#I’m realising this is the first time in my life that I genuinely love my natural hair

[affableramen]

yandere genshin men trying to make things right between you

angst, mildly dark themes ayato, neuvillette, pantalone, capitano, dottore, alhaitham

note: trying a new genre.

Neuvillette

Yandere Neuvillette kept forcing you into marriage after your relationship just got established. You asked him to give you some time to think over such radical and responsible change in life, but he was adamant to your pleads. He wanted everything here and now proven officially on the papers. You spent some nights crying because to think that such gentleman-like and solitary person like Neuvillette would force you into marital relationship was eerie. The desire to possess you officially seemed to blind him completely and he went from a loving gentleman to an almost insanely addicted man who did not accept a refusal.

It was your break-time at work when Neuvillette suddenly came up to you. It was odd at first - the judge putting away his duties to meet you seemed almost unbelievable, but remembering how assertive he was in the relationship with you it might have been close to the reality.

“Can I have a moment of your time, love?” He asked you, his hand not reaching to touch you but his gaze was heavy on your face.

“Of course.”

Not longer after the two of you were sitting in the cafeteria - a curious choice for a private conversation. Although you did not deny you seemed much more comfortable in a public place rather than face-to-face with him.

“About our marriage…” Neuvillette started, his fingers grazing over his glass of water.

“You already know my opinion”, you answered with no emotion. The time to play nice unfortunately came to an end.

But the next response from Neuvillette kind of gave you goosebumps:

“If I was too harsh on you, I beg of you to forgive me. I have a habit of grasping something dear to me too tightly, and I’m afraid that I hurt you more than I could possibly imagine”, he took a pause for a breath and gulped a sip of his crystal clear water. “I genuinely need to know whether or not you still harbour any pleasant feeling towards me?”

“What are you saying? Of course I do, Neuvillette—I admit you were unacceptably rough on me the past few weeks, but it would make me a poor lover if it were to stop me from harbouring affection to you.”

The judge sighed in relief, and then his expression became serious again.

“I would love nothing more than for us to marry, but I realise the circumstances of pushing you too much. Tell me, dear, if you no longer want to proceed in intimate acquiantance with me.”

You shook your head - seems like he was not hearing you. You then took his hand in yours and spelled it again, frankly:

“No, I want to be with you, wholeheartedly. And the marriage proposal, I shall accept it too.”

Pantalone

When Pantalone kidnapped you for no specific reason, days turned to weeks. You almost forgot about the existence of sunlight as he kept you there like a pretty little porcelain doll for his own amusement—or whatever his nasty reasons might have been.

The last time you tried to escape his gloomy, mysterious castle-like home, you were severely punished for your “bad behaviour”. Blood dripped down from your chin as you were sitting on the floor of a dark hollow room, chained and bruised by his henchmen. Perhaps he considered it too tacky to touch you with his own hands.

And then he entered. You didn't even want to look at his unapproachable, icy-cold eyes, and simply turned away, your eyes shut and hidden from him.

“How rough you look”, he said with his usual tone which was cold, but at the same time smooth like butter.

You were dehydrated and hungry, that’s for sure. You wanted nothing more than a warm fuzzy blanket and sweet tea, and forget this nightmare forever.

“When was the last time you had a proper meal?” He asked. He knew you never ate his food because you’d consider yourself indebted to him. And you did not want to take anything from this man.

Your face went deadly pale and bewildered when Pantalone dropped on his knees before you and started freeing you from your shackles. His hands were shaking wildly, you could witness how poorly he mastered the lockers due to his stress.

Yet without a single doubt, with no longer time to lose he wrapped his arms around your waist to carry you. His clothes were a little stained with the snow, and a bit of freezing touch made you shiver.

“I will never do this to you anymore. Forgive me. Please, forgive me.” His words that used to be spoken as an order now were slipped from his lips as a request. 

You were laid in the warmth of the sheets of your own home. The familiar surroundings brought you joy and comfort you never knew you’d forgotten so easily.

“My butler is cooking a dinner for you in your kitchen.”

He watched the whole time you were eating, guarding you and seeing how desperately you were filling your stomach up. When you finished eating, there was one loud slap—against Pantalone’s face, by your hand. In a normal situation, he would be so angry and furious that the earth would shake of his abhor. But now he was simply taking it.

