely

“You’re a football player too? How interesting,” his brother looked impressed, making her blush slightly.

“Yeah I’m still at Barca, not a starter like this one here though,” she nudged Alejandro with her shoulder, making him chuckle.

“You’ll get your chance, preciosa,” he murmured, making her smile softly at his words.

Dinner was surprisingly easy. Alejandro’s family was warm and welcoming, and y/n found herself enjoying their company more than she expected.

His mother was kind, always asking about her family. His father was a bit more reserved, but his questions were thoughtful.

And his brother? His brother was just like him; making jokes that had her laughing despite her nerves.

But what made the evening feel different, special, was Alejandro himself.

From the moment they sat down, he was all over her in ways that were subtle yet impossible to ignore.

His hand rested on the back of her chair as he played with some strands of her hair, his fingers brushing against her neck.

Then his fingers brushed over hers when she reached for the menu. And as the dinner continued, he grew bolder.

His hand casually found her thigh under the table, his thumb stroking lazy circles against her skin.

And the kisses.

They were brief, soft. Just enough to make her heart race.

A quick peck on her temple when his mom complimented how beautiful she was. A soft kiss to her shoulder as he whispered something low in her ear, his lips barely brushing her skin.

And the one that almost made her melt was the gentle kiss on her knuckles when his father asked about her football career, his dark eyes locking with hers in a way that felt far too real.

y/n knew they were supposed to be ‘pretending’, but Alejandro was making it so difficult.

“So, y/n,” his mother spoke up, pulling her out of her train of thoughts, “Ale told me you like to draw too. That must be exciting.”

y/n nodded, suddenly aware of Alejandro’s fingers still tracing patterns on her thigh. “Yeah, I draw in my free time. Haven’t had him model for me yet ” she nudged him playfully.

Alejandro smirked, tilting his head. “Maybe soon princesa.”

The way he said it so gently made her heart flutter.

His mom grinned at them. “I just love how supportive you are of each other. It’s beautiful.”

Alejandro’s grip on her hand tightened, and without hesitation, he lifted it to his lips, pressing a slow kiss to her fingers. “She’s easy to support,” he murmured. “She’s amazing.”

She swore she stopped breathing at his tone.

The rest of dinner was a blur. Between Alejandro’s lingering touches, his soft kisses, the way he constantly leaned in just to whisper in her ear, it felt like the most intimate date she had ever been on.

And the worst part?

She didn’t want it to end.

After dinner, Alejandro kept his promise. Ice cream. Just the two of them.

The little shop was quiet, the neon sign lighting over them as they leaned against his car, their cones in hand.

She was about to take a bite when Alejandro’s thumb brushed the corner of her lips.

“You had some right here,” he murmured, his touch lingering a second too long. He raised his thumb between his lips, licking the ice cream of his fingers.

Her breath hitched in her throat and she froze for a moment.

God, this didn’t feel fake at all.

Alejandro exhaled deeply, setting his ice cream down on the hood of his car. “y/n,” he started, his voice softer now, more serious.

She turned to look at him, heart pounding. “Yeah?”

He ran a hand over his hair, his eyes flickering between her lips and her eyes. “I need to tell you something.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, suddenly terrified of what he was about to say.

“I know I asked you to do this because of my parents,” he admitted, his voice low. “But I chose you for a reason.”

Her brows furrowed at his confession. “What do you mean?”

He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing her cheek. “I could’ve asked anyone, preciosa. But I didn’t want anyone else. I wanted you.”

Her heart stopped for a second.

“Alejandro…” he started, but he interrupted her by tracing her jawline with his thumb, tilting her face up to meet his gaze.

“I’ve liked you for a long time. I just…I didn’t know how to say it. And when I saw you tonight, when we were with my family… it didn’t feel fake. Not for a second.”

She forgot how to breathe at the intimacy of his voice.

And before she could process what was happening, Alejandro leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips. It wasn’t forced. It was gentle, full of everything he hadn’t been able to say before.

And when he pulled away, he couldn’t help but grin.

“I want this to be real.”

She smiled softly, her hands sliding up to his shoulders. “Then let’s make it real.”

Alejandro beamed at her, capturing her lips again in a kiss that tasted like vanilla ice cream and something else; something sweeter.

my taglist: @barcapix @paucubarsisimp @spidybaby @mxryxmfooty @n0vazsq @joaosnovia @ilovebarcaaaa @f1lover55 @jajajhaahaha (lmk if you want to be added!!)

[thefeverburningalive]

ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ 𝖳𝖾𝗇 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝖨 𝖧𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖠𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖸𝗈𝗎.

billie eilish x fem! reader

chapter two | ch1

summary: due to the recent new rule given to your sister by your father, some meddling parties decide the easiest way to get you to date is by paying somebody to take you out. who better to do so then the hot mysterious delinquent?

a/n: part two is here! thank you SO MUCH for the love on the first part<3 sorry this one took so long to write but i really wanted to put my all into it! if you haven’t read the first part then please do before you read this one! requests are open so feel free to send them in:) please like, reblog, and share if you can <3

genre: slow burn, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, enemies(ish) to lovers, lowk fboy billie but not actually, eventual topics of drinking & high school parties

warnings: teenage partying (underage drinking), foul language

word count: 3.7k

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

“nice ride, vintage fenders. i dig it.” you’re met with the sound of billie’s voice and the scene of her leaning up against your car as you walk out of the small vintage shop. “are you following me?” billie laughs at your annoyance as she gets up and takes a smaller step closer to you. this time she’s wearing some black jeans, slightly less baggy than the ones she wore yesterday, along with a plain white tshirt and a black leather jacket. her hair was down this time with a little pair of dainty glasses decorating her face. “i was at the laundry mat across the street. i recognized your car from yesterday so i came to say hi.” the tone at which she spoke was unreadable, something you also noticed from yesterday, it was hard for you to analyze the true intention of her words. she looks at you like she’s anticipating a response, so with an eye roll you give her one. “hi.” you then swiftly try to enter your car. “not much of a talker, huh?” billie, just as swift, slides her frame between you and the car door- making it impossible for you to close said door. “depends on the topic. didn’t seem like there was much to discuss.” she tilts her head slightly at you, almost like she was confused yet amused. you raise her eyebrow at her and she continues to speak. “you’re really not afraid of me, are you?” billie seemed genuinely intrigued. her question perplexed you, as did she. “why would i be afraid of you?” you say, speaking more genuine then you have been with her. she simply shrugs, tugging her hands into her jacket pockets. “well- most people are.” it’s then your turn to give a slight chuckle. “well- im not most people.” you where pleased with your own response. not that you’re interested in talking to her, but it was fun to sass someone who wasn’t on your usual list. with that billie steps aside while putting her arm out in an ‘after you’ gesture, referring to you entering your own car. you roll your eyes and start the car- but not before noticing the wink billie throws your way. you make sure she catches your scoff before pulling out of the spot to drive home.

