#How To Let Music Be Your Solace

[betterlifeinoverall-rethabilep]

Favorite Song Connected To Untold Story

To break the ice, we all love music. Hence, different flavours of Music. Likewise, to the different dishes we would choose in Restaurant on the Menu. Nevertheless, in all the songs we love despite how varied they are, we receive beats which makes us jolly and jubilantly happy. Actually, they ensures we are happy and create memories which gets labeled with the sound of the same songs. Exclusively,…

[justlemmeadoreyou]

solace* (famous!harry x masseuse!y/n)

summary: harry is in need of some unwinding and destressing, and he finds the perfect masseuse for that. they end up growing much closer than the relationship they began with, but it's never that easy, is it?

words: 6.4k (she's long)

warnings: smut in this one: p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), cursing, dirty talk, fingering, creampie.

"Just lay down on the table and relax. I'll take good care of you."

Y/N tried to keep her voice steady and professional as she greeted her new client, the one and only Harry Styles. The famous former athlete turned singer was lying face down on the massage table, a towel draped over his lower body.

Y/N had been a masseuse at this high-end spa for two years, but she had never worked on someone so famous before. She was intimidated but determined not to show it. Treating Harry just like any other client was the only way she could get through this.

"You're the expert," Harry's muffled voice came from the face cradle. "I'm in your hands."

Y/N gulped at the unintended innuendo. Get it together, she scolded herself. This is strictly business.

She warmed up some lotion in her hands and began working on Harry's muscular back and shoulders. Almost immediately, she could feel the tightness and knots from years of intense athletic training.

"You've got a lot of built-up tension in here," she commented, digging her fingers in to loosen a stubborn knot. "What sort of athletic background are we working with?"

"Footie, if you go by my English roots," Harry said, sucking in a sharp breath as she worked a particularly tender spot. "Played striker on an academy team as a kid before my interests shifted to music in my late teens."

Y/N raised her eyebrows, impressed. She had no idea Harry was such a talented athlete on top of his musical skills. Somehow that made her former crush on him even more intimidating.

As she moved down to his lower back, she tried to keep her touches clinical and impersonal. But she couldn't help noticing how toned Harry's body was, the muscles rippling beneath her hands. 

Stop ogling him, you're being completely unprofessional! She gave herself another firm mental rebuke.

For a while, the only sounds were Harry's occasional groans as Y/N dug into his tight knots and the relaxing spa music playing softly in the background. But eventually, Harry broke the silence.

"You know, you seem a bit nervous around me. Is it because I'm....well, me?"

Y/N felt her cheeks burn. She should have known he would pick up on her awkwardness.

"I'm just trying to stay focused," she mumbled, unable to keep the embarrassment out of her voice entirely. "I don't want to slip up and disappoint an important client like yourself."

To her surprise, Harry let out a low chuckle. "Love, I may be famous but I'm just a regular bloke like any other. No need to be nervous."

His voice was warm and full of humor, putting Y/N more at ease. She realized she had been building him up as some intimidating celebrity in her mind when really he seemed down-to-earth.

Feeling emboldened, she decided to open up a bit. "To be honest, I may have...had a bit of a crush on you back in the day. Your music was a big part of my teen years."

"Is that so?" Harry sounded both flattered and amused. "Well, I'll take it as a compliment from a pretty lady like yourself."

Y/N felt her traitorous cheeks heating up again. Were they...flirting now? She couldn't tell if he was just being charming or if there was real interest there.

She tried to keep things professional as she moved on to his arms and legs, though her lingering shyness made it difficult. Harry seemed to sense it, not pushing things but keeping up his friendly banter that had her laughing in spite of herself.

By the end of the ninety minutes, Y/N was disappointed for the massage to be over. Some of the intimidation had faded, replaced by an easy rapport. Almost as if...they could really be friends, or more, not just client and masseuse.

As Harry redressed and prepared to leave, he paused and gave her a heart-stoppingly charming smile. "Same time next week? I'll need to keep these knots at bay."

Y/N couldn't resist smiling back, a warm flutter in her belly. "I'll be here. It's a date."

Wait, did she actually just say that?! She wanted to cringe at her awkward choice of words.

But Harry just chuckled easily, not seeming bothered at all. "A date it is, then. I look forward to it."

As he sauntered out, Y/N exhaled a long breath. Suddenly, her job had gotten a lot more...interesting.

Over the next few months, Y/N looked forward to Harry's weekly appointments increasingly more. They had fallen into an easy, teasing back-and-forth during their sessions peppered with plenty of flirtatious banter. 

At first, Y/N firmly kept things within professional boundaries, no matter how strong her crush was growing. Harry may be a laid back, regular guy, but he was still a client at the end of the day.

However, the more she got to know the real Harry beyond his famous persona, the harder it became not to develop deeper feelings. His sharp wit, endless warmth and care for those around him, and genuine humility all endeared him to Y/N enormously.

For his part, Harry seemed to be growing quite fond of Y/N as well. He playfully requested she work extra hard on his "problem areas" and loved to tease her about her technique and bedroom eyes whenever she was really concentrating. Y/N would pretend to be flustered, but secretly loved their charged back-and-forth.

One week, Harry didn't show up for his usual appointment. Y/N tried not to feel too disappointed, figuring he must have just been busy. But when he missed his spot the following week as well with no notice, she began to worry something was wrong.

"Everything okay with Harry?" she couldn't help asking the spa receptionist. "I haven't seen him for his appointments lately."

The petite blonde receptionist gave her a sly grin. "Haven't you heard? There was an issue with his latest music release, so he's been dealing with that whole mess the past couple weeks."

Y/N frowned, concerned. Harry hadn't mentioned anything about work issues. Then again, she realized they had become so comfortable with each other that she always viewed him through a friend's lens rather than a client's now. 

Making a snap decision, Y/N pulled out her phone and drafted a text to the number Harry had given her months ago, just in case she ever needed to reschedule his slot.

"Hey there, just checking in! Missed you the past couple weeks and wanted to make sure everything is alright?"

She hit send before she could overthink it, her heart fluttering nervously. This was wildly unprofessional to text a client like this, even if Harry had become more of a friend really.

To her surprise, Harry texted back almost immediately.

"Y/N! Was just thinking about you, funny enough. I'm so sorry for going MIA, it's been a madhouse with this new album mess. Let me make it up to you with dinner this weekend?"

Y/N's eyes widened as she re-read the text. Was Harry...asking her on a date? Or was he just being friendly and suggesting they grab a bite to catch up? She wasn't sure, but her heart was pounding either way.

Throwing caution to the wind, she typed: "It's a date. Looking forward to it!"

If her massages with Harry had been growing increasingly charged lately, Y/N could only imagine how electric an actual date with him would be...

The rest of the week dragged by interminably for Y/N as she counted down to her dinner with Harry. She agonized over what to wear, settling on a slinky red dress that walked the line between casual date and fancy night out perfectly.

When Saturday evening finally arrived, Y/N felt uncharacteristically nervous as she pulled up to the chic restaurant Harry had chosen. What if she had been misreading everything and this was just a friendly dinner after all? She didn't want to make things weird if that was the case.

But the second Harry opened the door to greet her, looking unfairly handsome in a slick black button-down, her worries melted away. He was giving her the same heated look he got when she was working out a tight knot in his muscles - unmistakably attracted and intrigued.

"You look positively stunning, love," he murmured, taking her hand and giving it a delicate kiss. "Though I don't know what I was expecting, you always manage to blow me away."

Y/N felt her face heating up at his unabashed flattery, her pulse racing. She couldn't resist giving his bicep a playful squeeze.

"You're not looking too bad yourself, popstar. Now are we going to eat, or did you just invite me out to shamelessly flirt?"

Harry grinned wickedly. "Why can't we do both?"

The evening passed in a blur of delicious food, sinfully good wine, and the most scintillating conversation Y/N had ever experienced. She and Harry swapped stories, teased and joked, and delved into surprisingly deep philosophical discussions, all without missing a beat.

By the time they were splitting a decadent slice of chocolate cake for dessert, Y/N felt more relaxed and giddy than she had in years. Despite all her nervous buildup, the date was turning out perfectly.

"You know," Harry began conversationally as he licked some icing off his fork in a way that made Y/N's mouth go dry. "When you started as my masseuse, I'll admit I figured you were just another pretty face hired by the spa. Starstruck and nervous around me because of my image and all that rot."

Y/N felt her cheeks warm at his words, but Harry grinned teasingly to show he meant no offense. 

"But you proved me absolutely wrong in the best way possible, darling. Your skill and your spirit both blew me away. You're always so professional, but with this amazing warm heart and sharp wit just beneath the surface."

Y/N couldn't help smiling bashfully at his earnest compliments. "Well, you hardly made it easy to stay focused and impersonal, Mr. Cheeky Flirtmaster. I'm just glad we were able to become...friends."

She said the last word tentatively, wondering if Harry felt the same growing sense that they had become something more than that recently. His heated gaze and body language said as much, but she didn't want to assume.

Harry seemed to pick up on her hesitancy, his green eyes crinkling at the corners fondly.

"Y/N, I think we both know our 'friendship' has evolved into something deeper, at least for me. I've fancied you for months, maybe longer if I'm being honest with myself. You're bloody brilliant - smart, talented, caring, with a rocking body that drives me spare in the best way."

He reached across the table to take her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles. The tender intimacy of the gesture made Y/N's heart skip a beat.

"What I'm asking is...would you want to make this official? Give us a real go as more than just mates?"

Y/N felt like the breath had been knocked out of her lungs. She had imagined hearing those words from Harry's lips more times than she could count. But now that he had actually said them, she was temporarily stunned into silence.

Seeing her speechlessness, Harry chuckled warmly. "No need to answer right this second, love. I know it's a lot to process coming from your formerly famous client-turned-mate. Just think it over, yeah?"

Y/N finally managed to find her voice, emboldened by the caring warmth in Harry's eyes. She turned her palm over, lacing their fingers together decisively.

"You don't have to give me time, Harry. I've been crazy about you for ages if I'm honest. Of course I want to give us a real shot. I can't think of anything I want more."

The brilliant smile that spread across Harry's face sent tingles down Y/N's spine. He brought her knuckles to his lips, brushing a soft kiss there.

"Then it's official. We're a couple now."

Y/N felt giddy, like the words were a dream. Her and Harry Styles, the man she'd fancied for years, were entering a relationship together. What were the odds?

"Should we, uh, keep things professional at the spa still?" she asked, suddenly wondering if their new situation would make things weird.

To her surprise, Harry shook his head adamantly. "Actually, I was thinking of finding a new masseuse. I wouldn't want to put you in an awkward position having to work on your boyfriend's body every week, tempting as that sounds."

He gave her a heated look and Y/N felt a rush of arousal, imagining all the new layers their massages would take on now.

"Fair point. I don't think I could keep things totally professional anymore either," she admitted with a coy smile.

Harry signaled for the check, keeping Y/N's hand linked with his posessively. "Then it's settled. I'm all yours now, darling. Though fair warning, I'll expect my massages in private from here on out."

The tone of his voice made Y/N shiver pleasantly in anticipation. Oh, this romance was going to be incredibly fun.

***

Over the next few months, Y/N felt like she was living in a wonderful dream. She and Harry were inseparable, their bonds of friendship strengthening into an unbreakable foundation as their passion grew.

They went on romantic dates, attended glamorous celebrity events, and spent long cozy nights together at Harry's place. Y/N felt herself falling harder and harder for the kind, charismatic man who never failed to dote on her or cheer her on.

One evening, Harry surprised her by having a limo pick her up from work at the spa. Y/N raised her eyebrows in amused confusion as she slid into the sleek black car, wondering what her doting boyfriend was up to now.

To her delighted shock, Harry was waiting inside wearing a dashing tuxedo. He held out a rose to her with a warm smile. 

"My love, you look as breathtaking as ever. Are you ready for our night on the town?"

Y/N laughed giddily, feeling like a princess in a fairytale as Harry showered her with kisses. "You'll have to tell me where we're going, love!"

"Well, first we have dinner reservations at the city's most exclusive new restaurant. And afterward..." Harry trailed off teasingly before pulling a pair of tickets from his inner jacket pocket. "I've arranged for us to have a private vip loge at the opera!"

Y/N's jaw dropped. She knew Harry took great pride in planning thoughtful, romantic gestures, but she was blown away by this grand occasion. The evening was straight out of a storybook.

"Harry, this is...I can't even put into words," she breathed in amazement. "You are the singularly most incredible, thoughtful man in existence. How'd I ever get so lucky?"

Harry just grinned boyishly, giving her a wink as the limo pulled away from the curb. "You deserve all of this and more, darling. Tonight is just a start."

The rest of the evening passed in a blissful whirlwind. Y/N and Harry sipped gourmet cocktails as candles flickered between them at the restaurant. Their heated looks and brushing footsies beneath the table made the anticipation crackle deliciously. 

After the stunning five-star cuisine, Harry surprised Y/N again by hiring a violinist at the opera to serenade them privately in the vip loge while the show played out on stage. He held her close as they swayed to the rich, emotive music, looking into each other's eyes adoringly.

By the time they arrived back home in the limo, Y/N could barely keep her hands off her romantic prince of a boyfriend. She attacked his mouth hungrily as he lifted her into his arms, stumbling inside as they continued to devour each other.

That night was a blur of frantic lovemaking, tearing at clothes and tangling in the bed sheets as release was desperately chased between them. Y/N had never felt so thoroughly worshiped and cherished as when Harry was passionately laying claim to every inch of her body, branding her as his own with his scorching caresses.

"You're everything, Y/N," he groaned into the slick skin of her neck as she writhed beneath him. "My whole bloody universe, all the stars in the sky. Nothing means more to me than you, my perfect girl."

After, when the frenzied haze cleared, Harry held Y/N with indescribable tenderness like she was the most precious thing in existence. Which to him, she absolutely was. Her hands stroked through his sweat-dampened chestnut locks as he pressed fervent kisses to her collarbones, her sternum, everywhere his full lips could reach.

"How did I ever get so lucky?" he murmured, more to himself than her as he gazed up at Y/N reverently. "My entire world in these arms."

Y/N had no words, rendered speechless by the depth of love emanating from her man's bright green eyes. So she simply held him closer, letting her touch express everything her heart was too overwhelmed to put into phrases.

Of course, there were still hints of Harry's internal struggles with fame and the immense pressures of his career. The more Y/N got to know him intimately, the more she saw the tightly-wound tension that still crept into his muscles and posture frequently.

It killed her to see Harry in pain or overwhelmed, dealing silently with the weight of Hollywood's demands. So she made it her mission to take care of him, just like when she was his masseuse but in more intimate ways now.

After an especially grueling day of meetings and recording sessions, Y/N would draw Harry a hot bath infused with relaxing essential oils. She would gently undress him, unable to resist pressing soothing kisses along the protesting knots in his shoulders and back. Harry would let out deep rumbles of pleasure at her therapeutic touch.

One draining evening after he had done promo interviews all day followed by a high-energy concert, Harry came home to their penthouse utterly spent. His eyes were rimmed with exhaustion and his mouth was drawn into a tight line, shoulders hunched under the weight of his weariness.

Taking one look at her love in such a depleted state tore at Y/N's heartstrings. She quickly sprang into action, knowing just what he needed to recharge and find his center again.

"Go have a long, hot shower, babe," she murmured, pressing a tender kiss to Harry's furrowed brow. "I'll take care of everything else."

While Harry dragged himself to the bathroom, Y/N set about creating the perfect soothing atmosphere in their bedroom. She dimmed the lights to a warm golden glow and lit a few spicy aromatherapy candles. Then she pulled out her professional massage table and arranged it with all her favorite oils and lotions.

By the time Harry emerged from the steamy bathroom wearing nothing but a plush robe, Y/N had the space utterly transformed into a private spa oasis. Soft nature soundscapes played lightly in the background, blending with the flicker of candlelight to create an ambiance of pure tranquility.

Harry's brow unfurrowed slightly as he took in the scene, a small smile playing at his lips. "You're too good to me, darling," he rumbled in that gruff, sleepy tone Y/N adored.

"Mmm, not possible," Y/N assured with a soft smile, helping Harry shrug off his robe so he could climb onto the table completely nude. 

She warmed up some of the aromatic sandalwood oil between her palms before beginning her sensual ministrations along the perfect terrain of Harry's back and shoulders. His tight muscles instantly began loosening under her skilled touch.

Harry let out a deep, relieved groan as Y/N's strong hands found each knotted snarl and gently worked them loose. He practically melted into the table, boneless and pliant beneath her.

"S'why I love you so much," he slurred, the profound tension seeping from his body. "Always know just how to take care of me, dove."

Y/N hummed in contentment, leaning down to press a line of soothing kisses along the dips of Harry's spine. Between her mouth and her fingers spreading hot oil into every bunched muscle group, he was soon utterly liquid and relaxed. 

This went on for almost two blissful hours, Y/N taking her time to reverently cover every last inch of Harry's body in her healing touch. At one point she gently turned him over to tend to his chest, abdomen, and the handful of other areas he accumulated strain.

By the time she was finished, Harry was borderline unconscious - eyes hooded, face perfectly lax, breaths coming in deep and even pulls. Y/N trailed one last stroke down the miles of inked and toned skin he had exposed to her. Her beautiful boy, wholly at peace once more.

Pressing tender kisses to each of Harry's closed eyelids, Y/N carefully covered him with a plush duvet before slipping out of the bedroom. As much as she would love to stay and watch over him, she knew he needed to fully surrender to restorative sleep now.

Y/N headed to the kitchen, deciding to prepare one of Harry's favorite home cooked meals for when he woke feeling replenished and ravenous. As she moved around the space chopping vegetables and searing chicken, her mind couldn't help drifting to thoughts of the wonderful man in the other room.

She felt so unutterably lucky to be the one person in Harry's life allowed to take care of his weary body and soul in such an intimate way. All the fame, fortune, and success in the world was meaningless to Y/N, compared to earning his unwavering trust and being able to soothe away his struggles whenever they arose.

When Harry finally padded into the kitchen a couple hours later, he looked noticeably refreshed and at peace. There was a soft, dazed expression playing on his features as his bright eyes landed on Y/N in an oversized shirt cooking away.

"There she is," he rasped in that deep, gorgeously gravelly morning voice of his. "Most beautiful sight in the world."

Y/N grinned, warmth blossoming in her chest at the open adoration on Harry's face. Even after going through a draining day, he still couldn't help being an outrageous charmer with her.

"Did you get enough beauty sleep, love?" she teased lightly, moving across the room to wind her arms around his trim waist.

Harry hummed in contentment, ducking his head to nuzzle into the crook of her neck. He inhaled her familiar honeysuckle scent deeply, as if letting the aroma soothe his very soul.

"More than enough. I feel reborn, all thanks to you taking such incredible care of me as always." One of his large hands trailed up and down her back. "You spoil me rotten, darling."

"And you love every second of it," Y/N murmured with a soft laugh, tilting her chin up to search his sparkling green gaze.

The tender look Harry returned her with stole her breath away, like it still did even after all this time together. His calloused thumb traced the line of her cheekbone reverently.

"How could I not?" His low rumble sent tingles down her spine. "When you pour so much love and devotion into everything you do for me. Makes me fall deeper every damn day, dove."

As their mouths slanted together in a searing, drugging kiss, Y/N couldn't dream of a response. Because there were truly no words sufficient enough to capture the cosmic love between them in that moment.

Of course, their intimate times weren't always just about relaxation either. Y/N's massages frequently led to much more heated activities once Harry was completely de-stressed, his desire for her building as she worked her magic on his body.

Harry loved nothing more than to suddenly flip their positions, pinning Y/N to the bed and attacking her neck and collarbone with hot, hungry kisses. His hands would grip her curves possessively as she writhed beneath him.

"You've woken the beast, darling," he would growl in her ear, making her shiver with delicious anticipation. "Now you'll have to tame him."

Their lovemaking was always passionate and intense, the depth of their connection shining through in how perfectly in-sync their bodies were. Y/N never felt more beautiful, powerful, and utterly cherished than when Harry was worshiping every inch of her with his hands, lips, and tongue.

Sometimes their couplings started not from a massage, but simply from them stealing heated looks while going about their day. Like the time Y/N was baking in the kitchen, shaking her hips to the beat of the pop song playing while she rolled out pie dough, careless and free of the world around her.

She didn't notice Harry sidle up behind her until his strong arms wound around her waist, tugging her flush against his solid chest. His lips found the juncture of her neck and shoulder, sucking a blistering path up to the spot behind her ear that drove her crazy.

"Look at you," he rumbled in that gravelly morning tone of his as Y/N gasped and arched back into his sturdy frame. "Being all sexy and domestic, tempting a bloke with something fierce."

Y/N bit back a throaty moan as Harry's nimble fingers slid beneath her loose shirt, calloused palms blazing a path up her ribcage. "Harry, what-what are you doing?" she breathed, though she already knew the answer if the hardness pressing into her backside was any indication.

"Having a nibble of my favorite snack," he replied cheekily, punctuating his words with a sharp nip to her earlobe that made her inhale shakily, her heartbeat accelerating in her chest.

Before she could really process what was happening, Harry had easily turned Y/N in his arms and hoisted her up onto the wide kitchen counter. She reflexively wrapped her toned legs around his trim waist to anchor them together as he attacked her mouth in a desperate kiss.

His tongue plundered deep, tasting every crevice as Y/N clutched at the dense muscle of his biceps and back. One of his large hands cupped her jaw to angle her how he wanted while the other palmed her breast through the thin fabric, brushing a calloused thumb over the peaked nipple there.

Y/N whimpered into Harry's mouth, already spiraling from how quickly his talented hands and lips had her arousal spiking. He was single handedly unraveling her till she was putty in his hands, the only thought in her mind was what he was planning to do to her next..

Finally, Harry broke the filthy clash of their mouths, panting harshly as he pinned Y/N with a look of pure hunger. His green eyes were near black with want, wandering possessively over her flushed state.

"You make me so bloody crazy, dove," he rasped in a low rumble that had her pulse kicking up another notch. "I can't keep my hands off you."

Y/N whimpered at the pure need saturating her boyfriend's deep tone. She squirmed deliciously against him, desperate for more friction.

"Then don't," she managed to gasp out through her daze of arousal. "Take what you want from me, Harry. I'm all yours."

The low, guttural groan Harry let out at her breathless plea, very nearly had Y/N coming undone right then. His smoldering gaze somehow burned even hotter with carnal intent.

Before she could process what was happening, Harry had ridden her of her shirt and shorts in two effortless tugs. His big palms instantly settled at the curves of her waist, thumbs dipping beneath the lace waistband of her underwear teasingly.

"Look at you...so gorgeous and flushed, ready and waiting for me," he praised in a low rasp, leaning in to drag his tongue up the slender column of her throat. "You have no idea what you do to me, do you baby?"

Y/N was too far gone in the spiral of her own pleasure to respond with anything more coherent than a choked-off whine that had him thickening in his pants. She writhed against Harry's solid frame, silently pleading for him to end her torment.

Seeming to take the hint, Harry ducked his head to mouth along the swell of her breasts and sternum, layering nips and sucking kisses until her skin was covered with marks of his devotion. Y/N arched her back hair sticking to her rapidly dampening skin as breathy moans tumbled from her parted lips.

"So responsive for me, dove," Harry grunted in approval, his big hands sliding around to shamelessly cup and squeeze her backside. "So perfect at taking everything I give you."

With one swift movement, he tugged her skimpy panties aside and plunged two ring clad fingertips through her dripping folds. Y/N cried out shamelessly at the long-awaited relief, her hips bucking forward uncontrollably to maximize the delicious stretch and burn.

"Christ, so wet and tight," Harry ground out, sounding utterly wrecked as he swirled his fingers around her throbbing entrance teasingly. "Made just for me, isn't that right lovely? Made to take my fingers, my tongue..."

His voice dropped to a sinful baritone as he slowly pumped his thick digits in and out of her fluttering, slick heat. Y/N let out a shrill whine of complete surrender, eyes rolling back as she fully gave herself over to the glorious sensations sparking along every nerve-ending.

"Made to take every hard inch of my cock, pushing deep inside this perfect little cunt," Harry continued in that gravelly and raspy tone, leaning down to whisper the obscene words directly against her damp skin.

True to form, his skilled fingers had Y/N right on the edge of shattering with dizzying speed. Her thighs quivered with the coiled tension, inner walls fluttering madly around the deliciously intrusive stretch of his thick digits.