"I know. I should never have treated you like this. I ignored your wishes and violated your privacy. I’ve done the worst crime to you—I took your freedom”, he touched the red mark blooming on his cheek from your unexpected punishment. “I wanted to obtain you so much that I ended up hurting you instead.”

Ayato

He was rich to his fingertips. In his world, the only thing he could not have, but wanted to, was you. You found yourself working as his secretary, aesthetically pleasing and always efficient. But Ayato was ruthless; he could never be satisfied, he was always unhappy. The requirements to you were growing day by day, and keeping up the standards seemed an impossible task. His moods were changing like a thunderstorm.

It was a regular day when you were performing your duties that you felt someone’s presence behind your back. Ayato was not exactly above lurking so he made his presence known after you turned to face him. He did not expect you to turn so rapidly and ended up with his breath tickling against your face.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I have been too demanding and controlling. My actions driven by raw possessiveness inflicted undesirable effect upon you”, Ayato’s words died away, though the expression on his face became even more grim and grave. “You do not deserve such treatment, any of it.” 

You nearly dropped your working papers as you stared at him. Was this man really sincere? How long has he been overthinking about your relationship? It took you just a few seconds to gather your composure and strike him with an indifferent glare.

“It’s always so easy and costs no trouble for you, rich people. You just take what you want without considering either the outcome or other people’s feelings. You see people as things, belongings in your possession, and you never have enough.”

At that, Ayato became even more tense, his expression that was mainly seen by the most of people as sweet and gentle, now was an embodiment of darkness. Nevertheless he nodded to you.

“What should I do for you to forgive me? I’m not going to lie and say that I did not think about how harmful my attitude might have been to you for the past month. What think you? Do I even stand a chance?”

“Fat chance”, you chuckled under your breath. The laugh was almost too bitter rather than sarcastic.

Ayato took your hands in his, his black gloved thumbs rubbing against your skin slightly.

“You’re like a poison to me. A very addicting one. And the more I see you work for me, the more I want to have you by my side. Not just at a formal event…” he bit his pale pink lip for a moment. “I’m starting to feel as if I’d like to see you out of work circumstance, and the thoughts of such impropriety are enough to drive me utterly insane.”

You reciprocated the light squeeze that came from his hands, however yours was less obsessive and more gentle. 

“It is a very dangerous thought, Ayato.”

“Oh, I can be a very dangerous man. For you, that is.”

Capitano

You were walking in Capitano’s garden, feeling yourself like a beautiful bird in a golden cage, but in fact you were a princess in a beast’s castle. Once you saw his real face, you kept having nightmares about his skin rotting appearance. This man was scaring you to the bone, and every time you met him, although not very often, you felt how demanding and heavy the gaze of his icy blue eyes was.

You did not see him often, but once a while Capitano requested (no, ordered!) a private dinner with you. The rooms were dimly lit, his loyal butler making preparations to the highest standards as usual, and you - wearing the most luxurious of dresses you’d only be able to peek at in the past. But your face was the odd one as it beared no smile on it. You were gravely terrified by this man who had claimed you as his. And even though you slept in separate rooms, you could not brush the feeling as if he owned you; well, he kind of did, since you dwelt in his mansion. 

Per usual, you were having a dinner with him at about eight in the evening when Capitano finally spoke. His tone was filled with assertiveness and power, yet the way he was eating, the movements of his hands were elegant enough to remind you of an excellently-educated prince.

“Y/N, I need to speak to you.”

You shivered when you heard him, and you let go of the fork. The jingling sound spread across the room which put you even in an unnecessarily bigger predicament.

“Yes, sir?”

Capitano hummed - he put his utensils away and looked as if he was carefully choosing his words which was not a habit of his. This Harbinger often talked exactly what he thought and was known for his bluntness. Capitano never beat around the bush and was always straight to the point, and this was one of the personality traits of his that made you feel conflicted. It was both terrifying and worth of respect.

“I want you to stop being scared of me. I want you to see that there is more of me than a horriffic, ugly old beast.”

You gasped: did he just used those unflattering words to himself? It felt so odd and so frustrating.

“What feelings do you want me to harbour for you, given our unusual circumstances?”