later that day, billie’s leaning up against her own car, smoking a cigarette once again while waiting for zoe to come out of the store. “we know what you’re trying to do- with y/n stratford.” billie turns her focus to see cameron and micheal standing beside her. “yeah? and what’re gonna do about it?” billie gives them a dead stare as she speaks. the two boys start to get nervous as they continue to speak. “w-we’re here to help out!” the boys then go on to explain how it was them who planned the whole ordeal. they also proceed to tell her about the information about you they had gotten from bianca, things like your favorite bands, favorite foods, along with the fact that you hated people who smoke. “so how exactly do you expect me to charm a girl who won’t even give me the time of day?” as billie speaks- she starts to get slightly annoyed. despite most people being afraid of her, she’s still always good with the ladies. not being able to get you into her charm was a challenge she’s getting frustrated with. “let’s start with friday night. there’s gonnna be a huge party. it’s the perfect opportunity.” the two seem pretty adamant about this party, but it’s not really billie’s scene. at this point billie notices zoe leave the store with a bag in hand. they give each other a look as zoe entered the passengers seat. “i gotta go. i’ll think about it.” cameron and micheal took a step back as billie entered her car. she starts it with a loud roar and headed off. “god i hope this works.” cameron says to micheal as micheal pats his back.

using the information she just obtained- billie found out that one of your favorite bands, the sleeping, would be playing at one of the local clubs that night. with much dismay billie sat herself at the bar of the club- the last place she’d want to be. “i need water!” you yell to your friend from on the dance floor before approaching the bar. as you order you notice billie sitting there, beer in hand. “you know, if you plan on asking me out again, you better just get it over with.” you say- mostly shout- to billie. she glances up then take a sip of her drink. “would you mind? you’re kind of ruining the music for me.” this makes you actually laugh. “you’re not surrounded by your usual smoke cloud.” you state the observation, actually holding conversation with the girl. “i know. i quit. they’re apparently bad for you.” billie has a hint of sarcasm in her voice as she remains seated, looking up at you. “you know, these guys are no jimmy eat world or taking back sunday, but they’re not bad.” she speaks once more, keeping her attention on the stage at the other end of the large room. “you know who taking back sunday is?!” you choke down the smile that dares to spread across your face, although for once billie is able to see through you. this makes her grin before continuing. “why? you don’t? y’know i was watching you out there before,, never seen you look so sexy mamas.” billie throws a wink your way as you cringe at the nickname. you take note that this isn’t the first time she’s called you that. the persistent girl then finally notices the amount of people watching her, realizing they all heard her call you sexy. she scratches the back of her neck slightly embarrassed of the attention and this makes you smirk as you cross your arms. “come to the party with me y/n.” that’s the first time she’s called you by your name. “you don’t give up, do you billie?” you seemed it only fitting to use her name in turn. “was that a yes?” billie now stands up infront of you. “no.” you state as you start to walk away from billie and towards your friends. “well, was that a no?!” billie shouts to you, cupping her hands around her mouth so her words reach you. “no!” you shout back over your shoulder, an unmistakable smile lightly displayed across your face.

friday night

as you walk down the stairs, you hear bianca and your father bicker. she’s begging him to let her and her friend go to the party. “daddy everyone expects me there!!” she shouts with her usual annoying whine-coated tone. “do you know about any party y/n?” your father turns his attention to you now. you simply shrug your shoulders, you knew about this party and how much it meant to bianca. as much as you two didn’t always get along she was still your sister, so you didn’t want to ruin her shot of going with your opinions. “bianca you’re not going unless your sister goes.” your fathers words make the both of your jaws drop. bianca turns to you and puts her hands on your shoulders. “can you please, just for one night, forget that you’re completely wretched and just be my sister? please y/n?? please do this for me!” even with her insults you could tell bianca was sincere. you closed your eyes and sighed. “fine. i’ll make an appearance i guess.” you gave in, and it makes both bianca and her friend start to jump up and down and scream with joy. your dad starts to give the two a lecture so you use the opportunity to slip back upstairs so you could change out of your lounge clothes. you settle on a pair of dark blue wash flair miss me jeans, along with an off the shoulder slightly baggy black long sleeved shirt. you slip into your beat up vans and head back downstairs. the three of you go to head out the door, but standing outside- mid knock in motion- is billie. “what are you doing here??” billie’s wearing a matching baggy tshirt and short set with some knee high socks, black shoes and bandana around her head. “it’s friday. im here to take you to the party.” you scoff and slide past her. “whatever. im driving.” and with that all four of you where off to the party. the second you arrive you’re met with loud music and drunken imbeciles. bianca and her friend immediately dissapeared, leaving you with just billie. “ayyyy look who crawled her way out of hell! lookin good tonight y/n!” joey stands infront of you, his friends whistling behind him. “fuck off joey. you’re too close, i can see your receding hairline.” you cross your arms and walk away, at this point you even lost billie. “aw cmon where you goin’?” joey jogs up to you and keeps your pace. “away.” you try to ignore him, but he doesn’t quit. “your sister here?” this makes you stop dead in your tracks. “you stay away from my sister.” you lean in close, your pointer finger pushing against his chest. he laughs and throws his arm up. “oh i’ll stay away from your sister, but i cannot guarantee she’ll stay away from me.” the cockiness and mockery that smothered his voice makes your blood boil. he seems satisfied firing you up and heads off in the direction of a bunch of guys chugging beer kegs. “oh fuck this.” giving in, you grab a red solo cup and fill it with whatever vile liquor was in the large kitchen. within thirty five minutes you’re already drunk.

billie had absolutely no idea where you went. one minute she was following behind you, and the next you’re completely out of her sight. just as she was about to give up she notices you over by a kitchen island, taking a shot, and pouring yourself another. “what’re you doing? ‘ve been lookin all over the place for you.” there’s a rosey hue that covers your cheeks due to the alcohol consumption, your guard and attitude are down as well. “psh i’m getting trashed man. isnt that what you’re supposed to do at a party?” you’re actually smiling as you speak. billie’s never seen anyone so.. pretty. maybe it was just the alcohol talking, for the both of you, but there was something about you that stood out to her. you then pushed past billie, letting her catch a wiff of your pistachio and vanilla perfume, and grabbed another drink. billie sighed and came to stand directly in front of you to take the drink. “hey hey, how ‘bout you let me have this one, huh?” you swerve your arm before she could take the bottle from you. “no! this one’s mine!” you make a quick run for it and leave billie stranded in the kitchen. she honestly wasn’t sure what to do. she thought about letting you get drunk and let loose- but apart of her knew that you’d be extremely unhappy by the morning. the sound of the cheering of your name and whistling pulls billie out of her thoughts. as she looked up she saw you standing on a coffee table, dancing and singing to whatever awful song is playing. more and more people gathered to watch as you sway your hips and run your fingers through your hair. billie pushed people out of her way to stand right beside the table, making sure not to take her eyes off of you as you stumble and dance. when you finally notice billie you attempt to say something to her, but before you can, you trip over your shoelaces. you prepared yourself to hit the ground but you’re met with strong, soft, arms. billie had caught you. all you could do was stare at her face. you’d never really looked that closely at it. from this angle, you could see all the soft freckles that decorated her face. her lips where a soft pink- just like her cheeks. her eyes where light blue yet somehow so deep, almost hypnotizing. “are you okay mamas?” billie held genuine concern for you, you could tell. what are you thinking? getting all soft. you should know better. don’t be weak. you then pushed billie away as you stood up. “ ‘m fine.” you attempt to walk away but you stumble and are forced to put a hand on billie’s shoulder to balance yourself. “you’re not fine. cmon.” billie puts your arm fully around her while placing her own around your waist. the taller girl starts to lead you through the crowded house, heading to the back door. “js needta.. sit.” was all you said- a pitiful attempt of a protest. billie says nothing in response while continuing to lead you now that you’re out in the backyard.