Just when she thought she couldn't take any more of the exquisite torment, when stars were bursting behind her eyelids, Harry abruptly curled his fingers upward in a devastating stroke against that magic spot inside her. Y/N's entire body convulsed as she broke into a thousand kaleidoscopic pieces, a strangled scream of pure euphoria ripping free from her throat.

By the time her vision finally began refocusing, her loose limbs were draped bonelessly over Harry's shoulders, her head spinning in dizzy bliss. She clearly registered the achingly slow push and pull of his fingers continuing to work through her fluttering, overstimulated cunt.

Harry's burning gaze was locked onto her sweat-slicked, flushed skin as he methodically wrung out every last spasm of ecstasy from her boneless frame. The soft, reverent look of awe on his handsome face stole what little breath Y/N had managed to recapture.

"Look at you, darling...absolutely wrecked for me," he husked "So stunning like this, falling apart on my fingers. All fo’ me"

Despite feeling completely satisfied, Y/N couldn't help but feel a rush of desire at Harry's words.  He always had been equal parts tender and filthy in his erotic praise and endearments.

Case in point, his next words as he slid his glistening fingers into his mouth to taste her essence were absolutely scorching.

"Clean that essence up for me like a good girl, dove...because I'm going to need you soaked and begging again in about five minutes."

Y/N let out a breathy moan at the promise in his words, knowing full well her legs were going to absolutely sore tonight, her knees wobbly and unable to walk by morning.

She nodded around the slick digits, swirling her tongue around the fullness of them as he sighed at the way she sucked his fingers.

“God, I wish it was m’ cock behind those pretty lips, dove” he pulled them out, placing his hand right over her naked thigh, “but I want it inside your pretty pussy for now”

She nodded, too awestruck to actua;ly process her mind to his words.He shook her head at her, pulling down the pants he had put on earlier.

“Got me so hard. Could’ve burst from listening to you being so filthy for me”

Her cheeks flushed at his risque words, thighs pushing together as his cock sprang free, the angry, red tip throbbing as he took himself into his palm, stroking his length to relieve some of the tension.

She pushed her thighs above each other, feeling utterly flustered and dizzy. He was gong to fuck her, and memories of all the times he had, flooding her mind like ocean water.

Finally, he let go of himself, parting her thighs and slotting himself in between. She let out a broken gasp, mouth going dry as she took a look at her own desperation, red and swollen, yet, so needy and wet.

“Could never get enough of you” he said into her mouth, swallowing her gasp as his cock stretched her open deliciously. A broken moan made its way past her lips, her quivering legs wrapping around him as he slid himself inside her. Her wetness swallowed him up, her pussy gushing with arousal as he angled her hips higher.

“Good, fucking–so damn tight for me” eh cursed, her mouth parting open into another broken sob as he thrust in and out of her, her wet walls taking him in so well. He felt so heavenly, his cock buried inside his pretty, so pretty and perfect girl.

“How did I stay so long without you? Hm?” he asked rhetorically, and she opened her closed eyes. His hand reached between her parted legs, his skilled digits teasing her clit, while his practised strokes made her fall apart under him.

“Oh fuck, yeah–right there” she begged him to keep fucking her, his cock hitting the deepest of spots inside her. It had her mind going numb, her toes curling as he fucked her with delirious intent.

“Pussy’s so good–:” he praised her once again, his fingers finally landing on her clit, a sharp spank that made her cum right then and there.

She arched her back, her head falling back till it touched the counter. She grabbed her nipples, pinching them as he rubbed circles over her clit, his cock fucking her at a pace that had her screaming and begging for more.

“Oh fuck, Harr–Harry, oh my fucking god”

He grabbed her hips, laying her down flat as she choked on another sob, her wetness gushing out and wetting the cold marble counter. Harry was grinning and smirking, watching her fall apart beneath him. He was the only one who could make her mind go absolutely detached, the only thought in her mind being of him. His name. His cock. His hands. The way they made her feel.

“Her orgasm prolonged as he kept her on the edge, her pussy short circuiting is the overstimulation kicked in. She was sore, two orgasms after a day of work would do that to her.

“Harry–” she pouted, her hands reaching out for his, to which he immediately complied, intertwining their fingers.

“Just a little longer, Almost done”

He promised, and began fucking her at the vicious pace again. The room echoed with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin, her hips bruised as he sucked a breath in, teetering on the edge of sweet, sweet release.

He came inside her that day, his cock leaking inside her warm, warm cunt till he was fully spent and empty, her cunt full of his load as he stayed inside a little longer, relishing in the way she fluttered around him, squeezing and milking his cock for all he had.

He kissed her knuckles, murmuring sweet words of love as they lay on the counter for a while, her bake affair long forgotten, since she had already gotten a taste of something much sweeter.

***

The next morning, as Y/N was featherlight kissing her way down Harry's chiseled torso with the intent of rousing him for another sensual round, her lips brushed against something unfamiliar on his skin. Frowning, she pushed back the bedsheets to get a better look.

There, etched in thick black ink just above Harry's hipbone, was a new tattoo she had never noticed before. It was a series of numbers, almost like...coordinates?

Y/N felt her breath catch as she recognized the distinctly precise numerical patterning. She had taken enough coding classes to spot geographic coordinates when she saw them.

"Harry..." she gulped, tracing the new ink with a trembling fingertip. "What is this? Why do you have map coordinates tattooed on your body?"

The sleepy, blissed-out expression on Harry's face instantly shuttered closed as soon as the words left Y/N's lips. He seemed to almost freeze for a moment, grimacing ever-so-slightly as he struggled to keep his expression neutral.

"It's...nothing to concern yourself with, darling," he finally replied in a tone that was just a bit too overly-casual. "Just a drunken mistake from a mate's stag night a few weeks back. Doesn't mean anything, I swear."

But Y/N knew her boyfriend too well to be convinced by his nonchalant dismissal. She searched his bright green eyes, unable to shake the feeling that there was much more to this strange new tattoo than he was letting on.

What secrets could Harry possibly be keeping from her? And just where exactly would those map coordinates lead if she dared to follow them?

The delicious haze of their previous intimacy was shattered, replaced by a gnawing sense that Y/N was missing out on some important truth about her boyfriend's life. And she knew their relationship could never regain that blissful closeness until she uncovered what Harry was hiding...

(next part)

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

tell me if you like this! i want to do a part 2, but this one's long, so we'll see! please reblog or comment if you like, it makes my heart happy :)

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[teddybeartoji]

dazai is so clingy. he's always up in your personal space, leaving you no room to breathe – he's got a hand around your shoulder or maybe your waist, he's laying his head on your lap, he's fidgeting with your fingers and he's playing with your hair. he's all over you at all times but—

it gets so much worse when he's sleepy.

suddenly, he is no longer human, but a koala instead. he's glued to your side with not even an inch between your bodies, his limbs curling around you as if he's going to slip and fall onto the ground and turn into a sad, wet puddle of goo if he were to let go of you.

he's hiding his face in the crook of your neck as you're washing the dishes; he's mumbling something, whining and begging for you to baby him. he's got no shame, this is who he is. he wants you to hold him and coddle him, to play with his hair and coo at him. it's ridiculous really.

but who are you to refuse him?

you know he doesn't sleep well on his own, so now when he's clearly showing you how comfortable he is with you, how safe he feels, it's impossible to say no. his behaviour couldn't be any further from being annoying – you will not brush him off nor will you downplay his needs. if he wants to be pampered like some royalty, like the prince that he is, then that's exactly what you'll do.

you don't try to pry him off of you, you do the opposite instead – you pull him even closer and revel in the faint sigh that slips from his lips. he won't say thank you, you know he won't, but the way he melts into your body as you hold him is more than enough.

and when he finally dozes off on top of you with your one hand in his hair and the other drawing hearts into his shoulder blade, your chest swells with pride. the little snores are like music to your ears, his steady breath tickling your skin as he finds solace in your loving embrace. his slowed heartbeat is starting to lull you to sleep aswell but you won't even try to resist the pull of the dream, your heavy eyelids falling shut as you press one final kiss of the night to your lover's forehead.

[ashherahh]

a love letter from your future spouse

Note: Please take it if it resonates, leave it if it doesn't. Meditate before making your decision. It's completely okay if you don't resonate with this reading. The collective is huge and I'm sure you'll receive the messages you need in due time.

pile 1

I wish I could comfort you. I hate seeing you this way, like the light has been snuffed out of you. I want to make it all up to you. Lay your head on my lap and let me comfort you.

I can be the shoulder you cry on. I can be with you through the storm.

Everything you are working so hard to achieve will all work out. I know you feel like it won't happen but I will be there, cheering you on. I know you can do anything you set your mind to.

This will pass. No matter what happens we will get through it together.

Things may seem as though they are falling apart, but we will rebuild together. We'll fix anything that needs fixing. You can be vulnerable with me, you don't have to do it alone.

At times, I wish you would trust me with everything but I'm reminded by how you never let anyone else see you this way. Uneasy and unsure of things. Being vulnerable is difficult for you, I know. You've always had to be independent and you couldn't rely on others, but you can rely on me.

Tell me what you need and I will give you all I can.

Additional messages: Summer, Autumn. The number 5. Computer screens, messy hair. Fatigue. Coffee. Red, blue, green. Checkered floors.

About your spouse: They're someone very in tune with you. A very, very intuitive individual. It really affects them whenever you go through something. Despite being so in tune with you, they're solid like a rock. They can be quite paternal.

Song: Don't Cry - Guns & Roses

pile 2

You are the most badass person I know.

You've come a long way and I am so proud of you. Every day I'm with you, I'm in awe of your strength. I know you've pulled yourself out of dark places and you've always done it alone but not anymore and never again.

I love your smile. Your smile makes me smile. You make me laugh. Despite everything you've been through you're one of the most optimistic people I know, if not the most optimistic.

I love you so much. More than I can put into words. Sometimes I do struggle with my words, I know but I want you to know that I mean what I say. When I told you I love you, I meant it and I always will.

We will build our home and it will be our place of solace. We'll eat cake whenever we want and we'll go exploring together. You've turned my life into an adventure.

I love listening to you talk. I can listen to you all day long. Everything in my life feels so vibrant because of you. Thank you, my love. I am so greatful I met you.

Additional messages: Gorillaz. Band t-shirts. Eyes. Hands. The numbers 1 and 8. Baking. Black and brown. Glasses. December.

About your spouse: Their inner world is very expressive. They're shy, but on the inside there's a lot happening. They like to look at you, probably with hearts in their eyes all the time. They might even make music.

Song: Things That Scare Me - Neko Case

pile 3

I will never rush you. You are not a burden to love and you are not a burden to understand either.

I will give you the patience no one else wanted to. I will hold your hand through the dark days. For better or worse. In sickness and health. Sometimes I feel like I made those vows in my heart the first time I spoke to you.

Everything sung in me that you will be the one I wake up to in the morning. When I rest my head at night, I thank everything good that I have you in my life. What is trouble against a lifetime with the one you love?

In a way, you saved me. I think of the day I met you all the time, how suddenly everything changed. I feel it when I hold your hand, when we embrace, when I kiss you and you kiss me. Softly, I am reminded of how safe I felt as a child and how peaceful everything was. You brought that peace back to me.

Over the years anxiety began to build in me, I can't say I know when it began but it ended with you. The kindness, gentlessness, and understanding you've shown me has completely transformed me. I don't think you know you did that. That's just how you are. I love you for who you are.

You might believe that you will never find me but you will. I will find you. We will walk into each others lives and we won't remember a day when things were not as they are right now.

Additional messages: Painting. Driving. Number 11. Writing. March and August. Piercings and tattoos.

About your spouse: They're very logical in all situations but when it comes to you they kind of calm down. They might be in a field where they talk a lot. They're aloof.

Song: Sure Thing - Miguel

[m454d1e]

sakusa kiyoomi who has a crush on you !

involves : fluff , sakusa is soft , reader is a barista , mentions of marriage.

sakusa kiyoomi hated crowds, which is how he found solace in this small cat cafe he discovered when exploring in the quiet lanes of tokyo city. he liked how it would always have less than a dozen people in the building at once, he liked the soft rock music which would play through the speakers. it was a nice place for some needed rest and relaxation after his physically demanding volleyball training.

sakusa kiyoomi who noticed you the first time he walked in, how your head would snap towards the door when you heard the door ring, how delighted you were to serve him, and how careful and tedious your latte art was. he thought you were cute, it was endearing watching someone so engaged in making cat pictures with cocoa powder and coffee foam on his drink.

sakusa kiyoomi liked sitting on a booth with a small cat keeping him company, warmth curled on his lap as he gently stroked the fur when he occasionally stopped typing. he’d be working efficiently, deeply entranced by the words on his screen until he feels a small paw at his chest, then he’ll stop for a good five minutes to play with the white animal.

sakusa kiyoomi who could muster a somewhat wistful expression when he decided that he’d go to your cafe after training that day, motoya teasing him would earn a scowl off his inexpressive face, “is it about a girl?” motoya would ask, leaning against his cousin as the black haired boy would reply, “shut up, it’s none of your business” but the blush and pout would give it away, and motoya would giggle at him for the rest of practice.

sakusa kiyoomi who realised you were too shy to start a conversation with him like you did your other customers, meaning that he’d have to talk to you first, which was different, but he didn’t mind the change, in fact, he was increasingly becoming more curious about the life that you led and how it parallelled his. how you were the same age but ended up in completely different positions, you with an after-school job and his relentless commitment to his sport, he liked how wide your eyes got when he explained how he was one of the best in your age division, feelings of pride would wash over him every time.

sakusa kiyoomi who started to admire the small features which framed your face which he didn’t notice before. how your cheekbones sat under your eyes, or the curvature of your nose when you brought your mug up to your lips. there was something captivating about the cupids bow, the dusty pink colour which you’d smear lip gloss over every couple of minutes. he wanted to reach and gently rub his fingers on your skin, cleaning up all the places where it fell out of the boarder.

sakusa kiyoomi who, when learning your name, would repeat it in his mind every once in a while. testing out the syllables on his tongue every so often, it was obvious that he couldn’t get you out of his mind. he’d think about how you’d feed the cafe’s cats every once in a while, offering them small pats right before you washed your hands. he thought that people who respected animals were good people, and that was evident through your actions.

sakusa kiyoomi who invited you to sit with him at his booth when your shift ended, seeing you in your normal clothes was something unfamiliar to him, how the black jumper dwarfed your body as you typed away on your phone, letting an older orange cat stretch on your lap.

sakusa kiyoomi who’d nudge you, and embarrassingly ask for your instagram. “i’d like some way to contact you, if possible” he’d mutter, his pretty face flushed dark red as he fiddled with his phone, tension leaving his back when you smiled up at him, “okay! here’s my instagram!” you’d reply happily, taking his phone and typing your username into it, he’d try to wipe his small smile, but to no avail as he sat there with a dorky expression on his face.

sakusa kiyoomi who didn’t expect you to message him often, but he was so eternally grateful that you did. the days which used to drag on, filled with quiet time was now replaced with your tumultuous presence, how you’d tell him everything about your day in full detail, and he in return. you formed a small relationship which kiyoomi was unfamiliar, he wasn’t used to the way his heart would beat faster when you messaged him, or when you’d excitedly wave when you watched him walk into the cafe.

sakusa kiyoomi who was still a boy in all the ways that counted. sure, the way that he spoke made him sound grown up, and the way he looked portrayed him as this stoic and serious high schooler, but his feelings for you made him realise again that he was only 17. just a single look in his direction and he’d be folding in on himself, trying to keep up his facade, but you knew it wasn’t really working anymore.

sakusa kiyoomi who confessed his feelings to you after a long 4 months of attraction (he was concerned because of all these dating rules like 'three month rule' and he didn't wanna rush it and potentially ruining his chances with you).

you felt the tension in your back as you took off your yellow apron and folded it neatly, tucking it into your bag before sliding it over your shoulder and walking into the main dining room to see kiyoomi. 

“you look tired,” he comments, eyes flickering from you to the laptop in front of him as you settled in the booth. his fingers wrapped around the handle of his mug as he kept his attention on the video on screen, “you shouldn’t work too often if you’re getting exhausted like this.”

“i am tired.” you mumble, rubbing your face and smudging your eye make up in the process, “going to school at like 7:45, then coming here and working from 4-6 is so outrageous” you sigh dramatically, letting a brown cat nuzzle against your palm as you complained. “it’s so annoying”, sakusa would chuckle before replying.

“i’ll walk you home then, if you’re so exhausted.” he hums gently, bringing the mug up to his lips and looking down at you as you laid your head on the table, he smirked gently, placing his palm on the curvature of your head and gently rubbing his fingers through your hair, “you’re cute” he mutters under his breath,

“what was that?”

“nothing”  you raise your eyebrows suspiciously, but drop the conversation.

“alright omi” you side eye him, “also yeah, taking me home would be great, thank you”

he found himself with interlocked fingers as you walked alongside him to your family apartment, it was dead silent. he was focusing on the way his hand dwarfed yours, how he could feel your warmth through his fingertips, and he wanted more. he wanted to pull you into his arms and rub all the tightness from your back, he wanted to hold you while you slept, he wanted to do all those stupid, romantic things he’d normally frown upon with you.

“hey yn?” he asks, stopping suddenly to your confusion.

“yeah omi? what’s up?” he loved the way his nick name would fall off your tongue.

“have you ever been in love?”

“in love?” you hum thoughtfully, “i think i’ve really liked someone before, but not really loved them” you nod. “what about you, have you ever been in love?” you look up at him, expecting his answer. 

“yeah, i think i’m in love with you”

sakusa kiyoomi who asked you out in the most sakusa kiyoomi way. straight to the point and with no room for confusion. he was building himself up for the dejection of your soft explanation of why you didn’t like him back, but he definitely didn’t expect how you walked up to him and gently wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your head against his chest.

sakusa kiyoomi who would gently press his lips against your almost every minute now, wanting to soak in your affection if it was the last thing he’d do. he was so in love with you to the point where he’d let anyone on his team tease him just so he could talk about you more. you were the only thing on his mind, he’d drag you to all his games and hold you when he won, telling you how he played for you, seeking comfort when he lost, nuzzling his head into the side of his neck like one of your cats..

sakusa kiyoomi who knew you were gorgeous, but you were entirely something else during your marriage. he cried when you walked down the aisle, seeing you linked arms with another as you looked at him meekly. you were breathtaking, with your hair neatly pulled back and your make up done to perfection, but don’t let him get started on that dress because it would take me another paragraph.

sakusa kiyoomi who swore on his life that he’d never let you go, he’d provide you with everything you needed and support you through any career choice that you’d choose, because he’d go through anything just to feel you in his arms every night. 

sakusa kiyoomi who never thought he’d be able to experience love, there was so much about him that he found unloveable. but you, you and everything that you brought into his boring life would change him for the better, the walls he’d spent years building would come crumbling down at your gentle touch, and he’d find himself lost in your warmth.

! please consider liking, reblogging or following if you enjoyed :3

ajsdfhkjsdhk pls read my smau its called charm because i like clairo

[headlinerkwan]

for us - c.sc

pairing - bestfriend!seungcheol x gn!reader

genre - nonidol!au, f2l, fluff, comfort, a bit of angst, knightinshiningarmour!seungcheol, reader and seungcheol are whipped for each other but too dumb to realise.

summary - waking up the next morning in your childhood home, unanswered questions and glances that last a little too long leave you questioning your feelings for your best friend.

warnings - profanity, discussions of mental health

wc: 2.2k

a/n - this is part two of my fic 'for now'. i recommend reading part one first!! lmk what you think about part 2 (ᵔ.ᵔ)

requests: open <33

taglist - open!! comment or send an ask to be added ✩

You wake up the next morning to the golden sunlight streaming through your window, kissing your skin warmly. Your childhood bedroom smells like a bittersweet blend of home and naive dreams, it is a place that you’ve both longed for and loathed since you became an adult- wait. Your childhood bedroom…the events of last night come flooding back to you… shit. 

Sitting up quickly you look around your empty room. 

Where the fuck is Seungcheol? 

Feeling disorientated at best, you decide that following the soft music playing in the kitchen would probably give you the best chance of finding him or, at least, gaining some sort of clarity. Your foggy morning brain leads you into your parents lounge, the soft glow of a lamp inviting you into the room.

That's where you find him, sitting comfortably on the couch, reading one of your father’s books like this is his home, like this is the most natural thing he’s ever done. His hair is a perfect mess, red undertones from past dye jobs revealing itself under the light, flowing perfectly as he runs his hand through his hair and his bare face glows under the morning sun. You think you could watch him all day if he’d let you. 

“Y/Nnie” he calls, leaping to his feet with the sweetest smile adorning his face. God, how can someone be so- 

“Are you okay? How do you feel?” He asks, interrupting your train of thought, you don’t even get the chance to answer him before his arms are wrapping around you, bringing you against his chest as his face finds solace in the crook of your neck. Whilst his sudden embrace takes you by surprise at first, your heart jumping, you can't help but melt into him, his warmth enveloping you and his cologne calming your nerves immediately. The way your bodies are intertwined it's difficult not to think that maybe…just maybe, you and Seungcheol are made for eachother - two halves making a whole. 

After a beat of comfortable silence, you gently lift your head away from him. “Cheol..” you whisper, he responds with a mumbled confirmation that he’s listening, “...I’m sorry”. 

He lifts his head rapidly then, concern painted across his face as his eyes meet yours. “Why? What do you have to be sorry about sweet?”. His arms are still wrapped around you, his thumb gently caressing your forearm as you stare up at him, tears welling quietly in your eyes. 

“That you’re here. That you drove here, through the night, just because I was-”

He cuts you off. 

“You have nothing to be sorry about. I promise. This is nothing, I’ll do this a thousand times, I’ll do anything for you. You know that right?” 

Despite your guilt, you can’t help but smile at him, his words so sincere, his eyes so full of love. You nod slowly, of course you know - you’d do the same for him, and he pulls you back into an embrace, holding you against his chest as he kisses your head softly before resting his head on top of yours. 

“Why?” you question after a while, your words muffled slightly against the fabric of his t-shirt. You feel him take a deep breath, preparing his response.

“Because…”

“Because what?” 

“I’ll tell you later sweet, can we just… stay like this for a while” he says quietly, holding you tighter in his warm embrace.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

Seungcheol's POV

He could stay like this forever. You in his arms, sweet and delicate, he can’t shake the feeling that this is where he’s meant to be - by your side. Of course he would drive through the night for you, he thinks, of course he would carry you to your bed, of course he would sleep on your bedroom floor in case you needed him because well… he loved you. 

He’d loved you for three years, he’d shown you in every way he could think of, except through words. He could never quite bring himself to tell you. He had tried, God had he tried, but the words were always caught in his throat, the fear of the unknown silencing him from telling you the truth. Everything in him wanted to tell you, wanted to shout from the rooftops that he loves you, that you’re beautiful.

That you’re everything to him.

To him, you are the sun, the rain, the clouds. To him, you are a gentle spring breeze, a late summer sunset, you are fresh coffee in the morning and a warm meal at dinner. To him, you are everything good in the world, big and small. You are his favourite song, his favourite place, his best memory, his future. 

But how could he tell you? How can he put into words everything that you are? And if he does? If he does and it ruins your friendship? If he does and he loses you? If he does and you love him too? What then? 

He takes a deep breath and decides to try and forget about it for now. His problems are not important right now - you are.

“So sweet, are you gonna give me the exclusive Y/N tour of your hometown or are you gonna leave me looking for breakfast like a lost puppy?”

His heart is happy as you chuckle lightly against his chest, looking at him with your doe eyes before grabbing his hand and tugging him towards the door. 

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

The day you spend together walking around your hometown can be described as nothing less than happy. You had mentioned before leaving about the small size of your sleepy town, that there wasn’t really much to do but it’s clear that doesn’t matter as you and Seungcheol fill the hours with conversation, laughs and smiles. It’s easy with him, comfortable, smooth, but still exciting. Maybe it’s too easy because, before you realise it, the sun is setting over the town square.

“Should we head back soon?” Seungcheol asks, his brown eyes are golden caramel in the sunlight, the breeze flowing gently through his hair. You reach up cautiously to move some of the hair out of his eyes, unsure of how he will react but, his eyes flutter shut as he smiles gently, an expression of gratitude. “Can we stay for a bit? Just until the sun goes down, it’s beautiful I promise” you plead. “Well if you say it’s beautiful then I guess I’ll have to check it out for myself” he replies cheekily, his mouth curling slightly.