There was a long pause before Capitano made a sip of his red wine and suggested the following:

“Affection is too much, but could you at least try to be friendly with me? Don’t you see—can’t you see how hard I’m trying to make your life with me less unbearable?”

Affection… friendliness… is that what he really needs from you?—you think.

“I’m a prisoner here, I cannot imagine how I am supposed to show any warm feelings towards you. It would be fake and stupid.”

“Then make them not fake and stupid.” Capitano raised from the table and stormed out of the dining room, leaving you alone in the dim light of candles.

Dottore

You woke up on the plain lab bed, still restrained but this time your pain was drastically diminished. When you opened your eyes the lights did not cut your sight right away and you realised that the room was only dimly lit. You sighed in relief - perhaps he went on a break and you had a few moments of rest from his constant analysis and experiments upon your body.

There were a few tattoos on your hands but too small to even understand their meanings. Perhaps it was something from Zandik’s past that he decided to ruthlessly carve on you.

Your happiness and sense of relief did not last long though, as the man who called himself Doctor entered the room not exactly quietly. 

“Look who’s alive. I’m glad”, he wrote something on his notes, “very glad, even.”

“What are you going to do to me next? Turn me into… abomination?” You attempted to sound sarcastic even though all your being was screaming inside. “I’m pretty sure you have not gotten your fill yet out of me.”

Dottore abruptly stopped writing and dropped his journal on the lab desk next to you.

“I think we’re finished here.”

“What?”

“I said you’re free to go”, he cut your leather restraints with one rough motion that had a vibe of uncertainty of the soul.

You looked at your hands, your body cheered welcoming freedom, but at the bottom of your heart you were perplexed.

“But why?”

Dottore did not utter a single word more, with his face buried into his other records, he turned away from you completely ignoring your presence.

You found your clothes tidy and repaired on the chair, and put them on quickly. Upon escaping the place you saw that not a single Fatui agent was preventing you from leaving. You looked at the lab once more and a pang of strange kind of sorrow appeared in your heart. Perhaps, you should pay him a visit once you’re recovered? Or was it a bad idea?..

Alhaitham

The nerdy scholar was quite possessive and jealous. He had a very curious but rather depressive personality. You thought him a quiet man until one extraordinary and terrific experience. 

Alhaitham locked a man in the library for the whole night after he saw him giving you too much attention and you happily reciprocating him. An innocent friendly conversation seemed a blunt flirt to him. He could not bear the thought you having affection to someone else who was not him. When he saw you first he realised that he wanted you to see only him, and give all your attention to him. He craved to see you wanting his company, clinging to him or even agreeing to date him. But since his personality was too aloof and he never ever attempted to simply ask you out, but kept staring at you from the side, stalking unnoticeably and gather all information about you, you never had a chance to learn of his true feelings. Behind his obsession there had to be something, as such strong feelings never came out of nowhere.

Upon seeing you chat with that guy Alhaitham grew so furious that he almost not giving it a thought just slammed the door with the poor guy in the library and left him there for the whole damn night. Blinded by his jealousy, he did not even consider how you’d feel about that. The next morning you were perplexed by the sudden disappearance of your classmate, and once the library opening time came, the student was finally released.

“How could you do this to him? To anyone?” You asked Alhaitham; it did not take much time to learn whose fault was that.

“How could I?” He asked you back, his expression grave and unmoveable as if he were not interested in a single thing in the world. “How could you spend so much time with him? He’s a total jerk.”

“Judging by what you did the total jerk is you! How could you simply lock the person up? Are you insane?”

Alhaitham’s patience started to grow thinner. He squeezed his hands into the fists so hard that his knuckled turned snow-white.

“Are you stupid? You really don’t see how I feel about you? And you keep being so nice to everyone but me. You’re obviously ignoring me.”

Bewildered, yet you finally understood the root of the case. You stared at him for a few seconds before checking if anyone was near to eavesdrop. Luckily, there was not a soul around so you spoke honestly:

“If you wanted to woo me, endangering someone was not a good idea. You did something I deem unacceptable. And such unacceptable actions will only make me like you less, Alhaitham.”

Alhaitham leaned closer, his voice was a gentle whisper.

“Right? Then teach me to woo you properly. I’ll do thousands of attempts to win you over, no matter the cost.” You pressed your hands against his shoulders to prevent him from getting into closer proximity with you, and Alhaitham, although not completely willingly, but still backed off.