“cmon, here, sit down.” billie places you carefully onto a swing seat- but not before you slip and fall on your back. “jesus y/n- the last thing you need is a concussion.” billie gets you up and guides you back to the swing. she holds it while you plop yourself down, insuring that you don’t fall off. you get annoyed at her holding you up. “ugh you’re so patronizing.” billie laughs as she slowly lets you go. she places herself on the swing next to you but still turns her body to face you. “leave it up to you to use big words when you’re fucked up.” a silence falls over you two. for the first time neither of you know what to say next. every interaction that took place between the two of you had always had some sort of comment, rebuttal, question or answer. but now there was only silence. it was killing you now that some of the alcohol was wearing off, enough to make you aware but yet still tipsy enough to be lose. “why are you doing this?” you broke the silence. you wanted answers so you broke the silence. “well, you could get sick.. plus i gotta make sure you didn’t hit your head hard enough to do some damage.” billie’s answer wasn’t exactly what you wanted to hear. sure, that may be why she’s currently doing what she’s doing, but that didn’t answer what you actually wanted to know. “you wouldn’t care if i never woke up.” you crossed your right leg over your left, letting the other bounce up and down. “sure i would.” you give her a look that makes her laugh, and it’s almost contagious. almost. “if you didn’t wake up then i’d have to start taking out girls who actually like me.” billie responded while leaning her body the slightest bit closer to you. you rolled your eyes and looked away. “like you could find one.” billie lets out a smaller, shorter, laugh now. “see! that there. who needs affection when i have blind hatred?” you couldn’t lie, that made you laugh a little. you sighed with a slight smile. “i don’t really know you.” you say as you look up at the sky, admiring some of its stars. billie pauses for a moment, debating on what to say next. “then again you don’t really know me either.” after adding that part in, you brought your focus back to billie. her expression softens, she looks down at her own hands, before looking back at you, then back at her hands. “eilish. uh- my middle name is eilish. i always thought my last name was silly so i started introducing myself with my middle name when i was a kid.” even though she wasn’t looking at you, you where looking at her. “billie eilish. hm. has a nice ring to it.” your response gets her to lock eyes with you, noticing that you have a smile plastered on your face. this time you weren’t trying to hide it. “i can’t believe i drank so muchhh im so dumb.” you change the topic with a whine and put your head in your hands while leaning on your knees. “yeaaah i definitely didn’t picture you to be the party type.” billie didn’t want to push to ask why, but almost as if you could read her mind, you started to speak. “i let him get to me.” picking your head up with a sigh, you look back at her. “why though?” this time billie allows herself to push just the slightest bit. “i hate him.” you both pause, looking at each other, and then break out into a small fit of laughter. “well you’ve chosen the perfect revenge. tequila.” her small dig made you roll your eyes. “yeah yeah. no need to remind me eilish.” this was your first time giving her a nick name instead of the other way around. you didn’t notice, but this caused a small blush to creep across her face. “mhm. well i told you something about me, so do i get to hear something about you?” billie speaks with a slight nervous tone, almost like she’s unsure if she’s saying the right thing. you think for a few seconds, unsure of what you should or shouldn’t share. “i play the guitar. nothing fancy, im self taught, but it’s something i enjoy doing in solitude.” once again silence falls over you.

billie goes to say something but notices you leaning against the swings chain with your eyes closed. “y/n?” no response. she leans a little closer. “y/n??” once again no response. she quickly gets up and knees in front of you, bringing her hand to your face as she softly taps over and over again on your cheek. “hey, hey, hey- shit fuck- no no, y/n wake up- y/n can you hear me??” this makes you blink your eyes open and lean into her touch. your faces merely inches apart. “hey.. im up.. ‘js tired.” neither of you move. “y’know.. your eyes are so pretty.” you say just barley above a whisper. billie sighs with a smile, and also relief. she realizes her hand is still cupping your face, so she quickly pulls away. like clockwork a wave of nausea hits you. you turn your body around in the seat and start to throw up. it wasn’t a lot- but enough to make you audibly groan. “aaaand on that note, let’s get you home.” she pats your back and lets you finish up before helping you up and walks you to the car. billie of course took your keys the second she caught you from falling, so naturally she gets in the drivers seat. you didn’t even question it. you sip on some water as billie turns on the radio before she starts to drive you home. the sound of one of your favorite songs causes you to slightly turn up the volume. “god i love no doubt. such a good band.” billie only hums in response. “i should do this.” you say as billie then takes a quick look at you before bringing her attention back to the road. “do what?” she had no idea what you where talking about. “this!” you point to the radio. “start a band?” her question makes you scoff. “no become a car stereo. yes start a band! my father would looove that.” you lean your head against the back of the seat and start to look out the window. a part of you dreads going back home. “you don’t strike me as the type that would ask your father for permission.” billie doesn’t look at you, but it takes everything in her not to. “oh so you think you know me?” you turn your body in the passengers seat to face her a little more. billie chuckles and steals a quick look at you before leaning her right elbow on the center console and using her left hand to steer the car. “i’m gettin there.” billie says as she stops at a red light. “the only thing people know about me is that i’m ‘scary’ and a bitch.” you use finger quotes when saying the word scary while emphasizing the description others gave you. “yeah well i’m not a picnic either.” she looks at you after speaking, coincidentally at the same time you look at her- almost like the two of you are sharing a moment of connection before billie sees the light turn green from her peripheral vision. she turns back to the road and continues to drive. it gets quiet once more so billie begins to talk again. “so, what’s up with your dad? is he a pain in the ass?” you could tell billie’s question was genuine. “no not really, he just wants me to be someone i’m not.” after responding you notice the two of you are approaching your house. “who?” billie asks while putting the car into park. “bianca.” the question and answer was cut and dry. “ah bianca.. no offense or anything, i know everyone digs your sister, but uhm.. i think you’re the better stratford sister.” billie’s now turned towards you, leaning back in her seat. you start to stare at her, a little bit of new found admiration fills your chest. “you know, you’re not as vile as i thought you where.” you where now leaning in to her. inching closer and closer, lips parting, the want to kiss her taking over your whole body. you thought this is what you wanted, what she wanted, what you both wanted. but before your lips could connect with hers, she slightly pulls back and clears her throat before speaking. “maybe we should uh- do this another time.” you couldn’t even describe the intense emotions you felt. anger. disappointment. embarrassment. nothing was said before you stormed out of the car, slamming it shut.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

tag list <3 : @emilyshortcake

[cherryvinyl-777]

I Like Me Better When I’m With You

Part 2

I Like You Better With Your Hair Down

Summary: After a week of fake dating Ellie Williams, unforeseen circumstances make you bend your own rules.

Warnings: none! enjoy cuties <3

It had been a little over a week since yours and Ellie’s ‘scam’ had begun to take place. It was a hard launch, to say the least. Giggling by eachothers lockers, sitting next to eachother in class, and Ellie even took it upon herself to write you notes every lunch, slipping them into your jeans’ back pocket before she’d kiss your cheek and lead you over to her and her friends’ lunch table. Obviously, your ‘absolutely no kissing rule’ hadn’t really stuck with Ellie.

You place your lunch tray on the steel table, taking your place beside Ellie. You could tell that her friends didn’t really like you, no matter how polite they pretended to be. After all, who could blame them? They’d probably endured years of Ellie’s rants focused on you, and now she was dating that very same girl? You really couldn’t judge them for their distaste, no matter how much it stung.

“Babe?” Ellie’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts, your hand stopping its motions of absentmindedly playing with the food on your tray. Lots of…brown muck and squishy strawberry’s

“Sorry, what?” You ask, looking up at her. She just grinned a little and played with the rings on her fingers.

