#this week has barely begun and i'm ...

[saucerfulofsins]

.

[wileys-russo]

I had a cute idea I wanted to share because I love the way you write!! Leah has back to back interviews from home and reader is sat on the sofa just watching her, falling more and more in love with how passionate her girl is. Leah gets all blushy and a bit flustered by the gaze. Just a cute fluffy one x

lock down II l.williamson

"-and then i've got another over zoom with sky sports at three and i should be done for the day." your girlfriend sighed, already tired by her day before it had even begun.

"no rest for the wicked huh?" you hummed, still laid down in bed as the blonde restlessly paced back and forth across the room. "god then i've gotta fit in our gym program too! do you mind if we do it tonight? i know we're not supposed to but that at least gives me a few hours in between." leah groaned in realization.

"leah breath! of course i don't mind babe, its more enjoyable when we do the program together anyway. i'm more than sure we can push it back a few hours and it shouldn't affect the stats too much." you assured her gently as the blonde nodded.

"so much for lock down! everyone's watching bloody netflix and making tiktoks but noo im memorizing scripts and listening to the same witty one liner over and over about how hard it must be to 'work from home' as a footballer." leah mocked, falling backwards onto the bed with a huff.

"but is it?" you questioned as she sat up slightly and turned her head to be able to see you. "is it what?" leah asked with a confused frown. "is it hard to work from home as a footballer?" you questioned with a frown of your own.

one which quickly turned into a grin as your girlfriend lunged at you, ducking your head under the covers as her bony fingers poked and prodded at you, your safety blanket ripped away as the blonde hovered over you.

"you think you're so fucking funny." leah rolled her eyes as your grin grew. "well one of us has to have a sense of humor in this relationship baby, you're not called captain grumpy for nothing." you teased, tapping your lips expectantly.

"cheeky girl." leah tutted but none the less gave into your request, pressing her lips to yours as your hands moved to tangle in her hair, deepening the kiss as she settled on top of you.

but no sooner did the taller girl slip her tongue into your mouth, hands gliding slowly up your bare stomach, did her alarm go off.

"why!" leah pulled away and groaned moodily, flopping down and burying her face in your neck making you chuckle and gently scratch your nails against her scalp as you tapped snooze.

"babe this isn't making me anymore inclined to get up." your girlfriend mumbled against your skin making you smile. "what if i promise to make breakfast and have it ready for when your first interviews done?" you whispered into her hair, squirming as the girl sighed.

"might be working a little." leah admitted making you laugh and press a kiss to her cheek. "mm and what if i make your favorite breakfast?" you hummed, still rhythmically scratching at her scalp.

"the williamson special?" she questioned, the words muffled into your neck but you laughed again. "the williamson special. an omelette with ham, cheese and not a single spec of colour, flavour or vegetables." you teased, squealing as she pinched your hip but pulled her head up.

"you promised not to mock my eating habits." the older girl frowned with a pout that you quickly kissed away. "no i promised not to mock them last week, todays monday. brand new day of opportunity!" you grinned, pushing her hands away where they tickled at the sliver of skin where your shirt had rode up.

"first my speech impediment and now my diet. you really are a wicked awful woman!" leah sighed with a shake of her head as you scoffed.

"my love we've been over this. you don't have a speech impediment, you're just from milton keynes." you whispered against her lips, pulling away right before they could press against hers, pushing her off of you and moving to stand with a stretch.

"now my beloved MK, you're going the right way for the silent treatment missy." leah pointed at you with a glare as you oohed sarcastically. "tempting. is that a promise?" you winked, laughing as she lurched forward and grabbed the back of your top tugging you back down into bed.

"you are very lucky you're cute." your girlfriend tutted from above you, shaking her head. "and you're very lucky i'm so patient." you poked at her nose with an amused smile as leah gasped in mock offence, your girlfriend nothing if not the expert at annoying you.

"you wait for the third one and you won't have time to shower lee." you warned, pushing her fringe out of her face with a soft smile as she leaned over you to tap stop on the second alarm on her phone and looked down at you with a cheeky grin.

"in that case, wanna save some water?"

~

you were trying to concentrate on your own laptop, you really were.

in the spirit of having nothing better to do locked away in your home you'd signed up for an online accounting course, with leah already studying a much higher qualification in the same field she'd been a massive help.

but why would you waste your time looking at tax brackets and finance breakdowns when you could stare at your incredibly fit gorgeous girlfriend who was sat only a few metres away in your direct eyeline.

you smiled at how she threw and flailed her hands about as she spoke, always one to speak expressively and passionately as she was recounting a story from her childhood when she'd played on a boys team and was relentlessly pushed about for being 'just too good'.

it was one of the first things that had you falling deeply for the older girl, how passionate she was. not just about football but with anything she put her mind and heart to, including how fiercely she loved.

not just how she loved you, but how she loved her family, loved football, loved her friends, the girl could be a handful and a stubborn headache at times but nobody could deny that she was also one of the most sincere and loving human beings you'd ever met.

so with that in mind you sighed quietly, a dopey smile on your face as you pined over her like a lovesick puppy, something the pair of you were often teased about by your team mates but it just washed over you like water off a ducks back, both of you far too loved up in your little bubble to pay it any mind.

in fact without leah you were certain you'd have long lost your mind amid this pandemic, the blonde finding little ways every day to make you still feel so special or to have you smile or laugh, two things which rapidly became her favorite reward.

just yesterday she'd woken you up with breakfast in bed and a bunch of flowers just because.

granted she did order the breakfast from a local cafe which was still operating for delivery and you couldn't prove it but you were near certain that she'd stolen the flowers from some of your neighbors front yards on her morning walk.

regardless you were touched by the thoughtful gesture and showered her with sweet kisses as a thank you, even if leah did eat nearly all of your breakfast much to your amusement given it was hardly up to her usual bland unseasoned standards.

you leaned back a little more into the sofa and crossed your legs underneath you, balancing your laptop on a cushion on your lap, a soft smile plastered permanently into your features.

once or twice leah caught your eyes staring over the top of her own laptop, sending you a small grin or a subtle wink before her attention returned back to the interviewer.

you heard him say that the next game would be a drawing one, sliding your laptop away and hurrying to grab a notebook and pen, placing them beside leah who mouthed her thanks as you took a seat across from her at the dining table.

leah gave you a questioning look as you did so but you merely shrugged, gesturing for her to pay attention as she tuned back into the interview. you watched as she was told to draw her wembley stadium, competing against the interviewer.

you smiled as you took her in, the way her eyebrows furrowed in concentration, nostrils flaring in annoyance every now and then as she was unhappy with a stroke of her pen, a small puff of air exhaled from the corner of her mouth as the tip of her tongue pushed out the other side.

you took a photo of her and smiled, placing your phone back down and resting your chin on your hand. leah could feel your stare on her and as she revealed her drawing and you grinned as the tips of her ears and cheeks flushed red.

"stop!" she mouthed at you as you shook your head, still staring at her in admiration as her attention switched back to the interview. finally after what felt like hours of your gaze pinned to her leah was able to wrap it up, saying her goodbyes and clicking end call on the zoom, pushing her laptop closed.

"what?" you smiled innocently as the blonde sat back in her chair and shook her head at you. "you have a staring problem!" she accused with a point as you gasped and held a hand to your chest.

"i do not. i wasn't staring, i was admiring!" you clarified as leah hummed, her chair pushing back with a scrape. "cheeky." leah clicked her tongue as you followed after her to the kitchen, kissing her still slightly pink cheek with a smile as she grabbed a juice out from the fridge.

"leah!" you scoffed as you held your hand out for it to take a mouthful and she slapped her palm against yours with a wink.

last one, sorry babe." the blonde smirked as your mouth formed a small o. "those are mine!" you protested, rushing around the counter and trying to snatch it off her as she pushed you away effortlessly with one hand and downed the juice with the other.

"you are so unbel-" you started to tell her off as she exhaled happily and tossed the empty bottle into the recyling bin with a happy whoop as it landed. "no no wait, let me guess." her finger smushed against your lips silencing you as she stroked her chin as if deep in thought.

"unbelievably sexy?" silence. "no? okay. unbelievably charming?" silence again. "wrong again? mmm unbelievably intelligent?" more silence. "wow thought i had it there. unbelievably-" you wrenched her hand away at that and shook your head.

"unbelievably infuriating!" you rolled your eyes as leah smacked her forehead with a scoff. "that was my next guess!" she tutted with a shake of her head as you sighed, a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

"hey hey don't get all stroppy. there's still three more in there i was only teasing." leah grabbed your waist and pulled your shorter form into her, a noise of surprise leaving your mouth as her hands hooked under your thighs and she hoisted you up to sit on the counter as she settled between your legs.

"how about the williamson special right now?" leah smiled, thumb tracing your bottom lip as you gave her a look of slight confusion. "you want another omelette?" you questioned as your girlfriend shook her head.

"no no baby girl, the real williamson special." leah rasped, hands toying with the waistband of your sweats as you caught onto what she was suggesting.

"mmm and whats that? my memory needs a jog." you hummed, a smile settling onto your own face as the girl leaned in, minty breath fanning your face as her lips were millimeters from yours.

"mind blowingly passionate sex with a guaranteed happy ending, and then-" your eyes fluttered closed as she moved to kiss at your neck, lips trailing from your jaw down to the column of your throat, biting softly before she moved to tug at the lobe of your ear.

"-then we eat potato smileys in bed naked and watch the golf." leah exhaled as you moaned playfully.

"god i love it when you talk dirty to me."

[bellaxgiornata]

What's Left to Lose [1/2]

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader Word Count: 3.7k [Part two] [Jax Fic Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; nurse!Reader, angst with an eventual happy ending, pining, emotional hurt/delayed comfort, Tara is an ass, Reader smokes, Reader has a brother (nameless/description-less to be inclusive as possible)

Summary: Ever since your brother patched into SAMCRO's charter and you moved to Charming three years ago, you and Jax grew close. Despite having quietly fallen in love with him, you'd accepted your position as just his best friend–until Tara unexpectedly returns to Charming and rips him straight from you. Now you're left feeling like nothing at all to him.

a/n: I've been craving something angsty with Jax, so I wrote this little thing that's been in my head all week. There's no comfort in this first part, but I'm intending to give it at least a part two. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Jax Teller One Shot Tag List: @kmc1989

Everything had changed in a matter of just a few weeks–and you absolutely hated it.

Over the past three years since you’d moved to Charming shortly after your brother had patched over to SAMCRO’s charter, you’d gotten used to Jax calling you a few times a week. He’d often be checking in to see if you were working a shift at the hospital that night or if you had plans with your other friends, because if you were free, he'd be inviting you to hang out so he could get a break from the guys’ bullshit. Other times you’d finish a shift to find a text or a voicemail from him telling you to get your sweet ass over to the clubhouse for a party before the chaos of it had even begun. 

But your phone history showed that it had been almost a month since he last called you. The previous few texts you’d received from him had been just over a week ago, and they'd been short responses to the texts you had sent him asking if he wanted to have a few drinks with you–something that you’d both done frequently if he wasn’t wrapped up in club business–which he'd declined. Jax’s name barely ever appeared on the screen of your phone anymore.

Lately he kept telling you that he was busy. Because he was always busy now–too busy for you. Ever since Tara reappeared in Charming unannounced, stepping back into Jax’s life just over a month ago like she still belonged there, he had distanced himself from you. She'd been here barely more than a month and had already ripped your best friend away from you.

And Jax and you had always been incredibly close. While he and Opie had been best friends since childhood, the relationship between you and Jax had somehow become infinitely closer. The two of you talked about everything and anything, including some things you figured that he had accidentally drunkenly spilled to you on the nights he’d had a few too many to drink. There was just something about your relationship with each other that always felt easy and right, and you’d never had nearly as much fun with anyone else before you met Jax.

But now there were no more late nights drinking beers on the roof of the clubhouse while sharing cigarettes under the cover of a few stars while Jax vented about the direction the club was going in. No more getting high the day after a night of drinking, riding on the back of his bike to the gas station on the corner of Main Street and sharing a box of candy, a bag of chips, and a giant blue raspberry slushie as you both walked through downtown together. He didn’t seek you out at clubhouse parties anymore, didn’t step outside to smoke with you, and he certainly hadn’t incurred the look of warning from your brother that he usually received whenever you climbed off the back of his bike after one of your usual adventures. 

As you walked through the brightly lit halls of St. Thomas Hospital, making your way back towards the nurse’s station so you could finish the last couple of hours of your shift after the break you'd just finished, you’d become painfully aware of his lack of visits while you worked, too. When things were running smoothly with the club, you could count on at least one surprise visit a week from Jax during your break times. He always brought you better coffee than the shit served here in one of his tumblers from home, a satisfied grin on his face every time you thanked him profusely for it like he’d just somehow saved your life. The pair of you would usually sit outside in the outdoor cafeteria of the hospital while Jax listened to you vent about your day. You always loved when he added his own amusing thoughts just to get you to laugh. 

But those coffee breaks together had stopped the moment Tara had returned. Instead, you’d catch him in the halls every once in a while making his way towards her office, greeting you with a nod and a couple of words and nothing more. Or you might see him in the parking lot leaning against his bike, his attention fixed on his phone as he clearly waited for her to finish her shift.

Waiting for her. Not you.

You didn't understand what was happening between them, either. During one of the many drunken nights you’d spent with your head resting on Jax’s shoulder, the pair of you leaning against the wall behind his dorm room bed at the clubhouse, you’d learned that she had tried to drag him from the club eleven years ago. She had given him some sort of ultimatum, stating that he would leave Charming with her if he truly loved her. 

The way he'd spoken about that last conversation they’d had–with an agonizing calmness and a vacant look in his eyes–told you everything you needed to know that you knew he'd never say. When she left him all those years ago, she had completely destroyed him. You knew Jax well enough to know the real reason he never got serious with anyone, the reason he never let anyone get too close to him, and the reason he’d never gone on a single date as long as you'd known him. It was because of her. Because of the hurt that still lingered inside of him when it came to Tara, the hurt that had never completely healed. Because she had absolutely done a number on his heart and his trust.

That was why you’d never pushed for anything more than friendship with him, never tried to see if he felt any of the things you did those times you two were more affectionate than friends should ever be. You’d come to understand that he’d never gotten over her from the very little he ever opened up about her. It was also why you’d reluctantly forced yourself to look the other way whenever he took some croweater to his dorm room when he was wasted. You knew those girls meant nothing to him, that they weren't anything but something more satisfying than his own hand. So you let it go because you always held onto the hope that someday he might realize there was something more than friendship between the two of you. You had hope that someday he'd see it. Stupid, foolish, steadfast hope.

Until Tara came back and set all your hopes on fire.

Turning the corner of the hallway as you navigated the hospital, you felt your heart sink to your feet at the sight of the white doctor's coat making its way towards you at the opposite end of the hall. Because of course you’d have to run into her today. St. Thomas wasn’t that large of a hospital after all, it was often impossible to avoid running into her here.

The second Tara spotted you, a bitter smile twisted her lips upwards. It was the same look she’d been giving you for the past two weeks now, ever since one of the other nurses mentioned that Jax used to come here and visit you all the time before he'd been stopping by to see her. And she’d very quickly decided that she didn’t like you after that, always shooting you dirty looks or making passive aggressive comments about how haggard you looked, or hinting at you being some sort of club pussy on your nights off. Always talking down to you with that petulant smile on her face.

“Don’t you have a bedpan to be cleaning up or something?” she commented as she neared.

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes at one of her many attempts to demean your position as a nurse, you set your jaw and kept on walking down the hall. Giving in to the urge to break her nose–to prove to her that she wasn’t nearly as tough as she thought she was–was always so strong whenever she opened her mouth. But you’d most likely end up fired, with an assault charge, and a guarantee that Jax would only continue to keep you out of his life. So you refrained from ever acting on the impulse.

“Oh, you're trying to ignore me now?” Tara asked, her words clearly meant to taunt. Her footsteps down the otherwise empty hall came to a stop behind you before you heard her voice again. “Still pissed at me for being the one he wants, are you?”

Arms crossing over your chest, you could feel your hands balling into fists as she goaded your retreating form. Just one hit. One right hook straight to her nose like your brother had taught you all those years ago. That would shut her goddamn mouth up. But instead you grit your teeth and kept on walking.

“You will never be what he wants, you know,” Tara called down the hall after you.

Stopping mid-step, you halted in the middle of the empty corridor. Those same words had echoed in your mind for years now, usually in your own internal voice. It was a fear you’d had for a while as Jax continued to keep you at arm’s length, burning through girls in his bed like it was nothing while still only playfully flirting with you. Until he’d gone back to following Tara’s shadow like an angry, lost puppy the first chance he got. 

“But you know that, right?” she continued, clearly pleased that she’d caused you to stop. “You’re nothing but a small town nurse who gets wasted and high in her free time at that clubhouse. No better than the croweaters sucking whatever cock swings their way.”

Head whipping over your shoulder, your eyes narrowed back at Tara. “I’m not a fucking club whore,” you snapped. 

“Right,” she said with a nod, stalking towards you with far too much confidence. “Because your brother is a Son. So you think that somehow makes you better than the other girls trying to catch their attention, right?”

She came to a stop just in front of you, the toes of her shoes practically touching yours. As she leaned her face towards you in an attempt to intimidate, invading your personal space, you found yourself struggling to keep your composure. Everything inside of you just wanted to take a swing at her, just one.

“But you’re not,” she continued, voice dropping into a low hiss. “You’re just as useless and forgettable as the rest of the stupid fucking girls that hang around the club with their tits and their asses out. You mean absolutely nothing to Jax. Just as little as all the other croweaters. You always have.”

A sick, roiling sensation hit you in the gut at her words. You wanted to spit something back in her face, to tell her that she was wrong and far too fucking full of herself. But you hesitated, the month long absence of Jax from your life making you question your ability to even argue otherwise before she was speaking again.

“He’s mine,” she warned you. “He’ll always be mine. And you will never, ever have a place in his life. Not just because you don’t matter to him like I do,” she continued sharply, “but because I’ll never let you near him.”

“You don’t even know him.”

The words that you’d been wanting to scream at her for weeks every time she’d looked at you wrong or said something cruel finally fell right from your lips. You couldn’t hold them back as you unflinchingly held her glare with your own despite the way it felt like a fist was squeezing your heart in your chest as the words ‘you don’t matter to him’ repeated in your mind. 

Tara laughed bitterly before she straightened, no longer directly in your face. “I know him better than anyone,” she disagreed. “Including you.”

“You know a teenager from eleven years ago,” you shot back, hands still balled into fists as your arms hugged your chest tighter. “You don’t know the man he is now–what’s in his heart and his head. You don’t know a damn thing about him anymore.”

Tara’s lips twitched briefly at the corners, her eyes still narrowed at you as they ran up and down the length of you in silent appraisal. “I know damn well you’re not what he wants,” she spat. “You’re forgettable. Not someone worth a second look. I can promise you, he will never want you like you so clearly and pathetically want him. So I suggest you let it go and stop trying to text him asking to spend time with you before I make sure he never wants to look in your direction again.” That ruthless little grin was back on her lips. “And believe me, I could do that. Make him hate you. Make him revulsed at the sight of you.”

As much as you wanted to call her bluff, there was a part of you that truthfully was afraid that she could manage to do exactly that. Pit Jax against you, make him hate you. With the way he’d been acting the past few weeks, he hadn’t seemed like the Jax you’d gotten to know over the last three years at all. And the last thing you wanted was to lose your best friend even if it felt like you already had.

A self-satisfied smirk pulled at Tara’s lips when she saw how quickly that threat had silenced you. She knew she’d gotten under your skin finally. But before either of you could say another word, a figure appeared at the other end of the hallway. The movement caused both of you to turn your heads before you caught sight of Jax just as he realized he’d stumbled into something happening between the two of you. His expression shifted between a mixture of things so quickly that you only managed to catch a couple of emotions–surprise, guilt, frustration–before he’d thrown that usual stoic calm over his features which often made him impossible to read.

“Everything good here?” Jax asked as he sauntered towards the pair of you.

You’d been about to answer, but Tara beat you to it as she gestured a hand in your direction.