[mazzy-rockstar]

Monday blues are hitting me hard today

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

that old cliché.

you swore you’d never give in to the maid of honour and best man cliche. and then you met evan buckley.

evan buckley x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol. buck’s a filthy flirt.

word count - 6k

authors note - and so she returns!! thank you all so much for your loveliness on my post about my break - I appreciate it more than you know. this one was so much fun to write. i’ve not written any longer stuff for buck, but he’s a character I feel that I have a really good understanding of - I actually think we’re very alike - so this came so easy. hope you love it as much as I do. <3

masterlist. inbox.

Silvery melodies of laughter clink off the rim of the champagne flute you hold in your freshly manicured hand. As the gentle breeze whips through the material of your dress, you look around you, realising you’ve never seen so many people so happy at once.

The backyard of the Italian villa is packed, dozens of guests milling around - dancing, drinking, chatting and catching up. Family, friends, colleagues; people from every phase of the bride and grooms life, all celebrating together in one place.

A rocks glass is placed down onto the table in front of you with a thud. Looking up, you’re met with the sight of the best man towering over you expectantly with a drink in his hand.

“Evan.”

“Hi gorgeous.”

You scoff, staring up at him through your lashes.

“What’s this?”

“A drink.”

“Yeah. But why?”

“It’s whiskey. I watched you grimace every time you had to drink the champagne, so I thought you’d want something different.”

You swirl the glass, listening to the tinkle of the ice against the sides.

“You were watching me, huh?”

“Of course I was. Can’t take my eyes off you in that dress.”

“Shut up,” you chide, fighting to keep the grin off your face. “I’m not doing this with you.”

“Doing what, exactly?”

“The whole best man and maid of honour thing. It’s just too cliched.”

He laughs all hearty and genuine, and you poignantly ignore the way the butterflies start fluttering in your stomach.

“Then why do you keep looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to eat me.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh, shaking your head at him.

“Yeah, right. In your dreams, Evan.”

“Oh, you will be,” he winks, knocking his glass against yours in a quick cheers before walking off to the find the groom.

You watch him go, not completely oblivious to the way his suit fits him just right. Determined to stand your ground, you inhale a deep breath before taking a sip of your drink. The drink that definitely isn’t exactly what you needed. The drink that he’d practically read your mind to figure out. Effortlessly.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

It’s been like this all day.

You met Evan Buckley for the first time last night, at the rehearsal dinner. The bride, your best friend in the world, kept telling you that you’d love the best man.

“He’s from California,” she’d said. “He’s Danny’s friend from when they were kids. He’s a firefighter, babe. He’s hot.”

You’d laughed it off, zipping up the back of her dress while she watched you in the mirror.

“Oh, come on. That’s so cliched. The whole maid of honour and best man thing is so old, Lucy.”

“You’re single, he’s single,” she’d protested. “It’d do you some good to get laid, relieve some stress. And people let their guards down at weddings. Now’s your chance.”

“If I wanted to get laid, I’d get laid,” you scoffed.

“All I’m saying is that Buck is completely your type. He’s gorgeous, he’s funny, he’s sweet. And you’re gonna have to spend a fair bit of time together tonight and tomorrow, so… just keep an open mind.”

“Fine,” you soothed, rolling your eyes. “Mind wide open. Alright?”

“You’re gonna love him.”

“You said that already.”

“Because I really believe it. You’re gonna love him.”

And the problem is… she was kind of right.

No, you don’t love him. You’ve known him for 48 hours. But… there’s something.

Lucy wasn’t lying. He is gorgeous, and funny, and sweet. And hot. So hot. He showed up to the rehearsal dinner in dress pants and a linen shirt, all sun kissed and muscled and tanned and stunning.

The two of you were seated next to each other, planned so carefully by the bride and groom. One minute you were making cautious introductions, shaking hands and smiling gently. The next minute you were crying with laughter, clutching at his bicep as he grabs your thigh, legs intertwined and chairs pulled together.

Lucy and Danny nudge each other occasionally, watching the both of you get along like two old friends that have known each other forever. A look passes between them that says I told you so clear as day.

But you’re stubborn. Too stubborn, some may say. You know you’ll never hear the end of it from your friends if you give into this very alluring temptation, and perhaps your pride means a bit more to you than it should. So you resist, you refuse to give in. Even if you really want to.