“Dina just asked if we’d like to go to this party she’s having tonight. 9 o’clock.” She says, gesturing towards her friend Dina. She was pretty, long dark hair and a soft smile that could make anyone’s head turn.

“I don’t know, I might be busy.” You say, avoiding Ellie’s sharp look.

You look over at Dina instead, seated to the left on the other side of the table. The girl looks at Ellie slightly apprehensively.

“You know, actually, maybe it wouldn’t be best if you came Ellie. I know that um…that Cat is gonna be there.” Dina says, barely sparing you a glance.

And there it was. Over this past week, mentions of Ellie’s ex-girlfriend had rarely occurred, other than in your own head to remind yourself why you were putting yourself through this. You glance over at Ellie and she looks back at you, tapping her first finger on the steel table. A nervous habit she has, you think.

Ellie lets out a sigh and her fingers run through her short hair. “Well, I wouldn’t be going with Cat, Dina. I’d be going with Y/N. My girlfriend.” Ellie states, taking a bite of her apple.

Dina and the rest of Ellie’s friends spare me an awkward glance before going back to eating. It wasn’t like it was hard to guess what they were thinking. Most of the time it felt like they forgot that me and Ellie were explicit. At least, we were pretending to be. It really shouldn’t have made any difference, because this wasn’t real. None of it.

𝜗𝜚

True to her promise, after school Ellie dropped you off at home. Despite what you originally thought, the moments when you didn’t have to pretend with Ellie there wasn’t as much bickering and awkward silence, but more lighthearted jokes and teasing. To the outside eye, people might think you two were flirting. But of course you weren’t.

You hop out of her pickup truck and sling your backpack over your shoulder. Before you could shut the door though, Ellie grabs your attention.

“What time am I picking you up?” She asks, looking at you expectantly.

You scoff a little before responding. “Pick me up? I am not going to that party, Ellie.”

“Of course we are. PDA-ing in front of Cat at school obviously isn’t enough, so we need to take things up a notch!” Ellie argues, talking with her hands.

You just shut the door and roll your eyes at her before turning to walk away.

“I’ll be here at 8:30! 8:30, don’t be late L/N!” Ellie calls through the open window.

You can’t help but smile at her insistence as you unlock your front door, slipping inside.

Once you’re up to your room, you pull the note Ellie slipped you at lunch out of your pocket, ready to throw it away. They always had random scribbles on them to make it look like writing to anyone’s passing eye in the hallways. Before the paper left your hand though, you notice some actual letters.

Unfolding the paper, you tuck some loose hair behind your ears, a little surprised as to what the note said.

you look cute with your hair down

There it was, scribbled in Ellie’s atrocious handwriting. You really couldn’t help but notice your heart flutter as your eyes scan the slip, re-reading for any signs that it could be insincere or some kind of joke. When you can’t find any, you placed the paper in your desk drawer and collapsed onto your bed.

𝜗𝜚

45 minutes later, your cheesy romance reading session is interrupted by a ding from your phone. Rolling over to pick it up, you see a message from Ellie.

Clicking on the notification, your phone unlocks and you reads Ellie’s message:

8:30, remember? decided what you’re wearing?

You can’t help but let out an eye roll even thought she wasn’t here to see it. God, how pretentious could one girl be?

You really can’t take a hint. I know you think Cat isn’t jealous or whatever, but it’s gonna take more than a week. She probably just thinks I’m some sort of rebound

You text back, rolling onto your stomach.

Ellie replies instantly.

which is exactly why we HAVE to go tonight. Cat knows id never show some fling off to half the grade

I’m flattered. Really.

u know what I mean.

A smile graces your lips and you think of a response.

Let’s say I do go to this party. You need to take it down with the PDA. I know you want to ‘take it up a notch’, but it’s in the contract

Ellie leaves you on read for a minute before texting back,

i’m gonna kiss a pretty girl if i have the opportunity, y/n.

Your face immediately feels hot and you stare at the phone. Of course Ellie had never actually kissed you kissed you, but there’d been too many cheek pecks for your liking. You couldn’t stand the idea of all your firsts being…well, fake.

I’m sorry. I can’t

You leave the messages at that for a minute, not caring to elaborate.

ok…just at least come to the party with me. i promise it won’t be awful, i wont leave your side

With a final sigh, you give in.

Fine. 8:30

8:30!

Shutting your phone off, you decide to at least lay out your outfit options for the night. Would it be a jeans and tank top occasion or more of a sparkly dress occasion? You settle for the in between, a casual but flattering blue dress with small straps.

To pass the time, you go downstairs and play a board game with your parents. To avoid awkward questioning about your supposed nemesis Ellie, you didn’t mention who your date was.

With an hour left before Ellie was supposed to be here, you start to get ready, slipping on the dress and spraying some light perfume. You put your hair in a ponytail like usual, applying minimal makeup.

Ten minutes later, you get a text from Ellie.

be there in 5

You reply with a thumbs up and wait downstairs with your purse.

Just like she said, Ellie knocks on your door a few minutes later.

“Hey, who’s tha-“ Your dad starts, but you’re already out the door, pushing Ellie as you stumble out.

“Hi, great to see you too. Yes, I know how good I look.” Ellie chuckles as you push past her and shut the door. You sigh a little and finally get a chance to look up at her.

And- holy crap.

Her hands were casually in her jean pockets that were help up by a stylish leather belt. A tight white tank top hugged her tone figure and an oversized black blazer covered most of the top side of her body.

She must’ve noticed your ogling, and a proud smirk graces her lips. Even Ellie knows that to make you awestruck means she must look hot.

“God, stop drooling. You’re embarassing yourself, really,” Ellie, teases. You finally snap out of it and hit her with your purse, shaking your head. “You look great though L/N. Really.”

You take a moment to respond before smiling a little.

“Thank you.” You say lightly, still standing in front of your door.

Ellie sighs a little and fidgets with her rings.

“Ready?” She asks, running a hand through her messy hair.

You breathe in sharply, nodding a little.

“As i’ll ever be.”

an: i’m so so sorry this took so long! i had it finished at the end of january, but tumblr was glitching so badly and wouldn’t let me post it! i hope you all had a wonderful valentine’s day, and lmk if you want more of this series! <3

tag list: @liasxeatt @vahnilla @smellovie

[waynes-multiverse]

Alex, this was amazing!! I absolutely loved this! I think I laughed throughout without pausing. Like, I was cackling vividly 😂😂

Dean:

He’s not sick. Because he doesn’t get sick. Dean claims he has the constitution of a horse, but you still take the beer out of his hand before he can take a sip at 10:00 a.m.

That already took me out. First two lines. Bravo. You've done it 🤣

I'm guessing this is post Chuck lmao

“I’m find,” he insists, even as he begrudgingly accepts the gentle pressure of your hand on his back and shoulder, pushing him down to the bed.

You know why I picked it 😝 (👏👏👏) And not the flannel and the runny nose, yikes. Loved this exchange (and callback) lol

He knows that you care about him. That you love him. But this is one of those moments where it hits him, just how much.

Took a brief second from laughing, so I could push tears out of my eyes 😭

But absolutely agree, you'd have to wear Dean down and force him into it lmao

Beau:

His coughing sneeze makes you grimace. You didn’t even know someone could sneeze and cough at the same time.

Back to laughing. My God, that was the sneeze of the century 😂😂

“Nah, can’t be sick. Gotta lot of work to do today,” he says.

Mutually exclusive, obviously 🤷‍♀️

“How long until I’m allowed out, warden?” he asks.