“You really need to get a handle on the croweaters “ She sent you a sidelong glare before adding on, “They clearly don't know when their mouths are wanted.”

“She’s not a croweater, Tara,” Jax replied, sounding tired. 

He glanced over towards you, taking in your posture as you noticed how exhausted and worn down he looked. He looked as if he hadn’t been sleeping well for a few days. His blonde, shaggy hair was messier and more disheveled than usual, and even the way he carried himself seemed a little off–sluggish and weary. You wondered if it was his thoughts or something else keeping him up late at night before you quickly shut those thoughts down. You probably didn’t want to know the answer.

“I’ll meet you in your office, alright?” he said, focusing back on Tara. “Just gimme a minute.”

Tara stood there eyeing you, that smugness still radiating off of her before she finally continued down the hall in the direction she'd been going in initially. Your attention remained on Jax, studying his face as his eyes followed Tara’s retreating form until it was gone. Then he ran a hand across his mouth in agitation as his gaze drifted back to you.

“What're you doing?” he asked.

Your brows immediately drew together at the accusation in his tone. “What are you talking about?” 

Jax’s head gestured towards where Tara had just disappeared. “Talking to Tara,” he clarified. “Whatever that was clearly wasn't friendly. What're you doing?”

Lips parting in surprise, you couldn't believe he was blaming you for that tense situation he had just stumbled on. Jax had always known you to be fairly level-headed even if you were blunt and spoke your mind. You didn't start shit at the clubhouse despite the few times you'd shut a girl up when you'd truly needed to and he knew that.

“Oh, so I'm the one starting shit?” you shot back incredulously. “Is that the bullshit she's poisoning you with?”

Jax made a face immediately, his expression twisting into one of distaste. “Poisoning me? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

The look on his face gave you pause before you could blurt out everything that'd been on your mind about him and Tara since she returned. But you could see the way his brows had drawn together as his eyes narrowed back at you, his mouth a tight line. He was getting pissed. At you. Something that had never happened before. You knew Tara was a topic that had often been off-limits with him in the past, so calling out her bullshit seemed like it'd get you nowhere with him, even if he desperately needed someone to yank his head out of his own ass.

“She stopped me,” you said instead. “Trust me, I have no desire to have hallway chats with her. That was all on her.”

“Just stay outta shit with Tara,” he told you, moving to step past you like he was already done talking to you. “It’s none of your business.”

Your eyes finally fell to what he was holding in his hand as he took a step forward in the direction of Tara’s office. It was a tumbler. Probably a tumbler filled with coffee. Just like he used to always bring you. The sight of it left you breathless, feeling as if someone had just slammed their fist right into your chest and knocked the wind straight out of you.

“You're bringing her coffee now?” the question slipped softly out before you could stop it.

For the briefest moment, Jax looked guilty at your question and the tone of your voice as his eyes fell to the cup in his hand. But almost as quickly, his jaw tensed and he focused back on you.

“It's none of your business, like I already said,” he snapped.

“So that's it then?” you asked, your mouth suddenly having a mind of its own. “You only have time for Tara now?”

Jax turned back towards you, that frustration from a moment ago returning and setting him off like a lit match. He tensed as he stepped towards you, his eyes narrowed into a sharp glare.

“Maybe I've been fucking busy,” he snapped at you. “You think of that? Maybe I don't have time to sit and drink with you because I've got other shit going on.”

“For a month, Jax?” you asked in disbelief. “Too busy to call or text? Too busy to talk when I'm at the clubhouse? You've been like that ever since Tara came back–you're avoiding me.”

“What?” he snapped, shaking his head at you. “You think I'm avoiding you, is that what this is? You're mad cause you're not getting all my attention? Are you fucking serious right now?”

“I'm mad because you haven't been acting like yourself lately!” you shot back, waving a hand at him. “You never get mad at me like this!”

“Cause you're actually pissing me off right now!” he yelled back.

Those words quieted you, your mouth closing before another thing could come out of it. You'd clearly gone too far and now he was probably just going to push you further away. And dammit, that hurt. All of this hurt.

He pointed a finger in your face as he leaned in towards you, his voice growing dangerously calm as he continued. “Leave the shit with Tara alone, I'm not gonna say it again,” he warned you. “It ain’t your goddamn business. Stay the hell outta it.”

He didn't stand there another second longer before he turned and headed off in the direction Tara had left a few minutes ago, abruptly ending the conversation with you. You stood there watching the back of him, your eyes fixed on the reaper of his kutte until he disappeared towards her office and left you standing alone in the hallway.

A strangled, choked noise fought its way up your chest and out of your mouth before you threw a hand over it. Everything felt like it was suddenly crumbling around you, a burning ache exploding in your chest at the way Jax had just gone off on you.

Ducking into the empty room nearby, you could feel the sting of tears as you slipped inside. You abruptly shut the door after yourself before sinking to the floor, your back to the door as both of your hands flew over your mouth to muffle the sounds of the sobs beginning to fall out of you. 

That hadn't been like Jax at all. Not with you. He'd never gotten pissed like that at you before, never gotten in your face. Even when he was in a bad mood, he'd always been careful with you. Always immediately apologized the handful of times he'd accidentally snapped at you. 

But not this time. 

Warm, wet tears spilled down your cheeks as you shook with sobs against the closed hospital room door. The memory of the way Jax had looked at you just now had Tara’s earlier threat running through your mind again. How she could make him hate you, never want to look in your direction again. Was that what she was already doing?

Where the hell had the Jax you knew for the past three years gone? The one who'd held you close when you'd had a really bad week at the hospital and never minded if you'd cried on his shoulder? The one who used to make you smile with his smartass mouth, and who sent you voicemails to tell you about some ridiculous thing that happened when you'd been working a late shift at the hospital and couldn't be there to witness it? Where was the Jax who'd pick you up sloppy drunk from girls night outs with your friends and called you adorable as he made sure you got home safe?

What the hell had she done to him?

[totalswag]

Please a Drew and reader. They are in the dating faze getting to know each other. However Drew is having some trouble getting to know her. Reader has been in a quite toxic relationship before with a guy that could be mean, did not like when she was being physically loving (holding hands, kissing, hugging) brushing her off literally and could sometimes make her feel like she was being a burden whenever she was talking, which in turn has made her not open up to much, in fear, that she will come off as annoying. When they are having a date at home, Drew pulls her close to hold her and kiss her forehead, but she pulls away after awhile. He then brings up what has been bothering him, afraid, sad and a bit nervous that she does not like him as much as he likes her.

you can trust me — DREW STARKEY

authors note hi baby! thank you for the request and sorry it came so late when you initially requested. life has been crazy since my semester has begun.

REQUEST— open

summary holding back when it comes to physical touch and being your complete self in a new relationship with someone new.

warning(s) mentions of past toxic relationships, insecurities, questioning self-worth.

Drew and you have been seeing each other for almost a month. You haven't felt so happy in a long time to be with someone that values, supports, and loves you for who you are.

Meeting him was unexpected but came into your life when you needed him the most. Drew is very gentle with you and patient in ways you couldn't describe.

Drew has noticed that you are reluctant to touch him and quickly pull away or get nervous before taking his hand. This is something he has noticed about you as you have spent more time with him. He wants to know why you're like this but wants you to be comfortable.

Both are getting to know one other. You haven't gathered the guts to discuss your previous relationship with your ex, who treated you like dirt and never wanted you to touch him. Whether it be holding hands, kissing, embracing, or any other physical contact.

Physical touch is a part of your love language. So being pushed away from someone you care about while attempting to express your feelings for them makes you feel burdened.

Your ex ruined you in a lot of ways.

Once you met Drew, immediately knowing you can be yourself with him without him retaliating. But, you haven't showed him that side of you yet because of your past.

Drew invited you to his apartment for dinner tonight and prepared your favorite pasta dish. He understands you've had a difficult week at work, so he thought inviting you over for dinner would cheer you up.

"Thank you for dinner, Drew; it was delicious," you say, smiling sweetly as you finish your pasta.

"I really appreciate that, Y/N," he says with a smile. "I'm always open to making you dinner."

He’s so sweet

Drew and you cleaned the kitchen before heading to the living room to watch a movie to end the night. He thought it would be good to bring out the food and drinks while you waited on the couch.

"What movie do you wanna watch?" With the TV remote in his left hand while looking at the movie selections.

"Uhh pitch perfect" you reply.

Drew nods in agreement, clicking the movie.

Drew tries to wrap his right arm around your shoulder and kiss you on the forehead halfway through the film, but you pull away hesitantly.

"Everything alright, Y/N?" he frowns with emotion and confusion, "did I do something wrong?"

Your heart fell as the question hovered there. You had been sensing this for days, even weeks, so you knew it was coming. But now that it was here, you were at a loss for words, unable to respond or justify it without driving him away.

When you eventually raised your head to meet his, you could feel the sorrow in his eyes, which tightened your chest. Your voice was barely heard as you murmured, "No, you didn't do anything wrong."

Everything in you was crumbling all together.

"Then why?" With a hand sweeping through his hair, he trailed off, unsure of how to carry on. "Why are you putting distance between us? Are you —? When he began again, you could hear his hesitation and fragility in his voice. "Do you not like me as much as I like you?"

Please don't say that

His words punched you in the gut— hitting you so deep. This wasn't fair to him what so ever. You like him as much as he likes you. Feelings are mutual.

"It's not that," you answered hastily, your voice shaking as you tried to fight back the tears that were about to fall. Yes, Drew, I do like you. Many times.

"So why," He asked. Seeking answers, he gazed at you, his eyes darting over yours. "What makes me think that you're scared to let me in?"

Fiddling with your fingers, trying to gather the words to say. You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. Drew knows about your last relationship but not the whole gist.

“I’ve been hurt before,” you began, your voice trembling. “My last relationship… it wasn’t good. He made me feel like I was too much, like I was annoying whenever I tried to talk or show affection. He’d brush me off, make me feel like I was a burden. And I guess… I guess I’m afraid of that happening again.”

Drew's expression softens with hurt, anger, and confusion. He continues to let you speak while holding your hands in reassurance—thumb gently circling over your knuckles. You can't help but let a few tears as you speak.

"I'm so sorry you went through that."

"It's not your fault. I've gotten so used to holding everything in, I didnt want you to think of me differently and walk away from me" you confess with your chest.

Drew's other hand reached up to softly cup your cheek and use his thumb to wipe away the tears while his grip on your hand tightened. He said, "You're not going to drive me away," and you might believe him because of the quiet passion in his voice. 

"Y/N, I like you just the way you are. I was immediately drawn to your lovely demeanor and am still doing so now. Nothing you are doing is wrong. His eyes never leaving yours, "We can take this at any pace you want and I'll still be here."

You feel a sense of relief fall off your shoulders. The fear you've been holding back slowly drifts away.

"I want you to show how much you like me whether that be words or physical touch. I would never pull you away."

You didn't push away as he moved in to give you a soft kiss on the forehead. For the first time in a long time, you felt as though maybe—just maybe—you could begin to lower your barriers as you allowed yourself to lean into him and experience the warmth and security of his embrace.

my taglist!

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[angrythingstarlight]

I know this might be wild but… imagine bucky gifting his wife this yacht but instead of butterflies it’s a bee…

I totally see him doing this just because he can 🤣👀

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSNYLANAu/

Bucky is a very generous husband. He enjoys spending his considerable wealth on you and the baby. His little family is going to have everything they want and need.

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader

CW: Implied smut, fluff.

AN: Written on my phone. Unbetad. The yacht I had in mind is based on one I found a few weeks ago in preparation for an upcoming fic but you're free to imagine any one you want.

The day you told Bucky that you were pregnant is ingrained in your memory—although you still have this nagging suspicion that he knew before you did.

You think about his reaction every single day.

It was so visceral and sweet. You had no idea how badly he had been craving this until he cupped your face in his large hands, resting his forehead on top of yours.

"Yeah? You're going to have my baby?" He asked, his clear blue eyes locked on yours, so many expressions shimmering in the depths of his gaze, sheer wonder, giddy excitement, breathtaking love making your stomach swoop to your feet. "You happy?"

You are. But not nearly as happy as he is judging by the way he's looking at you.

"Yes, Bucky." Your reply barely left your lips before his own were claiming you. The kiss was languid and passionate as he drew you closer to him, his cologne, spiced orange and vanilla, surrounded you. You can't think straight when he gets like this. One kiss led to another as he slowly lost himself in the feel of you until you were both consumed his intense fervor.

When he broke away it so he could trail his lips across your jaw and along the curve of your collarbone.

I'm going to be a father, I love you Malyshka, I can't believe it's happening, I can't wait to meet her. Bucky murmured between each soft kiss he reverently pressed into your skin as he dropped to his knees and laid his head on your belly, his long arms wrapped around you.

That was the first time you heard him call her Bumblebee, he was convinced the baby would be a girl. The first time he spoke to her, promised to love and protect her. To spoil her. To keep you safe and happy and loved. To give you everything you need and want. Satisfy every desire. Make sure you don't have to worry about anything except maybe which vacation spot you'd want to visit first.

Up until that moment, you couldn't imagine how Bucky could possibly spoil you any more than he already has.

He proved you wrong.

So very wrong.

Bucky hadn't begun to show you how generous or creative he could be when it comes to lavishing you with gifts. Attention. Affection. When he said he was going to take care of you, he meant it.

If you felt like doing nothing, he made sure your books and shows were readily available and all your needs were taken care of.

Your back ached, he was there to massage every inch of your body.

When your hormones got out of control and everything made you cry, he was there to comfort you, not once making fun of your emotional outbursts.

If you wanted to use him like he was your personal body pillow, he'd canceled his plans for the day and laid with you as long as you wanted.

Bucky constantly praised you, told you how much he loved you, never letting a single moment of doubt creep into your head. You were nervous about a lot of things—the delivery, being a mom, taking care of a newborn—but you never questioned his love for you.

By the time, you were in your second trimester, you were starting to understand that your husband's generosity was only ramping up. So you weren't too surprised when he made a blindfold out of his tie and led you to the car. He meets your attempts to get a hint with playful retorts, refusing to give you even the slightest detail.

It wasn't long before the car rollz o a stop and he was guiding you down a wooden path, the faint crash of waves filling your ears. A warm, salt-tinged breeze sweeps across your face. It's all so familiar. You've been here before with your mobster. The first time he took you on an impromptu vacation on his yacht.

An excited grin pulls at your lips, even though you can't make out anything but sheer darkness you strain to get a glimpse of anything beyond the tie around your eyes.

Bucky knows the second you realize where you are, his lips brush over your cheek, pausing at your ear.

"Don't even think about touching that blindfold," he says, his smile radiating through his tone. "We're coming up to a few steps." He takes your hand in his, his other resting on the small of your back. "Almost there. Two more."

Once you reach the landing, Bucky moves behind you. His chest warms your back and he places his hands around your growing belly. "Now you can take it off Malyshka."

You eagerly snatch it off your face, blinking rapidly as your eyes adjust to the bright sunlight washing over your face. After a few seconds, you're able to take in the massive yacht around you. It's gorgeous, sleek lines and lavish designs incorporated into the frame.

Bucky can't wait to show you the rooms below deck were customized with you in mind. Once you get a chance to look around, it's going to become apparent that everything on this luxurious yacht was designed for you.

"Bucky what are we going to do with another boat?" You laugh, your palm over your mouth in disbelief as you turn around to gaze at him.

He's the epitome of casual, one hand in his suit pocke, a smirk on his lips. Bucky shrugs at your question. "You tell me. This is all yours, Malyshka."

You stare suspiciously. "All who's?" His smirk widens and his only answer is his crystal blue gaze sweeping up and down your body. "Bucky. I—"

"I did tell you that you were getting something every trimester and I always keep my word." Bucky has never enjoyed spending money on anyone until you and now he can't stop himself.

He has something planned for the third trimester and your push gift is going to be legendary.

Before you can formulate a protest over his outrageous spending, he has your face in his hands, giving you one of his devastatingly passionate kisses, the kind you both know weakens your defenses.

When you melt into him, Bucky smiles against your lips. "Before you ask me to take it back, how about we christen every room since we're already here. I think you remember the last time I had you on yacht like this?"

You do. You barely left the suite that week. The things he did, the things he made you do left you in a pleasure filled haze the entire vacation.

Bucky tilts his head, running his tongue across his bottom lip. "I have a proposition for you. I make you come five times before it's time for lunch and you'll consider keeping the yacht?"

"And if you don't?"

Bucky grins down at you, lifting his brows playfully, a stark dichotomy to his darkening, lust-blown pupils.

He's always up for a challenge and he's going to wear you out before springing the rest of his surprise on you.

"I'm a man of my word, Malyshka. In fact, why don't we make it six? All you need to do is lie back and let me worship you the way you deserve."

[woso-dreamzzz]

Miracle

Aitana Bonmatí x Baby!Reader

Summary: You're a miracle

Aitana didn't take days off.

That was something Keira knew.

Aitana refused to take days off even when she was sick and injured. She always arrives ready and willing to train even though everyone knows that she'd just be sent home.

It's why this past week has been strange.

Aitana didn't come into training once. There was no hide or hair of the girl. Her phone immediately went to voicemail. The lights in her house were always off.

If there weren't still Bonmatí shirts in the kit room then Keira could almost believe Aitana never existed.

It was strange and off putting, especially because whenever she asked, Jona would respond that Aitana was off for personal reasons.

None of it made any sense until all of a sudden it did.

Keira was running later, tripping over her own feet as she hurries out of her car. She slams the door shut as she hefts her training bag over her shoulder.

The sound of another door slamming shut shocks her and she whips her head up to see which of her teammates would be having to run laps with her.

She spots Aitana though.

Aitana who is juggling three different bags and a baby.

"Aitana?" Keira asks," Are you okay?"

Aitana looks half to tears as one of the bags fall. She shakes her head.

"I've got it," Keira says," Come on. Let's get you inside."

Aitana doesn't speak as they both make their way to the empty locker room. She doesn't really do anything apart from occasionally holding you closer, breathing in your soft baby smell and pulling back with tears in her eyes.

"So..." Keira feels awkward. This wasn't how she thought her day would be going. "Are you babysitting?"

Aitana's bottom lip wobbles as she glances at you, shaking her head and Keira doesn't push about it anymore.

"Are you training today?" She asks instead," Or is this just a visit?"

"Training." It's the first word Aitana's said to her all morning and Keira counts it as a small victory.

Her friend looks distraught but you seem fairly happy on her hip.

You're sucking on your fingers and looking around, eyes wide as you garble out half words and sounds. Your happy smiling face changes though when you notice Aitana isn't smiling.

Your whole face scrunches up and you recklessly lean towards her to press what is more an open-mouthed breath than an actual kiss to her cheek.

That causes the tiniest of smiles to appear on Aitana's face. "Sí, thank you, estrella."

You giggle, kicking your little legs as Aitana moves to exit the locker room, Keira hurrying to trail behind.

Jona welcomes them both warmly and seems to forget Keira being late in exchange for greeting you.

"If you still need time," He says to Aitana," Then you're welcome to take more time off."

"No," Aitana says," I need to be back on the pitch. I...We need normalcy. The books said I need to establish a routine."

"If you need help-"

"Jona, I'll be fine."

"Of course you will but you're not alone in this. I'll help. Irene will help. You only need to ask."

"I know."

There's already a space made up for you in the shade. Aitana doesn't question who brought out the playpen to keep you enclosed but she's thankful regardless.

You'd just begun to learn how to get around by rolling and she doesn't want to have to keep one eye on you for the whole of training.

She doesn't have to do it but she finds herself doing it anyway, like she can't bare to be separated from you.

"Hey," Irene says during a little break," I heard what happened."

"From Jona?" Aitana can't help be annoyed. Jona shouldn't be airing out her personal business to anyone.

"Alexia, actually," Irene says," She said you might need some help."

"I don't need help!" Aitana snaps, fists clenched at her side," It's not the first time I've had her! I can cope!"

"Babysitting is different from being her mother."

"I'm not her mother!" Aitana insists," Her parents are going to wake up! They are!"

Paredes look tells Aitana that she thinks it's unlikely and Aitana regrets ever informing the club about what had happened. She should have known they would tell Alexia who, trying to be the ever-helpful captain, would pass on the knowledge to whoever she felt could offer the most support.