And that was just last night. Today has been even worse.

By worse, you mean the connection between you and Evan has grown even stronger. You walked down the aisle with him, arm linked with his, both dressed up to the nines. The maid of honour and the best man, a perfect picture.

You haven’t been able to keep your hands off each other all day. Little touches - his fingers on the small of your back, your grip on his bicep, shoulders brushing and thighs pressed together. Nothing crazy, but nothing meaningless, either. There’s an undeniable electricity buzzing between you, hot and alive.

You’re not sure how much longer you can deny it.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You’re dancing with Lucy and her little nieces when you hear yelling and commotion coming from the other side of the dance floor. Looking over, you see Danny, Evan and other groomsmen flailing around and fussing.

“What happened?” Lucy’s yelling, making her way over with you in tow.

“Just a drink spillage, Luce! But it’s red wine, and now Buck’s shirt is pink.”

You look at the man in question and can’t help but laugh. His crisp white dress shirt is now a pretty shade of pink across the front, his cheeks a rosy colour to match.

“Stop laughing,” he chides, but he’s grinning at you as he says it. “I need to go and change. I have a spare shirt in my suitcase upstairs.”

He starts to leave, but soon turns around and calls your name.

“I don’t have a key for that big door at the end of the hallway to get to our rooms. Do you?”

“Yeah, it’s in my purse. You want it?”

“Just come with me. It’ll be easier.”

Before you can argue, he’s taken off, big strides across the garden. You have to practically run in your heels to keep up with him, shaking your head in frustration.

“I could have just given you this,” you say when you reach the door, unlocking it for him.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

The smirk he gives you is so cheeky, it’s a wonder you don’t smack it off his face. Cocky bastard.

“You’re so annoying,” you mumble, walking with purpose to his room.

“Come in with me? It’ll only take a minute, then we can walk back together.”

You know you should say no, tell him that you’ll meet him downstairs. But you don’t. Instead, you say,

“Fine. But hurry up. I don’t wanna miss the party.”

“Yes ma’am,” he mock salutes, unlocking the door to his room that’s conveniently directly across from yours.

You take a seat on the edge of the bed, trying to avoid watching him undress. He shrugs off his now pink shirt, taking it with him into the bathroom.

You’re surprised at how tidy everything is. Not that you think Evan would be particularly messy, but he doesn’t strike you as a neat and clean type. His suitcase is unpacked into the closet, bed made, nothing on the floor. It only makes you like him more.

“Can you grab my other shirt from the closet please, gorgeous? The one I wore last night for the rehearsal dinner.”

You swing the two doors open and rifle around, failing to see the linen button up that he’s looking for. Suddenly, you feel a warmth behind you, Buck’s solid form caging you in. He reaches around you, arm brushing yours as he finds what he needs.

“Found it,” he murmurs into your ear, all low and honeyed.

Against your better judgment, you turn around, finding yourself face to face with him. He towers over you, watching your reactions carefully. Your hands reach out and rest on his bare chest, steadying yourself before you either fall over or pass out.

Buck gently traces your bottom lip with his thumb, eyes completely locked on yours. You have to resist every urge to either bite it or suck it into your mouth, reminding yourself that now isn’t the time. The noise from the garden floats up and through the window that’s cracked open slightly, tethering you to the reality that is slowly fading away the longer you hold Evan’s gaze.

He leans in, and to your surprise, doesn’t kiss you immediately. Pressing his forehead to yours, he inhales deeply, as if committing the moment to memory. His thumbs are now tracing gentle circles on your jaw, soft and callous at the same time. You inhale slowly, processing the scent of his cologne mixed with the evening breeze. If you could bottle it up, you think, you’d be a millionaire. This would cure everything.

Buck finally closes down the gap between you, inching towards your lips softly. You shut your eyes, waiting for him to finally kiss you - when there’s deafening knocking on the door. The two of you jump apart, hearts pounding and nerves on a live wire.

Evan strides over to the source of the noise, taking a deep breath to try and compose himself as he goes. You perch on the edge of the bed, smoothing down your dress and attempting to look as inconspicuous as possible.

“Buck? Dude, it’s Jake. Hurry up, yeah? The guys wanna do our dance routine before everyone gets too drunk to remember it.”