Seems like the man flu hasn't swallowed the charm either 🥰

He stops you by grabbing your wrist. “Hey, uh…can I have some chicken noodle soup later?” “Of course, baby. I’ll swing by the store now and get some stuff for you.” “And some saltines?”

And that's the moment I realized Beau's like my husband when he's sick 😂 (🙄)

It's like you were in my house and wrote a transcript of the last man flu epidemic of 2024 😆🤌

(PS: Real proud for finding that gif 😂)

A good add-on for Beau would be talking about his symptoms and aches... constantly loll. ("Babe, my throat is still dry and very weird right here. I googled and it says it could be laryngitis, cancer or the Marburg virus." 😂)

Ben:

Oh and then, Ben. Ben, Ben, Ben, Ben... I thought for sure he'd be the worst, like this virus is a personal attack on his virility 🤣 But I was pleasantly surprised when you brought in memories of his mother 🥹😭

“Fuck,” he groans, dragging a hand over his face before he turns onto his back.

That immediate fuck got me so hard 🤣🤣

He’s a sourpatch grumbly patient who only begrudgingly stays put in bed when you ask him to.

Ah, yes, gramps 😂🫶 (And he honestly shares that with a lot of old man in hospitals and nursing homes who have to be repeatedly told to stay in bed lol)

“Hey, sweetheart,” he calls to you from the bedroom, his voice croaking all the while. “I’m getting you a yacht for Valentine’s Day. You want it all white, or throw in a bit of gold? Actually, check out this one with the navy trim.”

*snorts* Of course the brat's online shopping for yachts 😆

“Why can’t you put some fucking steak in it or something?” he grouses. He tries and fails to hide another wet cough. “Why can’t you just eat what I lovingly made, just for you,” you snipped back.

Oh God, all their bickering was amazing! It's honestly always one of the most fun things when writing SB – the sheer frustration of the reader 😭😂🙈

And I loved the addition of Priestly!! 😍💚💙🤘 (I've been thinking of finally writing that one-shot for him lol)

“Aw, that’s still good,” he argues.

Great idea, man. Add a stomach bug to that man flu lmao

“Know what would really make me feel better?” he hedges. He tries to guide you down to him by tugging on your hand, but you resist him.

I could also totally see him turning into a Monica there 😂

“When you’re feeling better, you can ask me that question properly.”

Oh, oh, thank God! The relief I felt 😂 I mean, it's so, so sweet, but also you're very sick, dude, and germy... like, it's a lot 😆

(And I also sincerly hope there will be a proposal follow-up one-shot/drabble... maybe? 👀)

I loved this so much! You were spilling nothing but truths here! 😂💯🩵

HEADCANON: Man Flu

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader || Beau Arlen x Reader || Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader || Boaz Priestly x Reader

HC: When Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Boaz Priestly get sick, how would they act when you (try to) take care of them?

AN: After reading I Got You by @bettystonewell (Dean x Reader) and The Best Kind of Medicine by @lamentationsofalonelypotato (Soldier Boy x Reader), I realized that I've never actually written a sick-fic before. Here it is in headcanon form, since you guys seem to like these! lol 💜

Also adding Priestly to this lineup for the first time because some of you have been requesting more of him recently. 😉

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship, hurt/comfort, sick-fic, some needy affection-starved men who don't want to admit they're needy, lots of fluff.~

Dean Winchester

He's not sick. Because he doesn't get sick.

Dean claims he has the constitution of a horse, but you still take the beer out of his hand before he can take a sip at 10:00 a.m.

He's too busy interrupting himself, namely by coughing half a lung, wheezing, blinking teary eyes -- the whole phlegmy nine yards.

Sam shakes his head, casting you a look that frankly says, Good luck.

He knows his brother is stubborn as hell, and one of the things Dean dislikes most is being fussed over for "no reason." Being seen as weak. Not being able to just shrug his shoulders and shake it off.

To be fair, Dean tries. Except this time it's accompanied by a body shiver and a reluctant sniffle. His pallid face is drawn, and his usually strong and solid frame looks unsteady as he leans a hand on the War Room table.

"Okay, come on, Rambo. Let's get you back into bed," you say, guiding your boyfriend back to the room you share with him.

"I'm find," he insists, even as he begrudgingly accepts the gentle pressure of your hand on his back and shoulder, pushing him down to the bed.

"Sure you are, baby," you say with a smirk. "You're in the primb of libe."

Dean shoots you a narrowed look. Damn you for forcing him to binge-watch all those episodes of Friends late at night when you both can't sleep.

Right now he's Monica, trying to convince you he's in tip-top shape, while you're Chandler, just trying to get him to use tissues instead of his flannel sleeve to wipe his runny nose.

After taking his boots off, you get him to change out of his jeans and back into his sweatpants. Then you manage to get him to lay down under the covers with the promise of coming back with medicine and soup.

"I don't want soup, damn it," he grumbles. You just roll your eyes and rub his arm.

"Just rest. I'll be back with the Vicks."

As you might expect, Dean is not an easy patient.

He refuses to drink tea, but he does down the pills you bring for him, with a measured toss of his head that still makes his head swim. He groans.

He swallows a couple of cautious spoonfuls of the soup, pausing when he realizes that its warmth actually feels good down his sore and scratchy throat. It tastes pretty good too, especially with the warm, buttered slices of bread on the side.

"You made this?" he asks.

"Mhmm," you nod, smiling. If nothing else, good food will pacify this man. "Chicken and wild rice, made especially for you."

"Hmm. S' good," he nods in reply. He manages to finish the bowl.

He has to admit, if just to himself, that he does feel like shit.

He won't admit that the way you're rubbing his back, the gentle pressure of your nails between his shoulders and down his spine relaxes him, makes him feel better.

He knows that you care about him. That you love him. But this is one of those moments where it hits him, just how much.

It's a little overwhelming. A heavy swell of pressure fills his chest, so he tries not to let himself think about it for very long.

(He fails.)

After he's done eating, you take the plates away and help him back into bed. You linger there, slipping your fingers through his soft brown hair and pressing a kiss to his clammy forehead.

"I really need you to rest, okay," you say quietly. "If you need anything, just text me or Sam. Don't get out of bed."

Dean grasps your hand before you can move away from him. Since you're probably going to wash your hands anyway, he lays a kiss on the back of your hand.

"Thanks, sweetheart."

Beau Arlen

Sheriff Beau Arlen is the type to run himself into the ground because he's so damn into his work.

He wants to do well in his station of responsibility, and he feels like he has to make up for his performance during the summer madness of Buck Barnes and Avery...and everything in between.

You just have to make Beau realize that he needs to slow down, before he well and truly burns himself out.

You put your foot down one morning.

He tries to get out of bed but has to pause, his head swimming. He takes a couple of steadying breaths while sitting on the edge of the bed.

You notice with a frown. "Hey, you okay?"

"Fine. Just fine," he answers a little too breathlessly. He raises a hand to his head. His throat is sticky and coarse. He wrinkles his nose when he also feels a sneeze coming on.

"Just need a...a...mugh-ah-ha-hugh."

His coughing sneeze makes you grimace. You didn't even know someone could sneeze and cough at the same time.

"Aw, babe. You're sick," you say as you move over to him, resting a hand on his back. He shakes his head and groans.

"Nah, can't be sick. Gotta lot of work to do today," he says. His voice is like gravel blended with broken glass. It would actually be sexy, if for the distinctly un-sexy way he tries to clear the great wad of phlegm from his throat.

He tries to rock himself onto his feet, but there he sways on the landing. You hurry out of bed to grab his arm and steady him.