Of course, she went to Paredes, the ever-experienced mother of the group. She could have easily gone to Marta too but with her working out how to introduce Caro to her Conejita, she would be too preoccupied to offer help.

"Aitana-"

"Thank you for the offer," Aitana says through gritted teeth," But I don't need it."

She storms off then, turning on her heel. She barges past Alexia who was hovering nearby, intent on giving her a piece of her mind.

Her mouth is already open to hurl an out of character insult at her captain when she catches onto your wailing. It seems you're a bit out of character too today.

You'd slept horribly last night and the night before. You didn't eat well this morning either and you had cried all through the car journey to training. The happiest you'd been was in the locker room with Keira.

Aitana knew it wouldn't last.

But she couldn't work out what was wrong with you. You're weren't hungry. You didn't need a change. You weren't hurt.

You were just sobbing when she picks you up, hiding your face in her neck and wiping your runny nose with her training top.

"What's wrong, estrella?" She coos," What's wrong? What's happened?"

You sniffle a few more times. "Ta-Ta."

"Hmm." Aitana runs a soft hand over your hair. "You just wanted me, huh?"

"Ta-Ta."

"I understand." She sways you side to side until your sobs have turned into little hiccups of emotion and you're looking up at her with wide, teary eyes.

"Just Estrella and her Ta-Ta," She coos," This is very different, isn't it?"

Aitana sits down on the grass, digging around in one of the bags she brought for your bottle. Your parents had begun to try to wean you but the past week has been so stressful already and she doesn't want to do more to unsettle you.

You suckle aimlessly, one of your hands moving to cover the one of Aitana's that's holding your bottle.

She stares ahead as a familiar face sits down next to her.

By now, she knows that her strange behaviour has spread all over the team. Paredes and Alexia both hover uncertainly nearby like they want to offer help again but don't want to wind her up further.

Across the pitch, Aitana can spot Marta and her Conejita doing arts and crafts together.

It sends a stabbing pain into her chest and the words spill out of her mouth before Keira can even ask.

"She's not mine. I mean, she is but not really."

"Aitana, I don't understand."

"Her parents...my friends..." Her throat closes up. "I was babysitting last week for date night and they...A drunk driver hit them."

"I'm sorry. Are they-?"

Aitana shakes her head. "They're in comas. They put me down as Estrella's guardian. I...They...I'm trying my best."

"I'm sure you are. You must love her a lot."

"She's mine," Aitana chokes out," Biologically. She's mine. They-They couldn't get pregnant and I offered to donate an egg and we agreed I'd be fun Tia Ta-Ta..."

"Oh, Aitana..."

The tears are running down her cheeks now and she's can't stop them.

"They were going to have date night with her last week. They said that they'd find something baby friendly but I insisted. It was so close. She could have...Keira, she could have died."

Keira glances at you. You're so comfortable in Aitana's arms and, now that she's really looking, she can see the similarities between the both of you.

You both have the same crying face.

"But she didn't," Keira says," You were looking after her, Aitana. You had her. You kept her safe."

"Ta-Ta?" Your tone is questioning and your little pudgy hands come up to touch her cheeks.

"I'm fine, estrella," She says to you as her phone rings. She already knows who is calling. Somehow, she already knows what they're going to tell her. "Why don't you hang out with your fun Tia Keira? I'll be back in a second."

"Ta-Ta!" You whine as you're shuffled from Aitana to Keira.

"Just a minute. Then it's Ta-Ta and Estrella time."

As she answers the phone, Aitana knows that's it's going to be Ta-Ta and Estrella time forever now.

[2i1han]

Slowly, Then All at Once

2 : since then

pairing: classmate!leehan x fem!reader │word count: 8.9k

genre: slow-burn, young adult, coming of age, romcom

tags: boynextdoor , non-idol au, high school/college au , first love , neighbor!leehan , extrovert!leehan , cold!leehan , extrovert!reader

characters mentioned : kim leehan , park sungho , anton lee , sakai moka , kim minji , ham jinsik , kim woonhak

warnings: no warnings! sfw

synopsis : you and leehan have always known each other—classmates since ninth grade, always familiar but never really close due to leehan's indifference. but when his brother enters the picture, and you ending up in the same building as him, everything starts to change. unresolved situation that were once buried begin to surface, and leehan must decide: let go or finally take a chance.

a/n : hi, everyone! this is the second full part for my series. and, i just wanted to say thank you to all those who read the first part and supported it ! i love you all so much 𖹭 i hope you'll enjoy this part as much as i enjoyed writing it.

playlist : seasons/wte , the first words/song yuvin , a little bit more/jinho , everyone adores you/matt maltese , so let's go see the stars/boynextdoor , but i like you/boynextdoor , so tender/say sue me , bad/wte , light/wte , chocolate/bol4 , some/soyou , would you love me/stella jang , everyday/haebin , star drawing/yuziii

the countdown to graduation had begun. it's the first weeks of october, and the air is starting to get cold, as well as the trees turning bright orange. five months left, and summer vacation was already waving hello from a distance like a blessing. but instead of enjoying the thought of freedom, everyone was drowning in piles of textbooks, mock exams, and late-night study sessions for the csat entrance exams. the entire school felt like it had turned into a pressure cooker, students running on caffeine and stress as they prepared for college entrance exams.

and you? you were no exception. while others buried themselves in past papers, you were sacrificing sleep at ungodly hours, struggling to piece together the perfect art portfolio for your university application. between exam prep, graduation rehearsals, and finishing last-minute school requirements, you barely had time to breathe.

so when the weekend rolled around, you decided to reclaim a small piece of your sanity. you swung by moka's apartment, planning to meet up with her and minji— your first proper hangout in weeks.

moka sat at her vanity, delicately patting powder onto her face like she was about to go on a magazine shoot instead of a casual outing. she glanced at you through the mirror.

"how's your portfolio going?" she asked, dabbing her nose with a fluffy brush.

you sighed dramatically, flopping onto her bed like a tragic indie. "it's fine… i guess. i just don't think some of my existing pieces are good enough." you groaned, rubbing your forehead. "that's why i'm still trying to make new ones."

moka immediately turned to face you, her expression is a mix of disbelief and exasperation. "you can't be serious." she put her powder down as if you had personally offended her. "y/n, you're literally at the top of your class when it comes to art. even the professors are obsessed with you!"

she wasn’t wrong. you had consistently won every art competition, and teachers practically worshipped your skills. but self-doubt was a clingy little parasite, and no amount of external validation could change the way you fixated on the tiny flaws in your work.

you just shrugged it off, knowing that moka will again hit you with the every art has flaws.

"yeah, whatever." picking up your phone from the bed, you scrolled through your messages. "is minji still not coming?"

moka hummed in response, too focused on applying her false lashes to spare you a damnm

right on cue—

ding dong.

"speak of the devil," you muttered, tossing your phone aside before getting up to open the door.

as expected, minji stood there, slightly breathless, her denim jumper speckled with dried paint. her hair was in a messy bun, strands of hair flowing like they had given up on being tied.

"sorry i'm late," she panted, stepping inside. "extracurriculars ran long."

you closed the door behind her, eyeing the paint stains on her clothes. "mhm, looks like it," you said, plopping back onto the bed as minji took a seat on a wooden chair—probably to avoid ruining moka's fluffy pink bedsheets.

"so," minji stretched her arms, "where are we heading?"

"the new café on the next street," moka announced, wiggling her eyebrows. "i heard their pastries are the real thing."

you perked up. "sweet. i've been craving sugar." you lazily raised your phone above your head.

on the other hand, minji groaned. "i'm on a sugar diet, but fine." she crossed her arms. "where did you even hear about this place?"

that's when moka's expression shifted into something far too smug for your liking. "my friend told me," she said, twirling a strand of her hair. "i wasn’t interested at first, but then she mentioned that the barista there is handsome."

you and minji immediately shared a look.

"...ewww," you both deadpanned, cringing.

"the pastries better be actually good, or we're leaving you behind," you warned, stifling a laugh.

moka just shrugged, grinning. "gladly. more eye candy for me."

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

the three of you stepped into the café, immediately greeted by the warm interior, a contrast to the chill autumn air outside. the place had a cozy ambiance—soft lighting, large window panes letting in the golden hues of the late afternoon sun, and walls painted a light coffee brown. it wasn't a huge place, but spacious enough, with about eight tables spread around the room. the scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked pastries hung in the air, making your stomach grumble slightly.

you glanced around as the three of you settled at a four-seater table by the window, the perfect spot for people-watching and rating cars driving by.

"i'll order. what do you guys want?" you asked, tapping your fingers lightly on the table.

moka and minji hummed in thought, their eyes drifting to the digital menu displayed on the right wall.

"just a hot cocoa for me. and for the pastry… let’s just get a whole tiramisu cake," moka decided, leaning back in her chair.

minji nodded in agreement. "that'll do. i'll get an iced americano."

"alright," you murmured before pushing yourself up from your seat and heading toward the counter.

the café wasn't too crowded, only about three other customers were seated inside, all quietly sipping on their drinks. you were the only one at the counter, so you took your time glancing at the overhead menu, even though you had already decided.

i'll just get what moka did, you muttered under your breath before shifting your eyes left and right, scanning the empty counter. you were mildly curious about this so-called handsome barista moka had been fawning over.

and as if on cue, the door to the employee's room swung open.

there he is. the legendary ‘handsome’ barista.

you blinked, suppressing a chuckle. if this was moka's definition of handsome, then water must be dry.

the guy was tall, his jet-black hair falling slightly over his forehead in a way that looked both effortless and intentional. his skin was clear—flawless, even, and his nose was sharp enough to cut glass. fine, maybe some points there. he wore a light cream polo under a black apron, the typical café worker drip.

he caught your gaze and immediately approached, his expression was smooth and light.

"what'll you have today, miss?" his voice was gentle, and polite, almost overly refined like he was a nobleman in disguise.

you almost wanted to laugh, but instead, you matched his energy with a small smile. "two hot chocolates and one iced americano. all medium-sized."

"andd… pastry?" he tilted his head slightly, still smiling.

"one whole tiramisu cake," you confirmed.

the barista nodded enthusiastically before punching the order into the register. "that'll be 43,000 won, miss."

you handed him your card, watching as he swiftly swiped it before handing it back.

"thank you. you can take your seat; i'll bring your order to your table," he offered, gesturing toward the seating area.

you nodded and turned around, only to be met with the sight of moka practically jumping with excitement, her eyes locked onto the barista like he was a rare artifact in a museum.

rolling your eyes, you made your way back and sat down next to minji.

"he's not even that handsome," you commented, scrolling through your phone absentmindedly.

moka's head snapped toward you so fast you feared she might get whiplash. "this is exactly why no guy approach you anymore," she deadpanned. "do you know how many hot guys in school have tried to get with you, only for you to brutally reject them and tell us that they weren't ‘handsome’?"

minji, ever the slightly neutral party, simply nodded in agreement. "i mean… she's got a point." shhe paused for a second before stealing another glance at the barista. "he is handsome. you're just bitter."

you sighed, sparing another glance at the guy, who was now carefully scooping out the tiramisu from the pastry window. "fine. i'll give you two some credit. his skin is nice, and he's got a decent nose. other than that, nothing special."

minji leaned back against the windowpane, while moka let out an exaggerated ugh. her dramatic reaction was short-lived, though, as her smile suddenly creeped back in two times wider than the last. you didn't even have to turn around to know what that meant.

the barista was approaching.

"here's your order, miss," he said, setting the tray down with grace.

moka, in true moka fashion, didn't even glance at the food. her attention was zeroed in on the barista's face, studying every detail like she was going to write a dissertation on it.

you nodded in thanks, ignoring the way the barista's gaze lingered on you for a good three seconds before he walked away.

as soon as he was out of earshot, moka sighed dreamily. "oh my god, he's so handsome."

you picked up your fork and stabbed your slice of tiramisu with a blank expression. "sure."

moka's face flattened as she swirled her straw in her drink. she exhaled dramatically before giving you a pointed look.

"is this all just because of your poor eyesight?" she asked, as if genuinely concerned for your well-being.

minji, mid-sip of her iced americano, nearly choked, letting out a half-laugh, half-cough.

rolling your eyes, you adjusted your thick-framed glasses, the same ones you had stubbornly worn since middle school, despite constant suggestions (or rather, bullying) from your friends. "please. i'm planning to switch to contacts soon."

moka gasped, clutching her chest like you had just declared peace. "finally! maybe then you'll see the world properly, or, see hot people properly.”

you raised an eyebrow. "the world, sure. hot people? questionable."

minji snickered while the other one groaned, shaking her head in disappointment. "you are a lost cause."

she then propped her chin on her hand, a dreamy look spreading across her face. "even his name is handsome," she dragged out the syllables in front of you.

"park. sungho."

minji side-eyed her. "wow, how do you even know his name?" she scoffed before you could ask the exact same question.

moka rolled her eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "duh, it's on his name tag. didn't you see?"

minji snorted. "i barely looked at him. ask y/n, she was at the counter."

both of them turned to you expectantly.

you blinked at them before shoving another forkful of tiramisu into your mouth. "nope, didn't notice."

moka's jaw dropped "unbelievable. you were standing right there!"

you chewed slowly, shrugging. "was focused on the order. priorities."

minji let out a snort while moka threw her hands in the air. "whatever, you're so boring. let's just enjoy this before i lose my mind." she said, stabbing a fork on the cake.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

by the time the three of you had inhaled the cake and drained your drinks, minji let out a satisfied sigh, wiping her mouth with a napkin.

"mhm, okay. this is actually the real thing," she said, stretching her arms.

moka leaned back proudly, folding her arms. "told you."

you hummed in agreement as you swirled the last bits of your hot chocolate. the tiramisu was, in fact, perfection. even the coffee was good, like it was made by someone who actually cared about their job. you hated to say it, but maybe moka's handsome barista had some redeeming qualities beyond his face.

just as you reached for a napkin to wipe your mouth, something caught your eye

something was written under it. your brows furrowed as you turned it over.

a number?

and a note underneath: "you look pretty."

you stared at it. then, instinctively, you looked back to the counter. sungho was busy now, his sleeves rolled up as he worked through a growing line of customers. his face remained completely focused, but he glanced over.

you immediately looked back down at the napkin.

minji was already pulling on her coat, and moka was, of course, checking herself out in her pocket mirror.

"all right, are we ready to go?" she asked, running a hand through her hair one last time.

"yeah, sure," minji yawned, stretching her arms.

you casually crumpled the napkin in your palm and shoved it into your pocket. no big deal. nothing to see here.

as the three of you stepped out into the street, you shook your head, exhaling sharply.

moka nudged you as you walked. "you're being weird. what's up?"

"nothing," you said quickly.

moka narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but minji cut in before she could pry.

behind you, inside the café, sungho briefly glanced toward the window, watching you disappear down the street.

then, with a small smirk, he returned to his work.

"where are we heading now? it's only 3 p.m.," minji asked as she lazily stretched her arms above her head.

moka didn't even hesitate. "the mall. come on, let's go."

minji hummed in approval, already pulling out her phone to check for any new sales.

you were just about to nod when a sudden realization hit you like a brick to the face. your sculpture. the one that was due tomorrow. monday afternoon.

"oh, crap." you stopped in your tracks, causing both of them to halt and turn to you with raised eyebrows.

"what?" moka asked, her excitement fading slightly.

you let out a tight-lipped sigh. "i just remembered, i have an unfinished sculpture in the art room. i need to finish it today. you guys go ahead without me. i'll catch up if i can."

moka's eyes immediately narrowed. "absolutely not."

here we go.

"come onnn, we barely even go out anymore! just this once, prioritize us over some lump of clay," she whined, dramatically clasping her hands together like she was pleading for her life.

"it's not just a lump of clay, moka," you deadpanned.

six pleases and ten ‘we barely go out anymore's later, moka finally sighed in defeat, crossing her arms.

"fine. but next time, make sure you don’t have any unfinished tasks, so we can enjoy the day properly, okay?" she looked at you almost pitifully, like you were some overworked corporate employee instead of a graduating student.

you chuckled, pulling both her and minji into a quick hug. "i promise. take care, both of you."

minji patted your back. "you too. don't let the clay take over your life."

with that, they waved goodbye, and you made your way to the bus stop, waiting for the ride that would take you the very place you had been trying to escape all week.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

by the time you arrived at the art room, you fully expected to be the only student who had procrastinated this badly. but as soon as you pushed the door open, the atmosphere inside shifted.

there, seated at one of the workstations, was leehan—completely engrossed in his sculpture, his hands steady as he gripped a sculpting tool.

you walked slowly, carefully making your way toward your own workspace, which just so happened to be right next to his.

of course.

leehan barely glanced at you, but when he did, it was through the gaps of his hands as he continued shaping his piece. his focus remained stable, and, predictably, he didn't say a word.

not that you were expecting him to.

it had always been like this for the past three years. silent. neutral. two people coexisting in the same space without the need for conversation.

so, treating this as just another normal day, you sat down and got to work.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

thirty minutes passed, and your sculpture was already coming together nicely. the texture was smooth, the facial anatomy was decent, and all that remained were the arms and legs.

meanwhile, leehan's progress… was questionable at best.

you snuck a glance at his work.

it hadn't moved. at least, not noticeably. the proportions were off, the limbs were… concerning, and at this point, it was starting to look more like an artifact from a horror museum rather than an academic project.

he was struggling.

you furrowed your brows. why did he even choose an art strand? was he actually passionate about it? or was this some twisted form of self-inflicted suffering?

whatever the reason, you couldn't ignore it any longer.

"do you need help?" you asked, more out of pity than actual expectation.

and honestly, you weren't expecting an answer. if anything, you thought he'd ignore you like always.

but then, like some kind of miracle, leehan put his sculpting tool down and mumbled:

"yes, please."

yes, please.

your brain short-circuited.

it wasn't just a yes. it wasn't just some bare-minimum grunt of acknowledgment.

there was a please.

was this for real? or had the painful silence in the room finally driven you insane?

but before you could spiral into that thought, you shook it off. whatever, not important. you had a job to do.

you nodded, moving over to his table as you examined his sculpture up close.

"do you even know basic anatomy?" you asked, tilting your head at the poor, disfigured limbs of his creation. it was... unique.

leehan barely glanced up. "i'm bad at it." his voice was quiet, almost as if admitting this was painful.

you hummed in response, crossing your arms.

"well," you sighed, picking up a sculpting tool, "lucky for you, i don't suck at it."

leehan smiled to himself. an actual smile.

not a forced one, but a real, genuine, pleased-with-life kind of smile. but, thankfully for him, you didn't notice. you were too busy sculpting, completely focused on saving his poor project. and honestly? he was probably relieved. if you had seen it, that carefully crafted, too-cool-to-care exterior he had built over the years might've shown some cracks.

instead, he simply stood beside you, watching as you worked with effortlessly.

"watch how i do it," you said, not even glancing up.

leehan obeyed without question, his gaze glued to your hands and the clay.

minutes passed, and the disfigured limbs of his sculpture were slowly reshaped into something actually recognizable. you worked swiftly, skillfully, and before long, you placed the sculpting tool down with a satisfied sigh.

"there," you said simply.

leehan leaned in, inspecting the piece with his usual unreadable expression. but even though he tried not to be expressive, you could tell—he was amazed.

"thank you. a lot," he said, his eyes locking onto yours.

for a second, you weren't sure how to respond. compliments weren't exactly his thing, and hearing him say a full, properly structured sentence felt almost weird. so you just offered a small, awkward smile.

"it's nothing," you muttered.

then it's followed by silence.

it wasn't awkward, per se, but it felt different from your usual shared quiet. like something was waiting to be said next.

you hesitated before speaking. "why..."

you nearly stopped yourself, figuring leehan's free trial of words had probably expired. but when you glanced at him, you noticed that he was listening. actually waiting for you to continue.

so, you did. "why did you take art classes? i notice you struggling a lot with it... even when we're still in middle school."

the question seemed to shrink his usual confidence, or whatever distant, broody aura he carried. his fingers twitched, and his posture stiffened.

then, finally, he exhaled and looked away, focusing on the sculpture rather than you.

"my mom," he said, "she wants me to take arts."