He doesn’t bother opening the door, just yells back through the wood.

“Yeah, sure - I’ll be down in a minute!”

You hear Jake’s footsteps retreat, both of you exhaling the breaths you didn’t know you’d been holding. Buck looks at you, worried that the moment’s been ruined, to find you stifling a laugh behind your hand.

“There’s a dance routine?”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, fighting to keep the grin off his face. “We created it years ago. The guys won’t let it die.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to see this.”

You’re cackling, reclining onto the duvet as you laugh.

“Stop,” he groans, jumping over to flop onto his back on the bed next to you. “I did a lot of regrettable things in college… and that routine is definitely the worst of it.”

“I hope you know that you’re never going to live this down, Buckley. I’ll be reminding you of this forever.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, propping himself up on his elbow so he can look at you. “You really like me, huh?”

“What the hell gave you that impression?”

“You said forever. What’s next, honey? You gonna get down on one knee later?”

You’re suddenly aware of the warmth of the whiskey flowing through your veins, giving you a liquid confidence that stuns both you and the man lying next to you.

“Two knees, maybe. But not one.”

His eyes go wide as you smirk, pulling yourself off the bed and making your way over to the door. Buck watches you carefully, gaze steady and firm.

“You coming? I’m more than ready to see those moves of yours.”

He stands up, slipping on his shoes and shrugging the clean shirt onto his broad shoulders. You grab your purse, leaning against the doorframe as you wait.

Evan reaches past you for the door handle, nose purposely brushing yours as he does it.

“I’ll hold you to what you said before,” he murmurs, moving a strand of hair away from your face softly. “Don’t think I won’t.”

You look up at him with big doe eyes, like butter wouldn’t melt.

“Sure, Evan,” you reply lowly. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Breaking away from him, you swing the door open, strutting down the hallway without looking back. Your confidence has sky rocketed, knowing that he wants this just as badly as you do. You walk back out to the garden and take your earlier seat, ready for the show you’ve been promised.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The dance routine is spectacular.

It’s cheesy and hilarious and very early 2000s inspired - it’s almost like watching a music video from a boy band you loved when you were a teenager. It should embarrass you, turn you off majorly, but… it doesn’t. It only does the opposite.

Everything Buck does makes you like him more.

You spend the rest of the evening dancing, laughing, and floating on cloud nine. In a garden in Italy, surrounded by your best friends - you can’t think of anywhere else you’d rather be.

As the evening dwindles to an end, everyone slowly begins making their way back to their rooms within the villa. You sit down, unbuckling your heels to finally give your feet a rest. It almost feels like deja vu when a rocks glass is placed down in front of you on the table.

“Hi, Evan.”

“Hi gorgeous.”

“What’s this?”

“A drink.”

“Yes, but why?”

He pulls out the chair in front of you and sits down, looking at you intently.

“Thought we could have a nightcap before we go upstairs.”

You look around to find that mostly everyone has decided to call it a day. You can see Lucy and Danny walking off hand in hand, going for a stroll around the grounds before they let the wedding officially be over. It just leaves you and Buck, sat in your original places.

“Is this Baileys?”

“Yes ma’am. Do you like it? I figured you probably wouldn’t want another whiskey, seeing as you’ve had so many.”

You scoff, trying to fight the grin that threatens to take over your face.

“I’ve had, like, four, thank you very much.”

He holds his hands up in mock surrender, making you chuckle as you shake your head.

“Cheers, Evan,” you toast, clinking your glass against his matching one. “We did it. A wedding without a hitch. Mostly.”

“My shirt will never be white again, but besides that, we did a pretty good job.”

“We make a good team.”

He looks slightly taken aback by your honesty, trying to hide his smirk.

“Yes, we do. A super hot, super funny team.”

“A super hot, super funny team.”

You both laugh, heads thrown back with no cares in the world. Buck shuffles his chair forward so his legs are slotted on either side of you, warm skin radiating into yours. The moonlight is glinting off of his cheekbones, illuminating the light streaks in his hair. You’re a little tipsy and much too tired to fully fight your feelings anymore.

He’s beautiful, and you’re sick of denying it.