"Oh no, you don't. Back into bed," you say.

"Aw, sweetheart. I'll be fine--"

"No. Lay down. You're not going in today," you say more firmly, all while you tuck the man back into bed with the blankets covering him.

"All right, all right. No need to be so pushy," he can't help but tease.

It earns a small smirk on your face. It seems like his man flu hasn't yet deprived him of his sense of humor.

"I thought you liked that though," you reply. You sit on the edge of the bed and rub his chest. He groans in defeat.

"Can't believe this," he grumbles. "Today of all days--"

"There's always going to be another case. This is your body telling you that you need to slow down," you tell him. "So how about this. I'm gonna call in one of my sick days, and we'll bunker in together."

You stroke his bearded cheek. He quirks a smile, grabbing your hand and squeezing warmly.

"How long until I'm allowed out, warden?" he asks.

"Until you can stand without keeling over," you dryly reply. A smile tugs at your lips. "Remind me to stop by CVS to grab you a Life Alert."

"All right, har har haugh--" His sarcasm ends on a very real, wheezing cough. Your amused smile drops. You relent from your teasing and stroke his chest once more.

"Okay, just rest. Let me get you some actual medicine and I'll be right back."

He stops you by grabbing your wrist. "Hey, uh...can I have some chicken noodle soup later?"

"Of course, baby. I'll swing by the store now and get some stuff for you."

"And some saltines?"

"Saltine crackers on the side. Got it."

You're about to head to the bathroom to brush your teeth before you start getting ready to go to the store, but once again, Beau's needy hand stops you.

"Before you go, some tea with honey and lemon would be good. Just something for my throat," he croaks.

You smile and nod. "Yeah, for sure. That'll be better for you than coffee."

"Oh, and can you gimme that quilt over there?" he asks, pointing to your favorite knitted blanket at the edge of the bed. You graciously lay it over his form and drop a kiss onto his forehead.

"And some cough drops. Thank you, darlin'," Beau adds.

Your lips begin to press together, but you nod and continue getting dressed.

You can already tell this man is going to settle into you taking care of him just fine.

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Neither of you thought it was possible, considering his super genes that allowed him to eat and booze and drug harder than Andre the Giant and Keith Richards put together.

But one day, your over six-foot super soldier goes down hard. The warning signs came the night before, when you could hardly sleep with the way he was snoring like a grizzly bear.

In the morning, he wakes bleary-eyed with a runny nose and a coughing fit hard enough to shake the bed.

"Fuck," he groans, dragging a hand over his face before he turns onto his back. "This's gotta be some kind of bullshit hangover."

You move over to him in bed and feel the intense warmth of his clammy forehead. Your brows draw together in concern.

"No, I think you're sick."

"Not possible," he grumbles. "I haven't been sick since..."

Well, since he was a kid, probably. He won't admit it, but he's surprised he still has that memory lodged in the back of his mind.

It comes to the forefront now: your hand on his cheek unknowingly mimics his mother's gentle touch, her soft, kind voice.

"Aw, my sweet boy. Let's get you feeling better."

He can almost recall the floral scent of her perfume, echoes of it in the shampoo you use.

Ben claims he's fine, that he doesn't need your help or want the medicine and tea you bring for him. (He tries the tea, grimaces, and spits it out when you're not looking.)

He's a sourpatch grumbly patient who only begrudgingly stays put in bed when you ask him to. He doesn't mind lying around and watching movies all day, not to mention episode after episode of Below Deck. It reminds him that he wants to get back into boating.

"Hey, sweetheart," he calls to you from the bedroom, his voice croaking all the while. "I'm getting you a yacht for Valentine's Day. You want it all white, or throw in a bit of gold? Actually, check out this one with the navy trim."

You roll your eyes to yourself when you step back into the room. You're carrying a tray with a large bowl of soup and a fifth of whiskey. He claims the latter will help soothe his throat, and you don't have the heart to argue with him when he's clearly feeling so shitty.

"You mean you're getting you a yacht," you reply wryly. "We live in the city. Where the hell would we put a boat?"

"In a yacht club, where it belongs," Ben retorts. He hooks an arm around your waist and peruses what you've brought him on the tray. He doesn't look all that interested.

"Look, I know you're not exactly a soupy kinda guy, but this'll make you feel better," you say.

"Why can't you put some fucking steak in it or something?" he grouses. He tries and fails to hide another wet cough.

"Why can't you just eat what I lovingly made, just for you," you snipped back.

He rolls his eyes at your attitude, but he pipes down. In that silence, he's conceding that you have a point. There was a time were all he had to do was glance in someone's direction, and there'd be some fucking moron to fulfill his every whim.

Now, you're probably the only one in the world that would actually do what you're doing...

Cooking for him, putting your heart into it, for the simple reason that you do care.

Ben takes the bowl of soup from your hands. Raising a brow, you offer him the spoon as well.

He eats without further complaint.

You smile and reward him with a sweet kiss on his forehead, brushing his hair back as you do so.

"See? That's not so hard, huh?" you can't help but needle him. "It's okay, baby. I'll take care of you."

He eyes you dryly, but he won't admit that there's a different kind of warmth coiling in his chest.

Boaz Priestly

"Uuuughhh, babe," he groans. "I feel like death on toast."

You're standing beside the bed with a smile playing on your lips. You brush back his for once un-gelled hair back from his face. It's weird to see it all limp and lifeless, slightly damp with sweat.

"Unironically, I should make you some toast," you reply. "What kind of medicine do we have?"

Priestly unearths his head from under his pillow to look up at you with miserable red-rimmed eyes and a sniffling, stuffy nose. "Can we count the tequila in the mini bar?"

"Maybe later," you laugh. "How are we on groceries?"

Priestly struggles to think. He takes your hand and rubs it back and forth across his chest. Maybe your sweet, loving touch has the power to clear away his congestion without him needing Vicks. Too minty.

"We have that pastrami I brought back from the shop," he says.

"That's six days old already," you shake your head.

"Aw, that's still good," he argues. "But uh, other than that, I think I have half a cheeseburger left from last night."

Last night's date at TGI Friday's, he means.

You heave a sigh. "Okay, clearly I'm going to the store. You just stay in bed and rest. Drink your tea."

He grimaces like a child. "I don't like tea."

"I know you don't like tea, but you need to drink it. It's good for your throat and your immune system."

He groans and flops back over onto his stomach. You bite your lip against a smile. He's such a whiny baby when he's sick.

Talk about Man Flu.

"Come on, be a good boy for me," you say, smacking him lightly on the ass. "Soon enough you'll feel better."

A smile creeps across his face where it's pressed against his pillow.

"Know what would really make me feel better?" he hedges. He tries to guide you down to him by tugging on your hand, but you resist him.

"Oh, no. You're not gonna get your germs all over me," you say.

"Hey, what happened to in sickness and in health?" he croaks. Even while under the weather, he's still plenty strong enough to grapple with you. He manages to yank you down. Laughing, you stumble into a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Huh, I don't remember exchanging any vows. You see a ring on this finger?" you tease, flashing your bare hand in his face to try and distract him and weasle out of his grip. "I can jump this ship anytime I want."

Priestly pouts. His arm hooks tighter around your waist. "Huh, guess you got me there..."

He turns his head and coughs roughly into his arm. Your amusement fades into concern and sympathy. You lay a hand over his chest while he struggles.

Once again, he clasps his free hand over yours. He glances up a bit hesitantly into your eyes.

"Well, maybe it's time there should be something on this finger," he murmurs.