"ohh" you simply nodded. you weren't going to push.

but you still did "don't let anyone stop you from doing what you really want," you said, keeping your voice casual.

leehan's eyes flickered down to his sculpture. for a moment, he didn't move, just absorbed your words in silence. then, he gave a small nod.

the conversation ended there, followed by another silence again. and you took that as your cue to return to your table.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

it was 6:30 p.m. when you finally finished.

your sculpture was done—polished, covered, and ready to be presented tomorrow. meanwhile, the person beside you? still in the exact same spot you left him in.

except, now, his project had actual progress. thanks to the sketch you had given him as a guide, the limbs no longer looked like they belonged in a horror exhibit. he still had a long way to go, but at least he wasn't completely lost anymore.

you packed your bag, hesitating for a second.

should i tell him i'm leaving?

you never did before. not once. usually, you'd just slip out without a word, and he never seemed to care.

but maybe, after today's surprisingly human interaction, it felt weird to just go without acknowledging him.

so, after a moment of internal debate, you finally spoke up.

"i'll get going," you said, pointing vaguely toward the door.

leehan looked up slowly.

you expected him to do his usual nod—you know, that tiny, barely-there bow that was less of a gesture and more of a muscle spasm.

but instead, he actually said something.

"okay."

not just a nod. a full, verbal response. it's flat, but at least it's a thing.

you nodded back, stepping toward the door.

as you left, you didn’t notice leehan watching you the entire way, not turning back to his sculpture until you had fully leave the room.

he has to figure it all out on his own now that his art genius classmate had left.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

ring. ring.

after a few rings, minji finally picked up.

"hello?" you said, pressing the phone to your ear while speed-walking toward the bus stop.

"hello? what's up?" minji's voice crackled on the other end.

"moka isn't answering her phone. are you guys still out?" you asked, adjusting the strap of your bag.

"nah, we just got home. her phone died," minji explained. "we're at her apartment. you coming?"

"mhm," you hummed. "i'll be there now."

"alright. don't get kidnapped. take care."

"wow, thanks for the reminder," you chuckled before hanging up.

you sat onto the bench at the bus stop, letting out a sigh. the bus was taking forever. long enough for you to consider filing a complaint. but instead, you just leaned your head against the metal pole of the shed and jammed your earphones in.

then— knock, knock.

you flinched, pulling out an earbud.

standing beside you was none other than moka's handsome barista from earlier.

"hey," he greeted, smiling slightly.

you quickly sat up, smoothing your clothes like that would somehow make you look less caught off guard. "oh, hi! uh… you're the barista from earlier." you pointed.

he chuckled, nodding. "mhm."

"are you… also waiting for the bus?" you asked, mostly just to fill the silence.

sungho let out a short laugh and shook his head, lifting the small bag in his hand. "just dropping something off."

ah, a delivery or something. not that it mattered. you were a little too preoccupied pretending not to remember the note. the one he casually slipped under your tissue at the café, complete with his phone number and a compliment scribbled underneath.

you thought about bringing it up. you really did.

but then again, what were you even supposed to say? "hey, thanks for the note, but i nearly choked on my drink when i saw it"?

yeah. no.

so instead, you awkwardly nodded. "i see. well… take care, i guess."

sungho, just nodded. he took a step back like he was about to leave, and you were about to sink back into your seat when—

"what's your name?"

you quickly looked back to him. but, before you could respond, the bus's headlights flickered behind him.

"seo y/n," you answered, flashing him a smirk.

sungho's lips curled up slightly to a small smile as the bus doors hissed open.

for a second, he looked like he wanted to say something else, maybe a take care or a see you around. but the moment passed.

instead, he just watched as you stepped onto the bus.

and when you turned back for a quick glance, he was already walking away, hands tucked into his pockets, disappearing down the street.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

"really? you met him?" moka whined, dragging out the words like she was personally offended by fate for not being there.

"yup." you threw a chip into your mouth, acting as nonchalant as possible, though moka's growing excitement was making that difficult.

minji sat on moka's bed, scrolling through her phone with the energy of someone who had heard this before. meanwhile, you and moka were sprawled on the fluffy rug, surrounded by snacks that were supposed to be for a "movie night" but had instead turned into a tea party.

"ugh, lucky. what'd y'all talk about?" moka leaned in, eyes gleaming like she was waiting for some heart-racing, k-drama-worthy story.

you frowned, trying to recall anything that might be considered even remotely interesting. "uh… he said hi, mentioned he was dropping something off, asked for my name, and… that was it."

silence, then-

"that's lame." minji finally spoke, still not looking up from her phone.

moka smacked her leg. "shut up, minji," before turning back to you with a grin "oh my god, he wants you."

you blinked. "that's a reach."

"no, because look," moka sat up with determination. "why would he even ask for y/n's name? he doesn't even know her!"

"well, no shit," minji scoffed, rolling her eyes. "why else would he ask for y/n's name?"

moka glared at her. "you're ruining the fun."

minji shrugged. "i live to bring logic into chaos."

you just shook your head, laughing. "anyway, forget about sungho. something weird happened today."

moka barely looked interested, probably expecting another "i lost my paintbrush again and i swear someone in the art department is gaslighting me" story.

but then you said the magic name.

"leehan-"

and suddenly, both of them snapped their attention to you so fast you thought you heard a crack.

"leehan?!" moka practically screeched, throwing her snack bag aside like this was now the most important conversation of her life.

"why? what happened? did he ignore you again?" minji raised an eyebrow. "thought we left that nightmare back in 10th grade."

you sighed. "no, that's the weird part. he actually… talked to me."

moka's jaw dropped. "what?"

"like, full sentences. he asked for my help with his sculpture."

moka gasped like you had just told her the school was burning down. "HE SPOKE? VOLUNTARILY?"

"yes! and not just a one-word answer. like, actual conversation. he even made eye contact."

minji snorted. "his dialogue options unlocked."

"he leveled up socially," you added. "well, he's already leveled up socially, i just meant, when it comes to me."

"okay, but what if it's a one-time thing?" moka waved a hand dismissively. "like when an npc suddenly gets good ai for one mission and then goes back to walking into walls."

you wanted to argue, but, she might be right. a part of you was curious, though. maybe it was just today, or maybe leehan had finally decided you were worth acknowledging as a human being. who knew?

so you just shrugged it all off. "guess we'll see."

and after that, the conversation shifted into something else entirely—probably a debate about whether or not one of your professors secretly lived at school. you spent the rest of the night laughing, overanalyzing everything, and eventually crashing at moka's place for a sleepover.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

and guess what? moka was right.

because by the next morning, leehan had officially reset to his factory settings.

you were sitting at your desk, mentally willing something, anything— miraculous to happen. maybe he'd give you another full sentence. mybe he'd iinitiate a conversation. but no, the universe wasn't that kind.

leehan did approach your desk, though, standing in front of you with his usual blank expression, looking down like you were nothing more than an obstacle in his path.

still, you held onto hope. you flashed a small smile, waiting for some sign of acknowledgment. instead, he just unceremoniously dropped a folder onto your desk.

you blinked.

it was the proportion guide you lent him last night. but underneath it—your portfolio.

your soul left your body for a second.

your portfolio. the one with all your hard work. the one that, if lost, would've made you spiral into an artistic breakdown and probably quit life to become a potato farmer. you must've accidentally handed it to him, and if it weren’t for leehan returning it, it would've been gone.

you almost teared up. this was an act of heroism. you looked up at him, smiling wider this time.

"thank yo—"

but before you could even finish your sentence, he turned and walked away.

you sat there, stunned.

what was that? just last night, he was behaving like a functional human being, and now he was back to being as soulless as a department store mannequin.

moka was right. again.

and just like that, life resumed its usual routine until graduation. back to square one. same old leehan. same old you.

after grad party

every graduate was at the venue, celebrating their long-awaited escape from the prison sentence called high school. of course, college was just another prison, but at least there was a vacation buffer before the next round of suffering.

you had successfully submitted your portfolio and got accepted into k-arts—your dream university. minji had also been accepted into the same university as both of you passed your portfolios together, while moka, despite sulking for two weeks over being separated from you both, eventually forgave you.

"you guys still suck for leaving me," she muttered, munching on a piece of pork.

minji sighed. "oh my god, moka, you're going to snu. people would kill to be in your spot."

"okay, but who am i supposed to bully now?"

"you'll find someone," you assured her, patting her back. "you're very talented in that area."

she sniffed dramatically. "i know, but it won't be the same."

the three of you laughed, clinking your glasses together in a toast.

tonight was lighthearted, fun, and stress-free. a concept that had been nonexistent throughout senior year. no last-minute projects. no looming deadlines. just pure, uninterrupted joy.

you were at a table with your friends, laughing, playing games, living in the moment.

and then there was leehan.

seated at the table across from yours.

you weren’t paying much attention to him at first. but then, something felt off.

you could feel his eyes on you.

at first, you thought you were imagining it. but every time you glanced up, he was looking at you.

and not in his usual indifferent, "you are but a speck of dust in my world" kind of way.

no.

this time, he looked, different. his expression wasn't blank. it was full of emotion, thoughts running through his mind. he looked deep in contemplation, like he was having an inner monologue straight out of a coming-of-age film.

your forehead started to burn under the intensity of his gaze.

what the hell is going on with him?

he didn't look away when you caught him. he just, kept watching, like he was trying to figure something out.

you tried to play it cool, raising an eyebrow at him as if to say, what?

he didn't react immediately, just kept his gaze steady. then, after a long second, he blinked and looked down, breaking the moment.

your heart was beating a little faster than it should have been.

trying to shake off the weird tension, you simply nodded at him, before turning back to your friends.

minji and moka, of course, immediately noticed.

"oh-ho," minji smirked, taking a sip of her drink. "what was that?"

"what was what?" you asked.

moka gasped, gripping your arm. "was leehan just staring at you?"

"no," you lied too quickly.

"yes, he was," minji confirmed, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. "and not in his usual i have no interest in your existence way too."

moka let out a dramatic gasp, shaking your shoulders. "oh my god, what if he likes you?!"

you let out a snort. "yeah, and what if i suddenly become a billionaire? let's stick to realistic theories."

the night went on, but even as you laughed with your friends and enjoyed the celebration, a part of you kept replaying that moment in your head.

because for the first time in years, maybe ever—leehan looked at you like you were more than just another person in the room.

THROUGH LEEHAN'S EYES

the hall is bustling with graduates—cheers, laughter, the screech of chairs against the polished floor. it's the kind of noise that usually fades into the background, something i could easily tune out.

but tonight, everything feels louder. the clinking of glasses, the bursts of conversation, the music playing through the speakers. the air smells like a mix of catered food and perfume, a scent that's oddly overwhelming.

i should be celebrating.

i mean, i managed to survive three years of this painful art strand—something i had no real passion for when i first chose it. the reason behind my decision was so dumb that i start laughing at myself whenever i remember it.

but even though i spent countless nights regretting my choice, i don't regret all of it.

well… except for some things, like i didn't valued it.

i look up, eyes naturally scanning the room, and then i see her. y/n.

she's sitting at a long table across the venue, laughing with moka and minji—who, let's be honest, have been a pain in the butt since 7th grade.

it's that time of the year again.

people are moving on, going to different universities, starting fresh. some are staying in the same city, some are leaving. everyone's talking about their future like it's something so clear, and exciting.

but tonight, none of that feels real to me.

instead, there's this weight in my chest, a combo of regret and guilt that i can't shake off.

because this might be the last time i'll ever see her. and i don't want things to end like this.

i get so lost in my thoughts that i don't even realize i've been staring at her for too long. too long to be casual.

and then, she notices. her laughter slows, her eyes directed towards me, and for a split second, i think she's about to say something, but she just nodded.

shit.

i panic and quickly look down, pretending to be interested in the tablecloth or whatever nonsense anton is talking about beside me. my heart shouldn't be beating this fast over something so small, but it is.

despite the chaos around her, the crowd, the music, the noise—she stands out.

it's always been like that.

like she exists on a different frequency than everyone else, moving at her own pace while the rest of us struggle to keep up.

like she's the only one truly living in the moment while i’m stuck in my head, always thinking, always hesitating.

she's always had this annoying ability to make everything else fade into the background.

and maybe that's why, even back in 9th grade, i couldn't help but notice her.

9th grade

"good morning, teacher," we all greeted before settling back into our seats.

"good morning, everyone. settle down," the teacher said, adjusting his glasses. "now, before we begin, i'd like to introduce a new student who will be joining us for the school year."

a wave of excitement rippled through the classroom. people started murmuring, whispering to each other like buzzing bees. i quickly turned my head toward the door, just like everyone else, but with the number of students shifting in their seats, my view was blocked.

having a new classmate sounded exciting—a small breath of fresh air after being stuck with the same faces since 7th grade.

then, with a small nod from the teacher, the new student stepped in.

she was a girl.

short hair, cut just above her neck, with soft, wispy bangs framing her round, slightly chubby cheeks. a pair of thick, round glasses perched on her tall nose, making her look a little nerdy but in a way that suited her.

then, she spoke.

"hello, everyone! my name is y/n. i'm 15 years old and just moved into the neighborhood down the street. i hope we can all be friends!"

she gave a light bow, her voice bright and clear, effortlessly filling the classroom.

and that's when i knew it.

i'm cooked.

my heart started pounding so fast i didn't even know what was happening anymore. it was like my brain short-circuited, and my body decided to go into emergency mode. my ears burned hot, my hands turned ice-cold, and before i could process it, my head snapped toward the window in an attempt to distract myself.

this was bad. really bad.

i heard the teacher assigning her a seat, and i prayed—please don’t be near me, please don’t be near me—but then

"you can sit there, next to that boy by the window."

shit. that was my seat.

but just as i was about to internally combust, a voice from the back spoke up.

"sir, han taesan sits there. he's just absent today."

oh, thank god. taesan thank you.

the teacher nodded and assigned her a different seat. i let out a silent sigh of relief. disaster avoided.

or not.

because during break time, she approached me.

i wasn't even looking at her, but i could sense her presence. i felt my muscle went tense, my back straightening reflexively. she was standing right in front of me.

"what's your name?"

oh my god.

i hesitated before looking up. and then—she smiled.

i can't stutter. I CAN'T STUTTER.

"...leehan. kim leehan," i blurted out before immediately pretending to be interested in the random writings on my notebook.

she didn't seem to mind my awkwardness. in fact, she continued talking.

"are you alone? you can sit with us!"

panic.

if i sit with her, i'll die. there's no way i can eat properly without choking at least five times in front of her.

without thinking, i shot up from my seat. "no, i'll be out. thank you," i muttered before making a quick escape. i did not look back. i went straight for out the room to find woonhak like my life depended on it.

for months, i avoided her. not in an obvious, rude way, but in a way that would save me from embarrassing myself.

every time i caught a glimpse of her from across the room, my heart started racing. i didn't know how to deal with it, so i did what any emotionally constipated 15-year-old would do: ignore her.

but then i started to notice that she was ignoring me now too. at first, i thought it was a coincidence, but the more time passed, the more obvious it became.

and honestly? it sucked.

had i ruined my chance of even being friends with her? was she annoyed with me? did she hate me now?

it was all my fault.

i kept overthinking it until i finally decided. enough is enough.

i needed to face my fears and actually talk to her. for once, i would initiate the conversation, not her.

so, i took a deep breath and walked up to her desk, where she was sitting with her friends.

thump thump.

i could hear my heartbeat—it was almost deafening.

kim leehan, calm down. this is not the time to back out.

she turned to me, blinking. she didn't say anything, just waited.

this was it. my once-in-a-lifetime chance.

"y/n, i just want to say tha—"

interrupted.

of course. of course, someone had to cut me off right at that moment. nd out of all people, it just had to be ham jinsik.

i took a step back as he effortlessly inserted himself into the conversation.

tall. handsome. confident.

there was a small pang in my chest, and i hated it. i watched as jinsik stood there so easily around y/n, talking to her like it was nothing.

meanwhile, i could barely get a single sentence out without feeling like i was going to collapse. of course.

jinsik was perfect, the perfect match for her.

i turned back to my seat, forcing myself to focus on my classmate behind me, while batting an eye on jinsik's back periodically. but before I knew it, she was standing in front of me again.

"hey," she said.

i froze.

"sorry about earlier. you were saying?"

there it was. that stupid, dumb leehan who turned into an unfunctioning robot around her.

okay, play it cool. don't let her notice.

i gave her the most casual, indifferent expression I could pull.

"…i forgot," i said flatly.

lies.

she paused for a moment, then simply nodded. "okay then."

and just like that, she turned back to her friends. i watched her walk away, my stomach physically feeling sick.

that was it?

we never talked or interacted again after that. i tried so hard to forget about it—to forget her.

but every time she was around, i felt everything all over again.

i thought we'd never cross paths again after 9th grade. but then, i overheard from them that she was going to seoul high school.

and so, like the absolute fool that i am, i shot my shot.

i took the entrance exams. i applied for the same course as her.

art, my biggest enemy.

but despite that, despite all my regrets, my awkwardness, and my absolute inability to function around her. i still got in.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

everything was a blur. one moment, i was a freshman still trying to figure out how lockers worked, and the next, i was a tenth grader, dragging my feet towards my classroom like a sloth that just learned about capitalism.

my brain was running at full speed despite my body moving at half capacity.

"what if we're in the same class?"

"you absolute goober, isn't that what you wanted?"

great. my inner voice was bullying me again.

i shook my head and picked up the pace, trying to act normal. but the moment i reached the door, i caught a glimpse of her.

inside the classroom.

instant panic. i did a full stop, took a step back, and stood behind the doorframe like some poorly written side character who wasn't supposed to be here.

okay, breathe. don't make this weird.

after a good minute of overthinking every possible interaction i could have with her in the next ten months, or 2 years even, i forced myself to straighten my posture and activated my signature move— dumb leehan exterior™. the ultimate defense mechanism. no embarrassing actions shall be performed under its influence.

i stepped in. and of course, she looked at me.

oh, god. oh, god.

do i look back? no. yes? no, okay, fine, i looked back. i knew the risk. my brain was about to explode, but i still did it.

after the long vacation, i'd be lying if i said i didn't miss her presence. so, in a rare moment of bravery, i nodded at her. a simple, casual, nothing-to-read-into nod.

and then, like the genius i am, i walked straight to the farthest seat possible from hers.

…"by god, i am an idiot."

what the hell was that? now she thinks i'm a loser.

i groaned internally but shrugged it off, pulling out a book to distract myself. a fish encyclopedia, of all things. because nothing screams casual high school student like pretending to be deeply invested in the migration patterns of a corydoras (except i'm actually deeply invested to it.)

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

12th grade

it was 1 p.m. i had been here since 11 a.m. and had made zero progress on my sculpture. at this point, the only thing i had successfully created was a misshapen lump of clay that looked like it had personally witnessed the fall of rome.

frustrated, i turned to anton, my classmate and the only person who tolerated my nonsense in the class.

"man, how do you even do this?" i whined, aggressively poking my sculpture.

anton took one look and started laughing. "leehan, that thing looks like it's about to build itself and walk away."

i rolled my eyes and flicked his shoulder. "shut up, i'm genuinely stuck here."

anton smirked, crossing his arms. "then why'd you even take this class if you suck at it?"

"dumb, personal reasons," i muttered, waving him off. "whatever, i'll figure it out."

anton just chuckled, pointing toward the door. "alright, goodluck with that. i'm heading out. see ya."

i nodded, barely paying attention as i slumped back down, staring at my sculpture like it had personally offended me. then, somewhere between my frustration and self-pity, a thought hit me.

me and y/n haven't had a real conversation in two years.

we talked, sure—about projects, pair work (which, of course, made me internally combust every time), but a real, genuine conversation? nada.

and now, graduation was near.

i wasn's sure if i'd ever see her again after this. once, i overheard her talking about universities with a classmate. she mentioned busan. and let me tell you, i was devastated.

this was my last chance. i needed to talk to her before it was too late. just once.

but before i could even mentally draft a script, the door swung open. i looked up, and of course— the classic.

it was her.

she walked in, slowed down, and went straight to her station.

okay, okay. this was the moment. no ham jinsik around to ruin it. no distractions. i had to say something. anything.

and then, she spoke first.