Turning away from him to watch the sun, you freeze as he stands behind you, resting his head on your shoulder, and wrapping his arms around you. A million thoughts are running through your head, all of them about him, and your heart beats faster as he leans against you. But then, he takes your hand, interlocking your fingers with his, drawing patterns on your skin with his thumb and suddenly everything is quiet, peaceful. It’s just you and Seungcheol and everything is okay. 

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

The sun has almost disappeared behind the horizon by the time you find the courage to ask him if he’ll answer your question from this morning.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to” you reassure him, “It’s just that, I don’t know, sometimes I can’t help but wonder what goes on in your mind. I can see it in your face that look you get when you’re stressed or thinking too hard and… I just want to be there and help you with it but if I don’t know then I-”

“I love you” He replies nonchalantly. It takes you off guard but it’s nothing new, friends tell each other that they love each other everyday. 

You chuckle as you reply, still watching the sunset “I love you too but-”

“No Y/N, I love you. I’m in love with you.” He states, taking a deep breath.

You feel your stomach flip at your best friend’s words. What the fuck? Surely you didn’t hear that right. There’s no way Seungcheol loves you. Not in that way. Not in the way that you love him. Right?

You turn around to face him, his hands still sitting carefully on your waist. “Sorry, what?” you question, a nervous shake in your voice whilst you search his eyes for answers.

“I’m in love with you.” He says with soft eyes, biting his cherry lips as he attempts to read your body language, “I think I’ve loved you since that first week, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you, I didn’t know then, I just knew I had to know you, I needed you in my life.” 

You can hardly believe the words leaving his mouth, you can hardly believe it’s him stood before you, you can hardly believe he loves you. 

“Seungcheol.” you mutter gently as he nervously rambles. He pauses, eyes scanning your face for anything that will tell him what you’re thinking, nothing. 

“Yes?”

“Stop talking.” 

You move closer to him, closing the gap between you, your faces millimetres apart. His features are illuminated by the glow of twilight as you meet his eyes. You inhale sharply as he hesitantly lifts his hand to gently caress your face. “Okay” he whispers, his breath tickling your lips gently. 

Your eyes flick between his gentle eyes and full lips one last time before your mouths crash into each other. It’s cautious at first, nervous, but you gradually find a gentle rhythm. His free hand finds your lower back, bringing you as close as possible to him as your arms rest on his shoulders. His soft lips kiss you back like you are the most delicate thing in the universe, he tastes sweet and warm. This is something you didn’t know you needed but now that you have it, you’re not sure if you’ll be able to live without it, without him. 

Soon gentle kisses become driven by passion, you are both hungry as you chase the other for more, for closeness, for love. As your fingers tangle slightly in his hair, he nips your bottom lip gently before kissing away the delicious pain and falling back into your new rhythm with roaming hands and heavy breath. 

It is only when a car alarm blares nearby that the two of you are thrown back into reality. Seungcheol leans his forehead against yours as you giggle. He takes your hands, not daring to take his eyes off of you and places a gentle peck on your cheek. So many emotions are exchanged in every movement made; relief, happiness, nerves, excitement, love.

“The sun’s gone” you point out after a moment. Seungcheol nods, he knows it’s time for both of you to go back to the city but he sure as hell is not going to be the one to take either of you out of this moment. 

A comfortable silence falls over you whilst you watch people mill around your town’s square, some you recognise as old acquaintances, teachers, coworkers. You think about potential inside jokes you may have had with them or any fun facts about them but to no avail, the people of your hometown have become ghosts, lost to the past. So you stand with Seungcheol and just watch, his hand finds yours and you lean your head against his shoulder. 

You stand watching your past, hand-in-hand with your future.  

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

You are stood next to Seungcheol’s car waiting for him to unlock it so you can load in a bag of food your mother had given to you. He appears from around the corner, car keys in hand, running towards you just like he had on the night of the carnival, with bright eyes and a wide grin. Except this time it was different. This time you knew what that look meant, he wasn’t just happy to see his friend, he was happy to see you - the person he loved. 

Placing the bags into the back of his car, you make an exaggerated show of strength, huffing and heaving as you lift the light bags onto the back seat before walking towards the passenger seat, flexing your biceps as you feign exhaustion. 

Opening the door for you, Seungcheol laughs at your dramatics, “You’re so weird”. 

As he climbs into the driver’s seat and closes the door, you pout at him, pretending to be upset at his comment. “Wowww, that’s so mean! Damn, and I thought you loved me.” you remark as you jokingly shake your head.

He giggles and takes your hand, turning to look at you. “Sooo dramatic! You’re the good kind of weird, don’t worry sweet." You chuckle quietly and squeeze his hand in response. 

After a beat, you speak up again.

“I might be the bad kind of weird too. Is that okay?”

There is a heaviness in your voice that makes him frown slightly and, when your eyes avoid his, he places his hand on your jaw, soft eyes finding yours.

“I love all your weird” He says gently “I’ll take as much of you as I can get, the good and the bad.” Scanning your face he adds “For you, anything, always.”

He places chaste kisses all over your face until you’re smiling again, pulling him to meet your lips this time, he smiles into you and, with his sweet lips against yours, you are at peace. 

For us, anything, always.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

taglist:@caaaptaaainamericaaa @gyuguys

[prettyforwoso]

Shadow of Smoke

Part 1

Alexia Putellas x teen reader, Barca Femeni x teen reader

based off this request

summary: Exams are getting to the best of you. Isolating yourself from your friends and teammates, you find solace in substance.

MASTERLIST

You were getting closer and closer to punching a fist through your laptop screen every second. You usually enjoy studying, but not when it becomes mind numbingly easy and pointless, yet you still have to do it. 

Your neck is beginning to hurt from sitting at your desk for so long, you wish you didn’t have to do this stupid homework but it needs to be turned in by class tomorrow morning. 

Rolling back on your desk chair, you face the full wall window in your bedroom, looking over the Barcelona city sunset. Nothing beats this view. 

You had moved into Alexia's house almost straight away when you moved to Barcelona. Family was out of the picture for you, and living completely alone at 16 in a new country was an absolute no for Alexia. 

The two of you had met before, after the world cup semi finals, just as you got knocked out of the competition. Alexia and a few of her Spanish teammates were there. 

You were relatively new to the game, making your debut as an Aussie player only just before the world cup, but you sure as hell were not unknown. You had taken the world by storm. 

Alexia came up to you and introduced herself, as if you didn't know who she was. She complimented you, saying how well you played for someone so young and small. Quick into this conversation, Alexia clocked how shy you were, not able to hold eye contact and mostly only speaking when spoken to, alas, she quickly realized how sweet you were. The pair of you almost immediately getting along well.  

Soon after singing for the team. Alexia came to meet you at a private conference while still in Australia after the world cup. She quickly adored you, she saw so much of her younger self in you. So nervous and shy, so quiet, yet such a big personality. 

Your living situation was discussed at the conference, Alexia offered for you to live with her for a little while, until you got comfortable. A little while turned into forever the day that Alexia offered for you to permanently move in with her. 

Alexia’s house was kind of the group spot for the team, it was very rare that you and Alexia were the only ones in the house during the day. It was a welcome spot for everyone, and the team took advantage of that. 

…

Desk abandoned, you sat in front of the window with your laptop on your lap, trying to finish the last details of your essay. 

“Chica!” You hear Alexia yell over the music and chatter in the kitchen. “Come eat dinner” 

You sigh and close your laptop. Your feet find the floor as you walk towards your bedroom door. 

You make your way down the hallway, following the calm chatter and soft music that filled the living room and kitchen. 

You make your appearance, walking next to the stove top where Alexia serves you a plate. “Go sit with the girls and eat” She says as she looks down at you. Sat at the table was Lucy, Mapi and Ingrid, laughing amongst themselves. “No Alexia, I have to finish my essay” you plead, hoping she will let you eat at your desk. “No. You eat at the table, go sit” she says sternly, turning away from you to serve her own plate. 

You sigh and roll your shoulders forward, making your way to the table. 

“Oh there she is!” Ingrid smiles, looking at you taking a seat between her and Lucy . She presses a kiss to your cheek and Lucy messes with your hair. 

“Sorry. I’ve been doing homework” You look up from your plate with the explanation of your absence. 

“You’re such a good girl, I never did any homework in highschool” Mapi speaks up, making you crack a smile. That's so unsurprising.

“Don’t encourage that behavior Maria” Alexia drills into her as she takes a seat next to her. You roll your eyes and take a bite of the food. 

“What? I just copied my friends” Mapi says jokingly, earning herself a smack on the back of the head from Alexia. “Callarse la boca” the statement accompanies her action. Mapi rolls her eyes and laughs in your direction, winking and smiling. You look down and smile at her encouragement. 

“All this little one does is study” Alexia says after a silence, pointing to you with her fork.

“I thought you found school easy?” Lucy asks. 

“Yeah… because I study.” You say, Alexia gives you an unsatisfied look because of your tone of voice. You just playfully roll your eyes and get back to eating, keeping to yourself as the rest of them carry on talking.

…

The house gets quieter as you get into bed and crack open a book. Everyone is still there, but they have moved to the deep chat part of the evening, knowing that you will be sleeping, taking into consideration that you have school tomorrow.

You feel your eyes begin to close when you hear a gentle knock on your bedroom door. “Yeah?” you yell out, thinking it's Alexia. The door cracks open and in comes Mapi. “Hey you, I wanted to come say goodnight.” She speaks as she walks towards you in bed. “Ingrid and I are heading home” She sits and moves hair out of your face. Mapi leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead. “It was nice to see you Chica, you should start coming out with us all soon”. 

You know deep down that she's right. Alexia is hard on you about your studies but you know that's just because she loves you and wants you to do well. She would always let you go out to have fun, sometimes even encouraging it, begging you to lift yourself from your desk to get out of the house and explore the new city. 

“I know, I will once I’m all done with exams” Mapi seems unsatisfied with your answer, a flash of sadness enters her eyes. “You’re doing a great job sweetheart. Really I mean it.” Her comment makes you smile and you lean up to kiss her cheek. “Thank you Maria” 

It means a lot to you, statements like that. Your parents are not in your life, they never really had been. So being told by someone that they are proud of you always makes you smile. 

…

You make it to training about an hour late because you had a class in the morning. You do part time schooling so that it can work around football and your professional career. This however, has come in the way of you really making many friends in the new city. You did have plenty of really good friends, but they were always at parties when you stayed home, so you weren't that close with them. 

You are deathly shy. Hating nothing more than the idea of introducing yourself to someone or meeting someone new. You were so quiet when you first started playing for Barca, even the team had to work together to get something out of you sometimes. You eventually warmed up however, revealing your big personality and ability to make literally anyone laugh. 

Training today seems like a step backwards in terms of your progression to confidence in the group. Walking into the gym all you said was a quiet hello to a few of your teammates. You were feeling so tired and overwhelmed from school and studies that you didn’t have the energy to have any kinds of conversations today. 

“How are you today chica?” Frido asks as you walk over to the weights where she is standing. You don't verbally answer, instead just press your head to her chest and take a deep audible sigh. Frido wraps an arm around you and pulls you to look up at her. “Tired hm?” she asks and you simply nod. 

This severe drop in energy hadn’t gone unnoticed to the rest of your teammates, all seeing you suddenly go quiet again, or straight up sleeping in meetings. They all had an understanding that you have exams at the moment, however, they usually don't affect you like this. They knew there had to be something else going on. 

It was true, something more was going on. You had been isolating yourself too much. With the desperate need for academic validation comes the lack of a social life and the act of socially withdrawing. Everything was moving so fast at the moment, studies were one of the only things you felt like you could control. You basically refused to go out with any of your friends when they would ask, and Alexia took quick note of this. 

Whenever she would ask, you would just tell her that you were feeling stressed with school and really needed to focus. She believed you to an extent. You have always been shy. She knew that you had been struggling to make friends at your new school, but you had made some and they seemed really genuine. It's not them she was worried about. There were other girls at your school that she knew didn’t make you feel at all welcome. These were the girls that picked on you and said rude things behind your back. You tried to reassure her that it was fine, and she acted like she believed you, but deep down she knew you were hurting, desperate to get out  and go to the parties you were invited to, but you were just too nervous. 

Those girls picked on you because you were so quiet. They called you all sorts of mean things that you pretended to not hear, more for your own comfort than anyone else's. 

…

The two of you arrived home just after lunch. You threw your bags down on the doorway of your bedroom and escorted your body to the shower. 

Water runs down your body in reflection. You stare down at your toes, inviting your shampoo to drip over your face. You close your eyes when the liquid attempts to make contact. Your hands are on your face, rubbing your eyes in an attempt to discard the soap on your face. Your eyes remain shut as you rock your head back and lean your whole body against the shower wall, keeping it in reach of the water that keeps you warm. 

Your vision breaks free as you crack your eyes open, seeing nothing but the fogged up shower glass isolating you from the rest of the room. 

You had been invited to a party tonight, one of those random massive group parties smack bang in the middle of the week- in the middle of exams. You weren't planning on attending- to say the least, but Alexia knew you had been invited and you knew she would encourage you to go. A small part of you wonders if maybe you should…

You hadn’t been to a party in weeks, maybe even a month or two. Your friends never fail to invite you, always wanting to make you feel included even when they knew that answer was always going to be a no. 

A knock on your door brings you out of your delusions. It’s Alexia- who else would it be. 

“Yeah?” You yell out, fighting with the volume of the water crashing down on the tiled shower floor. 

“Babygirl get the FUCK out of the shower, its been an hour” Alexia jokes. 

You groan, roll your eyes and turn your body to turn the water off. It was never a big deal when you had long showers. You and Alexia had separate bathrooms. However, Alexia would get worried if you were in there for longer than an hour, believing the hot water will damage your ‘Perfect baby skin’. Your eyes were consistently rolled in this household. 

…

You sit on your bed, wrapped in your towel. Wet hair meeting your back. You were hunched over looking at your phone, contemplating whether or not to attend tonight. Alexia returns to your room, sighing when she sees your posture, a correction she has made many times. 

“What is the matter?” You turn around, eyes meeting her voice. She stood in the doorway, looking lovingly stern. 

You don’t move from your position. “I think I might go tonight” Alexia's eyes widen and she physically looks shocked. “Wait really?” she asks, as if to double check before she continues. “I think that’s a good idea” She says, her accent beginning to struggle with her english. 

…

“You’ll be home by 12?” Alexia says, holding your shoulders, her face close to yours. “And you can call me anytime to come get you…I’ll be there” 

“Yes Alexia” You begin. “I have been to parties before” You say, cracking a smile. “I know, I just want to make sure you have fun” She said, tilting her face down and locking eyes, as if to question you. “Now come here, give me a hug before you go” You step onto your toes and press your face to her chest. “You look so gorgeous Bebita” she says, inhaling the scent of your perfume on top of your hair products. “Thank you Lex” you lean up to her and press a kiss on her cheek, soon heading out the door.

…

It’s loud and crowded here, not unlike any other parties. You greet a few people but hunt for your friends, trying to remain confident with your posture. 

Your face morphs into a smile when you find them outside, sitting around a fire with a few others. 

You hug and kiss them all, finding a seat squeezed between two of them, placing your hands out, hovering close to the fire to be warmed. 

Chatter and more chatter. The deep conversations around a fire, all sat in plastic chairs, were never anything but enjoyable. You weren’t uninvolved in the party, you were just at a smaller section of the party, and if anything, the main party was becoming the campfire as more and more people came to join, dancing around or just sitting and chilling with friends. You wondered why you always say no to this, you always end up having fun with everyone, you begin to regret the isolation you have put on yourself as you realize just how much you have been missing out on. 

You’re silent for a while, letting the others around you fill your conscious. You didn’t have anything to say, so you happily said nothing at all. 

The attention of your group is suddenly all on you as someone near you hands you a vape. “Hey, you want a hit?” They ask. “No, no thanks” You non-judgmentally decline, passing it back and waiting for everyone to move on with the conversations, but they don’t. 

“Go on, it won’t kill you” A friend of yours speaks, nudging your shoulder with their own. 

“Bro no, I’m an athlete” You say jokingly, smiling at the fact they think it’s not a big deal. 

“One hit isn’t gonna take away your spot” the one who offered her vape says. 

You think for a moment. Lots of teenagers do it, no one you know has ever got sick from it. And part of you knows they are right- one hit won’t hurt. As if Alexia would ever know. 

[cosmicbucky]

verity

summary: an inadvertently broken heart and a girls' night in can only lead to one thing: you drunkenly confronting the very man who broke your heart in the first place - aka your best friend, bucky barnes pairing: bucky barnes x female reader word count: 3253

warnings: angst, alcohol consumption, reader gets drunk with friends, pet names, sad bucky, sad reader, drunk confessions, swearing, misunderstandings, reader gets sick (vomit), fluff, kinda friends to lovers (??)

《《《《 ♡ 》》》》

The music flowed through the living room around you, quiet enough to not overpower the conversations you were having with your friends, but loud enough for you to know what you were swaying in your seat to. 

It had been a while since you had a girls' night, though you were all but forced into this one; it was made clear by Nat that your presence was not an option - you were the only reason you were all gathered here now, each of you at least a bottle or two in. 

At first you resisted. You wanted nothing more than to wallow alone in your room, watching trash TV and crying over cheesy scenes. It wasn't that you didn't love the company you had right now, you just wanted other company. You wanted the same company you had every day for the last year. The same company that became your only solace ever since it took a literal bullet for you without thought just to keep you safe. The same company that read your favourite books so you had someone to talk to about them. The same company that sat with you and watched all your favourite shows so they could get a better glimpse of who you are and what you like. The same company you thought you were finally getting somewhere with. 

It felt like you got hit by a truck when the words "You know Bucky's been dating?" nonchalantly left Sam's mouth one day while you were having lunch. You didn't want to know more about it. You didn't want to know who they were, how the two met, or what they did for a living. You didn't want to be told anything other than the fact Sam was joking, that what you thought you had with Bucky really was real and not just in your head. Sam never said anything close to that, though. 

Bucky never brought up the dates to you, and you almost felt that was even worse than if he did. Why did he not want to tell you? Were you really not as close as you thought? Did he not trust you enough to tell you such a thing? Your thoughts continuously spiraled over the next few days, stealing away your self confidence and the air from your lungs. Nothing was the same anymore. You thought you knew where you stood with Bucky. You thought it all meant something. All the stares from across the room, the lingering touches, the 'just because' gifts, the movie nights, the sleepovers, all of it. But it meant nothing. You read it all wrong. And now it's been two weeks since you were able to look at him long enough for you to even say hi to him, let alone have a conversation with him. 

Bucky noticed the shift the moment it happened; when you slid ever so slightly away from him when he tried to hold you in his arms like he did every movie night. He noticed when the smile stopped reaching your eyes. He noticed when you stopped showing up for dinners with the gang every night. He noticed when you couldn't hold his gaze anymore. He noticed that you two just weren't the same, and it killed him. It killed him because he didn't know what he did, and he tried everything under the sun to get things back to the way they were, but nothing worked.

Everyone noticed when his demeanor changed. His fuse was shorter, his temper was stronger. He spent even more time in the training room, pummeling and destroying bag after bag until his knuckles were bloody; letting himself heal overnight only to do it all again the next day. He shamelessly threw a dining chair into a wall when Tony made a joke about how you must have smartened up and finally got sick of him, and his expression was so murderous that a Code White was called, effectively resulting in him being locked down in his room for a full 24 hours - he ended up staying in there even after the lockdown was over. The only reason he started leaving the confines of his room was to spend time with his best girl, and he didn't have that anymore.

All your friends were sick of it. They didn't know what was going on, and you both refused to talk about it. No one could even mention the others' name to either of you anymore without fear of having the nearest object thrown at their head. 

So plans were formed, and you now sat on the couch with a glass in your hand as you mindlessly swayed to whatever song was currently playing. 

"Who is in charge of this music? It is awful!" Yelena stated from her spot on the floor, taking yet another shot. 

"I picked it," you crooned, stilling your movements as you looked at her. "It's completely free of attachments to you-know-who."

A cohesive muttering came from all the women before you, and Yelena cleared her throat. "It is not bad," she corrected with a grimace, taking pity on you. 

"Are you drunk enough to tell us what happened now?" Nat asked, raising an eyebrow at you. 

Downing the rest of your glass, you looked at her with a thoughtful expression for a minute. "No," you concluded, filling your glass again. 

"Okay, this is torture. Time for a drinking game!" Wanda exclaimed, standing from her chair. "Everyone take a mustache and tape it to the TV. We're putting on a trash show and drinking whenever it lines up with someone."

You beamed with excitement, ready to both watch crappy TV and get drunk - gods know you needed at least one night to forget about Bucky. 

And forget you did. You can't remember the last time you were this far gone, the last time you had this much fun. The drinking game was very successful; it even got Yelena and Nat a little tipsy, which was not easy to do. No one said anything when you went a little harder than everyone else, when you drank a little more, taking shots when you weren't technically supposed to. You haven't smiled like this in weeks, and they weren't going to take that away from you. 

Your giggles carried on down the hallway, the echoes of your voice, of your laughter, music to everyone's ears - having gone so long now without hearing it. It captured someone's attention, socked feet being dragged towards the sound before even knowing what was happening, a seat being taken in the kitchen just to be that much closer, eyes gazing across at you, a face with such an amorous expression it would have made anyone who saw it sick. 

You audibly gasped as you caught sight of him, your eyes meeting his for the briefest of seconds before he looked away, contemplating whether he should go back to his room or not. 

"Oh, my god. Why is he here?" you asked the girls, unable to take your eyes off of him. 

"Why is who here?" Kate asked, following your gaze. "Him? What are you talking about he-"

"We don't know!" Nat chimed in, sending a warning glare to Kate that you were too distracted to see. 

"Why don't you go talk to him and find out?" Wanda suggested, quickly catching on to Nat's motive. 

You shook your head vehemently, making yourself momentarily dizzy. "Noooo. He broke my heart, Wan. What would I even say?" you replied with a whine, sinking into the couch as you lifted the glass to your lips again. 

She shared a look with Nat, two looks that said 'fuck, maybe we shouldn't let her do this' and 'what the hell does she mean by that?' You couldn't decipher either, though. The blood was rushing in your ears as you stared across the room again, torn between going to confront this beautiful, asshole of a man and staying in the comfort of the living room.

Before you could really think it through - and in your state, it's not like you really could anyway - you abruptly stood from the couch, taking a few seconds to steady yourself on your feet. 

"Fuck him," you muttered to yourself, vaguely aware of the girls trying to get your attention as you marched across the floor. 

His head snapped up when he heard you coming, his enhanced hearing paired with the fact you weren't exactly in a graceful state didn't give you the advantage of sneaking up on him. 

"Hi, doll," he said once you approached him.

Had you been in a more collected frame of mind, you probably would have noticed how quiet his voice was, how strained it was from the fact he was holding his breath in the hopes the two of you would go back to normal. You would have noticed the pain, the hurt, the confusion, and the hope dancing around in his eyes; making the blue that used to be your favourite colour now dull and stormy. 

You didn't notice, though. All you noticed was the burning pain in your heart that was supposed to be gone after all those drinks, but just one look at the man before you brought everything back. 

"You can't call me that anymore," you declared, shaking your head so much it made the room spin even more. "You gotta keep that name reserved now," you added bitterly. 

"Reserved?" Bucky asked, his brow knit together in confusion. "For who?" 

You scoffed, walking forward to close the distance that was left between you and the table he sat at. A few steps in and you lost your footing, but before you could even stumble Bucky was already out of his seat. His hands were on your arms in an instant, the feeling of hot and cold both burning your skin in a familiar way. The tenderness of his touch and the yearning you felt for it after all this time was almost too much to bear; your mind was spinning. Spinning from alcohol. Spinning from heartache. Spinning from anger. Spinning, spinning, spinning. 

"Let go of me!" you exclaimed angrily, shrugging yourself out of his grasp. "I don't think your little lover would want you touchin' me." 

Bucky could only stand there, blinking in surprise with his hands still outstretched. "My what?" he asked, his hands slowly falling back to his sides. "My lover?" he repeated. 