You blink your eyes wider. Your head tilts, wondering if you just heard him right. Is this delirium fever talking, or is he serious?

"O-Oh yeah?" you ask.

Priestly tries to gauge your reaction. Seeing your face break out into a cute, shy smile raises the corners of his lips. Hope blooms in his chest, right beneath your hand.

"Yeah," he says, trying to clear his cracking throat. "I mean, if you're okay with that. If it's not too soon--"

You slip your fingers over his plush, chapped lips, and your smile brightens.

"When you're feeling better, you can ask me that question properly."

AN: 😆 I hope you liked the first ever addition of Priestly!! It was so fun to try and write him again (it's been a while lol). Feel free to imagine this vignette in the same storyverse as The Miracle Man and Code Red.

But I also hope you enjoyed the "Big 3," as I call them, even though Russell is starting to give Beau a run for his money on one of those slots. 😂 Let me know which guy you had the most fun reading on this one! 💜

And if you want even more fluff before Valentine's Day, check out my friend @waynes-multiverse who just posted her set of V-Day headcanons with Dean, Soldier Boy, Beau, and Russell: Headcanon: Valentine's Day 💕

Join My Patreon 🌟 Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

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[not-poignant]

Hi,

I'm not sure how to approach this without sounding like an ignorant asshole, but I'll give it a go.

I'm from a country where the Trans movement isn’t very visible, and most of what I know about it comes from the internet. I’ve never truly understood gender dysphoria. I’ve tried to listen and put myself in others' shoes, but I struggled to be genuinely empathetic. Instead, I just tried to be supportive because it was expected of me, without really getting it.

It might sound silly, but reading Underline the Black made me stop and think… Wait, is this what I think it is? Reading Efnisien’s internal monologues and introspection made me feel something—maybe not from the same circumstances, but in a way that something inside my brain clicked, and I finally saw where the pain was coming from.

I guess what I really want to say is thank you. Thank you for helping me begin to understand and for broadening my perspective. It might sound small, but it’s something I deeply appreciate. I’ve been trying for a long time.

I do feel a bit foolish realizing that it took an ABO fanfic for me to get it… but at the same time, I was also reading about your real-life experiences. Or at least, that’s how it seemed to me. Forgive me if I’m wrong.

You have an incredible talent for expression.

Anon, until you know otherwise, everyone has to start somewhere. This applies to unlearning our biases and prejudices, which we all have for something, or many things, until we unlearn them. The fact that you've even tried to be supportive of something you don't really understand is still important, and still matters. It's a step into understanding, even if you don't have it yet.

I don't think it's foolish that it took you a story to realise what you've realised! This is actually exactly why representation of diversity (in gender, sexuality, culture, race, etc.) is so important in fiction. Because it's in fiction we can be free to explore concepts that are different to our own, or that challenge us, or make us see the world differently. This is why it's so important to know it's possible to identify with a trans character, or a POC character, or a character from a different culture to ours etc. Because that's when we humanise what we previously saw as like, different, Other, hard to understand. We go 'oh that's...really relatable actually, I think I'd feel the same way if that was my experience of life' or 'I don't know if I'd feel the same way but I really understand where that person is coming from.'

Gender dysphoria is complex, and different for different people. Being able to write it metaphorically through Efnisien's journey has been really interesting for me personally, because I've been able to depict both the inner conflict of knowing that your being is not...automatically going to be accepted as normal no matter what, unless you stifle or suffocate yourself, alongside the true euphoria and joy that can come with living as your best life, or your very self.

I have once seen a good analogy which is simply: Imagine from tomorrow onwards, everyone uses the pronouns you don't associate with yourself. You are bullied and mocked unless you wear clothing that is opposite to how you want to appear to others. You are put down and treated as psychologically abnormal for finding joy in true expression, even when that expression doesn't actually hurt anyone else at all. And now tell yourself that even your loved ones, when you desperately try to explain how wrong it all feels to be treated as so different to your true self, they explain that it's just mental illness, or that you're just confused, or that you don't understand yourself, and condescend to you, and treat you like they somehow have always known you better than you know yourself. And that's when you realise you might have to choose between your true self, and your family and loved ones who don't understand, or worse, hate you.

And then imagine that's the rest of your life, but it could change in an instant, if all of society just accepted that you are who you say you are! That all of your depression, and oppression, and suffocation could literally just vanish, if everyone was like 'oh sure actually, you want those pronouns? Cool! You want to wear this clothing? I like it!!'

And that journey is very tough in the real world, even in more accepting places (the US is clear evidence of this). In Underline the Black, I get to put Efnisien in a very specific space, and show the journey in a kind of specific way that isolates it and speaks through metaphor.

My experiences are different to Efnisien's, though I am trans, I never actually started out wanting to write a 1:1 trans narrative. Like, in this universe, "conventionally" trans people exist too. Efnisien's experience is a new thing, and a separate thing, but still - as we can see - a very good metaphor as well. I like telling parts of my story, but only small parts. I am more interested in...telling healing stories where I can watch a character heal and go 'oh I would like more of that for myself, as well.'

(Also, it's better to just say omegaverse, or AOB, etc. because a/b/o without the dashes is a slur in Australia, and while I know most people don't live here! We try to avoid slurs from other countries when we can. And we can only know to do that once someone tells us!)

But yeah, no, you don't sound like an ignorant asshole at all. You sound like someone who has learned something, and has gained more understanding, and was open to doing that, and honestly anon if more people came to something they didn't understand from your perspective, acceptance and love would be a lot easier to teach people.

It's so important to read stories about characters who aren't quite like us, or aren't like us at all, because that's when we realise just how much we actually do share so many similarities, and why our differences matter too.

Anyway thank you for sharing your message with me! I really appreciated it.

[asgardian--angels]

keep fighting the good fight against this weird misconception that vik is somehow stoic and unemotional, bestie 🫡 cause idk where the hell people picked that up lol

thank you!!! fandom is always gonna fandom, reducing characters to two-dimensional tropes to make them mix-and-matchable. it's especially unfortunate when the characters we're given in Arcane are so rich and nuanced. the best antidote is to go back and rewatch the source material imo lol.

thanks for enjoying my tags also!! I used to write actual meta many years ago but at some point lost my nerve or lost the time. now it lives in the tags. I don't know many people in the jayvik fandom here, it seems mostly active on twitter, but I'm glad to be noticed by at least a couple people here :) your blog is great!!

[wausbasementslave]

So heres a really weird Shockwave x Reader scenario I had. It was inspired by a dream I had.

Yandere Shockwave making an uncanny sexdoll of you. Logically it's unlikely you'll return his "feelings" and most likely run away, which will be a real hassle for him and the plans of the Decepticons. Sadly for him (and buying time for you) a mere doll will be good enough. at least he knows that it can take his girth, even if dolls don't make good conversation.

But his plans change when, for one illogical reason or another, you decided to sneak onboard and into his lab. In your human error you bump into some equipment, and to your horror you discover it. This...thing had every mark and blemish you had, all the intricate details that made up your body were in full display. It would be like looking in a mirror if it weren't for the dead eyes. The disgust alone made you tear the intricate double to pieces. Carefully placed wires and circuitry get haphazardly cast aside. The synthetic skin gets reduced to mere ribbons as you deny the monster who made this any more satisfaction.

There can't be two of you, and soon enough this anomaly was extinguished, there is only the original now.