"do you need help?"

her voice was softer than i remembered. possibly a trap.

wait—i was supposed to initiate this. but whatever. this was a blessing. i just needed to respond in a cool, interesting way.

"yes, please," i mumbled, immediately fidgeting with my fingers.

yes, please?

what kind of medieval peasant answer was that?

but before i could cringe myself out of existence, she walked over to my table, standing right in front of my disaster of a sculpture. and next to me.

this was bad.

not because she was this close (which, okay, also bad for my heart), but because she could see my embarrassing project up close.

her eyes scanned it. she was going to judge me. i could feel it.

"do you even know basic anatomy?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

ouch. but that was fair. "i'm… bad at it,"

she exhaled through her nose, something almost like a laugh "well, lucky for you, i don't suck at it."

and then, just like that, she started molding the clay.

i watched, completely in awe. her hands moved like she actually knew what she was doing. my monstrosity slowly turned into something that actually resembled a human sculpture. a miracle.

i glanced at her hands—long fingers, soft palms, steady movements.

wait, no. do not admire her hands, leehan. abort.

i suppressed a smile. if she caught me grinning like an idiot, i'd never live it down.

minutes passed, and she finished fixing my mess.

"thank you. a lot," i said, and for once, it sounded genuine. not my usual dumb act.

the moment felt still, like everything else faded out. i might've even gotten tinnitus.

then, she dropped the biggest bomb of the year.

"why did you take this class if you're bad at it?"

crap, anton asked the same thing. i should've prepared for this. think of a good lie, leehan. think.

"my mom… she wanted me to take arts." sorry, mom.

she nodded, saying something about not letting anything stop me from doing what i like. and then, just like that, she went back to her station.

the entire afternoon blurred past.

before she left, she handed me an anatomy guide. i barely touched it—just flipped through it while it's laid on the table, so she wouldn’t suspect anything.

but the moment she walked out, i actually opened and lifted it. like a normal person.

and then, something under it slipped out. a portfolio.

i picked it up carefully, not wanting to leave a bit of dent on it. her university portfolio.

i didn't open it. that was hers. so, i just shoved it into my bag.

it was almost 7 p.m. now, and i knew i wouldn't be leaving anytime soon. i sighed and pulled out my phone, calling my brother to bring me dinner.

and as the evening crept in, i sat there, staring at my half-finished project.

i admit it. i was a fool.

i've been a fool.

all the effort y/n and i put into breaking the ice—especially her efforts, was wasted. three years, gone. and for what? because i was too much of a coward?

i wanted to tell her everything.

that i secretly admired her all this time. that i wanted to know her more. that i wanted her sns number, at the very least.

but when i looked up, she was already getting ready to leave.

she walked out with moka and minji, her silhouette disappearing through the exit.

and just like that— that was it. the last time i'd see her.

to be continued...

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Come Back - Daniel Ricciardo

<word count - 663>

Yet again, another morning that you had to get out of bed. It may have been winter break for Daniel, but not for you. You still had to work. The sun had just barely risen as you checked the clock on your bedside table. 7:00. 

You clambered out of bed, hearing a grumble from behind you. "Baby, come back..." Daniel mumbled, patting the empty space beside him. He opened one eye to peek at you as you stood in the doorway and looked at him. 

"I've got to go," you chuckled as he rubbed his eyes, even if he was still half asleep. 

"No you don't, come back," he whined, opening his arms to you as a signal to snuggle back up with him. He had always maintained that you could quit your job and he'd pay for you to live, but you liked having a sense of independence.  

"I'll be back later," you smiled, turning to walk downstairs. Behind you, you heard the rustling of the sheets and footsteps on the wooden flooring. "Go back to bed, Daniel," you laughed, knowing he'd just come and sit in the kitchen with you and beg you not to leave. 

"No," he flatly stated, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and stopping you in your tracks. "You're not going," he said into your ear, then pressed his face into the crook of your neck as the two of you stood there. 

"I've got to go," you reiterated, trying to wriggle out of his grasp, but it was to no avail. "Daniel, come on, love," you tried to coax him off, but he still wasn't for budging. 

"Staying in bed with me for five more minutes won't make you late," he mumbled against your neck, knowing you'd cave eventually. But you feared that if you went back to bed, you really wouldn't end up going to work. 

You sighed, leaning back against his chest. "Is that a yes?" he asked, and you could feel his triumphant smirk against your skin. 

"Yeah, it's a yes to five more minutes," you told him. Within the blink of an eye, he had picked you up bridal style and started walking you back to your bedroom. "I can walk myself, you know," you chuckled, snaking your arms around his neck. 

"Why should you walk when I can carry you? Besides, I like having you in my arms," he plainly stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. You just shook your head, thinking that you probably should have guessed that that would be his answer. 

Gently placing you back down in bed, he wasted no time with crawling in beside you and pulling you as close to him as he possibly could. He tugged the covers over the two of you, and instantly felt much more content and calm. 

"Your five minutes has begun," you told him, and he just grunted in response. That basically meant he hadn't listened to a word you said. Well, he had selective hearing at times, and now was one of them. He would simply choose to ignore your countdown. 

The feeling of having him right there next to you was wonderful, and you couldn't think of anything that would make you more comfortable. It was the feeling of pure safety, contentment, the feeling of home. 

You shuffled to reach for your phone on the bedside table. "No, it's barely been a minute," he scolded, tugging you back.

"I'm calling in sick," you told him, and his arms loosened around you, but he still kept his hands on your waist. 

"That's my girl," he smiled, glad that his plans had worked. He knew you like the back of his hand, and he knew he'd get you to stay home with him one way or another. Now, you'd get to spend the rest of your day, lounging around with the man you loved, and you wouldn't have it any other way. 

A/N - I have finished Reckless Driving, What A Shame Part 2 (a request), two more Lando things, one Charles thing and a... Wait for it... Charlos thing. I couldn't help myself. I've been doing this thing over the past few weeks where I've just written little bits when I have time, and it's wracked up into all this being finished. But recently, my down time hasn't been watching TV or whatever, it's been writing. Henceforth, you've seen a little more from me. This is just a short little thing I felt like whipping up, so hope you enjoyed. Requests are open as usual.

Also, can we just appreciate the beauty of this beige mum looking ass header? I can't lie, I kinda love it. Not quite as good as the one I did for Watch Your Mouth, in my opinion, but it's still pretty nice. Anyway, love you lots, have a brilliant day/night, and stay safe 💖

|masterlist|

[respawned-dove]

Yandere Medic x fem reader (who is pregnant with his child) hcs pretty please???

What a fun request! What I made is a bit short, but I still found it entertaining. Enjoy!

fem! pregnant! Reader x yandere! Medic Headcanons

[CW: pregnancy fetish, medical fetish, obsessive behaviour, medical themes, surgery, brief implied dubcon impregnation, manipulation, nsfw themes]

If you were on any birth control, Medic would either secretly prescribe you sugar pills instead or remove it from your body, disguising it as a different surgery. He knows what he wants, and he knows how to get it. He keeps you so close to him, as the object of his affections, so there is no one to deter you from listening to his every word. 'What better way to show love than to experiment,' he always thinks.

Soon enough, whether by implanted organ or your own anatomy, you're pregnant! Medic is overjoyed to an odd degree. He's had a deep fascination with pregnancy for most of his medical career, doing things from implanting animal wombs into humans to trying to make himself capable of carrying. He doesn't need to now, though, his darling beat him to it!

He's never one to be careful with the people around him, but he starts downright fretting over you, making up medical reasons you should stay inside in bed. So matter-of-fact in his delivery that you do as he says every time. In reality, he's fascinated by monitoring your condition down to the change in your body's smell as you grow life. He starts measuring your waist and stomach every day, taking down useless notes of the nearly nonexistent changes.

Medic becomes overtly grabby and gropey as you start to show. He gives you massages and pampers you to no end, obsessively talking about the baby inside you, detailing to you the exact stages of growth of a foetus like he's rattling it off from memory. It feels almost invasive, how deeply he looks in your eyes, grinning while describing in graphic detail the inner-workings of your own body.

And that was before he actually became invasive. He tells you he wants to do multiple ultrasounds a month, and you tell him that doesn't sound right, but he dismisses your concerns. "I'm just so... worried over you, Reader! Ich brauche dich sehr Gesund," he claims, even as his hand swoops around your widening body to rub your baby bump.

Medic was always obsessive over you, but you're starting to feel like that obsession has become more about your body. As an object of fetish, as a perverse desire to create life that doesn't spawn from some secret paternal instincts like you had hoped. Acting as if he were some sort of Dr. Frankenstein despite barely any experimentation being involved. He's begun demanding you stay naked around the house, followed by thin, poorly covered medical explanations that makes no sense even to your untrained ears. But you comply, still trying to convince yourself he just... really wants to be a dad.

He uses a camera to film one of your examinations as you begin to near your due date. He's practically salivating the entire exam, fingers lingering on your body. "You have gotten so much bigger than I was expecting!" he laughs, tracing a finger over your new stretch marks. "Your body... it will nie be the same, Reader." He looks up at you, on the exam table, over his glasses. You can just barely detect that he's panting. "Changed, forever. By making life! Is it nicht incredible?!" You try to smile for him in hopes he moves on. He watches the film during 'private time' later on.

Medic would insist on doing a c-section on you, 'just to make sure everything goes right.' He desperately craves to cut into your body and remove his new lifeform with his own hands. Your blood and fluids all over him... the idea of it makes him have to leave the room every time.

Medic becomes practically doting as the time nears, cooking you comfort foods and fetching anything you need. The hope for him to be paternal seems more likely over that final few weeks. You rub your own stomach with less worry now, watching him seem to enjoy the act of caretaking for once. He tells you how excited he is while you share an apple cake, talking between mouthfuls about how his parents once made him this, so the baby will have a taste for it too. You feel comfortable, in spite of how odd he's become during your pregnancy. He kisses all over your stomach, and the bizarre softness coming from him makes your chuckle.

Any softness has disappeared the day of your planned delivery. He is cold and medical the entire time you're in his clinic. Well, aside from the gleam in his eyes and the excited quivering of his hands. He doesn't give you any drugs, insisting it's bad for the baby. You can tell your screaming makes him feel incredible. Both of you, panting, sweating, one laughing, one crying. It's excruciating, but thanks to the adrenaline, it feels like only an everlasting moment before the baby is there, on your chest.

Medic sews you shut, cleans the blood, and swaddles the new life in your arms. He removes his medical clothing in an instant, switching gears into a semi-typical loving husband. He's immediately going on and on about baby clothes and toys, about child development, and what the new life will be like. You lose yourself to his words as you drift to sleep, exhausted. And Medic, staring down at his little abomination, is just excited to do it all over again.

[theres-a-body-here]

If you’re taking requests, then may I please request a sequel to your Gang Orca x Male Reader? One where they just got back from a heated missions and when they get back to their shared place. Reader is quick to take a shower, but Kugo? Well let’s just say the, muscular, orca is finally ready to to pick up where they left off with reader. Shower sex.

I changed the setting. Hope you don't mind.

Gang Orca x Male!reader

sequel to this Scumtober post

After a long day of patrol alongside Kugo, you both retreated to his agency's locker room. Exhaustion tugged at your limbs as you collapsed onto one of the nearby benches, chest heaving from the exhilaration of the chase earlier that day.

Meanwhile, Kugo strolled casually toward his own locker, opening it with practiced ease.

"How are you not tired?" you asked, wiping sweat off your brow before reaching down to retrieve a water bottle from your nearby duffle bag.

"Probably because I'm used to it by now," Kugo admitted as he rummaged through his locker.

You rose to your feet and ambled over to your locker, effortlessly spinning its dial to unlock it. Grabbing a towel, you then proceeded to strip down, preparing yourself for a shower. Occasionally, you cast glances at Kugo from the corner of your eye.

Your gaze lingered on Kugo as he mirrored your actions, peeling away layers of clothing until he stood there in only his boxers. Memories of last month flooded back—the two of you at the community pool center—and you couldn't help but shiver at the thought.

Once he started to remove his boxers, you tore your gaze away from him and you forced yourself to refocus on the task at hand; stripping down to nothing before finally gathering the courage to glance back at Kugo.

You didn't realize he had already approached silently behind you, resting a heavy hand on your shoulder.

His eyes trailed from your figure over to the showers, a clear invitation written across his features.

"Oh, uh…" you mumbled before locating your shower toiletries within your duffle bag. When you glanced back up, Kugo had already begun walking towards one of the empty stalls, prompting you to trail after him. Entering the same stall, you closed the curtain behind you.

As you busied yourself organizing your toiletries within the shower caddy, Kugo wasted no time turning on the faucet, causing warm water to splatter against your bare feet.

Suddenly, you felt his presence pressing firmly against your back, nuzzling his face affectionately into your neck. Startled, you barely managed to maintain grip on your body wash, nearly dropping it altogether in surprise.

"Boss…" you squeaked out shyly, unable to hide your embarrassment from the knowledgeable towering figure looming behind you.

He chose to ignore your initial protest, whispering huskily in your ear, "Have you been using the gift I gave you?"

A sudden flush of crimson crept across your cheeks as your mind flashes back to a particular event last week.

~~~

Your hands trembled as you held the unwrapped box close, peeking inside. Your face was flushed and you looked around to make sure no one else was watching you. You wondered if this was some sort of joke, searching your mind to think of anyone at the agency who had it out to embarrass you.

Inside the velvet-lined box lay a dildo of considerate girth, made of sleek black silicone, carefully crafted with intricate detail meant to mimic the real thing - complete with veins running along its length. On the bottom of the box was a paper card which has scribbled a simple note , 'From Kugo'.

~~~

Unable to speak, you just nod.

Kugo hummed in response before spinning you around forcefully to face him directly. With deliberate slowness, he allowed his hands to trace upwards from your hips along your torso until they rested just below your armpits.

"Have you been thinking of me while you use it?" He questioned softly, tracing a clawed finger over the faded scar on your side. It seemed almost as though he wanted to commit the memory of every line and curve of your body to memory forever.

You smiled up at him, growing gradually more comfortable as your initial shyness fades. "Who else would I think of?" You teased playfully, tilting your chin upwards defiantly.

Chuckling at your remark, Kugo leaned down to rest his chin on your head before replying in kind in his usual gruff tone, "Well, knowing you, probably some animated guy from whatever anime series you're currently obsessed with."

You pouted, looking adorably annoyed as you raised a hand to deliver a light smack against his broad chest. In response, Kugo chuckled lightly again before wrapping an arm around your waist and guiding you both underneath the steady flow of hot water pouring down from the showerhead above.

As you reached for the shampoo bottle, he intervened, stopping your hand midair. You stared up at him questioningly.

"If you do that now," he explained matter-of-factly, "you're just going to have to do it again later."

Confusion clouded your expression further until his free hand drifted lower, settling firmly on your ass, giving it a playful squeeze as if to emphasize his point further.

"What if someone catches us, boss?" You questioned nervously, expecting to hear the sounds of someone entering the locker room at any second.

The Orca man merely shrugged nonchalantly, giving your bottom another squeeze for good measure. "Then we'll just have to make sure no one catches us, won't we?" He grumbled, looking down at you before leaning in closer, his mouth brushing against your cheek as he spoke huskily, "But personally, I hope they do."

"Boss! Stop!" You half-heartedly scolded, unable to hide the amusement lacing your tone. Still, despite your protests, you made no attempts to escape his grasp. If anything, your body seemed to relax further into his hold instead.

He shifted his position slightly so that his face hovered in front of your face, pressing his mouth firmly against yours. He parted his mouth open just enough to expose his tongue, inviting you to "kiss" him. Having been with Kugo for a while, you two have found ways to work around his Orca biolology.

His tongue snaked its way past your teeth as you obliged him, wrapping your lips tightly around the tip and sucking gently at first. You then took more of it, hungrily sucking on his long, tapering tongue, moaning around it as you enjoyed the taste of his saliva mixed with your own

The sound coming from deep within his throat resembled more of a growl than actual speech as he responded by pulling you impossibly closer still, pressing his throbbing length against yours. You continue to busy yourself with bobbing on his tongue.

His hands trailed slowly from your waistline upwards until they gripped your hips firmly, holding onto them tightly as he lifted you effortlessly off the ground. The position forced your hardened cock to press flush against his muscular abdomen while the underside of his shaft slid between your smooth ass cheeks.

With your legs wrapped securely around his waist, your hands pressed flat against his upper arms for balance, you couldn't help but whimper as he began moving you back and forth against his rock-hard shaft, breaking the kiss to look at him. Each slide forward caused the head of his cock to drag across your balls.

Your soft cries were muffled by the spray of water droplets cascading down from overhead as he manhandled your body with ease. One of his hands remained clamped firmly on each of your ass cheeks, kneading them roughly as his fingers dug painfully into your supple flesh.

Kugo used one hand to spread your ass apart just enough to expose your tight entrance. Without waiting for your consent—not that you would have denied him anyway—he pressed the tapered tip of his orca cock against it, applying pressure steadily until it slid passed the tight ring of muscle.

The feeling was unlike anything you had ever experienced before; the girth alone was nearly unbearable. But somehow, despite the burning sensation radiating throughout your pelvis, you found yourself wanting more.

A low groan escaped your lips as you involuntarily pushed downwards, taking more of him into yourself.

Before long, you found yourself completely impaled on his enormous length, gasping audibly as he stretched you wide open around him.

"Goddamn, you're still so fucking tight," Kugo growled, flexing his hips in short thrusts, pushing himself deeper inside of you with each motion. Your inner walls clung desperately to him, attempting to adjust to the massive intrusion.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, whimpering softly as he began thrusting upwards into you, forcing himself deeper inside of you with each stroke. "Fuck…boss…" you moaned helplessly, digging your nails into his shoulders

The warm water cascaded down both of your bodies as he mercilessly pounded his hips upward into yours, causing you to bounce lightly in response. Moans and whimpers slip out from your lips, escaping despite your best efforts to suppress them.

After a few moments, Kugo finally stopped moving altogether. Withdrawing himself slowly from your depths, he carefully set you back down on your feet before turning you around to face away from him.

Pinning you against the cool tiles lining the interior of the shower stall, he aligned his hips with yours and slid himself back inside of you. Water poured over both of your bodies as he resumed fucking you relentlessly, pinning you firmly against the tiled surface.

"Fuck…oh god…faster…" You pleaded breathlessly, spreading your legs wider in order to accommodate him better.

He complied eagerly, sliding a hand down overtop of yours and urging them higher above your head against the wall. Pressing his chest flush against your back, he adjusted his angle slightly and drove himself deeper inside of you than before.

His pace quickened significantly as he listened to you beg for more, using your body as his personal fucktoy. "

Yeah? Like this?" He asked gruffly, grinding his hips in slow circles while fully sheathed inside of you.

"Or maybe this?" He questioned again, pulling almost all the way out before slamming himself back inside, eliciting a loud cry from your lips.

Incoherent whimpers and moans spilled from your lips as he reduced you to little more than a babbling mess incapable of forming coherent thoughts anymore.

"Did I break you?" He murmured teasingly in your ear, continuing to hammer away at your prostate mercilessly.

A few more powerful thrusts sent him tumbling over the edge.

Groaning loudly, he slammed into you one final time before emptying himself deep inside of you, filling you up with his cum. Warmth flooded your insides as he finished depositing every last drop of semen into your depths.

Carefully withdrawing from your used entrance, Kugo steadied you beneath the pouring water as he wrapped his arms securely around your waist.

"Mhm, good boy," He praised softly, rubbing small circles onto your stomach as he held you there against him. "You did so well for me."

The two of you stood quietly beneath the still running showerhead, enjoying the sensation of the warm water cascading down your intertwined bodies. Contentment washed over you as you leaned further back into Kugo's solid chest, reveling in the tight, comforting hold he had on you

[strawberryya]

notice me!

pairing: jihoon x reader

synopsis: Your boyfriend has a hectic life, but he usually has at least a little time to spare for his girlfriend. Now it has been two months since he last spent some alone time with you and you're losing your mind just a little over it... luckily, angry make-up sex can solve any problem!

word count: 2.1k

genre/cw: smut, angry sex, also make-up sex, established relationship, feeling neglected in relationship and bad ways of handling said feeling, unprotected sex, manhandling, light choking, fem reader, musician/producer! woozi.

rating: 18+

a/n: I had a moment a couple weeks ago where I wrote this whole thing in one hour in the middle of the night, and then I forgot about it and now I'm in shock just a little bit... anyhow, yay angry sex with wooziiii

network tagging: @svthub @cultofdionysusnet @k-labels @kvanity-main

[navigation post!]