"Yeah, your lover - or… whatever the hell you want to call them. Sam told me, because you didn't," you told him indignantly. 

"I- what? Sam told you? Sam told you what?" he asked, more confused than ever. 

"That you're dating someone!" you yelled, the anguish clear in your voice. 

Bucky sighed and ran his hands over his face in exasperation before resting them on his hips, his lips pursed as he collected his thoughts. "What the fuck are you talking about?" he finally asked, trying to put the pieces together in his head. 

"Didn't expect me to know, did you?" you spat furiously. 

"I don't- sweetheart, what the hell is going on?" he asked softly, trying his best to remain patient. You were finally talking to him again, and it's definitely not the way he imagined but he'd be damned if he was going to let you slip through his fingers again. 

"No!" you said forcefully. "I'm not your sweetheart. She is. Whoever she is." 

"There is no ‘she’," Bucky told you calmly, trying his hardest to make sense of what was going on. 

"Okay, then he is!" you replied in defeat, finally throwing yourself down on the chair beside you. 

"What? No, that's not-" he tried to answer you, but you quickly cut him off. 

"Why didn’t you want to tell me?" you asked quietly, your voice cracking. 

“Because… I’m not dating anyone,” he replied slowly, more of a question than a statement. 

“Just stop lying!” you yelled, hands slamming onto the table. “Please, I can’t take you lying to me anymore, okay? You’ve been lying to me all year,” you added in desperation, your eyes starting to glisten with tears. 

“All year?” he asked, his voice quiet and shaky as he slid into the seat across from you. 

You could only nod your head, bottom lip trembling as the first tears started to fall down your cheeks. Bucky started burning from the inside out, wanting nothing more than to wrap you in his arms and kiss the tears away- but he couldn’t. So he stayed where he was, swallowing thickly as he willed himself not to start crying with you. 

“I never lied to you, you know that,” he said carefully. 

“You did, because this whole time you-... I really thought-... you made me think-” you couldn’t get the words out, falling silent as you tried to collect yourself.

Bucky instinctively reached his hands across the table to you before he caught himself, pulling them back and setting them on his lap. "What did I make you think?" 

"That you trusted me. That we meant something to each other," you explained softly, swallowing back more tears. "I thought you loved me back," you added, your voice so quiet it would have been inaudible to anyone other than him. 

"What?" Bucky breathed out, the air being stolen from his lungs with those last six words that spilled from your trembling lips. 

"I know you heard me." 

"Okay- now is not the time for this conversation," he sighed, running his hands over his face. 

You sat in silence for a moment, looking at him with such an recognizable expression Bucky felt like he was looking at a completely different person. "Figures," you muttered before shoving your chair back and standing up. 

"What are you doing?" Bucky asked, half out of his seat as he watched to make sure you were steady on your feet. 

Without another word to him, you turned and carefully started to make your way out of the kitchen and towards your bedroom. 

"Don't you dare walk away from me!" Bucky called from behind you, quickly on your heels. "No, you're not allowed to leave me like this again." 

"You left me first!" you yelled back, placing your hand on the wall to keep your balance as you walked a little faster. 

"I never left you once!" he argued, still hot on your trail. 

You scoffed, shoving open the door to your room and trying to slam it in his face; the attempt was unsurprisingly futile. "Stop following me, you said you don't want to talk."

"No, I said this isn't the time for this conversation," he huffed, shoving his way into your room and closing the door behind him. 

"Why? You don't want to admit what you did?" you asked, stumbling your way to sit on the bed. 

"For fucks sake, I didn't even do anything!" he defended with exasperation, leaning against the door.

"Yes you did," you argued, attempting to take off your sweater. 

"I'm telling you, I didn't," he told you, trying his best to not let out a laugh as he watched you struggle to lift the sweater over your head. 

"You did!" you yelled, voice muffled by the fabric. "You lied, and you kept secrets, and you - god, can you fucking help me?!" you asked with a huff, interrupting your own rant. 

Bucky suppressed his laugh as he stepped forward, kneeling down in front of you. "Alright, alright. Stop fuckin' squirmin'," he muttered. 

You stilled, muttering a few choice words under your breath that did not go unnoticed by him. Grasping the hem of your sweater, he carefully lifted it up and over your head to reveal your disheveled, pouting face. 

"There's my girl," he whispered softly, delicately brushing back your mussed hair. 

"I'm not-" you started to argue, before he quickly cut you off.

"Yes. You. Are," he said firmly, enunciating each word.

"But Sam-"

"Is an idiot," he insisted, cutting you off again. "He tried to set me up with someone but I never went. When he asked me about it, I told him we were gonna go out again so he'd stop fucking bugging me about it. I lied, sweetheart. I was never dating anyone." 

"You- there was no one?" you asked quietly. 

"There was no one else," he told you, his thumbs brushing away stray tears you didn't even know were falling. 

Before you could ask him what that meant, your room started spinning once more and your mouth felt like cotton and your stomach felt like it was making its way up your throat.

"I don't feel so good," you mumbled, staring at him with wide eyes for a moment before rushing to your bathroom, barely making it on time. 

Bucky was at your side in the blink of an eye, holding back your hair as you let loose the contents of your girls' night, his hand ghosting up and down your back. He sat patiently with you, muttering comforting words between each second of you getting sick as you gasped for air and sobbed, occasionally wiping your face with tissues. 

"Better?" he asked after a few minutes, his hands never leaving you. 

You could only nod in response, shifting away from him to rest against the bathtub as you closed your eyes. 

Bucky immediately fell into his old habits, wasting no time in taking care of you. The only thing that destroyed him more than not having you in his life lately was watching you practically wither away, unable to do a damn thing about it. 

"Drink, sweet girl," he told you, caressing your cheek in an attempt to rouse you before handing you the water you had no idea he even retrieved. 

You blinked up at him, taking a moment to process what was going on before taking the glass from him. As you drank he gathered up a washcloth, running it under cold water before kneeling before you once more. 

"C'mere," he whispered, taking your chin in one hand to hold you in place as he gently wiped your face. Your eyes closed once more, sighing in content as the cold water eased the burning under your skin. 

"I love you," you found yourself telling him. Your voice was a delicate whisper, but the words were so heavy you felt like they echoed off the tiles surrounding you anyway. 

Bucky stayed quiet, but you refused to open your eyes and look at him. Looking at him would make this moment real, so as long as you kept your eyes closed, you could pretend none of this ever happened. 

"Let's get you to bed," he finally said, causing your world to implode once more. 

Completely defeated, you allowed him to lift you from the floor. 

Not having the energy to fight him anymore, you cooperated as he helped you into some sleep clothes. 

Wanting to just hide away forever, you let him tuck you under the covers, pressing a kiss to your forehead before he slid in beside you, wanting to be there in case you got sick again.

The room was engulfed by silence for so long it almost felt like it was suffocating you, but just before your whirling mind finally succumbed to the allure of sleep you heard Bucky's gentle voice speaking out to you.

"Sleep this off, angel. Because when I explain to you how in love with you I am, I want to make damn sure you can remember what I say."

[anothermansjeans]

Heyy Idk if this is how you request but we'll see......

Could you maybe do like a singer!reader who writes like dirty af songs abt Spencer and then Penelope shows the song to the rest of the team and they all start low-key bullying him and continue making comments abt it while on a case or something like that??

<33

XOXO-

~W~

okay i don't know any DIRTY DIRTY songs so i apologize if this isn't that great 😭 let me know if you want another one that shows different songs! ALSO I IMAGINE THE READER SINGING A DIFFERENT OUTRO TO NONSENSE EVERY NIGHT JUST LIKE MS SABRINA CARPENTER

cw: implied sex, reader talks sings about getting head and being handcuffed

wc: 610

masterlist

++

“Oh, hey pretty boy.”

Spencer walked into the bullpen to see the majority of the team huddled around Derek’s desk with amused looks on their faces. He tentatively continued his walk, but immediately froze in place when he heard the video playing from the computer.

“This song’s catchier than chickenpox is.

I bet your house is where my other sock is.

Woke up this morning, thought I’d write a pop hit.

How quickly can you take your clothes off, pop quiz?

My man’s IQ is one-eighty-seven.

When he’s going down on me I’m in Heaven.

Handcuff me to the bed like I’m a felon.”

Her laughs could be heard from the video, and Spencer’s face immediately turned fifty shades of red.

“So, where were you last night, Reid? You know, when you said you couldn't join us for drinks.”

He rolled his lips into his mouth at Emily’s question. Everyone had an expecting look except for Penelope… She seemed guilty. “I uh, I was at a concert…”

“What concert?” JJ’s question was presented as innocent, but it was everything but that.

“My girlfriend’s,” he mumbled lowly, barely loud enough for them to hear.

“Could you repeat that?”

Spencer glared at Derek, he knew exactly what he was doing. “My girlfriend’s.”

“Well hot damn, you finally admitted it!”

“I wasn't keeping it a secret. I'm just not as open about my love life as the rest of you are.” He huffed and brought himself over to his desk.

“Well, Garcia was kind enough to show us a video she found online and we didn't know what to expect… who else has an IQ of one-eighty-seven?”

Spencer whipped his head over to Penelope with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry!” Her hands went up in her defense. “I just– I love her music and I couldn't make it to the concert in D.C last night so I was watching videos that people took and it doesn't take a genius to know who she's talking about when we know you so well.” Her words were quick, and she was huffing to breathe when she finished her sentence.

Spencer groaned and put his head in his hands.

“I think my favorite song of hers is Nasty.”

Spencer winced at Emily’s words as everyone else laughed. They definitely are going to have a field day with him.

“I love Espresso.” The humor in JJ’s voice was evident.

“So It Goes… and Guilty as Sin? might be the top contenders for me,” and Derek just has to add on. “Tell us, Reid, are scratches down your back?”

Spencer stood up and went towards the coffee machine, ignoring the laughs and references they were making. He was allowed about three minutes of solace before Penelope hesitantly tapped his shoulder with a shy look on her face. “We got a case. Everyone’s at the round table.” He gave a nod at her words and followed her, ears perking up when he heard her singing under her breath, “don't want to wait on it. Tonight, I wanna get nasty.”

He suppressed the groan waiting to come out, and sat down at the table when he felt a buzz in his pocket.

Y/N: made it to philly!! love you, be safe today. text me whenever you're free 🫶

He was about to message back before Hotch walked in, “We’re going to brief as quickly as possible. We're headed to Philadelphia.”

He knew Penelope knew the next stop on Y/N’s tour, and could feel her eyes boring into the side of his face. He was mentally preparing for the jokes as soon as they stepped out of the conference room.

++

songs that i imagined reader wrote about spencer:

nonsense by sabrina carpenter

nasty by ariana grande

espresso by sabrina carpenter

so it goes... by taylor swift

guilty as sin? by taylor swift

dress by taylor swift

[thewulf]

Bound by Shadows || Azriel

Summary: Request - I'm hoping you could write a fanfic where reader, Feyre's twin, who actually killed the wolf but let Feyre take the credit... and before she realizes what she's done Feyre is gone. She struggles with guilt and isolation in Velaris after the sisters transformation by the Cauldron.... Read Rest Here

A/N: OKAY I LOVE THIS. It got away from me a bit. I didn't realize how fun this world would be to dive into. Let me know your thoughts as always :)

Pairing: Azriel Shadowsinger x Female Reader (Feyre Archeron Twin Sister)

Word Count: 8.2k +

TW: General ACOTAR TW

Under the starlit skies of Velaris the City of Starlight pulses with a life of its own. Its vibrant lights reflecting off the river with laughter and music filling the air, breathing life into every cobblestone and corner. But for you the city’s brilliance only deepens the shadows that cling to your soul. Shadows that no light seems capable of dispelling.

You walked alone. Your steps aimless being driven by the restless guilt that gnaws incessantly at your conscience. Every whisper of the wind seems to accuse you, every glance from a passerby seems to pierce through the facade you barely maintain. The weight of the secret you harbor presses down on you with every step… the wolf, the woods, the dreadful slice of the arrow that was meant to protect Feyre not harm her. But Feyre stepped forward and shouldered the blame. She was taken from you in an instant and forced to face the horrors of the faerie lands. It was all to shield you her twin she thought of being too gentle, too fragile for the brutal truths of that world.

The transformation wrought by the Cauldron has only magnified everything. Every emotion, every fear, every shard of guilt. It was supposed to be a rebirth but for you it feels more like a slow descent into a nightmare from which you cannot awaken. The power that now courses through your veins feels like chains. A constant reminder of the price paid to the mother. Of the freedom you don’t believe you deserve.

As you wander through the bustling streets the sounds of celebration around you clash violently with the turmoil within. Families and lovers share warm, joyous moments. Their laughter echoing in the crisp night air while you drift among them. You were simply a specter unseen, untouched by the light of their joy. Your heart aches with a loneliness so profound it threatens to consume you whole. To reduce your existence to a mere shadow of regret and sorrow.

You find yourself on one of the many ornate bridges spanning the Sidra. A place you often found some sort of solace in. You leaned over the balustrade to gaze into the dark waters below. The reflection of the city’s lights dances across the surface, a stark contrast to the darkness that seems to stretch endlessly beneath. It is here in the quiet far enough away from the eyes of those who know you, those who worry over you, that your facade finally cracks.

Tears that were unbidden and unwelcome, spill over, tracing cold paths down your cheeks. You are tired. So incredibly tired of pretending. Of hiding the depth of your pain. You wish to scream so loud. To let out the anguish that fills you, but your voice is as lost as your soul feels in the face of your endless guilt. Instead, you just stare down at the dark waters with silent sobs wracking your body. It was better this way. You couldn’t let Feyre see you like this. She was finally so happy. So happy with her mate. Her Rhysand. You couldn’t threaten that happiness. You owed her so much more than that. You quite literally owed her your life. So, you would suck it up in solace. Cry it out on your own.

In the solitude of the night, you allowed yourself to feel your overwhelming emotions. To acknowledge the pain and the darkness. Little did you know you are not as alone as you believe. From the shadows an Illyrian figure watches you. His own heart heavy with unspoken secrets. Azriel was the spymaster of night court for a reason. He picked up on you disappearing for hours at a time when the others didn’t. He picked up on the fake smiles you threw everyone’s way. He seemed to pick up on it while the others didn’t… other than Feyre who seemed to watch you just as much as he did. He decided he would watch over you. For Feyre, his brothers mate. And for you. The woman who couldn’t seem to get used to being Fae as easily as your sisters did. The human turned Fae that consumed more of his thoughts than he cared to admit.

But for now, he waited behind his shadows. A silent guardian in the night recognizing that some battles must be faced alone before they can be shared.

You returned from the bustling markets of Velaris with arms laden with the myriad items Feyre requested. As you approach the townhouse the warm light from within spills out onto the cobblestones. It was a stark contrast to the dusk settling over the city. You pause at the door steeling yourself with a deep breath before stepping inside. Your smile as you hand the bags to Feyre doesn't quite reach your eyes. But she's too caught up in the moment to notice.

"Thank you so much," she says with a relief evident as she starts to unpack the food you’d volunteered to pick up for her. She pauses before she got too carried away giving you that look, the one you've come to know so well. The one that silently implores you to stay. To be a part of her world. "Will you stay for dinner? Everyone's coming over. Even Amren agreed to come. It would mean so much to me."

Her eyes are pleading and you know you can't refuse. Not when she's given up so much for you. With a nod you agree even as your stomach tightens at the thought of facing everyone. It was easy to fake your inner turmoil when it was only her or Rhys. But when it was the entirety of the Inner Circle it was harder to hide away. Inevitably someone would get you hooked in on a conversation. You haven't sat down with them since… well, since before the Cauldron. Since before everything changed. And that was almost an entire year ago now. You knew this request would come sooner or later. Though you were hoping for later you were going to suck it up for Feyre.

As the evening wears on the townhouse fills with laughter and conversation with everyone gathering in the familiar camaraderie that once felt like home to you. But now you feel like an outsider watching from the shadows even as you sit among them. At the dinner table you're terribly quiet. You were merely pushing food around your plate listening to the ebb and flow of conversations you can't force yourself to seem to join.

Feyre decided to sit beside you in hopes of calming your nerves. She notices. She notices the way your eyes were downturned. The way you occasionally nodded your head or smiled briefly pretending to be listening. The way you didn’t pick your fork up once. Her joy fades a little each time she glances your way. You didn’t notice the way her expression turned from mirth to concern. She squeezed your hand under the table in a silent message of solidarity and love. But even her touch can't pull you from the fog that's settled over you. You couldn’t help but wonder if this was your punishment? To live in a hazed state for thousands of years? Oh, how you wished to be a tiny little human again with the promise of dead after a hundred years or so.

Rhysand sat at the head of the table catches Feyre’s subtle, worried glances towards her twin. She meets his eyes with a silent conversation passing between them. She didn’t know what to do anymore. She needed help. He nods slightly. His expression was solemn, understanding the depth of her worry. His gaze then shifts to you filled with a quiet resolve. He knew you were struggling but didn’t pick up on just how much you were. You’d done a masterful job until tonight hiding it away.

Rhysand had felt the ripple of concern from Feyre long before she voiced it. Her distress over your withdrawal echoing within him. She watched you with a sister's keen eye and her silent worry bled into their shared bond. A testament to her deep care for you.

Azriel, Feyre is troubled by Y/N's state. As am I. Rhysand's thought reached out to his brother that was sitting next to you. There was a thread of urgency woven through the mental call. She's pulling away and Feyre feels it deeply. Keep an eye on her please? Help her if you can.

Azriel's presence in Rhysand's mind was immediate and calm. He was steady force amid the silent storm of concern. I'm already on it, Rhys. I’ve sensed it too, he assured. His mental voice as composed as the shadows he commanded. You don't need to worry. I’ve been watching over her not out of obligation, but because... because she matters to me. I’ll make sure she’s safe and supported.

Azriel’s vigilance came not from an order but from a place of quiet solidarity. His attunement to the nuances of emotion and the unspoken had already drawn him to your side. Rhysand’s request merely echoed the actions he’d already undertaken. His actions were born from a blend of duty and a deep, personal concern that Azriel rarely let show. In the face of Feyre's distress and now Rhysand’s request, he became a silent sentinel for you. He needed to ensure that you were not only protected but also truly seen and understood.

Dinner continues around you as you withdrew into yourself. The laughter a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within you. You're barely aware of Azriel's presence on your other side until you feel him beside you. His chair slightly closer than usual. His voice is soft, almost lost in the surrounding noise, as he leans in. "You don't have to be anything you're not, not here," he murmurs only for you to hear. "It’s okay to just be. To just breathe." His words meant to comfort felt like a lifeline in the sea of your tumultuous thoughts. You didn’t look at him for you were worried tears might spill over. But you nodded in acknowledgement letting him know that you heard him.

The evening slowly winds down and as the others linger over drinks and stories Azriel stays by your side. His presence a steady promise of understanding and patience. He doesn't push you to talk nor does he expect smiles. Instead, he offers the silent support you didn't know you needed, becoming a guardian not just of your safety, but of your peace.

Feyre watches this exchange with a glimmer of hope lighting up her worried features. Perhaps with Azriel's help you might find your way back to them. To yourself. Tonight, though, is just a small step in your journey back to yourself.

As everyone departs for the night you linger in the living room feigning interest in tidying up the small mess left behind. Feyre watches you for a moment with that same concern etching her features. But she decided against speaking, sensing your need for space.

Once the house is quiet you decide to step out for a walk under the night sky of Velaris. It had become your favorite routine. A routine that kept you grounded. A quick walk to your favorite spot on the Sidra. The city's soft lights reflect gently on the river casting dancing patterns on the water. It's beautiful yet the sight does little to ease the tightness in your chest.

You're so lost in your thoughts that you don't notice Azriel's approach until he's almost beside you. His presence is calming and somehow it doesn't startle you. Perhaps because in your heart you know he understands the need for quiet. His own demeanor is often just as reserved.

"Good evening," he says. His voice a low rumble. "Care for some company or would you prefer solitude tonight?"

You consider his offer for a moment. Company might not be so bad even though this was usually just a place for you. But it was Azriel. Someone who respects the silence as much as you do. "Company sounds nice, thank you," you reply with your voice softer than you intended.

Azriel nods falling into step beside you. As you walk his shadows play at your feet. It was a subtle yet comforting gesture. At one point one of his shadows curls around your hand. This small, almost imperceptible touch from his shadows offers a silent, comforting presence that envelops you in a sense of security. Neither of you speaks as you walk along the riverbank. The only sounds was the gentle lapping of water against the shore and the distant hum of the city. The silence between you is more than comfortable, filled with an unspoken understanding that words can sometimes be too cumbersome.

After a while though Azriel speaks up. He wasn’t looking at you but staring out at the water. "It's easy to feel lost in this city… even with its lights and crowds. Sometimes it feels like being surrounded by shadows even in the brightest part of the day."

You glance at him, surprised by the reflection of your own feelings in his words. "Yes, it does," you agree. You were feeling a weight lift slightly knowing that someone else understands.

He nods slightly at your words, "The shadows aren't all there is though. There are places, moments like these, that can offer some respite. And not all shadows are bad." He smiles looking down at the ones that clung to your feet.

His words make you look at him anew. You weren’t just seeing the spymaster or the warrior but someone who also seeks to find balance between the light and the dark. It makes you wonder if perhaps in this shared moment you might find a way to navigate your own shadows. They might not all be bad you had to agree with him.

You don't say much more as you walk back to the townhouse, but the silent agreement hangs between you, comforting and promising. Maybe, just maybe, you're not as alone as you thought.

The dawn is still a whisper of light across Velaris as you sit quietly by the Sidra. The gentle murmur of the river a soothing background to your thoughts that never seemed to shut the hell up. Lost in the reflections of the dancing water you hardly notice Azriel’s approach until he’s beside you. His presence as quiet as the morning. It was becoming a routine for him to join you on the river it seemed. Not that you minded. He might be the one person you’d happily accept to intrude on your solitude.

“You’re up early,” he remarks softly not wanting to startle you. His tone as gentle as the river’s flow.

You look up with a soft smile on your face. His familiar, reassuring presence is a comfort. “Just needed some air,” you reply with a yawn. Your voice carrying the weight of another sleepless night.

Azriel nods, understanding. He looks out over the water for a moment sharing the silence with you. Then, turning back to you, he suggests, “Come with me. I think I have something that might help clear your head. Help you to focus a bit.”

You’re hesitant. The idea of doing anything but sitting quietly feels daunting. But there’s something about his offer. The promise of relief, however temporary, that nudges you to your feet.

“It’s just training,” he adds. seeing your uncertainty. “Physical activity can be a good way to let out some of the emotions that are harder to express in words. We’ll take it slow. You set the pace.”

Trusting Azriel’s judgment, knowing he wouldn’t push you into something without reason, you stand and follow him towards the training grounds. The city is quietly waking around you and the walk is silent but comfortable. His presence a steady reassurance by your side. Something you were slowly growing to cherish.

As you reach the secluded training area the first rays of sunlight begin to warm the cool morning air. Azriel gives you a small, encouraging smile. “Let’s start simple. No pressure. Just you learning to trust your strength again.”

The training starts at an easy pace. Azriel guiding you through basic maneuvers. His patience was evident. But as your body begins to warm up with the activity and your focus sharpens on the movements. There was that sense of release you never knew could come. It was unfamiliar yet welcome that starts to take hold on you.

As the morning sun climbs higher the training session progresses under Azriel's watchful eye. You find yourself gradually syncing with the rhythm of the physical exertion. Each movement flushing out the restless energy that has been building up inside you. Azriel's guidance is firm yet encouraging and you start to feel a rare sense of accomplishment as you slowly master each new maneuver he throws at you.

But as the session intensifies Azriel begins to push you harder, increasing the pace and complexity of the drills. His softness changed into some else. You knew he was only pushing you to help but it was starting to become a little too much. You’d only been Fae for a year to his centuries. "Come on, Y/N, focus. You can handle this," he urges. Throwing a series of rapid, controlled strikes that you're meant to block and counter.

For a moment you rise to the challenge your movements sharp and sure. Yet the physical strain is relentless. All too soon it starts to mirror the inner struggled you've been trying to manage. The boundaries between physical exertion and emotional pain blur… each block and dodge feeling more like a fight against your inner demons rather than a simple training exercise.