But sometimes the prototype has better features, at least to Shockwave. You stare in utter wide-eyed horror; he stares down with a single emotionless eye. "And I thought you were smart.." But his voice gave a different intent. Before you could take a single step, he quickly grabs you, pressing his fingers onto your body. "Let go of me!" You sob, his hand presses in. A warning perhaps, it's useless trying to get out his grip. "Now why would I let go of such a such a fine specimen?" He purrs, heat radiates from his chassis as one of his finger's carefully caress your body, taking in every soft detail. Perhaps he can have the best of both worlds.

[xeversayfishxace]

Music

There is a haze, Xever listens to the rage of Bradford tries to listen as his blood is splattered everywhere but all Xever does is laugh. He is laughing so hard at all of the words coming out of this dog's mouth. Yeah, Xever had been right. He had been right all along. This person at his very core, was just as spiteful, just as terrible, just as uncaring. They may come from opposite sides of the world, opposite sides of society, opposite sides of wealth, yet at the center they were just empty shells with only the smallest thing to cling to. Someone so isolated that they were left to stew in those terrible emotions for years on end with no one reaching out a hand to them.

"Ha...ha...ha...there is none...I know what I am...and now I finally get to see you too. You tried to hide it...you tried to deny it...but deep down...you and I...we're the same. What if you had died then? Would I have cared? Nope! Because why the fuck would I? No one cared about me...no one ever cared about me...and no one cared about you either. Not the real you...just the you they wanted to see..."

Xever was shaking, obviously part of him is scared right now. Yet, he is smiling so strongly looking towards the man who took everything from him because in this moment he won. He got to see that side the bastard locked up tighter than Fort Knox. He got to wear Raz down to the point where that true self was coming out for the first time. So, why not show his real side too? That was what Xever wanted deep down. That was the real reason he was doing this, always had been.

"You had Shredder sure...but look what his care has become now...he treats you like an abused child...while you just stand there and take it. A man like that could never give you what you truly wanted...hell the man is so obsessed with revenge on that rat that he'd watch the whole world burn. Haha...its so funny you call me a rat...god it's so funny...I can't help but laugh...I am a joke too...just like you..."

He's hurt more and more, he is struggling to hold it together. Tears come out from his eyes as he talks the smile never leaves, but the fishman is crying now. Because it is all so funny. Their lives are a creul joke, a joke where the punchline is their very existance. No one could write content like this, because it was so ironic that it hurt.

"I had someone once too...someone I clinged to...someone I put my all for...he was my brother...not my real brother...but he was there for me when no one else was. I pushed myself so hard for him...I made myself into a person I never would have become if not for him. I spent years with him, I went on heists with him...he was my whole world...nothing could ever hurt me so long as he needed me. But, do you know what happened? I made one mistake...one small mistake...and he turned on me...threw out all those years like they were nothing. How was I supposed to react to that? Hahahaha...nope...I just laughed...laughed at how stupid I was..."

As the shadow grows closer and closer Xever's head lulls backwards as he keeps looking into the yellow eyes of the dog of many faces. Chris Bradford, Dogpound and now Rahzar. A man can wear so many faces yet can only ever had only one that was real. The fish kept gripping onto the real face. He wasn't letting it go now that he had it.

"What you hated about me...is plain to see...because no one hates us more than we hate ourselves. Because why wouldn't we? We can lie...we can pretend...we can mush it up as much as we like...but...we are our own worst critics...you still blame yourself don't you? Even now, you still think it deep down...you try to cover it...but you do blame yourself the most...because I do...you are going through what I did with Rajan...and I...can't help but think wow...that's so funny..."

Xever struggled to hold on, he was hanging on so much. And it showed how much effort he was putting into it. He shook his head back and forth the pain was getting to his head now. Yet, still Xever still kept on talking despite how much he has trouble continuing.

"So...you can go ahead and kill me...like you no doubt have wanted to all this time. Kill me for baring your true self to the world...kill me...for always throwing back anything you threw at me. But, I want you to know this Chris Bradford, Dogpound, or Rahzar that if you do that...then you'll lose the only person in the whole damn world who could grow to care about the real you. I admit I am a bastard, I am a heartless bastard...but...when I see you...when I see myself in you...its like looking into a mirror. And at somepoint...you get sick of beating yourself up. You don't have to prove anything to me...you don't have to be your best...you don't have to be a mindless dog...you can just be you...and I will accept you...we might suck right now...but if we suck together we might not be as bad anymore...I am so tired...of being...me all by myself...so if you're there too...then it might be fun..."

That does it.

It’s almost like something sparked within the beast, as if a certain feral bloodlust was awakened. A few of his ‘rah’s’ escaped his throat, the ones that gave him the nickname Rahzar in the first place. A snarl and razor sharp teeth were revealed.

“Listen here, you little trout - You really want to talk to me about not earning anything?  About how everything is just handed to me? A lowlife like you?"

Rahzar was attempting to bend his arm further, putting an immense pressure on it in that moment. Yep, someone unleashed the beast and he lost control of himself. Xever certainly was getting what he wanted now.

“You only survived because of dumb luck and nothing more. I worked my whole life to get to the top! You spend your whole life rotting on the streets and taking things that did not belong to you. You got lucky that Master Shredder offered you a place in our clan, you got lucky that you did not end up dead after you turned into a fish and you got lucky I found Stinkman in the first place.”

His snarls were becoming more sinister and he is currently attempting to push the fish more into the ground.

“You are nothing. You will never know a life of high expectations. You will never know what it is like when people are only with you for who you are at your best! When everyone around you wants you to be at your best all the time and go even beyond that too because anything less than that is not acceptable. Nobody could care about someone like you! You only showed up here because you foolishly got caught stealing Master Shredder's briefcase and then did some of the dirty work for us - I was his greatest student! He wanted me to be one of his successors, I spend years training while you just showed up one day! You think Master Shredder just handed me this position?!”

Although suddenly - a few more loud ‘rah’s echoed through the night air, not necessary because Xever was attempting to strangle him back (and he did try and push his head away as best as he could) but because of his frustration over that last sentence - so instead the wolf lifted his foot in an attempt to kick the fish away and send him fyling - regardless of what would happen, there seemed to be no signs of Rahzar stopping his attacks.

“Don’t you dare whine about how my actions would have killed you when you did the SAME TO ME.”

Oh boy, he sure snapped there. Rahzar was referring to what happened on that roof one night.

“You expect me to care for what happened to you? For nearly suffocating that night and then living inside a tank for a while? You want me to feel bad for that? You really expect me to care after you couldn’t be bothered to do the same?”

Another ‘rah’ and his shadow is looming closer over Xever. So what if it had been a bluff at the time? In his panic he did not realize that. Maybe it couldn’t have been a bluff either. Nobody could be so sure of that when you are already dangling half from the roof and the worst part (aside from the humiliation of being stuck inside a trash can) was that his fate was up to the man who couldn’t care less about him and who would have gladly let him die with a smile.

“You know why I pushed away? Because you are nothing more than that: A dirty little rat and this proved it back then. I don’t work with others because the only person you can ever rely on is yourself!”

He was not sure where all that anger suddenly comes from but it’s there - and he cannot stop.

“After what happened back then, it felt satisfying. You were trapped, your life was up in the hands of others and there was nothing you could do about it! You were vulnerable, humiliated - It was so fitting and served you right that I had to make fun of your predicament like you did with mine.”

It seems like he is just snarling at this point.

"Go on - give me ONE good reason why I should care that you would've died that day."

[ultopias]

hates me, hates me not

another old comic from 2021 that i never posted here! (this makes me cringe now but it's not... bad... i Think😭🙏)