You watched your boyfriend of two years looking at his phone, scrolling mindlessly across whatever app he found more interesting than his girlfriend sitting on the other end of the couch. You were barely wearing anything, a large t-shirt barely covering the sexy lingerie you had put on for tonight. 

“Jihoon, it’s been two months.” 

You wanted him to notice you. He had barely been home at your shared apartment for weeks. You knew his work was demanding, and that he gave it his all no matter what. But you have been feeling neglected lately. He had been coming home late, crashing on the couch instead of sleeping in your bed. Only giving you a chaste kiss before running off to work the next morning with a groggy “Sorry I missed dinner last night,” as a greeting. 

He hadn’t touched you in two months. You had counted the days, and after three weeks you were wondering if he wasn’t stressing too much about the latest album. After six weeks you had been feeling too horny for your own good, and your toys weren’t fulfilling your needs anymore. You wanted to feel him again. It didn’t matter how many times you came. It didn’t hit the spot. After two entire months of him being abstinent, you had begun getting snarky at the smallest things he did wrong. 

Jihoon looked up from his phone at your statement. He carelessly scratched his chin, making your pussy clench at the memory of those perfect hands being all over your body once upon a time. “Two months? Of what?” 

“Of you acting like a damn nun,” you said, dead serious. 

“A nun?!” He gasped out. 

“Yes! A nun!” You shouted back at him. 

He looked you over, sitting at the other end of the couch, dolled up more than usual and staring at him as if he had offended yuo great grandmother by existing. Then it seemed to click in his mind. “Oh,” was all he said.

Two months? Had it been that long? He knew very well that he had been resisting his urges, but he had managed for two entire months? He had been so busy with the new album, he had been staying late at the studio every day and waking up rushing back to the studio to put the new ideas he got during the night into reality. Two months without sex, and a pissed off girlfriend because of it. 

“I’m sorry?” 

You looked at him like he was an equation, mouth open just a bit as you stared at him in shock. “You’re sorry? What the fuck does that mean?” He was so clueless, you thought as you watched the dumb face he was making. (You still wanted that stupid handsome face of his to eat you out until you cried, but that was besides the point.)

Jihoon knew he had fucked up, you were pissed off and picking a fight, and he hadn’t made it better by not even knowing that he hadn’t slept with you in two whole months. 

“Do you even care? Because you don’t seem to care one bit about it since you didn’t even know! Do you not like me anymore? Are you not attracted to me anymore? Are you in love with someone else? Why the fuck would you go and cheat on me?!”

He stared at you in complete surprise. Cheating? “Hold up- hold up! What are you talking about?!” He said, flabbergasted at the way you seemed to have drawn the most far-fetched conclusions to this problem you could’ve possibly thought of. “I’ve been busy with the comeback! Please, baby, why are you acting crazy?” 

He shouldn’t have said that, he knew it the second the word left his perfectly plump lips. 

“Crazy? Did you just call me crazy? You haven’t seen crazy, you fucking asshole!” You shouted as you stormed out of the room. You were packing your bags, if he didn’t want to be with you anymore you wouldn’t be the one to stop him from moving on and sleeping with whoever else he wanted. Because it sure as hell wouldn’t be you after he had just called you crazy for noticing that he wasn’t interested in you anymore. 

“What are you doing?? Why are you messing up the apartment? Are you leaving?” he shouted, seemingly surprised that you didn’t feel like staying in an apartment that he was hellbent on making a girlfriend-free zone. 

“Yeah, I’m fucking leaving,” you grunt, shoving some shirts into your bag. You wouldn’t be able to grab it all but at least you could make it with the stuff you were throwing into it for a while. Y9ou could always borrow your friends’ stuff until you could get back all your clothes. “You’re pissing me off and I don’t wanna hate you.”

Jihoon was by the bedroom door now, hands pushing his hair out of his face as he watched you angrily packing your bags. How had he fucked up so badly that his girlfriend wanted to leave him like this? 

“Hate me? Baby, I really don’t know what I did to mess up this bad…” 

Of course, he didn’t understand, because apparently, your boyfriend was a freaking master at staying “pure”. He hadn’t even spent a single thought on you and what he could do with you. He only cared about his music. And you wouldn’t be the one to stand in his way if thats how he truly felt. 

“You don’t know?! Look at me Jihoon!” You threw the t-shirt off your body in an angry fit, making your boyfriend’s eyes widen. “I’ve been waiting for you to notice me, to care even a bit about me- about us- for months!! And tonight, I just can’t do this anymore. I’m losing my mind because you won’t fuck me, how stupid is that?” You nearly sobbed as you made it clear that you were frustrated in more than one way. You were so mad at him, and still, you couldn’t help but admire the way he looked so hot even now, his long black hair falling in pretty curls around his face and his lips shiny and pink. He looked so kissable it was like he was teasing you just by existing. 

“You got me all addicted to your cock and then you fucking left me to go through some kind of twisted withdrawal.” 

He gulped, his adam's apple moving in his throat, you didn’t even care to look at him anymore, you were angrily throwing your shit into the bag on the bed yet again, bent over and flaunting the tiny piece of fabric that tried it’s best to cover your ass. “You don’t even care,” you rumbled as you stuffed more things into the bag. He took in the way the lace set hugged your curves deliciously, he had been so busy with everything he hadn’t even noticed his own cravings. He had ignored it all for so long. 

“Shut up.”

His voice was deep, and commanding. Your breath caught in your throat, surprise and need mixing in an arousing blend that went straight to your head. “Excuse me?” Your movements paused completely. When you heard his footsteps approaching you hastily you looked at him, his gaze was darkened, and your core clenched around nothing as he pulled the bag from your grasp. Throwing it on the ground before he pushed your barely clothed body into the bed. 

“You think I don’t fucking care anymore just because you haven’t gotten dick in a couple weeks? Are you that desperate to be stretched like a little whore?” He growled in your ear, his bulge evident in the way he pressed against your ass. “I care, and I see you. So shut up.” 

You gasped at his harsh movements, neediness soaking your panties in record time. God, you were pathetic. 

“I haven’t eaten, I haven’t slept, and I sure as hell haven’t let myself even think about this sweet pussy of yours. I’ve been denying myself it all. But you’re right…” his hand pressed against your throat where you laid face down on the bed, “I’ve been neglecting you. You wanna know why? It’s because I knew that if I so much as looked at you, or held you in my arms while you slept so innocently, I wouldn’t be able to help myself. I wouldn’t have been able to do anything but fuck your tight little pussy all day and night.” His growling voice set off all kinds of sparks in your core. You needed him, now. 

You pushed your ass up against him, eating a groan from your boyfriend. “Such a little slut,” he mumbled, letting go of your throat and pulling himself back from you completely. You were dizzy from the hold around your throat, his perfect hands remembering just the way you liked to feel them around you. You were about to whine when his touch left your body when you heard the familiar shuffling of his clothes falling off his body. You wanted to see it, take his form in properly after all these weeks. But he was faster, pushing you back down against the bed before you got up. 

His erection pressed against your heat, making you moan as he prodded against the soaked fabric covering your entrance. 

“Jihoon, please,” you mewled, wiggling underneath his firm body. 

“Wanna shut up and let me fuck you then since you’re so fucking needy?” 

“Please, yes! Anything! Please fuck me!” You almost cried as you pleaded with him. 

“Sobbing over cock, you really are such a dirty girl for me.” He groaned as he let his pretty hands smooth over one of your asscheeks, smacking down hard and leaving a burning sting after him. Even that felt good. You needed him more than you had ever needed anything in your life. 

You felt him pull the sticky fabric from your core, pushing it aside in favor of pushing the head of his hard cock against your messy pussy. “I’m about to drown in you later tonight, just you wait.” He whispered before pushing past your entrance, slipping inside, your walls lubing his cock up as he entered. He ignored the way you were so tight it almost hurt to push all the way inside, your moaned pleas for him to go deeper, and the way you were gripping the sheets while he pushed all of himself inside of your dripping heat enough of a reason to push through. It had been so long since he had felt your walls gripping around him that he could’ve spilled his seed into you right then and there. 

He pulled himself together soon enough, thrusting into you at a brutal pace. Your ass which you had pushed up to meet his hips at first had been completely overpowered by the sheer force he was fucking you into the mattress with. You were coming for the first time within minutes. Screaming and sobbing as you finally came around him. He continued, repeating to you what a good toy you were, and how good of a girl you had been for holding out for him this long. 

When you were moaning again, closing in on a second orgasm he told you to come again. Lifting your ass up to balance you on your knees and chest, one of his arms wrapping around your hip to reach your clit, pressing down on it while he let his cock slip in and out effortlessly. Your arousal dripped down your thighs. You came undone and sobbed as he continued to overstimulate your abused cunt. 

He continued fucking you until he couldn’t take it anymore, his own orgasm crashing into him with such force it knocked the breath from his lungs. 

“That was one hell of an apology,” you said, breathless and still leaking cum, exhausted after having all your pent-up frustrations released all at once like this. 

Jihoon chuckled, a sound you had missed these past weeks as well. He really had been unusually absent in your life. It wasn’t just about the sex, you had missed him a lot. “I’m sorry for not being around as much,” he said, dragging a gentle hand over your back. You hadn’t had the energy to move a once from the position he had dropped your hips from once he had pulled out. 

“I just missed you, I’m sorry for lashing out.” 

“Don’t worry about it, just… next time you should just ask me to fuck you instead of threatening to leave me.”

You were embarrassed now, you had acted like a complete maniac, but my god - if that’s how he fucked a maniac, you wanted to stay crazy for the rest of eternity. 

Reblogging and commenting is highly appreciated!! Hearing what you thought is what makes writing and being here overall so much fun! Ty and ily 💕

[navigation post!]

[maraschinomerry]

Sleepless Nights pt4

Pairings: George Karim x gn!reader Summary: after the events of the Annabel Ward case, you're hit hard by the exhaustion of so many sleepless nights. George finds a way to help. Content: post-canonish, hurt-comfort (heavy on the comfort), discussion of nightmares, vaguely whumpy, confessions of love A/N: wow, I can't believe I've made it to the end! This series has been a 19,500 word labour of love, it's been fascinating exploring the events of the show and I'm so grateful to everyone who has read and supported throughout 🫶 pt1 pt2 pt3 Word count: 3.8k Taglist: @neewtmas @avdiobliss @uku-lelevillain @marinalor @ettadear @honey-with-tea @mischiefmanaged71 @cryingpages @inyourwallsbbg

A little over a week had passed since the events of Combe Carey hall and life was slowly returning to normal, for everyone but you it seemed. Every night you had slept fitfully - enough to make it through the day without collapsing, but too plagued by nightmares to get the rest you so desperately needed. Too much had happened for you not to think of it all. Fighting Annabel Ward's ghost in the attic; Lucy's attempt at communication which led to her nearly choking and you having a chair thrown at you by the spirit; being attacked and tied up in your own home; Lucy stealing the ring; the horrors of the Red Room; being trapped with the monks and almost blown up; Fairfax holding Lockwood at gunpoint only to be killed by Annabel; being arrested and let off only if you signed the NDA. It was a lifetime's worth of trauma in a matter of days, and you hadn't even begun to process it all, let alone the revelation that you had some kind of feelings for your own coworker. But there was no time for that now, you had a funeral to attend. With a groan, you rolled out of bed and staggered down to the bathroom. The shower thrummed from behind the closed door, so you leant against the wall and waited. After a minute, the hum stopped. After another minute the handle turned and George stepped out. Your heart skipped a beat. He was positively glowing, bare face smooth and rosy from the warmth of the shower, curls coated in droplets. His Steel Claw T-shirt clung to his chest, reminding you of the way you'd held onto him in the chapel under Combe Carey Hall.

“Morning,” he greeted as he fumbled to put his glasses on, giving you enough time to force yourself to look normal. “Sleep well?”

“Eh, sort of,” you shrugged. You hadn't told anyone about the nightmares, there was no point reminding them of what you'd all been through or making them worry about you.

You both stood for a moment, something unspoken hanging between you. You knew exactly why you were so on edge around him without warning, but why were you sensing a similar energy from him?

“Oh, sorry, did you-?” George broke the silence, gesturing to the bathroom. Right. You nodded, and he quickly stepped aside. “I can have breakfast ready for when you're done, if you'd like. To save time,” he added.

You beamed at the offer. “That'd be great, thanks. Give me ten minutes.”

“Of course.” The smile he gave you was soft, almost shy, as he left you to it.

The blanket of clouds which covered the sky above the cemetery was fitting for so solemn an affair. Barely twenty others had turned out to attend the funeral of Samaran Pandy. None of his team were left to mourn him, just a few of his wider cohort, now grown to maturity. Beside them stood a handful of higher-ups, including Inspector Barnes and Penelope Fittes herself. A few stragglers watched from beneath a tree on the other side of the path, and a little further up the slope stood Lockwood & Co. Once again you were all dressed smartly, only this time without instructions from Lockwood required to remind anyone. The boy was in his usual suit with a dark tie, George had opted for a black wax jacket and dark blue jeans, and Lucy had paired her blue and black jacket (the only good one she owned) with all black. You'd scraped together a suitable outfit as well, consisting of your best trousers, a black shirt, and the peacoat you usually saved for winter. It was a bit too warm for a day like this, but the slight chill in the air kept you from overheating too badly and you'd have been worse off without it. The four of you listened in silence to the prayer being read over the flower-laden coffin, and you wondered if the others were as painfully aware as you were of how close you had come to the same fate. How long would it have been before anyone found your bodies? Who would have come to mourn you? Your thoughts were put on hold by the ending of the ceremony, and a quiet note from Lockwood that it was time to go. The gravel crunched beneath your boots as you headed back up the path. You were glad to be on the move; a headache was brewing behind your eyelids, heavy and sharp.

“Excuse me? Excuse me,” a woman's voice called from behind. You all turned to see the dark-haired woman who had stood by the side of the coffin. She introduced herself as Penelope Fittes, not that you didn't know who she was, and thanked you all for finding Sam, as she knew him. She then revealed in turn that she knew each of you: Lockwood was obvious, it was his agency after all, but she was able to put a name to Lucy and remembered George from his time at Fittes. Of course, he immediately put his foot in his mouth by implying that the agency was full of fools, which earned him a not-so-subtle elbow from Lockwood. If Penelope noticed, she was too polite to say anything as she turned to you.

“And you must be y/n. It's a pleasure.”

“Mhm, you too,” you replied quickly, trying not to blow things in spite of the throbbing in your head. Lockwood glanced sideways at you.

“Thank you again. Really,” the woman smiled and waved a brief goodbye as she approached the long black car awaiting her, followed by another group of mourners passing silently by.

Lockwood grinned. “Penelope Fittes knows who we are,” he said with barely contained glee. He clapped a hand on George's shoulder and began to stride towards the exit. The other two followed, but you remained still. The thrumming in your skull was growing stronger. “Y/n? Everything okay?” Lockwood turned back.

“Headache. Stupid coat, I'm probably just overheating.” You wrestled your way out of the coat and draped it over your arm, brows furrowed. Your steps were wobbly as you wandered over the uneven ground, and you weren't even sure you could blame it on the terrain. Removing your coat hadn't helped as much as you hoped, in fact you were trembling and your eyelids fluttered. George had fallen into step beside you, and you tried and failed to mask how much you were struggling. Without a word, he slipped off his own jacket and draped it over your shoulders, taking your own in his arms. You shrunk into the fabric, the lingering scent of vanilla and sandalwood body wash keeping you going just enough to get to the edge of the cemetery, where Lockwood had the good sense to hail a cab home. He and Lucy exchanged a small glance when they turned back and spotted you in the other boy's jacket, but said nothing.

Back at Portland Row, you barely made it through the door before slumping onto the sofa in the living room with a groan.

George stood in the doorway, toying with the cuff of his shirt. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, ‘m fine,” you mumbled.

“Well clearly you're not, you look like hell.”

“Oh gee, thanks George.”

“No, I just meant-”

“He's right, y/n,” Lucy interrupted before he could dig the hole any further. “Terrible choice of words,” she paused and shot him a glare, “but you don't look well at all. Do you need to go back to bed?”

You forced yourself to your feet, and as you did so you caught a glimpse of the mirror above the mantelpiece. The face that stared back at you was pale and clammy, with unfocused eyes made prominent by the deep purplish rings below them. You barely recognised yourself.

“No, I'll be alright.” Don't cause a fuss, don't let them worry. “I might just go and sit in the study for a while.” Your friends nodded in understanding, parting to allow you to pass by and amble away.

The study was warm, inviting, and blissfully quiet. You'd gone to your room first and changed into a loose T-shirt, pyjama bottoms and fuzzy socks, and now you curled into one of the armchairs, hugging your knees. The sounds inside your brain were uncomfortably present - the pounding of your head, the slight ringing in your ears, the muffled cotton wool where your coherent thoughts ought to be. You screwed your eyes shut, trying to will them away. Without the security of being able to see the room, your mind began to fill piece together a view from the last time you were in there. Your eyes snapped open just before the imaginary flying chair hit you. Your breath was coming in short, quick gasps. At least it was something to focus on other than your headache. No. You needed an actual distraction. There was a book on the table beside you which you picked up and opened to a random page, but instead of words all you could see on the pages were blurry strips of black, shifting and undulating the more you tried to focus on them. With a huff, you laid it, open, back on the table. In the distance, you heard Lockwood and Lucy’s voices in the hallway, followed by the opening and closing of the front door. You wondered whether George had gone with them or stayed behind. George. The thought of him was a small reprieve from the static that crackled in your head. Whatever feelings you'd been obliviously harbouring for the boy had been all but cemented during the events of the previous week, and when you added in the sparks you'd felt today, and the past few if you were being honest, when he'd been so caring and attentive, there could now be no doubt. You were in love. You rubbed your temple, and this time it wasn't because of the headache.

You had no idea how long you'd been sitting there. It was certainly long enough that your legs had gone to sleep (at least part of you had got the memo, you thought wryly), but your thoughts had drifted back into the abyss and now you were left staring at a patch of the wall, unable to conjure enough energy to look elsewhere.

There was a gentle tap at the door, and George leaned round it a moment later. “Just checking in, Lockwood and Lucy have gone to the shops so I've asked if they can call at the chemist to see if they can get anything to help.”

His thoughtfulness once again gave you butterflies. “Thanks.” You knew you should say something more, anything, but the words wouldn't come. George could sense it too.

“Are you sure you're alright?”

“Yeah, I'm just reading.” You gestured vaguely to the book laid open on the coffee table.

“Oh?” George feigned interest. “What's it called?”

You opened your mouth and closed it again. When he raised an eyebrow, you let out a resigned sigh. Satisfied that he'd won that little argument, he sank into the other armchair.

“Talk to me, what's going on with you? And don't say ‘nothing’.” You chewed your lip, eyes not quite meeting his, and watched the gears turning in his mind. “This morning, when you said you ‘sort of’ slept well, that wasn't true, was it?”

“Not exactly, no,” you admitted quietly.

“Then why not say so?”

Something snapped. “What was I supposed to say? That the last time I slept through was the night before Annabel showed up?”

“But that was… Jesus, y/n, that's nearly two weeks ago!”

“I know!”

“You've not slept in two weeks?” The way his voice faded from exasperation to concern so quickly weakened your resolve, and as much as you regretted the truth that was spilling from you now, the furrowed brows of the boy next to you made you regret not confiding in him sooner.

“I have a bit.” The words came softly, cautiously. “Just not enough.”

“Nightmares, right? I have them too, you know.” You blinked at George, surprised by his admission. He continued speaking, and your surprise grew stronger. “You're in them a lot actually. There's one where Ellie is attacking you and I'm stuck in the basement unable to help, one where I don't get to you in time in the Red Room, one by the well where… sorry, this probably isn't helping.”