Suddenly, one of Azriel's strikes comes a little too close, a little too fast. It isn't meant to hit you and it doesn't but the rush of air as it passes by your face triggers something within you. Panic seizes your chest and the walls you've been holding up begin to crumble. Your movements falter. Your hands drop to your sides rapidly as your breath catches in your throat.

You step back abruptly with short, ragged breaths. Azriel stops immediately, concern replacing the intensity in his eyes. "Hey, are you okay?" he asks all too softly this time. He watched with concern as you struggled to compose yourself.

You nod rapidly trying to blink back the tears that want to rush out. “I’m fine. Just tired.” You murmur. It didn’t even sound believable to you. You turned you back to him so he wouldn’t see the distraught look on your face.

He steps forward with a sadness etched deeply on his features. "It's more than just tiredness, isn't it?" he asks gently as he reached out but stopped short, giving you space yet showing his readiness to support.

You shake your head again trying to compose yourself. Willing yourself to rebuild the barriers crumbling around you. "I'm fine, really, just got a little carried away," you offer weakly with your back still turned, fearing that facing him might reveal too much.

But Azriel doesn’t retreat. Instead, his shadows do what he physically refrains from—they reach out for you. You feel a cool, soothing sensation as one shadow gently curls around your arm, not binding but comforting. It was like a silent message of empathy and support. The unexpected kindness, the soft touch of darkness that doesn’t demand or judge, only seeks to comfort. But it undoes you completely.

Your defenses shatter at the tender contact. Tears finally spilling over as you turn back to face him. The floodgates opened by the gentle brush of his shadow. "I'm not fine," you admit, your voice choked with emotion. "It's all just... it's too much sometimes. I feel like I'm drowning in what I had to do. In what Feyre had to endure because of me. All because of me."

Azriel listens with his gaze never wavering. His eyes were filled with compassion and a profound understanding. His shadow retracts slightly giving you a moment, respecting your space while keeping the silent promise of his presence.

He nods his head willing you to continue. "Let it out, Y/N. You don't have to carry this alone," he says quietly finding the courage to step closer now. He opened his arms to you in an offer of comfort that you no longer have the strength to refuse.

As you step into his embrace, allowing yourself to be held, the warmth of his body contrasts with the cool touch of his shadows creating a cocoon of safety around you. "I was the one who killed the wolf that started this whole mess," you confess through sobs. Your words muffled against his chest. "Feyre took the blame to protect me... because she thought I couldn't handle the consequences."

“It’s okay,” he whispers. His voice close to your ear. “You were never meant to carry this alone.” He pauses. His hand gently lifting your chin so you can look at him. “Feyre’s path was her own. Fate had a hand in it. She was meant to meet Rhysand through Tamlin. To find her way to the Night Court. It couldn’t have been you, Y/N. Your path is different and it’s still unfolding.”

You shake your head feeling the weight of it all. “But-“

Azriel’s hold tightens reassuringly. His wings stretched around you before he stops you. “She did what she believed was right, out of love. And now you need to allow yourself to be loved and supported, too. Let your family be here for you. Let me be here for you.” he pleads, his tone imbued with a promise. In the safety of Azriel’s wings with the gentle embrace of his shadows, you feel a lightness you haven’t felt in a long time.

Beneath the shelter of his wings Azriel holds you close feeling the profound shift within as your eyes meet. In that moment a golden thread previously unseen but always present tightens, binding your soul to his. The mating bond ignites with a radiant force, undeniable and transformative.

This newfound connection stirs a deep protectiveness in Azriel, an urge to cherish and guard you that feels both ancient and freshly awakened. Love pulses through this bond unspoken yet palpable aligning his heartbeat with yours. He experiences a profound sense of belonging, understanding now that every moment with you, every shared concern, was leading to this revelation.

With the emergence of the bond, Azriel, who often cloaked himself in mystery, finds in you a clarity that illuminates his existence. This bond does not overwhelm; instead, it completes him, brightening his path forward. The world around him expands promising a journey not walked alone but side by side, in step with each breath.

Yet, the magnitude of this discovery brings a mix of elation and a daunting sense of responsibility. You are vulnerable, your soul laid bare before him, and he is cautious not to burden you further. Internally, Azriel grapples with the desire to declare the bond versus the need to provide you with stability and support without the shock of this revelation.

He resolves to keep this monumental discovery to himself for now, focusing on being your steadfast support. His shadows as a subtle extension of his will, curl gently around you both. They offered a protection and comfort without overwhelming you with the truth.

Azriel knows he must seek Rhysand’s counsel to navigate the complexities of this bond with sensitivity and respect for your emotions. As he holds you he silently vows to take this journey at a pace that honors both your readiness and the bond’s potential. Wrapped in his embrace, Azriel stands as your guardian bonded by fate yet guided by a deep respect for the journey your heart needs to undertake.

"You've been strong today," Azriel whispers into your hair as he senses your grip tighten. "Let's head back home. You need rest." His voice is as soothing as the twilight and his offer is tender, without any urgency that might hint at the truth simmering beneath his calm exterior.

The walk back from the training grounds is quiet, filled with a companionable silence that speaks of shared struggles and mutual care. As Azriel guides you to Feyre's studio, where she immerses herself in swathes of color and light, his touch lingers reassuringly on your arm. It's an affirmation of his presence, his support, his unspoken pledge to be there for you, come what may.

You offer him a soft smile. One that acknowledges the solace his presence brings even though you were still oblivious to the tectonic shift in his inner landscape. Azriel returns your smile with a quiet intensity, a vow that when the time comes for the bond to reveal itself to you he'll be there, just as he is now—steadfast, protective, and utterly devoted.

A subtle shift in Azriel’s demeanor as he prepares to leave catches Feyre's sharp eye. There's a fleeting tension, a trace of something potent and profound flickering in the depths of his usually inscrutable eyes. It's a glimpse of vulnerability. An undercurrent of panic that he's quick to disguise but not before Feyre takes note. Something significant has unsettled the shadowsinger and it likely had to do with you.

With a nod that holds more gravity than usual Azriel turns to go. His steps are measured but the urgency in his exit is apparent to anyone who knows him well. Once he steps beyond the view of the townhouse his wings unfurl, a dark silhouette against the Velaris skyline. He takes to the air with a speed driven by the need for counsel. For understanding the newly realized bond weighing on him with a mix of awe and anxiety.

He lands at the House of Wind with an intensity that is uncharacteristic for him. His feet touching down on the stone with a thud. There's no time for hesitation as he makes his way to where he knows he'll find Rhysand, perhaps Cassian too. The door to the study bursts open under his force and he stands there as a figure riddled with the shock of his own heart's awakening.

Inside the study, Rhysand and Cassian pause mid-conversation as the unexpected clamor announces Azriel's approach. Concern flickers over their faces. A stark, thunderous arrival is not Azriel's way.

"Are you alright, Az?" Cassian is the first to react. His voice tinged with concern as he notes Azriel's agitated state.

Azriel pauses before catching his breath. His demeanor one of a man grappling with overwhelming news. "It's the mating bond," he manages to say with his voice tight of emotion. "With Y/N—it just... it just snapped into place."

Rhysand rises from his chair. His expression shifting to one of understanding as he processes Azriel's words. The air in the room thickens with the significance of his declaration and there's a moment of collective stillness as they all absorb the meaning.

Cassian’s previous levity fades into a solemn gravity, reflecting the seriousness of Azriel's revelation. "That’s... big news, Az. How are you feeling about this?" he asks as he stepped closer in caution.

Rhysand, maintaining his composure, offers a supportive nod. "This is a momentous time, Azriel. We’re here for you, whatever you need," he assures him embodying the role of the leader who understands the profound implications of such a bond.

Azriel exhales deeply the reality of the situation settling in. "It's overwhelming," he concedes. A frown creasing his brow. "I mean, I hoped, maybe even wished for it. But now that it’s here, it feels... heavy." He looks up. His expression serious. "She’s still healing. I need to be careful. Need to make sure this doesn’t overwhelm her."

Rhysand gives a supportive nod. "Just keep being there for her, Az. You’ve always managed to support her without pushing. This doesn’t change your approach just your understanding of the connection."

Cassian smirks, pushing off from the table and clapping Azriel on the back with a bit more force than necessary. "Look at you all serious and broody—more than usual, I mean. Come on, Az, you know you're probably the only one who can handle this with the perfect blend of mystery. Besides," he adds with a wry grin, "have you seen the way she looks at you when you're not looking? That’s not just gratitude my friend. It’s like she’s hit the jackpot and she doesn’t even know it yet."

Azriel can’t help but crack a small smile despite the turmoil inside. "Thanks, Cass. I just don’t want to mess this up."

"Don’t worry so much, brother," Cassian chuckles, his tone light but earnest. "You’re doing fine. Plus, if you start floating around like a lovestruck bat, I’ll be here to pull you back down."

Rhysand laughs softly before shaking his head at the general. "He’s right, though. Take it step by step, Azriel. Let her come to terms with her own feelings. When she’s ready it’ll be right for both of you."

Feeling somewhat lighter Azriel nods appreciatively at his brothers. "Step by step," he repeats, firming his resolve. With a final nod he steps back into the night bolstered by the mix of Cassian’s humor and Rhysand’s leadership. He was ready to face the future with a heart full of hope and a mind cautious of the delicate balance he needs to maintain.

Back in the townhouse Feyre greets you with that mischievous grin that heralds some sisterly teasing. She sets her paintbrush down before wiping her hands on a cloth as her eyes sparkle with playful curiosity. "So, what did you do to him?" she teases with a smirk on her face.

You frown genuinely puzzled by her question. "What? Nothing, I... we were just training, then he said he had to go." Your voice trails off mirroring your confusion over Azriel's sudden change in demeanor.

Feyre chuckles, shaking her head as she picks up her brush again. "That man is always so mysterious. But don't worry it's probably just Azriel things. Or maybe, just maybe, you're the perfect distraction for our dear spymaster."

"What are you on about?" you ask while feeling a mix of amusement and bewilderment at her jest.

"Oh, please!" Feyre laughs, her brush dancing over the canvas. "He looks at you like every moment you spend together is something precious. Like you're a rare painting he can't quite believe he's stumbled upon."

"You're imagining things," you dismiss her. Shaking your head with a smile. "Azriel is just being kind. He's like that with everyone."

Feyre gives you a knowing look. Her smirk broadening. "Sure, he’s kind to everyone, but with you it’s different. He doesn’t look at anyone else quite like he looks at you. Like you’ve cast a spell on him and he’s trying to figure out how to live with the enchantment."

Her words make you pause. The playful insinuation tugging at the edges of your thoughts. Despite your dismissal Feyre’s observation lingers. A teasing possibility that maybe there's a hint of truth in her playful assertions. The room fills with your laughter, a sound that masks the flutter of curiosity her words have sparked.

Unbeknownst to you while you puzzle over Azriel's sudden departure, Feyre's mind is swiftly connecting with Rhysand's. A silent inquiry flits through their bond: Something's up with Azriel, he seemed... off. Did I miss something?

Rhysand's mental response comes with a chuckle that Feyre can almost hear: He’s fine, love. Just had a bit of a revelation. He’ll share when he's ready.

A spark of mischief lights up Feyre’s eyes as understanding dawns on her. Her lips curve into a sly, knowing grin. But she carefully masks any hint of her newfound knowledge from you. "You know, I think we deserve some fun today. Just us twins. You’ve been pushing hard with all that training and brooding," she suggests. Her voice bubbling with an excitement that piques your curiosity.

"Really? What did you have in mind?" you ask. Your earlier confusion over Azriel's behavior giving way to intrigue at Feyre's sudden enthusiasm.

"Oh, just a day for us to unwind and maybe get into a little mischief," Feyre replies, winking. "We can leave the mysteries of shadowy spymasters behind and focus on spoiling ourselves."

You laugh while nodding in agreement, relieved to set aside the morning's puzzles. "That sounds perfect, actually."

As the day unfolds with Feyre leading the way with her occasional secretive smiles and the warmth of her company envelop you, making you feel cherished and a part of something larger than just sisterly bonding. Every now and then she throws you a look filled with unspoken laughter as if she's in on a joke that’s yet to be told adding an intriguing layer to your day out.

"Enjoy today," Feyre says at one point. Her grin infectious. "Because who knows? Tomorrow you might find yourself swept off your feet in ways you never expected." Her words are light, but they dance with implication, leaving you wondering about the possibilities that tomorrow might bring.

As the days unfold since your training session you begin to notice an unusual shift in Azriel's behavior when he's around you. Always the quiet, stoic presence, he now seems to carry an air of nervousness that is both surprising and endearing. It's as if he's forgotten how to be around you. His typically smooth demeanor replaced with an awkwardness that sends a ripple of amusement throughout your days.

During your daily routines, whether you're practicing combat skills or just strolling through the lush gardens of the Night Court, Azriel is consistently by your side. Yet, his typical quiet confidence seems to falter. Today when he hands you a training sword his fingers not only linger but also tremble slightly against yours. The contact is brief but the moment his skin brushes against yours a visible blush creeps up his neck coloring his cheeks in a rare show of discomposure.

"Sorry," he stutters. Quickly retracting his hand as if scorched by the brief contact. He averts his gaze making sure to look anywhere but at you. His discomfort palpable in the tight set of his shoulders.

You can't help but tilt your head eyeing him with a mixture of concern and curiosity. "Azriel, are you alright?" you ask with a hint of a smile on your lips. Your voice is soft though hoping to ease some of his evident tension. The gardens around you bloom vibrantly. A stark contrast to Azriel’s suddenly flustered state.

He clears his throat attempting to regain some of his usual composure. "Yes, I'm... fine," he manages. His voice a notch higher than usual. He meets your gaze again holding it for a moment longer than he intends. The intensity of his stare both confusing and thrilling.

Just then as if to spite Azriel, Cassian strolls by and upon noticing Azriel's flushed face and your puzzled expression he can't help but let out a snicker. "Lost your cool, Shadowsinger?" he teases, winking at you before continuing on his way with a chuckle. "You’re usually smoother than this, brother!"

Azriel shoots Cassian a brief glare but there's a resigned humor in his eyes that suggests he knows just how out of character he must seem. As Cassian’s laughter fades into the distance Azriel finally turns back to you attempting a sheepish smile.

"It seems I'm a bit out of sorts today," he admits. His voice finally steadying. "Nothing to worry about, really."

Watching Azriel grapple with this uncharacteristic awkwardness only endears him more to you. There’s a sweetness in his struggle. A reminder that beneath the composed façade of the Night Court’s spymaster lies a depth of emotion rarely seen but profoundly felt.

On a tranquil afternoon in the Night Court, you find yourself relaxing in one of the quieter gardens alongside Feyre, Rhys, and Azriel. The air is filled with gentle laughter and the soft rustling of leaves. Cassian and Nesta are notably absent, presumably because Cassian has taken it upon himself to "help" Nesta with some errands—a pursuit that everyone knows often ends in playful bickering and affectionate banter.

Elain has also opted for a day out with Lucien exploring new botanical gardens on the outskirts of the city. Her passion for plants and Lucien's support in her endeavors showcases the growing bond between them.

The conversation flows easily until Rhys, with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, steers it towards Azriel’s recent scouting mission. "Azriel here stumbled upon something quite intriguing recently, didn’t you?" he teases while watching Azriel closely.

Caught off-guard Azriel’s response is delayed, his eyes widening slightly as if Rhys had tread into forbidden territory. "It was nothing out of the ordinary," he finally mutters. Though his voice holds a trace of unease.

Feyre jumps into the fray. Her tone laced with playful curiosity. "Oh, but I heard it was quite the discovery. Rare and fascinating… something that might deeply engage a man’s interest."

You laugh completely oblivious to the underlying meaning and look at Azriel with raised eyebrows. "What was it, Az? Some kind of hidden gem or a lost artifact?"

There’s a brief moment where Azriel’s composure falters under your direct gaze, his eyes meeting yours before quickly glancing away. He recovers quickly, however, a slight flush on his cheeks. "Yes, something like that," he agrees, his voice steadying. "A discovery that could indeed change one’s perspective for a lifetime."

Rhys doesn't miss a beat adding with a light chuckle, "Let’s hope it’s not kept secret too long. Such treasures are better when shared, right?"

Feyre nods enthusiastically. Her eyes dancing with amusement. "Especially when they bring people closer together, right, Az?"

Azriel meets Feyre’s gaze. His expression settling into a subtle smile that hints at his deep thoughts. “Indeed,” he replies quietly, the single word rich with unspoken meaning, affirming the sentiment with his usual succinct eloquence.

As the conversation moves on the jokes and laughter continue, your heart warmed by the newfound perspective you found with them. Azriel watches you with a gentle, albeit slightly wistful smile. He noticed how much more you're around, how your laughter fills the air more often, and how your vibrant personality begins to shine through once more. His heart fills with a mixture of relief and deep affection, seeing the signs of your healing. In these moments he cherishes the progress you've made feeling hopeful about the future. He was ready to support you every step of the way as the true nature of his discovery waits to be shared with you.

As the weeks blend into months, the connection between you and Azriel deepens. It was nurtured by shared moments and his unwavering support. On a crisp evening as the sun begins its descent painting the sky with strokes of pink and gold, Azriel brings you to a secluded hilltop that overlooks Velaris. This spot was known only to him and offers a panoramic view of the city as it starts to twinkle with the first lights of evening, the natural grassy surface underfoot soft and inviting.

Standing close by his presence was both comforting and solid, Azriel shares a story, his voice low and warm, recounting a humorous mishap from his early days as a spymaster. The tale is endearing, revealing a less guarded side of him and laughter bubbles up freely from your throat.

As your laughter transitions into a soft chuckle, you turn to face him. The last rays of the sunset bathe Azriel in a warm, golden light that illuminates his features, casting a glow that outlines him like an ethereal halo. His eyes that were filled with affection and a hint of amusement, meet yours. In that instant something profound shifts within you.

It feels as if a key has turned, unlocking something wondrous and overwhelming. The mating bond, which has been delicately weaving its way through each of your interactions, now clicks into place with perfect clarity. The sensation is electrifying yet profoundly comforting. Resonating through your very being.

Your breath catches and your heart races—not just from the shock of the realization but from the undeniable rightness that surges through you. Azriel, noticing the subtle transformation in your expression halts his story. A flicker of concern crossing his face.

"Are you okay?" he asks with his voice tinged with worry. The humor from his story now replaced by attentive care.

A mix of joy and amazement washes over you as you feel a comforting swirl of his shadows around your feet. Like curious creatures affirming this new connection. "Azriel, I think... I think the mating bond just…," you trailed off unsure how to continue. Your voice was filled with awe. The realization brings a new depth to your smile as you meet his gaze which is now shimmering with a mixture of relief and happiness.

"That's what I've been feeling," Azriel breathes out, a tender smile spreading across his face as he steps closer. He reaches out gently brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "I've been waiting, hoping you would feel it too when the time was right."

Taking his hand, you feel a warmth that goes beyond physical touch. A connection that seeps into the depths of your soul. "I’m glad it’s you," you say quietly, sincerely, the words flowing easily.

Azriel’s other hand comes up to gently cup your cheek. His touch feather light. "And I’m honored it’s you," he responds. His gaze locked with yours. The world around you—the city lights, the soft whisper of the evening breeze—fades into a gentle backdrop to the profound connection you share.

In this moment with Azriel’s shadows dancing around, playful, and protective, you feel a sense of completeness. A promise of endless possibilities. Together, bonded not just by fate but by a mutual understanding you know that whatever the future holds you'll get to navigate it side by side.

As the realization of the mating bond settles between you, Azriel's shadows seem to take on a life of their own. They swirled around you both with a newfound enthusiasm. The delicate tendrils of darkness weave around your legs and occasionally brush against your hands as if testing and reinforcing the connection that has just been acknowledged.

Azriel watches with a tender amusement as his shadows interact with you, their movements more animated than usual. "They seem to have taken quite a liking to you," he comments. His voice warm with affection and a hint of pride. "They're not usually this... attentive."

As the shadows continue their gentle dance around you, one particularly daring tendril snakes up your arm, its touch lighter than a feather. You can't help but laugh. The sound echoing softly in the quiet of the evening. With a delighted grin you reach out to trace the path of the shadow with your fingertips, marveling at the cool, tingling sensation it leaves on your skin.

Azriel continues watching with an affectionate roll of his eyes accompanying his half-smirk. "You're going to spoil them," he teases. His tone light but full of warmth.

Encouraged by your positive reaction another shadow playfully darts forward and mimics the motion of a gentle kiss on your cheek. You giggle with joy, your hand touching the spot in mock surprise and then you're both laughing. A shared moment of joy and wonder at the peculiar yet endearing behavior of the shadows.

Azriel shakes his head, but his eyes shine with amusement. "Now you've done it. They're going to expect this king of attention all the time," he jokes as the shadows around him swirled in what you swear could be shadowy laughter.

"You know, I think I'm okay with that," you respond still smiling as you watch the shadows retreat slightly, as if bashful from the attention. "They're quite charming. Just like someone else I know." You glance up at Azriel with a playful smirk. Enjoying the light flush that colors his cheeks at the compliment.

The shadows, seemingly pleased with their role in this light-hearted exchange, settle more calmly around you both like a contented sigh after a bout of laughter. The protective circle they form feels like a gentle embrace not just from Azriel but from all parts of him.

As the laughter fades Azriel's expression turns tender, his gaze softening as he searches your face looking for any sign of unease. "But seriously," he says with his voice low and earnest, "are you really okay?" His concern is palpable. The bond between you making every emotion, every nuance of feeling that much more intense and meaningful.

You meet his gaze feeling a surge of warmth from his sincere concern. Smiling gently, you nod, the tranquility of the moment filling you with a profound sense of peace. "I really am okay. For the first time in a long time," you admit. Your voice steady and sure. The confession feels like a significant acknowledgment of the journey you've been on and the role Azriel, and his shadows, have played in it.

Azriel's smile in response is radiant. A look of relief and happiness that brightens his entire demeanor. "That's all I’ve ever wanted to hear," he murmurs. His voice soft with emotion. He stands closer, his hand gently squeezing yours. "Come on, love," he whispers with a twinkle in his eyes. "Let's fly home."

With a graceful motion Azriel unfurls his expansive wings, the dark feathers shimmering under the starlight. The sight never fails to take your breath away. He wraps an arm securely around your waist, his touch reassuring. "Ready?" he asks. His voice a low rumble filled with excitement and anticipation.

With a nod you cling to him, feeling the rush of air as he leaps into the sky. Velaris unfolds below you. It was a gorgeous tapestry of lights and shadows. The wind was cool and exhilarating against your face. Flying with Azriel, held close against his chest, the city sprawling beneath you is an experience that feels as if it straddles the line between dream and reality.

The flight is swift and smooth. The quiet only broken by the rushing wind and the steady beat of Azriel's powerful wings. The world seems to shrink away, leaving only the two of you soaring through the night sky. As the House of Wind comes into view Azriel’s descent is gentle, a reminder of his skill and care for you.

You land softly on the balcony, the cool night breeze playing around you, still wrapped in the warmth of his embrace. Just as you touch down the laughter and lively banter of the Inner Circle reach your ears from inside.

As you and Azriel step through the grand doors of the House of Wind the lively atmosphere of the Inner Circle greets you. Cassian's booming voice fills the foyer as he spots you descending from the balcony. "Finally decided to join us, huh? Or were you two plotting to take over Velaris with your love-struck scheming?" he teases, winking not so conspicuously.

Rhysand joins in with a sly grin. His eyes twinkling with mischief. "I think they were busy weaving shadows and starlight. Look how they landed, like a pair of night-blooming flowers." His voice was laden with humor and draws a round of chuckles from around the room.

Feyre, Nesta, and Elain watch from the side, their expressions varying degrees of amusement and affection. Feyre's eyes meet yours and she gives you an approving nod. Her smile suggesting she understands more than she lets on. Nesta’s smirk is more enigmatic but supportive while Elain’s gentle gaze is filled with romantic delight at the scene unfolding before her.

Amid the teasing Azriel keeps you close, his arm remaining protectively around your waist. The warmth of his embrace reassures you. His presence a calming force against the good-natured ribbing. "Ignore them," he murmurs softly against your ear, just loud enough for you to hear over the laughter. His voice is rich with affection and a hint of playfulness that only you are privy to.

"You make it sound so easy," you whisper back, unable to suppress a smile feeling buoyed by the love filling the room.

As the evening progresses the light banter continues, with everyone occasionally casting teasing glances your way, making playful comments about the inseparable duo you and Azriel have become. Despite the jests there’s an underlying current of genuine happiness for you both. A celebration of the deepening bond that everyone seems to recognize and respect.

The night unfolds with shared stories, laughter, and an occasional clinking of glasses in toasts, not just to the night but to new beginnings and magical connections. As you stand by Azriel’s side, surrounded by friends who are more like family. You feel a profound sense of belonging and happiness. Here in the heart of the Night Court, under the watchful eyes of the stars and the soft glow of the city, you are home—not just in place, but in heart, bound by love, laughter, and the eternal dance of shadows and light.

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[504py]

A day in a life with Ivan. [ONESHOT]

Warnings below the cut 。。。

⚠️ NSFW, yandere content, alcoholism, reader got tradwifed, stockholm syndrome, domestic violence, Ivan is very blatantly sadistic, size difference, dacryphilia, vague breeding kink, no use of Y/N, forced feminization(?), gender neutral reader.

hey yawll!! i drew this since i wanted to play more with the painting style and color palette i did in my last post, but since i hit 800 followers recently, i decided to write something to go along with it too!

thank you guys so so much for putting up with my bs and enjoying the slop i create LOL. hopefully this will be enough to thank you all and to satiate you guys till i come back from hibernation again 🩵🙏

also!! while this is a gender neutral reader, ivan still refers to you as a housewife. this is pretty much an extension of the headcanon post i did on him.

MAN I NEED TO RECONNECT WITH NATURE AFTER THIS 😭😭😭

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

The average heart rate of a rabbit is a hundred and eighty beats per minute. Much, much faster than a human's at only a hundred, the little hearts of rabbits pump virile blood into their vulnerable bodies in order to outrun the cursed life of a prey animal they have no choice but to live.

Living with Ivan feels the exact same way. You, a human, were reduced to nothing but a prey animal whose only line of defense was either freeze or flight. Ivan prefers the freeze response. Tries to squeeze it out of you as much as he can.

The morning begins normally. You wake up next to his large, minimally clothed body, while you're bundled up as much as physically possible. You don't understand how he's so comfortable in the cold, but you've learned not to liken him to humans. You gently wake him up before you leave the bed– you learned that he doesn't like waking up to an empty bed without any prior notice. It takes a while for Ivan to wake up, he's a heavy sleeper, but when his violet eyes finally open and dilate at the sight of you, the first thing he does is smile and pull you in to trap you in a strong bear hug. Don't struggle, he'll just tighten his grip. Then he kisses your cheek, and just holds you there without saying anything. He'll grumble a little when you tell him you have to leave bed to make breakfast, but he eventually will let you go.

It's a little sick how your current living situation makes chores the best part of your day, given how it allows the most proximity between you and Ivan. Cooking in the early morning is your favorite, since it takes Ivan a long time to recover from his hibernation. Thinking about what to cook is a bit of a meditative process as well, allows you to think thoroughly about anything other than your way of life and the man keeping you here.

Today, you decided to make something simple and similar to something you ate growing up. Luckily, Ivan is not a picky eater, even though he rather obviously prefers Slavic food. He'll eat whatever you make happily, but he'll be in even better spirits if you make something familiar to him.

You do not cook in silence. Silence has quickly become one of your biggest pet peeves since your captivity, and you do anything to drown it out. This damn empty mansion, the way Ivan is so terrible with his words and chooses instead to crush you with his actions, the bleak snowy landscape that greets you if you dare try and find any solace outside of this cage and your captor– It's enough to drive anyone insane. So, you pass the days by drowning out your thoughts with music and movies.

Ivan doesn't allow you a cellphone, or anything remotely modern at all. His home has a terrifying dedication to being so analog, you'd think you'd been transported to the 90's if not for the TV with a few streaming services on it, the only modern piece of technology he allows. He likes to collect cameras, radios, and old phones. Ivan's menagerie of antique goods is so expansive that it earned itself its own room. It's almost like a small museum, and you're very glad he allows you to look at and touch them as you pleased– with care, of course. He can actually be rather charming when he acts as your "museum guide" in this room. One of the few times you find yourself thinking anything remotely positive about him.

Ivan's voice is soft, it always is, but when he talks about these things he's so passionate about and so engrossed in, it takes on a bit more of a stern, confident tone that is easier for you to listen to. And when he's looking at the objects he's explaining, you can admire his side profile more openly. He's caught you multiple times (he has surprisingly sharp senses), and you're met with a flustered smile instead of the usual so-sweet-to-the-point-it-looks-fake type of smile.

"What are you looking at?" He'd ask, his voice quieting back down to that syrupy tone.

"Just you." You'd reply, which makes him pause in surprise for a second, before it earns a soft giggle from the towering man.

"Why? Is something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Vanya." The nickname makes him melt. "You just looked pretty."

The smile falls from his face, and his cheeks redden even more than you thought possible, before his grin returns tenfold. He laughs and looks away.

The memory of such interactions make you feel like buttering up to the man instead of rejecting him so much, then you realize you're just describing stockholm syndrome. As crazy as it is, it feels like, at this point, it'd be better to let it happen than to be aware and hateful every day you live here.

As if your thoughts had alerted him, you hear Ivan's deceptively soft footsteps descend the stairs. He doesn't say anything, and just makes his way to the kitchen to watch you.

He's dressed in more clothing now, a dark blue sweater and gray sweatpants. His neck is left bare around you. When you first met him, his clothing that purposefully covers his neck always went unnoticed by you, because such clothes fit him so well, like they were always meant to be there. It was only after your capture, when he took off his scarf and you saw the bandages around his pale neck did you start to question it.

You've never outright asked him, you worry the subject is too volatile. He just... decided to stop hiding it one day. It was after a shower when you first saw it, the ligature marks around his neck and a few faded pink scars on the front of his adam's apple. Ivan noticed you staring, and you've never seen him look so small and insecure before.

"Is it bad?"

"No." You shake your head. "Does it hurt?"

"Not anymore."

And that was that.

You finish plating up two dishes, one with a significantly heftier portion than yours considering how much he eats. You quickly place the chopping board and all the pans you used in the sink to wash later, and you bring the dishes to the table.

Ivan yawns, rubs at his eyes, and without much event, just picks up a knife and a fork and starts eating. You do the same only after fetching some tea from the samovar.

Breakfast is always quiet besides the background noise of whatever media you chose to play.

"Mm. Ёжик в тумaне?"

"Yeah. I like this one."

"A little somber, isn't it?"

"The hedgehog is cute. I relate to it a little bit."

Ivan takes his eyes off of the television to look at you, and ponders what you said a little more. He doesn't say anything, and continues eating.

"What will you be doing today?" You ask, in case you needed to iron some clothing or prepare extra food for guests.

He hums in thought for a moment. "I'll be going out in the evening to drink with the other nations."

"What will you be wearing?"

"What I usually do."

You nod, "I'll have it ready soon."

"What about you?" He asks.

"Hmm... I'll wash the dishes, then iron and press your clothing. After that, I'll think of what to cook for lunch while cleaning the house, and I'll prepare a meal for you before you leave. Then while you're away, I'll clean up some more and prepare dinner. And if I have some time, I'll sit and watch some more movies."

Ivan hums in satisfaction. He enjoys how strict to routine your lives were. Familiarity and stability are what he desires most, and he believes you're the only one who can grant him that wish.

"Perfect." He smiles, petting the crown of your head with a large, broad hand.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You adjust the dusty pink scarf around his thick neck after finishing wrapping the scars on his throat with bandages. You do it neatly and comfortably, as opposed to how Ivan does, quickly and efficiently, learned from decades of routine, yet it's still so much more uncomfortable compared to when you do it.

"How is it?" You ask. Ivan replies by taking your smaller hands in his and leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

"You do it perfectly, любовь моя." He sighs, before pouting slightly. "I wish I could just stay home."

"You'll be alright, Vanya. Alcohol is like water to you anyways."

He snickers and rolls his eyes. "That just means it'll be boring for me, then."

"Just try to have fun and relax. I'll be safe and quiet here."

A mousy smile appears on his pink lips. You've said exactly what he wants to hear. "Alright. I'll just get it over with." He presses one last kiss to the top of your hair before leaving.

"Don't cause any trouble!" Ivan sings, before exiting the living room and closing the door behind him. You get a glimpse of the blindingly white outside world, and a gust of stinging cold air brushes against your skin like a warning.

You let out a taut breath, finally feeling like you're able to breathe without his crushing presence. You dust off your hands, from nothing in particular, before going off to do just as you said to him earlier. It bothers you how much he still affects you without even being around.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

The sky is dark, and all that is heard is the droning of soft music and the burbling of something boiling on the stove. Its tranquility is broken by the door opening with more aggression than usual.

"Vanya?" You call out, hoping the sweet usage of his nickname would quell whatever spawned this roughness within him.

All you hear is something vaguely resembling a groan and a sigh, and his heavy, thudding footsteps. Your heart starts to race a little.

"Is something wrong, Vanya?" You ask meekly, approaching him with caution. He reeks of alcohol, and his movements seem all sluggish. Jesus, how much did Russia of all people need to drink in order to get this wasted?

"I'm alright." He huffs, taking off his gloves and his coat with slight difficulty. You step in closer to help him undress, taking off his scarf. You don't miss how he tenses up, so you freeze and meet his constantly intense stare to gauge his expression. His eyelids are low, pupils contracted, eyes darker than usual, and cheeks flushed like they always are. He seems to be pouting a bit. He doesn't do much else, so you continue, stripping him of his large overcoat. All he's left in now is a black sweater and thick brown slacks.

"I've made dinner. You can just sit wherever you want and I'll bring it to you–"

Ivan leans in so quickly, you couldn't even register it in order to dodge or deflect his kiss in time. This time, it lands on your lips. He doesn't do this usually at all, unless he was planning something. The blood drains from your face when his large hand finds the back of your neck, and holds it stiff, preventing any chance of backing out.

His skin and the inside of his mouth are impossibly warm, and the bitter, sterile taste of vodka is the only damn thing invading your senses. You grip the fabric of his knitted sweater, it makes him part from your lips to pant like a dog and take said piece of clothing off, now left in a dark gray shirt.

"V-Va– You taste like alcohol–"

"Get drunk off of me." He whispers, before grabbing the sides of your arms and kissing you tongue first, lapping at your lips, and at this point, you learned better than to deny him. With all the mental fortitude you could muster, you rigidly part your lips. Despite all your efforts to be as pliant as possible to try and guarantee your safety, you can't help the shiver of revulsion when his tongue invades your mouth like a parasite and rubs against yours.

It feels like time slows down, you can feel the milliseconds before your instincts kick in, and each millisecond feels like a year of dread. Unable to stop raw instinct, you bite down.

Your heart stops when you hear him grunt, and feel his grip around your arms tighten before he shoves you away. He gasps, cursing under his breath in his mother tongue before setting his sights back on you.

Doe-eyed and trembling like a leaf in a hurricane, you begin to plead.

"N-No, no, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Vanya, please–"

He approaches, kicks the back of your knees, before you are grabbed by the scruff of your shirt. The collar of your blouse is yanked back and presses the fabric tightly against your throat as he drags you to the front door. You're coughing and struggling to regain your footing, and the moment you can breathe, you beg.

"Please! Nonono– Vanya please don't do this I'll be good–" The words tumble out like unorganized clutter using the one short breath you were able to catch.

With one more harsh tug, you fall to your knees again, and the door opens. The sight of the snow immediately triggers something within you, and you begin sobbing.

Ivan takes a peak at you, seemingly taking pity.

"Only for a few minutes."

You shake your head in a frenzy, not believing a word he says. Even if he was saying the truth, you'd much rather continue to humiliate yourself over being outside for even a few seconds. What if he forgets about you? What if that door never opens again? What if you die a miserable death, separated from your survival by just a few inches of wood?

That's why, the moment he throws you out, you scramble to your feet and shove that damned door open before he can fully close it. You know you're in deeper shit when you hear the door slam against him, and the deep yelp that follows it. You run for your life into the confines of his house.

You quickly make way to one of the bathrooms, the only rooms in the house you're still able to lock from the inside. You knew even that meant nothing, since you're sure Ivan could and would break them down without a second thought. Yet, it was still your best shot.

You lock the bathroom door and sit on the flooring right next to it. You try to calm down your heartrate and your heaving so you could try and listen in on whatever was going on outside this room.

Eerie silence is what greets you. You hate it, hate it so much. Shuddering, you hold your breath and strain your ears just a little more.

And that's when you hear it.

Soft footsteps.

You have to bite back a scream from how much raw fear that little sound sends shooting through your nervous system. Makes your skin crawl so bad that it almost hurts.

Ivan's clearly not in any rush, but FUCK did you wish he'd just get it over with and sprint right at you. You're sure he knows where you are, he just likes to freak you out, you can tell. That sweet smile he always puts on is nothing short of sadistic, constantly has this look in his eyes, some kinda weird sparkle that tells you he enjoys watching you struggle beneath him. Knowing you'll be face to face with those very eyes shortly makes your ribs squeeze around your quaking lungs and heart.

The footsteps approach. You brace yourself for a rough kick to the door or a pipe slamming through it.

Instead, he knocks. This was wrong, what was happening? Oh, god, this was so much worse.

"I won't ask again."

Scrambling to the door, not even sparing any time to actually stand up, you open it. You wince when you strain your neck to look up and see the damage done to him by your outburst. A nasty, bloody bruise on the bridge of his tall nose and that same crimson liquid streaming down his nostril. Your chest shakes like a dying sparrow's.

"I-I'm sorry. Please."

And he smiles.

Ivan is actually, genuinely, extremely pleased right now. He's wanted this all along, for you to fear the outside world so much you'd do anything in the world to stay here, right by his side. He doesn't give a single shit about the injuries you've caused him now and in the past, he's strong, he can take it, and he'll always forgive you over and over again. Of course, it makes him annoyed, because what good housewife would beat their husband like that? But he understands that your circumstances aren't exactly normal, so he'll endure it with irritation. At the rate he's breaking you in, though, you'll soon be as pliant and obedient as he expects you to be. Perhaps you'll even start to love him back. Just the thought of it raises goosebumps on his porcelain skin and makes his hands tremble in excitement.

You don't understand why he's giggling right now.

He sighs your name, and crouches down to meet your stare. You flinch as a droplet of blood hits the tiles. Ivan's grin only widens when your shaking hands reach for his face and try to wipe the blood away.

"O-Oh, Ivan," You whine uselessly, getting up on boneless legs to grab the first-aid kit. He watches with bright, amused eyes. He knows you won't try anything anymore. He's confident in your compliance to him.

As carefully as you can, you wipe off the blood with paper towels, crying harder when it smears instead of going away completely like you'd hoped. It felt like your mistakes were going to be impossible to fix.

Ivan's cheery gaze never falters. Maybe this is the happiest you've ever seen him, despite the blood streaming into the gaps of his teeth and forming a grotesque image. Dusty eyelashes frame his smiley crescent moon eyes, cheeks ruddy as little alcohol-stained puffs of air pollute the cold atmosphere. You jolt when he chuckles throatily.

"What's wrong?" His voice is as sickly sweet as it always is.

"Y-You're mad– I made you mad. I'm sorry." You choke on your own words, trying your best not to drop the bottle of disinfectant in your weak hand.

"What did you do?"

"I–" You hiccup, "I d-didn't– I didn't listen to you. I wasn't good."

Unable to hide his pleasure, he laughs and leans in to give you a chaste, bloody kiss.

"It will be okay. I love you."

You're glad your crying masks the gag reflex that almost makes itself apparent when you know what you have to say next. You steel your nerves and dryly swallow the taste of Ivan's blood.

"I love– I love you too."

He gives you a pleased, closed-mouth smile, and presses a kiss to the top of your head before taking the bottle of disinfectant from you. He begins to tend to his own wounds.

"This does not mean I forgive you, though."

Just as you felt your whole world crashing down around you, Ivan saves you.

He breathes out a laugh, "No, I won't throw you outside again. It's much better staying inside with me, yes?"

You nod in a frenzy. "Yes! Y-Yes, much better. Please don't."

"Well," Ivan prefaces, disinfecting the cut on his nose before placing a bandaid on it. He turns his head to the side and spits out the blood left in his mouth. "You will have to tend to this wound. Kiss it better." And before you could even wonder what he meant by that, his tongue lolls out, brandishing the red bite mark from earlier.

Disgust registers for only a second.

Like an automaton made solely to serve, you lean forward, grasp onto his biceps, and press a needy, desperate kiss to his drooling tongue. He laughs while you lap at his tongue like a wounded dog, warm, alcoholic breaths brushing against your face.

After relishing in the feeling of your worship for a little longer, he gently pushes you to the ground and crawls over your jittery body, placing a hand against the small of your back to hold you up and closer to him, with the other gripping the outside of your thigh.

"You will not bite me this time?"

Nodding fearfully, praying the conviction in your eyes will be enough to warrant his forgiveness, you wrap your arms around his neck.

Sighing happily, he presses his cold lips against yours, taking the lead happily as he moans into the kiss. The sound was more out of the satisfaction of establishing his dominance rather than the actual physical pleasure.

Ivan doesn't usually indulge in sexual fantasies or acts, which surprises you considering how touchy the man is. His mind usually favors daydreams of a stable, domestic life with you. Ivan prioritizes establishing your relationship over anything else, so he doesn't really find the time to lull over menial things like sex. Marriage is one thing, but your total submission is another.

Then again, this doesn't mean that he fully doesn't have any carnal desires when it comes to you. It's you, for christ's sake. When his fantasies of dominance come into play, it seems only obvious that sometimes his thoughts wander into the bedroom.

Ivan fantasizes a lot about having you desire him as much as he does you. He wants you to need him like air. Wants to have you mewling his name and clinging to him like your life depended on it, which would quite literally be the case right now. Wants to see your pretty, pretty tears reserved only for him. Wants to see you fall apart in his arms over and over again while comforting you so meanly and kissing your crying face.

Ivan tries his best to not let these thoughts make themselves apparent, but fuck, do you make it so hard sometimes. How could any man not be affected by the sight of their adorable little housewife in an apron? Takes so much for him to not just grab you by your hair and bend you over the counter. Whenever you cry for whatever reason, he almost feels guilty over how instantly horny it makes him. Almost feels guilty when all he can think about is licking those tears off of your face and making himself the cause of them. God, he wants to play the role of a nice doting husband so bad, but he can't help but feel you up and breathe down your neck when you try on the dresses and lingerie he buys for you. He can't help grabbing your waist and pressing his erection against your ass– not on purpose, he just wanted to be close to you.

While aggressive in his approach, Ivan never forces any sexual acts that you refuse. Even if he's left high and breathing heavy, he still wants to be someone you don't completely hate. Be a good husband, be a good husband. He always chants to himself. All his prayers proved fruitful when he quite literally cried tears of joy during your first time together.

Ivan doesn't know what was different that day, he didn't expect anything, just to make out and have you reject him after a bit, but you just... kept going, until he was ramming into you, hands tight around your sweaty waist and fucking into you like you were just a fleshlight. He's never seen himself like this, moaning and gasping like a girl and feeling so fucking good that all that he wanted– all that he could think of was breeding you like a bull and how beautiful your family would be. God, the memory of you struggling, doing your best to take his thick cock and crying so cutely just trying to bottom out is engraved into the grooves of his brain. It makes his stomach feel all warm whenever he thinks of it. He wants to carve it under his eyelids so he can see it every time he blinks.

Ivan laughs a lot during sex, call him creepy, it's genuinely because he is just so damn happy that he can't hide it. Why should he hide it from you? He wants to show you just how much he loves you and how good you make him feel. You make him feel so damn happy and complete that all he could do was chant IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou– while whimpering, giggling, his tears dripping onto your face.

Maybe he'll get lucky again.

Without parting, Ivan carefully lowers your back to the tiled floor, straddling your body and snaking his long fingers under your blouse, resting them against your heated abdomen. He smiles into the kiss when you jolt away, tickled by how frigid they are.

The ends of his feathered gray hair tickles your wet face, your body shivering at all the different sensations attacking you simultaneously. The cold tiles, his freezing hands, his hot tongue, the faint taste of blood, the warm drool seeping out the side of your mouth, his arid breathing, the smell of alcohol–

Your hands, still by the back of his neck, reach up to ever-so-slightly tug at his hair to signal you needed a breather. Ivan makes a small noise of surprise, before pulling away.

He looks absolutely dazed, lips shiny with remnants of a spit trail, and lavender eyes heavy and glazed over with a feral lust. His breathing is labored, muscular chest rising and falling as he intently watches every minute expression your face makes. Despite the blatant lack of nudity, this might be the most erotic sight you've ever seen. Fuck, why does he have to look so good when you're supposed to hate him?

Right now, you were so exhausted you couldn't even remember what reason you'd have to hate him, despite there being enough that you could spend the rest of your life listing all of them down.

And just when you try to refuse by backing up, your thigh brushes against his boner and he lets out the most heated, breathy, shivery moan you've ever heard. The vocalization sounded like it was tailor-made to tantalize you, to tempt you into biting the fruit. And you know what? You were a sinner anyways.

"Bed– B-Bedroom."

A toothy grin appears on Ivan's face, and he exhales a breathy laugh. He looks absolutely delighted, and starved.

Without a second thought, he picks you up, and carries you to the closest one.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

The next morning begins normally. Your body is sore, and covered in bite marks. That was one of the best sleeps you've had in recent memory. Ivan seems to think so, too, with his arms cradling your torso and a hand resting over your lower abdomen. The ache reminds you about what happened yesterday, you can still feel him in there somehow.

You woke up a little later in the morning compared to usual. Since you're still a little too exhausted to get up and begin cooking, you lay there for a while, listening to the quiet howling of the wind outside. You wonder when was the last time you heard any birds chirping.

Thinking of the outside world brings you a bit of dread, don't really like doing it. But when your life is so isolated and so alone, misery can become a form of entertainment.

The more and more days go by, the more and more do you forget what your life was like before meeting the Russian. The longer you live with Ivan, the more does it feel that he was just always there, and that your life before meeting him was a falsified memory. You're not even sure how much time has passed since, it's always snowing outside, every day feels the same.

That's the one thing you remember from before this life, the feeling of warmth. You're not sure you remember the feeling of it, really, but you're well aware of the absence it leaves behind. Maybe when spring finally comes around, you can open that door, and...

Eyebrows furrowing as a migraine starts to set in, you shake your head weakly. You didn't like thinking about the outside.

Turning over to face Ivan, you gently wake him up before you leave the bed– you learned that he doesn't like waking up to an empty bed without any prior notice. He eventually stirs from his sleep, hugs you, and you do not struggle.