You scrunched your face a little, trying to force back the tears that were gathering on your lower lashes; one had broken free and was trailing down your cheek. “No, it's okay. At least it's not just me, I suppose. I just… it's not just the nightmares waking me up, I can't even go to sleep in the first place in case it's not safe. What if there's another source I don't know about, or someone else breaks in and I'm not awake enough to stop them? So I can't, I can't…” The tears were flowing freely now, and you shied away, curling in on yourself and retreating further into the armchair. George was out of his seat in an instant, kneeling before you with doleful eyes. One hand rested on the arm of the chair, close enough for you to know he was there and to reach for, but without crossing a boundary.

“Hey, shh, it's alright,” he soothed, voice low and tender. “You're safe, I've got you.”

You weren't sure what it was about his words that stirred the emotions within you; maybe it wasn't his words at all, but the way he was looking at you, the way he was reaching for you as he had done so many times in that godforsaken hall. Whatever it was, it spurred you out of the chair and you fell to your knees, wrapping your arms around him and burying your head in his shoulder. He rocked backwards slightly, taken aback by the sudden momentum, but quickly steadied himself and returned the embrace, one hand in your hair and the other rubbing calming circles across your back. When the tears subsided, you sat back on your feet and scrubbed your cheek with the heel of your hand. You opened your mouth to say thank you or sorry or both, but George spoke first.

“Will you be okay if I leave you here for ten, maybe fifteen minutes? I promise I'll be back as soon as I can.”

You nodded weakly, and he helped you to your feet and settled you back into the armchair with the blanket from the back of it. You sat huddled, listening to the creaking of the house as he moved about - into the kitchen, then up the stairs, back down and up again. True to his word, a quarter of an hour had not quite passed when he tapped on the door and stepped back into the study. He looked considerably more bashful than he had fifteen minutes ago.

“Okay, um, please tell me if I'm overstepping but, well, follow me.”

You shuffled to the door, placing a hand on his arm and allowing him to guide you up the stairs.

George stopped you on the landing. His bedroom door was ajar, a low amber-gold glow within, and he glanced at it nervously. You peered round the door. It was tidier than you expected, hastily tidied but still, the bed was made with crisp fresh sheets and the table beside it had been cleared to make room for a flask of tea, a plate of biscuits and a scented candle with its flame flickering peacefully. The curtains were drawn to block out the afternoon sun, the light in the room coming from a lamp on his desk. You turned to George, your expression soft and newly tearful.

He mistook your tears for upset. “Sorry, is this too far? I just thought maybe you'd be more comfortable in a different space, and I can stay and keep watch if that would help you feel safer.”

“I-” the words caught in your throat. “George, this is so thoughtful.”

“Can't have you dead on your feet, now can we?” His tone was casual, but he was blushing all the same. “Do you want me to…?” He pointed over his shoulder and began to retreat.

“No!” You caught his other wrist, your hand shaking slightly. “Please don't go.” As if realising how much you'd just opened up with those three simple words, you let go. Your hand didn't fall far, however, as his fingers laced with yours and led you inside. The thought of imminent rest overtook you quickly, weighing your bones down and making your eyelids droop. George took it in stride, pulling back the corner of the duvet before placing his free hand cautiously on the small of your back and sliding the other up to your elbow to help you into bed. The pillow smelled faintly of detergent and the lingering scent of George's shampoo. You nuzzled down into it, feeling immediately at ease. Behind you, the boy settled onto the other side of the bed, back against the headboard and legs stretched out. He picked up a book from his bedside table and turned the page with a ruffle.

“What are you reading?” you asked. Sleep was already thick in your voice.

“More Shakespeare. Othello, this time.”

“Will you read it to me? I don't need names or anything, I just like hearing your voice.” You heard the words a moment after you said them and tensed. George took a small, sharp breath. You were lying on the wrong side to see his expression, and you panicked that you'd confessed too much or overstepped his kindness. Then you heard a sound, that soft thud that a book makes when closed, followed by the turning of pages.

“Tush! Never tell me, I take it most unkindly that thou, Iago, who hast my purse as if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this.” George's voice was soft and resonant, immediately filling you with a sense of utter calm. He'd gone back to the beginning of the play. You smiled to yourself and closed your eyes. As he continued reading, you felt your breathing slow. Your eyelids fluttered for a second and then fell shut. The lingering threat of your nightmares played at the corners of your thoughts, but you felt safe enough that you weren't scared by the possibility of them. It was funny, really - you couldn't deny that you'd pictured a scenario like this, you just never imagined it would actually happen or that these would be the circumstances under which it did. You couldn't remember when you'd last felt this peaceful.

After a while, George fell into a rhythm, the turning of the pages lulling you towards sleep almost as much as his reading. All of a sudden, there was no page turn when you expected one. Instead, his voice took on a little more of its normal quality, still as soft but less performative.

“That night, by the well… I was going to say ‘I think I love you’, because I didn't think I'd get another chance and I was so scared of losing you.” Your eyelids flickered open, and you fought to keep your breathing steady. “But now here you- here we are, and I know you won't hear this but I feel like I'll go mad if I don't take the chance now it's been given to me. So I do… love you, I mean.”

“I love you too, George,” you murmured.

The poor boy almost fell off the bed. “Y/n! I thought you were asleep! Why didn't you say something sooner?”

You rolled over and gazed at him through low eyelashes, a cheeky smile playing across your lips. “And deny us this beautiful moment?”

He laughed, the tension in his shoulders easing. “You’ve been around Lockwood too long.”

“Hmm, perhaps,” you hummed. “Maybe you should take me out so I can be around you instead.”

“Now that's more like it. You go to sleep, for real this time please, and dream up your ideal date and we'll do it.” He leaned down to place a soft kiss on your forehead. Smiling, you snuggled into his side, head resting lightly against his hip and arm draped across his thighs. The page turn finally came, and George resumed reading as you slipped into the calm depths of sleep.

The next morning, you awoke to an empty bed and the smell of toast and eggs. You glanced around the room which was noticeably not your own, and wondered for a brief moment if you were still dreaming. Then, a piece of paper on the pillow beside you caught your eye. “Just gone to cook breakfast, rest as long as you need and I'll make you something when you're ready x” Your face broke out into a wide smile. He was so sweet. Excited, you swung your legs out from under the duvet and pulled on your socks before padding downstairs. The scent of fresh food was stronger here. You pushed open the kitchen door.

“Morning, love!”

George turned at the sound of your greeting, smiling the most brightly you'd ever seen, and immediately popped two slices of bread into the toaster. “Hi! You seem chipper, sleep well?”

“I actually did, thanks. You?”

“How could I not?” He approached, poking his head out the door to check whether Lockwood or Lucy were nearby before taking you carefully, tenderly, by the waist. “But just to check, you do remember the, uh, conversation we had?”

“Let me see…” you tapped your chin in mock thought. “Do you mean the one where you admitted you're terribly, awfully, hopelessly in love with me?”

He rolled his eyes with a barely concealed smirk. “That's the one. And you meant what you said?”

“That I'm soul-crushingly, devastatingly, overwhelmingly in love with you? I did.”

“Then may I kiss you?”

The toaster pinged behind him. You giggled, resting your hands against his chest. “You may.”

He pulled you in close, pressing his lips tentatively to yours. When you rose to meet him, he deepened the kiss, and you wondered how long he'd been waiting for this moment. You'd certainly been waiting long enough, and returned his affections with delight.

Eventually you broke apart, and he smiled down at you. “So, about that date, any ideas?”

You bit your lip, suddenly bashful. “A picnic in the park?”

“That sounds perfect. We could go at lunchtime, if you'd like.”

You nodded enthusiastically; you could think of nothing you'd like more. Overhead, you heard the low thuds of someone heading towards the stairs. Lockwood, by the sounds of it.

“You'd better have a good excuse for having forgotten your toast,” George grinned.

“Oh, I've got one in mind,” you smirked back, curling your hand into his hair and bringing his lips down to yours once more.

[daydreaming-nerd]

Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader) Part 3

Young Love and Old Money Masterlist

AN: Sorry these are taking longer than normal, after the 25th I'm a free fuckin' agent and if you check my updated masterlist you will see I have so many things in the works.

Summary: She was the most beautiful woman in Prythian, sister to the High Lord of Night, and now she is the soon-to-be wife of Eris Vanserra. Despite her many titles and her aura of unattainability, Cassian can't help but fall deeply in love with the princess of the Night Court. But will it be enough to stop her impending wedding to a man who is sure to destroy her from the inside out?

Warnings: Sexisim, trauma from under the mountain, alcohol, SA

Word Count: 4,189

Another week had come and gone. A week full of tight corsets, uncomfortable shoes, trips to the Autumn Court and of course, snide comments from Eris.

As of late I had begun having nightmares. The kind that left me screaming in bed with no one to hear me. The kind that had me waking up in a pool of my own sweat. It was the same every time, I was the dog in the back of Eris’ kennels. Scared, alone and caged. I would scour the entire cage for a way out, my finger with that giant wedding ring on it scouring the straw covered floors, never once finding an escape. Eris would come in and bend me over like an animal and sometimes I would wake up before he used me and sometimes I would wake up after. 

Regardless I was left unable to sleep. So I had taken to my dear brother's liquor cabinet to procure my own sleeping tonic, whiskey. For a few nights it has worked to put me to sleep, but not tonight. 

I swirled the last little bit of whiskey around the bottom of the bottle before slugging it all down. I had been slowly nursing the bottle the past two nights knowing that tonight might be my only night to procure a new bottle without anyone seeing. Tonight was boys night at Rita’s meaning that Cassian and Azriel were out with my brother and no one was home to fuss over my new drinking habits. 

I toss the empty bottle off the side of my bed and slowly but surely get up, wrapping myself in my silk night robe. My feet wobble beneath me as I make my way to the door, thankfully I know the way to the kitchen like the back of my hand. The only real obstacle being the long dark hallway, but even that’s a straight shot.  

I close the door of my bedroom quietly behind me in case there are any maids wandering about the dark hallway that I can’t see. I walk in as straight a line as I can and it isn’t long until I run smack into a wall. When the hell did that get there? 

“Princess? ” Cassian hiccuped

It takes me a second to realize the wall I ran into was Cassian, and I start to feel a little better, that is until I start to wobble again. 

“Are you drunk?” Cassian hiccups again and I feel his hands on my arms stabilizing me. The smell of cedar, leather and whiskey floating over to me.

“Yeah, but you are too,” I pointed out, pushing a finger into his rock hard chest for emphasis. My eyes adjust to the dark lighting and I can see his face peering down at me. That sculpted, beautiful face that they should really write sonnets about. 

“Have to drown my sorrows somehow,”  Cassian shrugs, letting go of my arms, stumbling back on his feet. 

“Pfft, like you have any sorrows general,”  I scoff, starting to move past him. I trip on his foot and nearly fall over, the only thing keeping me from getting an awful rug burn is Cassian catching me by my upper arm. 

“Shit princess I can barely walk but let me get you a glass of water,” he says, putting me back on my two feet again. 

My heart flutters at his kindness, “You would do that?” I smile drunkenly. 

“I’d do anything for you y/n,” Cassian replies and I can tell by the expression on his face that he regrets the words the moment they come out of his drunken mouth. It dawns on me that I’ve never heard Cassian call me by my name before, and I quite like the sound of it. 

“W-would you really?” I stumble letting my drunk mind do the talking. 

“As long as you’ll let me, I’ll do anything for you princess,” he reiterates and I don’t miss how he switches back to my formal title once more. 

“Cassian,” I breathe, unable to say anything more. 

“Anything, just tell me what you want,” he says quietly. 

My mind swirls with all the things that I want him to do. Get me a glass of water, take me away from here, kiss me. But all those lead to one common bad ending…

“Eris,” I whisper, realizing how close Cassian is to me. 

“Don’t marry him,”  Cassian slurs, wobbling a bit as he places his hands on my hips. The feeling of his hands on me, and knowing that the only thing separating his skin from mine is a thin silk robe. He seems to realize it too as his glassed over eyes look me up and down. It’s enough to sober up my mind and realize what’s going on. 

“You shouldn’t touch me,” I say. “I belong to Eris now.” 

“Not yet you don’t,” he hiccups for the third time. “Please, don’t marry him,” he says, getting even closer to me. 

I push Cassian off me and he stumbles back, “You’re drunk Cassian and I am too. We should both go to bed, we have a big day tomorrow.” I say stumbling back as best I can towards my bedroom. 

The general doesn’t say anything, doesn’t protest or beg and as I step into my bedroom I don’t miss the curse he mutters to himself before waltzing into his own. 

The next morning I wake with a raging headache that has me in bed until it’s time for me to attend dinner at the Autumn Court. If it wasn’t for my ladies maids I never would’ve left the warm cocoon of my covers. But I did, and in place of soft sheets was a death grip of a corset and I swore it was tighter than the last one. I looked in the mirror and realized that they had been choosing more and more revealing dresses for me, this one I was sure I had never seen before now. 

I made my way into the foyer where I knew Cassian would be waiting dutifully and sure enough the second I walked in his eyes turned to me. I searched for a sign of regret or awkwardness in his eyes given the events of last night, but all I found was Cassian. Handsome, strong, loyal and wonderful Cassian, and a part of me sighed in relief knowing I wouldn’t lose the one life line I had when I was in Eris’ territory. 

“You ready to go?” He asks me as he always does. 

“I think so,” I answer walking over to him so he can scoop me up. 

We take off into the air and the second we are airborne I feel a chill run up my spine. We don’t normally head to the Autumn Court so late in the day, and without the sun to warm my skin the cold seeps in. A cold that has me curling into Cassian more and I swear I feel his arms tighten around me. 

“So dinner with the potential, future in-laws tonight?” he asks. 

“I suppose so,” I sigh. 

“You’ll do great, don't worry,” he smiles trying to lift my mood.

“And what if I don’t want to do great? What if I want things to go so terribly that Eris breaks off the engagement and starts a fight?” I bluster, half joking. 

“Then I’ll hold while you punch Princess,” Cassian laughs and the vibrations roll through my body. 

“Good dog,” I joke and Cassian erupts in a fit of laughter that warms my soul. 

By the time we get there the Autumn Court is lit up with fae lights and the way they illuminate the colors of the autumn trees is breathtaking. Even in the distance I see and feel Eris’ presence like a dark cloud looming over me. Cassian touches down on the front steps and places me on the ground like I’m made of porcelain. 

“Good evening my little flame,” Eris greets me, allowing his hands to fall to my waist pulling me in for a kiss. This past week he has gotten more comfortable with affection, but thankfully he had never repeated what happened under the willow tree. 

“Good evening Eris,” I give a fake smile as he takes my hands in his. It was my last visit that Eris insisted that I dropped the formalities of calling him Prince Eris, something I felt was off character.

“I have a gift for you,” he smiles, pulling a long black box out from behind his back. He opens it revealing a necklace made up of large rubies. No doubt part of the crown jewels of the Autumn Court. 

“Oh Eris! It’s beautiful,” I smile, running my hand over the large gems. I hated to admit it but they were truly breathtaking. Something I would’ve asked my brother to gift me for solstice. “You didn’t have to do that.”  

Eris plucks the necklace from the velvet box and motions me to turn around so he can put it on. “I might’ve had ulterior motives,” he smirks, placing the jewels over my neck and clasping them on. 

“Well thank you, I really do love it,” I say, running my hands over the large jewels one last time. 

It isn’t until I feel the weight of the necklace and hear his words that I realize that ulterior motive. This isn’t just a gift, or a necklace, or even a family heirloom. It's a collar. One meant to show that I belong to him. The weight of it suddenly becomes burdensome and doubles as Eris stands back to admire the necklace now that I’m wearing it. 

 “It looks perfect on that beautiful little neck,” he smirks, offering me his arm that I take politely. “My family is very eager to meet you. Especially my brothers who have only ever heard stories of your beauty.” he says leading me inside.

“Well I hope that I can live up to my reputation then,” I smile as my heels clack along the marble floors. 

“In that dress little flame,” Eris says, looking me up and down, eyes lingering on the cleavage the neckline showed off. “You will be like a walking temptation.” 

We make our way to the large dining room and my eyes scan the table. Mounds and mounds of food and wine are littered all over it, enough for the whole court I presume. Everything from duck to boar, no doubt from Eris’ hunts. My mind flashes to the hounds in the kennel and I actively push the thought away. 

 On one side of the table sits Eris’ six brothers, all of them alike in age. At the head of each end sits Beron Vanserra and his wife. I look for an empty chair, and only find two. 

“It’s wonderful to see you again princess,” Beron booms as Eris pulls my chair out for me. 

“And you as well High Lord,” I smile bowing to him. 

I’m thankful for the chair that now supports me from beneath as I feel my knees start to wobble. I look around at the table once more now that I’m seated, and the plethora of red hair and piercing eyes is enough to make me feel like I’m a lamb shoved in a wolf's den. I feel Cassian taking up space by the door and my heart breaks knowing he must be hungry too. 

“Excuse me High Lord,” I ask, pulling Beron’s attention. “But I wonder if you might procure a seat for my guard so that he might enjoy this divine meal as well.” 

“Bastards are not allowed to sit at this table,” Beron says with a cool, calm, authority that I almost envy. My blood boils at his words, and tears nearly brim my eyes. Cassian was so much more than a ‘bastard’. Gods, one Cassian was worth more than everyone at this table combined. But to say that would mean my head on a platter. 

“Of course my Lord, I don’t know what came over me,” I apologize, bowing my head in submissal. 

“Darling you simply must try the wine,” Eris says pouring me a glass.

I swirl the red liquid around and give it a sniff. The strong scent of dark, ripe berries hits my nose. I take a sip and though I hate to admit it, it tastes like heaven. Or perhaps my body is aware that the effects of this wine are the only things that will help me get through this dinner. 

“It’s amazing,” I beam looking at my glass. “I love bold reds.”

“From our vineyards here in the Autumn Court,” Beron says proudly. “I’ll be sure to send a case to your brother for you both to enjoy.”

“We would love that, thank you.” I smile while taking another sip. 

The table falls into a comfortable conversation and I do my best to keep my head down like Beron's wife, as whatever behavior she portrays will likely be what’s expected of me. So far her etiquette imitates what Eris so crudely said to me just a few days ago…Wives are meant to be seen and not heard, except for in bed of course. Men do love the little whimpers of pain women emit when they are deflowered…   

I suppress a shudder at the remembrance of those words, and even though the comment that floats to my ears is another bit of sexist garbage, I’m sadly grateful for the distraction. 

“By the gods she is perfect,” one of Eris' brothers says quietly to the other. 

I try to hide my blush with another sip of wine, followed by another chunk of potato. Doing everything I can to pretend that I can’t hear the conversation the three brothers in front of me are quietly having. 

“Look at her tits,” another one rasps his eyes not so subtly glazing over me, the other brother in the conversation doing the same. I suddenly feel like I’m a piece of livestock up for auction. 

“How is it that Eris gets to have the Jewel?” the third one asks quietly, but not quiet enough to escape Eris’ ears.   

“Because I am the eldest!” Eris shouts, slamming his fists on the table, and the only person who doesn’t jump from his outburst is Beron. “And you’d do well to hold your tongue in front of the potential mother to the heir of the throne you’ll never inherit.” 

I can see the other side of the table debating whether to fight back or not, but it’s Beron who breaks the silence with the ease only a High Lord could do. “I assume that you and your brother will be attending our ball celebrating our fall solstice later this week princess?” Beron asks me. 

“Yes of course,” I tell him, setting down my glass of wine. 

“Wonderful! We’re quite excited to have you both in attendance. It is our fist ball since our time under the mountain,” he explains. 

“Who else will be attending?” I ask, swirling my wine around in its glass. 

“All the High Lords and the most trusted members of their courts,” Beron answers and it takes everything in me not to laugh. 

My mind flickered back to the months before my family locked me away, months where every High Lord would fall to his feet and beg for my hand in marriage. No doubt Eris would now play the role of fighting them all off and the image of him being an angry and frustrated toddler brought me joy.   

“Then I hope your son isn’t a jealous man,” I smile while sipping my wine. “Helion is a good friend, but he’s been asking my brother for my hand for years. Rhys practically had to beat him off with a stick.” I laugh, the effects of the wine taking over. 