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

[crookedt44th]

ೃ⁀➷ fanfic recommendations

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!! just wanted to make a list so i can come back and read them again! please do let me know if the links doesn't work or linked to a wrong fic! i also did not realize how much im really into strangers to lovers au lord.

if you want your works taken down, let me know

skz masterlists/series

stray kids coffee shop series | all fluff and bit of angst! @hanjisick

to all the crushes (half of skz x reader) | fluff, angst, suggestive content(?). by okayau

hot bitch summer; the skz series | fratboy au, smut. @hyunsvngs

@seospicybin 's masterlist | includes all smut, fluff, and angst.

bold (minsung x reader) | smut. @/hyunsvngs

hopeless in love (ao3) (minsung and reader) | mlm themes, friends to lovers, college au, humor, hurt/comfort. by lucspear [this is VERY fun and cute to read! id read this a thousand times over again!]

bang chan

600 degrees (ao3) | neighbors au, fluff. by the7thcrow

lee minho

blue side of the sky | exes to lovers, best friends to lovers au, fluff, angst, smut. @hyunfilms

when the cat dragged in | smut, angst, strangers to lovers. @moni-logues

lost in translation | smut, strangers to lovers. @moonjxsung huge fan of u dude

dead butterflies | toxic relationships, drug and alcohol abuse, cheating, unrequited love. @lavenderhhaze

invisible thread, part one and two | university au, academic rivals to lovers, slow burn, fluff, VERY angst. @astraystayyh

the only exception | strangers to lovers, slow burn. @astraystayyh

she's like the wind | fluff, angst, smut. @nczennie

you saved that for the end | angst, smut. @pearbunny

message in a bottle | smut with a plot. @chxnsaphrodite

Mr. Gorgeous | fluff, slight angst, college au. @cryinginmyroomsposts

photograph | college au, smut. @minniesmutt

when he sees me (ao3) | smut, fluff, angst, strangers to lovers, neighbors au. by candle_wax_and_polaroids

do you feel my hand? it is there | strangers to lovers, hurt/comfort, smut. @blossomwritesthings

what you deserve | college au, smut, angst, fluff. @2chopsticks2eyes

bunny | strangers to lovers, neighbors au, smut, angst, fluff. @tasteleeknow

million dollar man | smut. @ybklix

unrequited & unmatched | focused on lee know and hwang hyunjin (not as pairing), angst, smut, romance (do read warnings on these series though). @jl-micasea-fics

poisonous tears | angst, suggestive content. @hoes4lino

a love letter i wish it didn't exist | romantic, angst, suggestive. @hoes4lino

perfect | light angst, fluff, suggestive. @linospuddin

invisible string | soulmate au, smut, light angst, strangers to friends to lovers, friends with benefits. @moonlinos

when things were simple | 90s romance, school romance, best friends to lovers, strangers to lovers, online au, high school au. @sunboki

there's always time | family au, fluff, smut, angst. @dreamescapeswriting

hwang hyunjin

dear farmer | very fluffy! @puppym3

a train, her lips, the music (ao3) | fluff, beautifully romantic. by the7thcrow

star lost with you (ao3) series still ongoing | idol au, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers, unrequited love, angst, fluff, smut, SLOW BURN. by hyunjinspark

han jisung

reckless convictions | college au, beautifully romantic, smut. @/moonjxsung

lee felix

seasons | smut, angst. @moonjxsung requested by me :)))

off the deep end | post-apocalypse au, enemies to lovers, angst, romance, suggestive content. @stayxlix

the bodyguard | enemies to lovers, parental abuse, very angst with evntual happy ending, smut. @skzdarlings

indulgence | vampire au, forbidden love, college au. by the17thcrow

solace (ao3) | 1990s era, friends to lovers, fluff. by fizzydrink698

fading inure (ao3) | vampire au, smut. by hanjizung

vexatious vixen | strangers to enemies to lovers, smut, romantic comedy. @skzdarlings [this fic is actually funny and VERY intense to read. i've been waiting for smth like this. LOVE IT!]

the siren on the stage | smut. @bunnliix

lee felix's guide to hating you | college au, tutor au, fluff, angst, slice of life, slow burn. @yyxgin

churchboy felix | fluff, smut, teen angst. @skzcollision

something in the air | smut. @propertyoftoru

gone boy, gone bad | suggestive, slight enemies to lovers, gangster au, fluff. @starlostseungmin

my girl | smut. @hyunjinniesgirl

bad romance | smut, angst, fluff, slow burn, bad boy au, punk au. @straykeedz

will update more later! i rlly hope to read other ffs of other members soon LOL

[conelluwrites]

how wonderful life is while you're in this world

Reader/Francis Mosses (she/her used for reader, reader is described as having female genitalia)

Posted on my AO3 as well

Title from Elton John's Your Song

TW: None that I can think of! I think this might be my first vanilla fic?

Your boyfriend is typically too tired for sex, but tonight he wants to remind you how special you are to him

Francis’ girlfriend was used to him not initiating sex, after all he was her sleepy baby.  She couldn’t even properly figure out the last time they had sex, it had to have been a month or so ago.  She didn’t mind, her fingers were expert enough at making her cum and they had other ways to show love for one another.  A love note here or there, tired cuddles that make him almost late in the morning, remembering small details about each other that people would typically overlook -- so many ways they had grown to show love. When her boyfriend finally stumbles through the door he lets out a hefty sigh, getting her attention from the small television sat in front of the couch.  His eyes find hers, they always do regardless of the room they’re in.  A small twinkle appears in his eyes, a small twitch of his lips, a visible weight is removed from his shoulders as he walks over to her.  He flops onto the couch, an arm finding its way over her.

“Long day, hun?” She asks, leaning against him.

“Always is.”  His answer is short, indicating just how tired he is.  He leans down, nestling his nose into her hair.  He inhales his home, his other arm going around her waist and enveloping her into a sort of hug.  

“Hate to hear that.” She reciprocates the hug, resting her head against his shoulder, her nose resting against his neck.  Her thumbs rub small circles on his waist, pressing small kisses on the skin his white button up exposes.

Francis hums, removing his hat before placing his arm back over her as they cuddle up on the couch.  It’s not the most comfortable, he would be fine going to bed but he has a plan in mind for tonight.  He’s wanted to do this for a while, but he’s always been too exhausted. “It’s quite alright, I do get to come home to you, after all.”  He presses a kiss to the top of her head, his lips lingering for a moment.

“Always the charmer, huh?” She quips, though the way her cheeks flush show just how charmed she is just by the simple sentence.  She has always found solace in his loving words, no matter how cheesy they were.

He laughs, the tired sound like music to her ears.  “Mm, I have something more in mind to charm you; something to show you just how special you are to me.”  His voice is a warm murmur as he pulls away from her, kissing her neck before sinking to his knees in front of her.  The grin plastered on his face is more than enough to send a bolt of arousal through her body.  Her eyes never waver from his as she shifts on the couch.  He delicately takes her legs,his hands trail down the exposed flesh until they reach the waistband of her shorts and gives the fabric a slight tug.  It’s just enough to give her the hint -- that she needs to lift her ass so he can remove them.  She gets it immediately, allowing him to remove the soft fabric.  He places them beside him and licks his lips.  The soft pink of her panties inviting him and teasing him.  “So pretty…”  He takes her legs and places them over his shoulders, leaning in and kissing the pretty pink covering her pussy.  A gasp leaves her instantly, a hand going up to her mouth.  She’s always been sensitive, something that Francis adores.  He inhales the sweet scent just barely covered by the fabric, his eyes fluttering closed.

“C’mon…” She whispers, one of her hands going to his hair.  The locks of brown are so soft through her fingers.  She doesn’t mean to be impatient, she really doesnt- it’s just been so long that it’s so tempting to get straight to the main event.

“Can’t be patient for me, can you, darlin’?” He asks, pulling away and looking up at her.  A crooked grin on his lips.  His eyes still look so tired, but so attractive.  He doesn’t mind, this is for her after all.  He rubs his thumb over her sensitive nub through the fabric. “Sorry, my love, how long has it been since you came?”

His blunt question catches her off guard, causing her breath to hitch.  “I-I don’t know.” She stammers out. “A week?  Maybe?”

“Far too long since your last session then, huh?”

“I couldn’t find the time.”

“I’ll make up for lost moments then, my baby.”  He whispers, tugging the underwear to the side and exposing her glistening her cunt.  

She swallows and nods, letting out a breath of air and tugging his face close to her bare pussy.  “Please…  Please, Francis.”

A low moan leaves him, kitten licking at her slit and allowing her sweet arousal to coat his tongue and lips.  His thumb rubs lazy, small circles on her clit.  His brown eyes gaze up into hers, enjoying the look of immediate gratification on his lover’s face.  Her eyes are half-lidded in enjoyment and her hips grind upwards against his tongue.  His tongue enters her cunt just enough so he can feel her tremble around him.  Her thighs tighten around his head, earning a groan of pleasure from him as he knows he’s pleasing his beloved.  He mumbles something indecipherable against her cunt, his eyes closed as he starts to circle her nub with more vigor.  She’s close, he knows she is as her heels dig into his back.

She tugs his hair desperately, gasping and moaning.  Her back arches off the couch, the hand that’s not tugging his hair goes to cover her mouth so the neighbors don’t hear the sounds escaping her.

Francis tuts and pulls away just enough to talk, her love making his lips glimmer wetly.  “I want to hear you, my darlin’, I want to know how you feel.”

“Please don’t stop~!” She moans loudly, whimpering afterwards at the minor embarrassment that comes from knowing the neighbors must hear something.  He doesn’t offer any words back, going back to eating her out like his life depends on it.  “Fuck!”  Francis sighs and moans as her slick coats his tongue deliciously.  He licks her through her orgasm, his nose brushing her clit as she grinds her climax out.

“Good girl, good girl, good girl…”  He praises as he pulls away, her legs slip off his shoulders and remain trembling for a few moments.  He leans up to kiss her, she can taste her own cum on his lips.  She doesn’t mind, of course she doesn’t, as she kisses him back.  When the kiss is over, they’re both slightly out of breath before she chuckles.

“Let’s go to the bedroom, hm?  I’d love to give you something special too.” -- AH it's been too long since I wrote smut so I'm a little rusty, but this man (along with a couple others) has completely stolen my heart and the game has quickly became a comfort to me. I have a plan for a doppelgänger!Francis fic but who knows when it'll be out AND it'll certainly not be vanilla lol

[donatellawritings]

tella!!!!!! how does rafe feel about sweetheart reader doing coke with him like would he allow her to?/????? to me I don't think he would give a fuck as long as he is with her ty tella

idk he’s so tricky i think he’d be against it ngl …

since he started dating you, rafe had drastically cutdown on his cocaine intake - he had caught on to how scared you’d become at his frantic behavior and induced outbursts, so he decided not to do it as much, limiting his indulgence to maybe once or twice a month. he usually kept you away whenever he’d be high, not wanting to have your high and positive perception of him to be fucked with by the white powder. however, as time and your relationship progressed, rafe found it harder and harder to be away from you, i mean you wore his initials around your neck, and found solace on his lap, more often than not. you were his and he was yours. so, you accepted all of him, as he did you.

the obnoxious boom of trap music vibrating through topper’s house muffled your hearing as you carefully made your way through the crowd of people. your body was hugged tightly by the pink strapless dress that clung to your every curve, your supple breasts pushed up just right as you made it to the backyard. your pink gifted louboutin heels clicking against the cobblestone pavement as you lightly swayed your hips to the music. you were about three drinks in and it was safe to say that you are tipsy, not even one-hundred percent sure as to how you managed to convince rafe that you didn’t need him to accompany you while you grabbed another drink.

you earned envious stares and inappropriate ogles as you found your way back to rafe, who sat with topper and kelce, a shit-eating grin on his face as he carefully cut the white powder into three neat lines. something strange had switched within you and left you biting into your bottom lip as you watched your boyfriend snort the line through a rolled dollar bill, before throwing his head back with a smile. maybe it was the fact that you were borderline wasted, or maybe your curiosity about the drug had finally gotten the better part of you - all you knew was that you were turned on and wanted to experience the same blissful high that rafe was currently riding on.

deciding to make your presence known, you took a long sip of your drink, your glittery gloss leaving a stain on the rim of the cup as you sauntered over to rafe, before taking a seat on his thigh, your plush ass clashing with the fabric of his khaki shorts while you ran a hand down his firm chest, “are you high?” you asked, your pearlescent nails now aimlessly toying with rafe’s chain.

looking at you with pupils that were blown to hell, rafe let out an amused laugh, bringing an arm to rest around your waist as he nodded, “yeah, y’want to try it?” he retorted, initially intending for it to be received as a lighthearted tease.

you beamed with an eager smile, “can i?”

rafe’s eyebrows furrowed as he internally fought with the idea of whether or not he should let you try it. a part of him was secure in knowing that your first high would be with him, under his supervision, yet a different part of him remained deadset on never letting that happen. rafe’s hand made its way to the back of your neck, clasping around it gently as he took a quick look of the partygoers who paid to get high on his supply. he couldn’t have you, his sweet girl walking around looking like the rest of these young adults who couldn’t even put a proper sentence together. you were pretty, pure, and smart - he refused to be the one who fucks that up.

pressing his lips to your forehead, rafe shakes his head, “maybe another time, mama - y’too pretty for it,” rafe declines, his grip on you slightly tightening as your face fell, his eyes watching closely as you took another sip of your drink, before sinking back against his chest. you were spoiled rotten by him and he knew it.

rafe hated saying no to you, but it was his job to keep you safe.

“but you do it, rafe,” you quipped with a roll of your eyes, leaning forward to stand up, before rafe pulls you back against him, his hand firmly rooted around the back of you neck, “leave me alone,” you mumbled, keeping your eyes away from rafe’s as he grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look directly at him.

topper and kelce continued their conversation, without missing a beat, they knew better than to cut in while rafe spoke with you, let alone, put you in your place, “watch your mouth,” rafe stiffly tapped your jaw with two fingers, “don’t fuckin’ embarrass me, a’ight,” he scolded, his peaked high now coming to a low point as you remained silent, your face twisted with a bitchy attitude.

completely influenced by the alcohol that coursed through your veins, you shifted your weight, licking over your dry and swollen lips as you ran your nails through your hair with a childish shrug, “you’re not my father,” you muttered, your words now ringing in rafe’s ears as he let out a huff, his body falling tense as he stood up, nearly knocking you over.

“m’gonna take her home,” rafe spoke, his tone a bit too calm as he grasped ahold of your hand, silently pulling you along with him.

your heels unevenly clicked against the pavement as you silently followed rafe, his hand nearly crushing yours as he pushed his way through the crowd of people, dragging you as if you weighed nothing. your beasts bounced with each step you took as you made it out of the house, the chill of the crisp midnight air hitting your exposed shoulders as rafe dropped your hand. the tall man remained silent as you continued to approach his truck, your chest radiating with warmth as he made it a point to open the passenger door for you, despite your bratty behavior.

you parted your swollen lips to speak, before rafe raised his hand, silencing you, “get in the car,” he spoke sternly, you quickly nodded, entering the car quietly as he slammed the door shut. you knew full and well that the moment rafe entered the car, you were absolutely screwed.

rafe was uncharacteristically quiet as he entered the car, his eyes focused on properly pulling out of the parking spot as you fiddled with your gifted chain. rafe knew upon meeting you that you were a sweet girl, yes, but a complete pushover? absolutely not. you were submissive enough in the relationship, to where he felt it perfectly balanced his naturally dominant demeanor, but he would be lying if he said that, you didn’t get under his skin when you played the role of a spoiled little girl.

he would never hurt you though, despite his past track record of becoming loose with his hands towards his former partners - you made that crystal clear when you started dating. so, you didn’t care if he roughed you up a bit, as long as he didn’t go too far with you. yet, you sat tense in the passenger seat, subconsciously grinding your teeth together as you mentally prepared for one of his repeated lectures, your lashes damp with awaiting tears as you waited for which selection of harsh words that rafe would hurl at you.

deciding to break the uncomfortable silence, rafe lets out an unamused chuckle, keeping his eyes trained on the road ahead, “m’not your father,” he nods to himself, his tone mimicking yours from earlier, “no fuckin’ shit, but i’m the man who takes care of you, the one who-who makes you happy — keeps you safe, yeah?” he rambles, more so to himself, his hand lifting off of the leather steering wheel to motion towards you.

you licked over the fat of your bottom lip, parting your sticky lips to speak, before he raises his hand to silence you, “i don’t even do that shit as much as i used to, ‘cause last time i checked, you didn’t like how it made me big bad rafe, right?” he continued, taking a quick glance at you, ignoring the small pang of guilt that he’d felt, seeing your eyes welled with tears, “so tell me, princess, why the fuck would i let you try that shit?” he questioned, his eyebrows raised as he returned his hand back to the steering wheel, awaiting your answer.

you took a breath, quickly wiping your eyes, “i dunno, rafe, i just saw you do it a-and i was drunk, so i asked,” you cried, your voice thick as you struggled to steady out your shaky breathing. you hated confrontation, especially when it came to your boyfriend, he knew how deep his words could cut. “i just don’t know why you’re so mad at me,” you squeaked, tears falling onto your flimsy pink dress.

“m’upset because you act like a spoiled fuckin’ kid whenever you don’t get what you want,” rafe retorts, his voice stern as he pulls into the driveway of tannyhill, hastily parking the car, before exiting, allowing the door to slam closed as he made his way to the passenger side, opening the door for you, “lets go, m’tired and i have shit to do tomorrow,” he coaxed.

ꪆৎ

you decided to take a shower and do your obsessively thorough skincare routine, as means to kill time and think about just how you were going to get back in rafe’s good graces. he was stubborn, yet consistent, he hadn’t spoken to you since you entered the house, leaving you to do whatever you pleased as he silently made his way to your shared bedroom. so, you decided to pretty yourself up, you cleaned face, glowing from the array of serums and oils that you’d spent obnoxious amounts of money on, your swollen lips glazed from your gisou lip oil, freshly detangled hair falling down your shoulders. your body butter-nourished skin was clad in one of rafe’s t-shirts, nothing underneath as you were freshly shaved.

shutting off the bathroom light, you padded your way into the bedroom, where rafe sat quietly, resting with an arm behind his head as he kept his tired blue eyes focused on the random netflix show he’d selected for the duration of the evening. “hi, papi,” you called out softly, a pout pushing on your lips as he looked over you, before returning his gaze to the television.

with a roll of your eyes you walked over to the side of the bed where rafe laid, letting out a breath as you you straddled his hips, your bare slick sitting perfectly atop his exposed pelvis.

“s’not good for couples to go to sleep mad at each other, papi,” you cooed, arching your back as you laid against him, batting your wispy lashes at rafe as he looked down at you, bringing his hand to rest on the curve of your back. “i think you should be nice to me, i miss my sweet rafe,” you smiled cheekily, earning a low groan from rafe as you lightly bit his bottom lip, before quickly pecking his lips with a kiss.

your boyfriend sits unhumored, his face blank of any expression as he brings his hand to sit atop of the curve of your back, “yeah, well i miss when my girl wasn’t such a spoiled brat and spoke to me like she had some fuckin’ sense,” he countered, blinking as you let out a dramatic gasp, tilting your head to the side.

“i’m not spoiled, you treat me like i’m a kid,” you rolled your eyes.

“‘cause you act like one.” rafe sighs, lowering the volume on the television, leaning his head back against the sturdy headboard with a sleepy huff. truth be told, rafe could easily fall asleep in this position, but he knew that you wouldn’t leave him alone until he was ‘nice’ to you, “go to sleep, i have to wake up in a few hours,” he muttered, lightly patting your ass.

you didn’t give up, biting down into the swell of your bottom lip as you brought your face closer to rafe’s with a devious grin, “okay, but y’should know that i just shaved and i’m not wearing any panties,” you sang, to some avail as rafe slid his hand underneath your shirt, cupping the plush skin of your bare ass and exhaling through his nose as you cutely wiggled your hips.

“okay, y’know what since y’claim to be such a good girl — you could sit on my dick while i watch this show,” he smiled, lowering the waistband of his boxers just enough to allow his semi-hard cock to be freed, his mushroom tip hitting your lower abdomen as you smiled with delight - a win is a win.

“and you won’t be mad at me anymore?” you questioned, neatly spitting down onto rafe’s hardening cock, evenly spreading out the slick over his shaft, before you guided him inside of you, a low hum vibrating through you as his full length swallowed into your achingly wet pussy.

“nope, now just sit and go to sleep, okay mama?” he cooed, pulling you down to lean against his chest, letting out a groan as your hips shifted around him.

now full and content, you pecked your lips to rafe’s jaw, mumbling a low ‘love you’ before resting your head on his shoulder as you allowed the sound of his heartbeat to lull you into a dreamy nod. completely oblivious to how rafe would sneak kisses all over your face while you fell into a deep sleep, his large hand fiddling with your empty ring finger. he was tempted to fuck his hips up into yours, but he figured he’d saved that for when the sun decided to rise, relishing in your leaking warmth suctioning around his cock.

[melagnes]

Truth or Dare

Synopsis: The Abbott crew gathered for a night at Melissa’s place; of course, Janine and Jacob convinced everyone to play truth or dare. The game unveiled some deep truths and with a few too many drinks, leads to you and Melissa getting even closer.

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Word Count: 4.6K

Warnings: smut

The evening had unfolded lazily, each passing moment steeped in the warm glow of soft lighting that Melissa had meticulously arranged to create a cosy ambiance. The air was filled with the gentle hum of shared laughter and the unmistakable comfort of close friends finding solace from the relentless pace of everyday life. Melissa's home, with its inviting atmosphere and welcoming decor, had transformed into a sanctuary for the group.

Among them were you, Melissa, Janine, Jacob, Ava, Gregory, and Barbara–a group who had known each other for years. As the night progressed, you all settled comfortably into the familiar rhythm of friendship that required no pretense or formality. Glasses clinked as toasts were exchanged, and conversations ebbed and flowed effortlessly, fueled by the easy camaraderie that only longtime friends could share.

Janine and Jacob, always the instigators of fun, decided to inject a spark of excitement into the gathering. “Hey, guys, how about we spice things up with a game of truth or dare?” Janine's voice rang out eagerly, her eyes bright with anticipation.

Jacob was quick to jump on board. “Ah, Janine, you beacon of mischief! Count me in.”

“Sure, why not,” you chimed in, intrigued by the prospect of the game. You followed Janine and Jacob as they led the way to rearrange the furniture in Melissa's living room, forming a circle that accommodated everyone comfortably.

Ava, Barbara, and Gregory joined the circle, their expressions signalling interest as they sat down. 

Melissa chuckled good-naturedly as she shook her head. “Come on, guys, we're adults now. Isn't this a bit juvenile?” She teased, her tone laced with mock seriousness as she glanced around at the group. Finding a comfortable spot on the couch next to you, she sat close enough that your thighs lightly pressed together, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

Jacob, undeterred by Melissa's scepticism, leaned over to nudge her side. “Oh, Melissa, you're not afraid of a little fun, are you?”

Melissa rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Fine, fine. Let's do it, but don't expect me to play along if your dares turn out to be ridiculous.”

With a collective agreement, the game began. Janine, always eager, wasted no time in setting the tone. She turned to Jacob, excitement evident on her face. “Jacob, I dare you to perform an impromptu dance to a song chosen by Ava,” she declared, her voice filled with enthusiasm.

Ava, known for her impeccable taste in music, quickly selected “WAP” by Cardi B. Ava took pride in being the resident DJ, and Jacob, never one to shy away from a challenge, sprang to his feet with exaggerated flair. He went from the top and made it drop.

Melissa choked on laughter, a soft sound that barely escaped her lips, as she sat beside you. Her hand, warm and comforting, rested casually on your thigh, a touch that sent a sudden surge of awareness through your body. You couldn't help but be distracted from Jacob's masterful dance moves, your mind wandering to the tantalising possibilities her touch evoked–what it would feel like if her hand moved higher, tracing a path towards your core, exploring the sensitive skin beneath your clothes.

“Hey, are you okay?” Melissa whispered, her voice low and intimate, her breath tickling your earlobe as she leaned in closer.

Your heartbeat quickened at her proximity, at the hint of sultry in her tone. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied softly, trying to suppress the flutter of anticipation in your voice. “I was just daydreaming.”

“What were you daydreaming about?” Melissa whispered again, her lips grazing your ear with each word, sending a shiver down your spine. Her touch was electrifying, igniting a slow burn of desire that flickered in the depths of your being.

You hesitated, unsure whether to reveal the provocative fantasy that had momentarily consumed your mind. “Oh, you know,” you deflected, offering a half-smile as you gently moved her hand away from your thigh. “Just random stuff.”

Melissa arched an eyebrow, her playful demeanour hinting at an underlying curiosity. “Random stuff, huh?” she teased, her gaze lingering on yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice steadier now as you met her gaze, a mixture of attraction and uncertainty swirling in your eyes. “Just silly daydreams.”

Her laughter, tinged with amusement and something more, filled the space between you. “Well, now I'm curious,” Melissa admitted, her fingers lightly tracing patterns on your upper arm. “But it’s fine if you'd rather keep your thoughts to yourself.”

“Thanks,” you replied, grateful for her tact, yet inwardly conflicted by the desire to delve deeper into the moment. The air between you felt charged with potential, a crossroads where friendship could evolve into something deeper, something more profound.

As the night wore on and inhibitions loosened with each sip of wine, the atmosphere in the room subtly shifted. Conversations flowed more freely and laughter came easier. Amidst this convivial setting, the air between Janine and Gregory grew thick with unspoken tension, their stolen glances and nervous smiles betraying emotions they both tried to hide.

From across the room, Melissa noticed the palpable tension and decided to stir the pot further. “Janine, truth or dare?” she asked, her tone challenging.

“Dare, of course!” Janine responded with feigned confidence, though her nerves fluttered beneath the surface.

Melissa's smirk turned devilish, her eyes sparkling with expectancy. “I dare you to confess who you’d wanna sleep with most in this room.”

Barbara gasped at her friend's forwardness, “Melissa Ann Schemmenti!” 

All eyes turned to Janine, who suddenly found herself the centre of attention. Her cheeks flushed pink as she hesitated, her gaze flickering nervously towards Gregory. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for her response.

Sensing Janine's discomfort and eager to protect her from potential embarrassment, Gregory attempted to intervene diplomatically. “Um, I think we should stick to something less... revealing,” he suggested, his voice gentle but firm.

But Ava, ever the keen observer, couldn't resist adding fuel to the fire. “What's the matter, Gregory? Could it be that you want to sleep with someone in this room?” Her tone was teasing, yet it carried a hint of genuine curiosity.

“Absolutely not,” Gregory stammered, his voice faltering slightly under the weight of the group's scrutiny. His cheeks matched Janine's in hue as he desperately tried to steer the conversation away from dangerous waters. 

The tension in the room was immense. Janine, emboldened by a mix of wine and the support of her friends, took a deep breath. “Alright, fine. I'll answer.” Her eyes met Gregory's, and for a moment, the world outside their circle ceased to exist. “If I had to choose... it would be Gregory.”

Everyone went silent, except for Jacob, who practically squealed at the top of his lungs before quickly covering his mouth with his palm to silence himself. 

Gregory's eyes widened, but a small, pleased smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Trying to regain some semblance of normalcy, he chuckled nervously. “Well, I suppose that's flattering,” he said, his voice light despite the redness in his cheeks.

Melissa, satisfied with the stir she had caused, leaned back with a grin. “See? That wasn't so bad, was it?” she quipped, winking at Janine, thereafter exchanging a knowing glance with you.

As the game of truth or dare continued to unfold around the group, Janine turned her attention to you. “Truth or dare?” she asked, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“Hmm, let's go with truth,” you respond.

Janine leaned forward, her expression turning serious for a moment as she formulated her question. “What’s your type? For dating and stuff,” she asked, her curiosity evident as if she were mentally preparing to take notes for a future blind date setup.

“I guess I would say I like women who are older than me, who are direct and forward with what they want,” you replied. “Red hair would be a bonus,” you added boldly, feeling Melissa's eyes staring a hole into the side of your head.

“Good to know,” Janine replied, nodding thoughtfully.

After a few moments of jovial discussion, it was your turn to ask the next question. You turned to Gregory, catching his eye. “Gregory, truth or dare?” you inquired, a hint of slyness in your tone.

“Dare,” he replied slowly, hesitancy evident in his voice as if he were unsure if he had chosen wisely.

You took this as an opportunity to push your friends into making a move. “I dare you to play seven minutes in heaven with Janine,” you said, mirth in your eyes. “In the closet over there,” you added, glancing meaningfully towards the hallway closet.

Gregory just stared at you, clearly caught off guard, but before he could fully process the dare, Janine jumped up from her seat, a determined look on her face. She grabbed his arm and, with a mix of eagerness and nerves, wordlessly dragged him towards the closet. “See you all in seven minutes,” she called back over her shoulder, her voice carrying a note of awkward excitement as she closed the closet door a little louder than necessary.

The room buzzed with suspense as the closet door clicked shut. The minutes began to tick by, each one stretching longer than the last. What was supposed to be a brief interlude felt like an eternity, their prolonged absence not going unnoticed.

After some time had passed, Ava glanced at her phone, which had been set to time the dare. The seven minutes were up, but there was no sign of Janine and Gregory emerging from the closet. “So, uh, should we go check on them?” Ava suggested, her tone betraying a hint of jealousy towards Janine.

“Leave the kids alone, Ava,” Barbara replied with a chuckle, her voice laced with a touch of affectionate exasperation.

Jacob, unable to contain his excitement, practically floated out of the loveseat he was sitting on. “Yeah, Ava, we’ve been waiting for this moment since the first day Gregory walked into Abbott.”

Melissa raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. “The first day they met, Jacob? That sounds a little exaggerated, don’t ya think?”

“Nope, Mel, he’s actually been their number-one shipper since Gregory started as a sub. It seems like he manifested this one,” you chuckled, remembering all the times Jacob had subtly tried to push Janine and Gregory together.

“Damn, impressive,” Melissa laughed, glancing at the closet with a mixture of intrigue and curiosity.

Suddenly, a loud bang echoed from the closet, startling everyone. Barbara, always the voice of dramatic humour, rose from her seat, raising both hands in the air. “Praise Jesus!” she exclaimed, her tone exasperated as she imagined the origin of the sound.

Melissa, still chuckling, added, “No but seriously, if they take any longer, we might have to send a search party.”

Just then, the closet door slowly creaked open, and Janine and Gregory emerged, their faces flushed and their gaze avoidant. Janine’s hair was tousled, and her buttons were done up haphazardly, one conspicuously lower than the others. You noticed but kept quiet, already plotting to share the details with Melissa later, once Janine and Gregory had left the room.

The atmosphere turned tense, and an awkward silence settled over the room. Janine, attempting to maintain composure, offered a sheepish grin. “Well, I can confirm there are definitely enough coats in there,” she joked, eliciting a wave of relieved laughter.

“and we made sure they were all in order,” Gregory added in an attempt to back up Janine. 

Jacob, unable to resist, let out a loud whistle, “It’s about time!” His comment was met with another round of laughter, while Janine and Gregory ducked their heads, trying to hide their embarrassment.

As the game died down and the group hung out for a bit, Barbara eventually announced, “It’s time I head back for the night. My dear Gerald is waiting for me,” Rising from her seat, she began to tidy up, gathering rubbish and ensuring it was all tossed into the trash before turning back to the group. 

“Same here. I’m heading to a club after this—gotta run,” Ava chimed in, standing up with a sense of urgency. She walked over to the closet to grab her coat but hesitated, her hand hovering over the doorknob. Memories of the evening’s earlier events seemed to give her pause. Jacob, however, was quick and confident. He opened the door, grabbed his coat, and turned back to the group.

“See ya, folks!” Jacob called out cheerfully. As Gregory looked away to put his shoes on, Jacob leaned towards Janine and mouthed, “I’m so proud of you! You need to tell me everything,” his voice barely above a whisper. Jacob had perfected the art of whisper yelling, and though Gregory pretended not to notice, he couldn’t help but smile to himself.

As the others began to file out the door, you felt a pang of sadness in your chest—you didn’t want this night to end. Melissa’s presence had a way of making you feel whole; you never wanted to leave. Summoning a bit of courage, you turned to Melissa and asked, “Hey Mel, need some help cleaning up?” You glanced at her, hoping she would say yes. “I can stay for a bit,” you added, trying to sound casual.

“I won’t force ya, but since you’re offerin’...” Melissa replied with a warm smile.

As everyone departed, Barbara, the final one to leave, extended her gratitude. “It was a delightful evening, Melissa. Thank you.”

Just before closing the door behind her, she turned and winked at you, a knowing look in her eyes. 

And alas, as the game came to an end, the house quieted, leaving you and Melissa alone in the aftermath. Empty glasses and scattered snacks littered the coffee table, remnants of a night well-enjoyed.

“Whew, what a night! Thanks for hosting, Mel,” you said, breaking the silence as you began to help her tidy up.

Melissa grinned warmly, her eyes twinkling with residual amusement. “No problem. As much as I hate to admit it, I enjoy when this crew gets together.”

“I may have had a little fun setting up Janine and Gregory with you,” Melissa confessed, a knowing smirk on her lips.

You chuckled, “I noticed that. Hopefully, it works out for them.”

“Yeah, that would be nice,” Melissa replied. She turned to her liquor cabinet and asked, “Want another drink?” as she pulled out a bottle of whiskey.

“I can’t say no to that,” you replied, crossing the room to join her. Melissa poured the drink into two glasses and extended one to you. Balancing the broom in your other hand, you accepted it graciously. As you took the glass, your fingers lightly brushed against hers, sending a warm sensation up your arm.

“Thanks, Mel,” you said appreciatively.

“No problem, Tesoro,” Melissa responded, the pet name rolling off her tongue. Oh, what Melissa calling you ‘Tesoro’ does to you—you could die in peace.

The continued gentle rustle of cleaning up punctuated the comfortable silence between you, a silence that spoke volumes of the easy familiarity and unspoken bond you shared.

“You know,” you began with a chuckle, breaking the quiet that had settled between you, “I've gotta admit, that game was way more fun than I expected.”

Melissa nodded in agreement, “I can't argue with that. It was quite the night.”

Melissa chuckled, shaking her head. “So, what do you think happened in the closet?”

You playfully smacked Melissa in the arm with the back of your hand. “I don't want to know.”

Melissa laughed at your reaction, the sound warm and infectious. “Oh, come on, you can't tell me you're not at least a little curious,” she teased, her eyes dancing with mischief.

You shrugged, trying to maintain a serious expression but failing miserably. “Maybe a tiny bit,” you admitted, your lips twitching into a smile. “But I also value my peace of mind.”

Melissa shook her head, still chuckling. “Fair enough.”

Once the living room was back in order, Melissa glanced around, a satisfied smile on her face. “I think we did a pretty good job,” she said, turning to you.

“Definitely,” you replied.

“Hey, can I ask you somethin'?” Melissa's voice broke the quiet, her tone softer now, tinged with curiosity.

“Sure thing. What's on your mind?” you replied, genuine interest in your voice as you turned your body to give her your full attention.

Melissa hesitated for a heartbeat, her gaze holding yours with a mix of whimsy and something deeper. “Have you ever kissed a woman?”

Your laughter caught in your throat. “I thought we were done with truth or dare,” you teased lightly, a smirk quirking on your lips. “But uh, yeah I have, why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” Melissa replied casually, her gaze dropping and lingering on your lips for a moment longer than strictly necessary. “Nothin' wrong with a little curiosity, right?…” Her eyes met yours again, a new intensity in her gaze. “Now, truth or dare?”

You played along, your curiosity piqued and a sense of expectation settling in. “Dare.”

“Kiss me,” Melissa challenged, her voice dropping to a whisper, a roguish spark in her eye.

As Melissa's challenge hung in the air, a charged silence enveloped the room—you couldn't help but play along.

“Mel… Are you sure you could handle it?” you teased, your voice laced with mock incredulity. The corner of your lips twitched upward in a half-smile.

“Oh, you'd be surprised, sweetheart,” Meissa replied, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. With a confident smirk, she leaned in closer to you, her movements slow and deliberate, drawing out the tension. You glanced down at her lips before your eyes flicked closed. Melissa's fingertips traced a delicate path along your jawline, her touch feather-light yet electrifying. A gentle caress lingered on your cheek, her thumb brushing against your skin in a silent promise of intimacy.

As your noses brushed, your own hands found their way naturally, one sliding around her waist to pull her closer, while the other tangled in the soft waves of her auburn hair. The strands were silken beneath your touch, inviting a deeper connection as you threaded your fingers through them, savouring the sensation.

As Melissa's lips finally met yours, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the heat of the moment and the taste of her on your tongue. The kiss was tender yet fervent, a meeting of souls that spoke of years of friendship blossoming into something more. When you parted your lips to allow Melissa better access; she took this opportunity to deepen the kiss, her tongue gently exploring yours. A suppressed moan escaped the back of your throat, which edged Melissa on even further. Her hands mirrored your own, her touch exploring the contours of your back, drawing you nearer in a silent plea for closeness.

Entwined in each other's embrace, the kiss deepened, fueled by a mutual hunger that transcended words. Melissa's fingers trailed down your spine, leaving a tingling trail of sensation in their wake, while your grip tightened in her hair, pulling her impossibly closer.

As you both began to run out of breath, you attempted to pull back, but Melissa held you close with a gentle bite on your lip. A breathless moan escaped your lips as she finally released your lip. “Mel…” her name escaped her lips as you attempted to catch your breath. “Truth or dare?” you state.

Melissa raised a brow at you as if challenging you. “Dare,” she stated confidently.

“I dare you to take me to your bedroom,” you said, your tone serious. At that moment, you didn’t care that she was your coworker–you only cared about her.

Melissa stared at you with dilated pupils, wordlessly accepting the challenge. She let out a breathy laugh and grabbed your wrist, leading you swiftly to her bedroom. Once inside, she pushed you against the door, causing you to gasp in surprise as it slammed shut.

“You're quite the eager one, aren't you?” she teased, her voice low.

Your stomach fluttered as you chuckled nervously. “Is that really such a bad thing?” you managed to ask.

“No, hun. Definitely not,” she replied, her thigh pressing between your legs as she leaned in to kiss your neck. You tilted your head back, offering her better access, and tangled your fingers in her auburn hair, urging her closer. She left a trail of wet kisses along your neck before nibbling on your earlobe, eliciting a suppressed moan from your lips.

“Now, truth or dare?” Melissa whispered huskily.

“Dare,” you responded, your voice shaky with desire.

“Take off your shirt for me,” Melissa demanded, her eyes fixed on you with admiration.

With shaking hands, you slowly unbuttoned your shirt, Melissa watching you closely. With trembling hands, you continued, aware of her intense gaze roaming over your exposed skin. “Good girl,” she murmured, her knuckles trailing lightly down your arm. Her compliment sent a thrill through you, validating your vulnerability

“You're so beautiful,” she added softly.

“Thank you,” you managed to reply, your emotions swirling as you stood half-naked before her.

“M-Mel, truth or dare?” you asked her, your voice coming out stuttered as you were falling apart in front of her.

“Dare,” she replied, her own voice husky with desire.

“Fuck me,” you blurted out, your need for her overriding any hesitation.

Melissa's eyes darkened with desire as she closed the distance between you, her lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss. Her hands roamed your body, exploring every inch with a deliberate slowness that drove you wild. The intensity of her touch ignited a fire within you, and you responded eagerly, your hands tugging her closer.

Melissa's lips pressed firmly against yours, the kiss deepening as her tongue teased your mouth open, tangling with yours in a dance of raw desire. You moaned into her mouth, your body arching into her touch, craving more.

She pulled back slightly, her breath hot against your lips. “You’re so perfect,” she murmured, her eyes drinking in every inch of your exposed skin. Her hands moved to your bra, deftly unhooking it and tossing it aside. She cupped your breasts, her thumbs brushing over your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through you.

She guided you to the bed, pushing you gently onto the soft mattress. Hovering above you, she looked into your eyes, her gaze filled with a mixture of passion and tenderness. “Are you sure about this?” she asked, her voice a seductive whisper.

“Yes,” you breathed out, the word barely audible as your heart pounded in your chest.

She undid your pants and slid them down your legs. 

Her touch was electric, each caress and squeeze making you gasp and writhe beneath her. Melissa’s eyes never left yours, the intensity of her gaze adding to the thrill of the moment. She leaned down, her lips closing around one nipple, sucking and nibbling gently. You cried out, your hands tangling in her hair, urging her closer.

Melissa’s smile was both reassuring and wicked as she began to undress, her movements deliberate and tantalising. You watched in awe as she revealed her body, each piece of clothing discarded with purpose. When she was finally as bare as you, she climbed onto the bed, straddling your hips. 

“F-fuck, you're so beautiful,” you let out, your voice tinged with admiration and desire.

Melissa's grin widened at your words, her eyes revealing her arousal. She leaned down, brushing her lips against yours in a soft, teasing kiss. “Glad you think so,” she murmured huskily, her breath warm against your ear.

Her hands continued their exploration, caressing your skin and sending shivers down your spine. Her lips followed, leaving a trail of kisses along your collarbone and down your chest. You moaned softly, your body arching into her touch, craving more of her.

“Tell me what you want,” Melissa commanded, her voice low and commanding.

“I want you,” you replied, your voice trembling with desire. “I want to feel you inside me.”

Melissa slid off your underwear, her fingers caressing the skin of your thighs. She lowered her face near your core, her tongue flicking out to taste you. She looked up at you, her eyes burning with desire. “You’re so wet for me,” she murmured, her breath hot against your sensitive skin. She pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, her tongue flitting over your folds, teasing you with each movement.

“Melissa, please…” you whimpered, your body tensing in anticipation.

“Please what?” Melissa teased, her voice a seductive whisper as her breath ghosted over your skin. She knew what you wanted but wanted to hear you beg for it.

You were writhing beneath her, your hips bucking involuntarily. “Melissa, please, I need you inside me… right now.”

Melissa did not hesitate. Her mouth found your clit, and she began to suck gently at first, then more urgently. “Oh fuck,” you gasped, gripping the sheets of Melissa’s bed. Her fingers began pumping inside you in a slow, steady rhythm. You moaned loudly, your hips grinding against her mouth, the pleasure building with each thrust of her fingers, each flick of her tongue.

“God, you feel so good,” Melissa murmured against your clit, her voice husky with satisfaction. Her breath hitting your most sensitive area caused you to arch your back. Her movements grew more urgent, her fingers pumping faster, her mouth working you closer and closer to the edge.

The world around you blurred as you lost yourself in the moment, your senses consumed by the pleasure she was giving you. The tension built higher and higher until, with a final, powerful thrust, you shattered, a scream of ecstasy tearing from your throat as you climaxed. “Oh, God!” you cried out. Your breathing quickened and grew uneven, your abdomen and thighs tightening as pleasure washed over you.

“You're doing so good,” Melissa stated, her voice filled with a mixture of pride and affection.

As the waves of your climax subsided, Melissa gently pulled back, her fingers sliding out of you with a tenderness that made your heart swell. She then brought her fingers to her lips, sucking them clean with a slow, deliberate motion. Afterward, she lay down beside you, her body enveloping yours in a protective embrace. You nestled into her, feeling the warmth of her skin against yours, both of you breathing heavily. For a moment, there was only silence, the aftermath of your shared passion hanging in the air. 

“You okay?” Melissa asked softly, her hand brushing your hair back from your forehead.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice still a little shaky. “That was… amazing.”

Melissa grinned and kissed your temple. “You were incredible,” she murmured. “So beautiful and responsive. I'm really proud of you.”

You felt a rush of warmth at her words, a mix of pride and contentment. “Thanks,” you whispered, snuggling closer to her.

Melissa pulled a soft blanket over both of you, tucking you in snugly. She rubbed soothing circles on your back, her touch gentle and reassuring. “Just relax,” she said calmly. “Let me take care of you.”

You sighed contentedly, your body relaxing into the mattress. “I feel so safe with you,” you admitted softly.

“And I with you,” Melissa replied warmly.

Melissa chuckled softly. “You've got me,” she reassured you. “Always.”

The two of you lay there in a comfortable silence, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around you like a cocoon. Melissa's fingers continued their gentle caress, her touch a reminder of the connection you shared.

The room was filled with a sense of peace and contentment as you both drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other's arms, the afterglow of your shared passion and the comfort of your mutual care creating a perfect moment of closeness and love.

It’s safe to say that truth or dare had been long forgotten.

[mediumgayitalian]

The best part of being his own camp counsellor is that he can wake up whenever the fuck he likes.

Nico’s a fan.

Because, however, his dumb ass made friends with the camp’s head medic, he doesn’t get to sleep in as often as he would like. He is instead often woken up before the clock strikes nine, which is a tragedy and one of the forty thousand reasons he is going to be present on Will’s judgement day. (The scales tip any which way on a regular basis, but as of last week, Will is going to hell. Unfortunate. Nico’ll still visit him, though. Bring him one half of a twizzler or something.) So when he wakes up, one lovely morning, mouth tasting like something rotted in it and sun well past halfway across the sky, he is capital-C Concerned.

What a horrible tragedy that is. Finally, for the first time in months, he was able to sleep in. And his first thought is not gratitude. Solace may indeed have to die — Nico was not this way before he started planting his annoying ass front and centre in Nico’s life. He’s quite fairly certain he used to be frightening and badass. Now Will orders him to drink milk for the sake of his calcium and he does. Gods.

“Morning,” he hedges, approaching the archery range, feeling marginally more alive than twenty minutes prior.

Kayla raises an amused eyebrow. “Dude, it’s, like, two.”

“Well fuck you, then.”

She smirks. “Aw, did baby not get his Sunshine fix of the day? Is that why he’s so grumpy?”

It really sucks that Will is so fond of his siblings. Nico wonders if Will would still like him if he knew how many times he daydreams of transporting Kayla onto the moon per day.

“As soon as I figure out which god would appreciate you as a sacrifice, you’re gone.”

“Yeah, right,” she snorts, turning away and lining up an arrow. She lets it fly, watching as it shaves a splinter off a hunk of wood fifty feet away. “You couldn’t get close enough to kick my ass before I’d skewer you, di Angelo.”

Remembering the warning arrow Kayla had shot through his shoulder last week, he wisely chooses not to press the matter any further. The power visibly goes to her head. Fuck.

“Just — tell me where Will is.”

“Why?” She strings another arrow. The grin on her face is a level of shit-eating that Nico has only before seen on a Stoll. She should spend less time around Julia, or else the camp is in for some serious trouble. “What are your intentions with my dear brother?”

Nico, on principle, refuses to answer that question. Kayla shrugs, finishing her shot and then turning around to stick her tongue out at him.

“No answer, no location! Find him yourself, loverboy. And remember that I am always watching.”

Stomping away, and ignoring the smile twitching at his lips — she is so annoying, truly, gods above he owes Bianca a thousand apologies for ever opening his mouth — he heads towards the infirmary. There are only six locations Will is at any given time, after all, except when he disappears for several hours randomly but Nico doesn’t know how to bring that up yet. As he approaches the infirmary, though, he hears it absolutely blasting with music, like genuinely shaking the ground a little bit, and knows exactly where to find him.

As he approaches the door, wincing at the door, he finds it closed. Odd — Will likes a breeze when he works. Even odder is the hastily-written sign pasted onto it:

ANNUAL CLEAN OUT DAY. IF YOU NEED ME, TOUGH SHIT. IF YOU NEED A BANDAID, TOUGH SHIT. IF YOU’RE BLEEDING OUT, CALL AN AMBULANCE AND PRAY. I AM BUSY.

(‘Busy’ is underlined three times.)

In smaller print, under the all-caps monstrosity, is:

Unless you’re Nico, in which case disregard the previous sentiment. No, Cecil, this does NOT mean you.

The note is written again in Ancient Greek, Latin, Spanish, Portuguese, French, Mandarin, Italian, Polish, Korean, Morse Code, and another ten languages Nico can’t even name. Actually, wait — the top left is Klingon. And middle right note does not appear to be language, showing instead a poorly drawn stick figure in armour being shoved into a cannon and shot into the sun by another poorly drawn stick figure in a lab coat. Nico loves a man who’s multi-talented, indeed.

Hesitantly, Nico cracks open the door. He is immediately assaulted by a solid wall of sound, and then nearly bowled over by the enigma himself, William ‘I Can Restructure A Human Brain But Cannot Tie My Shoelaces’ Solace. He catches himself at the last second, and then barely manages to catch Will, grabbing him around the waist just before his head hits the floor.

“Nico!” he shouts over the music, smiling brightly. “Hi! You’re here!”

“I’m here.” He can physically feel his voice cracking, but luckily the music drowns it out. Hopefully. “Uh, what’re you doing?”

“Cleaning!” Will straightens up, although he stays within the circle of Nico’s arms. Nico tries real hard to keep his gaze firmly planted on his face and not on the hands he still has in his hips. “I do it once a year, kick everybody out and deep clean the place. Helps keep it fresh and minimize the bloodstains on the floor.”

“Ah. And the music…”

“It’s fun!” Will shouts. He gasps when the CD player skips and a new song comes on, heavy base and funky synths blasting so hard the window panes shake. “Oh my gods! I love this one!” He turns his bright grin at Nico full force, absolutely no holdbacks on the dimples or freckles, gods help him, and bows cheekily. “Can I have this dance, good sir?”

“It’s Britney Spears’ Outrageous,” Nico protests weakly.

“Yeah!”

…Very, very weakly.

“…Okay.”

Will whoops, grabbing his hands and spinning him around. Nico yelps, nearly tripping over a cot, but when he looks back up Will has his eyes closed and is shimmying not unlike a worm on a fish hook, and it’s so ridiculous that he can’t help but laugh. Will pries one eye open, grinning widely, and shimmies harder.

“You’re such a dweeb!”

“Join me in the dweebiness! Free yourself!”

Nico rolls his eyes fondly, squeezing Will’s hand, and lets himself get ridiculous. He’ll deny it if anyone asks, but it’s fun.

…And not just because Will is next to him, smile brighter than any star, dancing like a massive dork, hand clasped in his.