What’s meant to be a lighthearted joke turns sour as I see the flames dance in Eris’ eyes, “Jealousy is a weak emotion, princess, But rest assured, I have no intention of allowing any man to lay claim to what is rightfully mine,” he starts and leans into my ear so only I can hear him. “And if Helion continues to pursue you, I’ll just have to deflower you right in front of his very eyes.” 

I want to come up with a witty response. I want to yell or scream or defend myself for the love of gods, but I can’t. All I can do is swallow the fear within me with another sip of wine and hope this den of wolves doesn't scent my fear. 

The rest of dinner is quiet and uneventful, I let the men converse, keeping note of the many glasses of wine Eris consumes. I turn my attention to the only other female at the table and I try to study her every move. Beron's wife says nothing, and I note that it’s my job to do the same. A pretty little wall ornament indeed. 

“If you’ll excuse us father,” Eris says standing up. “I would like to take the princess on a little stroll.” 

“Very well my son you are excused,” Beron nods to Eris. “I look forward to seeing you later this week my dear.” Beron says to me. 

I nod, trying to keep the illusion of submission up and Eris leads me out of the dining hall and down a dark hall. The chattering voices no doubt talking about me drifting off behind us. As we get further and further away from the dining room, I start to feel my stomach drop. Something is wrong, something is terribly wrong. But like usual, I don’t have the voice to say anything. We come across another dark hall, one so pitch black I would think it’s an endless void if it wasn’t for  the light at the far end.

“Sit and stay bastard,” Eris growls towards Cassian like he’s one of his hounds. “I require a private moment with the Jewel.” 

Cassian grumbles but allows Eris to lead me further into the shadows, the only way he could see us at this point is the faelight at the other end of the hall that would cast our silhouettes onto the floor. I try to throw him a frightened glance, but just like many times before, Eris seems to have found a way to keep me from doing so. 

“The general seems quite attached to you, it’s nice to finally have some time alone,” Eris says as he leads me through the long dark hallway. I swear I’d bump into a rouge chaise or grandfather clock lining the wall if it wasn’t his arm in mine. 

“Cassian has my best interest at heart, he wants to keep me safe,” I reply, trying to keep my voice from sounding confrontational.

“And he believes that I couldn’t keep you safe?” Eris retorts and I nearly scoff. 

“It’s not that, I think he believes you might take certain…shall I say, liberties with me,” I mumble trying to keep my head low. 

Eris' body tenses next to mine and I know I’ve made a grave mistake. “You’re mine, I can take whatever liberties I wish to.” he growls and before I know it my back is against a wall. “If he thinks I’ll marry you without trying you out he’s more of a simple minded bastard than I thought.” 

“Eris please,” I breathe trying to rip my wrists from his grasp but it’s no use. 

“Are you fighting or begging, little flame?” he muses, wine scented breath brushing my neck. “Either way it makes my cock hard.” he smiles, pressing his lips to my neck. 

His body is flush to mine and I can feel one hand pinning my wrists to the wall in a way that will leave bruises while the other explores my body. His lips are hot and wet on my neck and chest wandering dangerously low. 

“This isn’t proper,” I protest and try to wiggle out of his grasp for emphasis but I only succeed in grinding myself into him more. 

“Then I’ll make it fucking proper!” Eris seethes gripping my chin to make my gaze meet his. Those amber eyes are somehow darker and more intimidating in the low light.  “Now be a good girl and let me kiss you,” he smirks before pressing his lips to mine. 

For what it was worth Eris hadn’t made any advances on me since the first time under the willow. But tonight, with the copious amounts of wine flowing through his veins? Well it must’ve been just enough for his resolve to snap.  His lips still taste like venom, everything about him all wrong. It takes everything in me not to get sick all over his perfectly tailored jacket. 

“Eris stop it!” I whine pushing him away further. 

“I must have you my little flame,” he groans and I feel his hands grip my skirt. 

My heart starts to race even more, and if I wasn’t going to be sick before I surely was going to be now.  His mouth resumed its assault on my neck, messy and needy just like earlier. Large hands bunch up the layers of fabric and tulle until the cold air hits my bare legs.  

“ERIS STOP!” I screamed pushing him off me with all my strength and it was enough to make him stumble. 

A dark shadow appears before us as if it was transported there, “Eris that’s enough! It’s time for the princess to go home.” Cassian roars. 

“Stay in your place bastard!” Eris seethes. “She belongs to me. I can use her however I like!” 

“She belongs to no one! You have no right to compromise her virtue before you wed her. Rhysand won’t allow it.” Cassian continues, the voice of a general coming through. One so demanding even I would lower my weapons for him, apparently not Eris. 

“Ha!” Eris laughs, thrusting a hand out to grab me by my neck. His grip is like a vice, a collar that burns hotter than one he already gave me. “Didn’t you hear her little begs? I think she might want to be deflowered before the ceremony. Wouldn’t you pet?”

Cassian’s hand strikes, grabbing Eris’ wrist. The one connected to the hand wrapped around my throat, “All I have to do is squeeze and that hand won’t hold a bow for months and I have the authority to do so. Get your fucking hands off her before I shatter your entire arm,” he growls and even I feel fear from his tone.    

The deafening ringing of the clocktower bells chime throughout the palace like the voice of the gods dampening the tension in the air. The seven chimes signal it’s time for me to return home once more. Eris releases me, and against my better judgment Cassian releases Eris. But it doesn’t stop them from staring daggers into one another, if Cassian jumps now it’ll be his head on a pike and I’d rather die than allow that to happen. 

“Cassian is right,” I say to Eris standing between the two of them. “It’s better if we wait. If you choose to marry me, imagine how amazing our wedding night will be.” I smile at Eris, pulling him for a passionate kiss, hiding every ounce of disgust I feel. 

“That’s more like it, my pet,” he smirks, glancing up at Cassian in a challenge. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Until then,” I smile, letting Cassian lead me away.  

The second we are around the corner that shields us from Eris’ view we both begin walking much faster. As if the eldest son of autumn is a monster at our heels and we have limited time to get out of this gods forsaken palace. When the crisp air of Autumn hits my skin Cassian doesn’t even ask if I’m ready before picking me up and shooting me into the sky.  

“We need to go talk to Rhys and tell him what happened,” Cassian said, his wings pounding with a new urgency. 

“No!” I protest. “We can’t tell him. I don’t want him to have an even more guilty conscience than he has from the last fifty years.” 

“Princess you saw what just happened back there! Eris was going to take advantage of you. Rhys deserves to know.” he argues. 

“If Rhys knows he’ll call off the courtship and if he calls off the courtship then I can’t marry Eris which means I can’t save my court,” I explain. 

“This has gotten out of hand princess, we have to tell your brother,” Cassian grumbles. 

“Cassian please, don’t take my choices away from me. I love my court and I love my family. If this is how I can help all of you in the war I want to,” I shrill. “I can take ‘the sky is falling’ from just about everyone but you. I need you to support me Cassian.” 

I look into Cassian’s eyes and I can see them still burning with unmatched fury. I let my own eyes plead to his, trying to convey how badly I needed him to stay quiet about what had happened. How badly I needed him to let me do this, to trust me. His eyes softened and his gaze fixed itself on the flight before us. 

“Fine,” he shook his head. “But if he pulls a stunt like that again I won’t stand by and watch this time.” 

“Of course not general,” I smile, watching the wind whip the stray hairs from his face. “I’ll hold while you punch.” 

Though he tries to hide his amusement at my joke, Cassian’s mouth can’t help but turn up into a half smile.

Part 4

Taglist: @crystalferret202 , @nickishadow139 ,  @graceshifts , @writeroutoftime, @heyyitsnat21,  @stinkinstuffie , @lilah-asteria , @12358

[aswanlake]

Crossed With Glass

This is just a prologue for something that's next to come. The first chapter should be out sometime next week since I'm extremely busy this week

pairing: Shigaraki & Reader (Parental) | Aizawa & Reader (Parental) | Bakugou x Reader (Childhood Friend)

synopsis: A hero student with a quirk made to detonate and his best friend and crush with a heart made of glass, don’t exactly mix because everything he touches shatters, including her. After a huge fight she disappears without a trace and no one is ever able to find her, eventually the police and her parents stop looking for her, and even her best friend forgets her. Until in the middle of a fight she returns, with a different name, but the same face.

The smoke began to clear, Bakugo’s quirk known for making a mess was only adding to the distress. Shota Aizawa was trying to round up all of his kids after the villain attack, it completely caught everyone off guard, they were in the middle of a training session in the middle of the woods and the closest heroes to them had already been dealt with hours before anyone was actually aware that the attack was coming.

Izuku has begun to help, ensuring that everyone was ok and trying to help people to the small building they had closed off from all of the fighting. Dabi’s quirk had pretty much burned half of the forest off so a circle became a part of the clearing. The night sky was dark enough to light up the stars and yet Bakugo’s eyes couldn’t clear the person standing in the middle of the clearing.

The dust had settled and in the middle stood a teenager, her figure unfamiliar but her face was as clear as day. For once the rowdy teenager didn’t yell or screech or attempt a temper tantrum, he swallowed hard as his body stilled staring at the person before him.

Her mask has been knocked off of her face, hood pooling around her neck and no longer able to shelter her from the darkness that consumed her. “Kyo?” His breath barely left his throat. Falsehood. What a fitting name for someone who has never belonged to one place, a falsehood that has never found a way to be true.

Her brows quivered together, back to his front as her head tilted over her shoulder to face him. “Who the hell is Kyo?” Her voice came out rough and harsh, her eyes cutting daggers at the boy who let his guard down to speak to her. Did she know him? Did he know her? He took a shaky step towards her but before she could even get a good look at him, her body was engulfed by the smoke and void of Kurogiri’s body.

Her body shook as they returned, eyes glaring at the ground as she stared, breath uneven. “I knew him.”

Chapter 1 here!

[mehriigss]

Rottmnt weird drabble/one shot because I have anxiety so Leo has anxiety too.

Based on a headcanon you can find here.

Leo was at the verge of a panic attack. No, he was going into a full anxiety spiral. The best part? He was currently having a family dinner.

Everyone was having fun. Raph was stuffing his face with Mikey's meatballs, April was trying to prevent him from choking, his twin was recording everything with his phone, his father was scolding him for using his phone during a family event, Mikey was still cooking in April's kitchen and Draxum and himself were having a smooth conversation about biology. About literal photosynthesis to be precise. He might hate him but he has to admit Draxum really knew how to get him to talk.

There were oh so many details in every single thing his family was doing right now, but he's brain chose to focus on himself. How selfish.

Draxum was rambling about his favourite photosystem when it hit him. The increased heart rate, the tunnel vision, the distorted hearing, the nausea, the damn choking sensation and that fucking piercing pain in his chest that just won't go away for the rest of the week.

Why did his anxiety have to be such an opportunistis?

He stared at Draxum like he was trying to read his soul out loud. Leo could hear him but he wasn't listening. No words seem to get into his brain but the usual 'you're nothing but your brothers', 'too little too late for redemption', 'you'll never change', 'under that mask is a scared little boy'.

Did Draxum just make him a question? He could tell by Draxum's body language.

"So?" Said Draxum to the turtle that barely registrated anything but the strong static in his ears.

Masking this kind of things was easy for him. He just had to ignore and endure it in equal proportions and play face man. He could do it, he was the face man! The actor! The lier among them! Misleading was his specialty.

He would just put on another layer of paint to his mask and flee forward.

"I'm not sure." Leo said a bit too low but steadily nonetheless.

"Well, if you are not sure, I could suggest a few scientific articles". Draxum replayed, apparently content enough with the poor answer.

Draxum was suddenly silent, already used to Leon's seemingly infinite energy for conversation, waiting for him to say something.

So he said the first thing he could muster, the quickest he could: "I-I'd love to read t-them".

That was clearly not a good plan.

It had begun. The stuttering, because his poor mouth couldn't keep up with his anxious brain. He hated that. He's good hiding his panic in plain sight but his stupid stuttering is something he can't control or cover! He could only go mute and hope he's not asked many questions because of it.

But going mute would be extremely suspicious when he's literally in the middle of a conversation!

"Ok...?"

Ok, Draxum was a bit confused, he could work with that. That is fixable. As long as he can keep a low profile he's good.

But his breathing was getting more and more erratic and being and acuatic turtle didn't actually help keep the need to just breath at bay.

Could he fix this?

'Of course not, you're useless!'

'You're eyes are watering, you big crybaby!'

'Just flee. They're not gonna miss you anyway '

'They're better off without you'

He took a big, deep, audible, shaky breath and surrendered.

"Are you ok, bro?" Mikey, bless his soul, had just entered to room and immediately noticed his struggle, taking over the conversation. "Barry, mind if I steal my brother from you for a sec?"

Mikey did not wait for an official answer, he grabbed Leo by the wrist and forced him out of the room. That, in all honesty, scared the holy shit out of Leonardo. And everybody else.

He felt a little naked now that he wasn't around his whole family, but at least the living room smelled like April. It was a nice smell to focus his mind on.

"Leo... It might not be anything serious- and I hope it isn't! -but..."

"I-I'm hav-ing a p-panic a-attack".

Another shaky breath was all it took for Leo to become a hyperventilating and sobbing mess.

That image just fits too well 😙

[phoenixblaze1412]

So, I just read your vampire priest dottore fics again and I seriously have never been focused on a fic so much.

I'm a little embarrassed about asking this but would you mind making another Vampire priest dottore fic or hc, which is about the reader ending up pregnant bc of him

Hope you're doing well💗

It starts subtly.

Your body shifts in small, strange ways—nausea in the mornings, a heavy warmth in your belly, the way your heart beats faster around him, even when he’s calm. At first, you think it’s just fatigue. The aftershock of being loved too deeply, too completely, by something not entirely human.

But then the signs compound.

Your sense of smell sharpens. Your appetite changes. Dottore’s scent, normally faint and woodsy, like old parchment and stormy nights, suddenly makes your mouth water in ways it never did before. When he kisses your neck, your skin tingles deeper. You start sleeping longer, and your body feels… occupied. As if something ancient now grows quietly inside you.

He notices before you say anything.

One evening, you’re curled up in his bed, wrapped in one of his discarded robes. He watches you with narrowed eyes, gaze flicking down your frame, lips parted slightly as if tasting something on the air.

“Your blood…” he murmurs, voice strange. “It smells different.”

You look up.

He rises from the edge of the bed, crossing the room in long, silent strides until he’s kneeling before you, his hand sliding across your belly—gentle, reverent.

There’s a long, stretching silence.

Then, softly.

“You’re with child.”

You freeze.

Your breath catches. Your heart pounds. “What…?”

“It’s faint. But I feel it.” His palm stays pressed there. “A spark of life. Growing inside you.”

“But that’s not… vampires can’t… you said—”

“I said I don’t make mistakes.” His voice drops to a whisper. “But this… This was never meant to happen.”

You should feel fear. But you don’t. Instead, an odd, sacred stillness settles over you.

You place your hand over his. “And yet… here they are.”

He lifts his gaze to you. His expression is unreadable—somewhere between awe and obsession.

“A child,” he murmurs, voice breathless. “My child. Yours and mine.”

You see it bloom in him then—possessive adoration, hunger made holy.

His mouth finds yours in the next heartbeat, his kiss deep and desperate, hands trembling slightly against your hips as he pulls you into his lap.

“I’ll protect you both,” he vows against your skin. “You will want for nothing. No one will touch you. No one will dare.”

Your breath shakes as he kisses down your neck, lingering where your pulse flutters. He doesn’t bite—not tonight. He presses his ear to your belly instead, as if he can already hear the heartbeat within.

“It’s impossible,” you whisper.

“No,” he says, voice low. “It’s divine.”

The following weeks are a blur.

He becomes obsessed with caring for you—feeding you, bathing you, carrying you when your legs tire, drawing you close every time the wind howls or your heartbeat flutters. He no longer drinks from you, no matter how much you offer. You’re too precious now. You carry something even he doesn’t fully understand.

Sometimes, at night, you wake to find him speaking to your stomach in a language you don’t know—something old, something dead, something he resurrects only for your child.

Other nights, he simply holds you, arms around your middle, whispering prayers not to God… but to you.

The townspeople still believe in him.

Still kneel before the altar he stands at, blind to the growing madness in his eyes, the devotion laced with blood. They don’t see how he looks toward the upper balcony where you watch each sermon, hand resting on your barely-rounded belly.

They don’t notice the way his gaze softens only for you.

They never will.

You carry something sacred now.

Not a holy spirit.

But a child born of blood and love and hunger.

-----

The child grows too quickly.

By the second month, your belly has already begun to swell. The midwives Dottore brings in—strangers from faraway towns—stammer, pale, and leave without explanation. One muttered something about “unnatural development.” Another dropped her rosary and ran.

Dottore only watches you with more fervor.

“This is what perfection looks like,” he murmurs one night, kneeling at your side while you lie in bed, body aching with heat and fullness. His fingers trace the swell of your stomach, as if the skin itself holds holy scripture. “No human seed could create something so… divine.”

He says divine like others would say damned.

You start to feel them—the child. At night, they move not with a flutter but with a strength that makes your breath hitch. You swear sometimes you hear whispers in your dreams, ancient words you don’t understand. Sometimes your blood runs cold in the silence of the manor, and Dottore is suddenly there, arms wrapped around you, whispering that he felt something stir and came at once.

He never lets you out of his sight anymore.

He abandons sermons mid-sentence. Locks the church. Tells the followers that God has called him into solitude. They believe him, of course. They always do.

And you?

You start to believe that you were always meant to be here—heavy with the child of something eternal, tangled in the arms of the priest who would kill to keep you.

One night, you wake up with a start—sweating, heartbeat racing. Dottore’s not beside you.

You find him in the chapel, barefoot, blood staining his lips. His robe is half open. He’s just finished feeding on a townsman—someone devout, someone trusting.

He doesn’t look ashamed.

When he sees you, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then approaches quickly.

“You shouldn’t be walking around in the dark,” he chides, hands immediately going to your waist, your belly. His eyes soften the moment he feels the movement beneath your skin.

“He tasted bitter,” he mutters, distractedly. “None of them are as sweet as you.”

You rest your forehead against his chest. “You’re going to get caught.”

“I want them to catch me,” he growls, teeth barely grazing your throat. “Let them come. Let them try to take you from me. I’ll gut them like pigs in front of their altar.”

You feel the baby shift inside you, as if responding to the darkness curling off his tongue.

“Dottore…” you whisper.

“Yes?”

You place your hand over his, over the small kicking lump beneath your skin. “Do you think it’ll be like you?”

He looks down at you with something close to madness in his gaze. “It’ll be better.”

Then he kisses you.

That night, he makes love to you as though you're breakable and sacred all at once.

He worships your pregnant body, lips trailing over every curve—your swollen breasts, your stretching stomach, the sensitive places between your thighs. He whispers reverent things in his old tongue, hands splayed wide over you, as if memorizing your shape.

“You’re a miracle,” he groans into your skin. “My miracle.”

When he’s inside you, it’s slow. Deep. His movements careful but intense, the kind of thrusts that leave you trembling, aching, wanting more. His hand never leaves your belly. Every moan you make is met with another kiss, another whispered promise.

You reach your peak with a cry, shuddering beneath him. He follows, pressing deep, spilling into you again—possessive, loving, wild.

After, he curls around you like a dragon with its treasure.

“I’ll protect our bloodline,” he whispers. “Even if it means tearing this world apart.”

-----

But the world begins to notice.

One by one, followers stop coming home. The holy man no longer preaches. And strange cries echo from the hills near the mansion. The townspeople grow quiet. Paranoid.

Someone knocks at your door one night.

Dottore answers, bloodied and unbothered.

No one comes back the next day.

Your belly swells further.

You feel heavy with something that’s not quite human. You glow, but not like other expecting women. Your skin is flushed, your pupils dilated more often. Your appetite changes. You crave his blood. You crave him.

He lets you drink from him once.

You suck from his wrist like it’s the sweetest thing in the world, and when you finish, he kisses you hard—moaning like he’s addicted to your hunger.

“You’re becoming mine,” he says with a smirk. “Even down to your instincts.”

Maybe he’s right.

Maybe you’ve been his since the moment you stepped into that damned mansion.