The two of you finish off your drinks, sat in a comfortable silence beneath the starry night sky. His hand has found its way onto your thigh, thumb rubbing gentle patterns into your bare skin. You’re sneaking glances at him when he looks away, admiring the way he’s glowing, buzzed off of the alcohol and the excitement of the day. He’s doing the same with you, soft smile etched onto his face as he watches you gaze up at the stars above your heads.

A yawn escapes you, making both of you chuckle.

“I’ll walk you to your room?”

“Well, you better. I’m the only one of us with a key for that big door.”

He laughs even harder, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I forgot about that. If you weren’t here, I’d have slept on the floor in the hallway or something.”

“Probably wouldn’t be the first time,” you mutter, standing up and tucking your chair under the table.

“Sorry, what was that? Say it again? Hmm? Hmm?” he wraps his arms around your middle, spinning you so your feet are no longer on the floor.

“Okay, okay! Put me down before I throw up,” you shriek, giggling like a teenager.

He places you back down, hands on your hips to steady you. You look up at him, keeping your eyes fixed on his to steady yourself from the dizziness. When you feel ready to go, you clear your throat, willing yourself to walk away before you kiss him stupid.

“We should go to bed,” you whisper, afraid to ruin the moment.

“Yeah?”

“Separate beds,” you tell him sternly, chuckling when he cackles.

“Yes ma’am.”

Buck walks you back to your room in a gentlemanly fashion, looping your arm through his to keep you both upright. When you reach your door, your fingers linger on the handle, as if you’re not quite ready to go inside just yet.

Reaching out gently, he moves a strand of hair from your face, fingertips brushing your cheekbone as he does it. You sigh softly, eyes fluttering shut at the sweet contact.

“Goodnight, gorgeous,” he murmurs lowly. “Sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight.”

He takes a step back towards his door when you speak again.

“Evan?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

“For?”

“Everything, today. You’ve been a damn good best man.”

“Well, thank you. For being the best maid of honour.”

You nod, smiling like an idiot as you unlock your door and shut it behind you. You take a deep breath when you’re finally inside, throwing down your heels onto the floor and your purse onto the side table. Reaching behind you, your fingers tug at the zipper on your dress, attempting to pull it down.

It’s only now you realise your dilemma. The zipper is on an awkward place on your back, right where you can’t get to. You think quickly back to this morning - one of the bridesmaids doing the dress up for you, pulling the material taut as she fastened it. You’re not going to be able to get this off yourself.

Finding the purse that you discarded minutes earlier, you aim to find a hair clip. If you can loop a bobby pin into the zipper, you think, you might be able to pull it yourself. You root around in it for a second, before pulling out two phones.

Well, fuck.

You’d completely forgotten that Evan had given it to you earlier in the evening, worried that it was going to get broken if it stayed in his back pocket. You’d tucked it away and not thought about it again.

Until now.

Now, you’re realising that you’re going to have to go and give it back. He probably hasn’t remembered that you have it, otherwise you’re sure he’d be knocking on the door or yelling across the hallway.

You stand in the middle of your room, with two phones and a stuck zipper, wondering if the universe thinks this is funny.

You’re certainly not laughing.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“Evan?”

He swings the door open, facing you in his suit trousers with no shirt on.

“Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah. I, uh, I have your phone.”

Holding it out to him, his fingertips brush yours as he takes it from you, sending a shiver up your spine.

“Oh, shit. I forgot about this. Thanks, pretty.”

“Of course.”

You stand and look at each other for a second, so much left unsaid.

“Can I ask you for a favour?”

“Anything.”

His instantly willingness has butterflies fluttering in your stomach, flitting and lightweight and undeniable.

“Can you help me get my dress off?”

When he smirks and goes to speak, you cut him off quickly.

“The zipper is stuck, Evan. Alice zipped me up this morning and I can’t undo it by myself.”

“This is a very long winded way of asking me to get you naked, gorgeous.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes.

“If that’s what I wanted, I would just ask you, Buckley.”

“Uh huh. Sure.”

“Can you help me or not?”

He’s laughing, now, head thrown back with it. You hate the way it makes your heart sing.

“You coming in? Or you want me to undress you in the hallway?”

“You’re not undressing- fuck, you’re annoying.”

He’s still chuckling when he ushers you inside, shutting the door firmly behind you both.

“How do you wanna do this? Lights on, lights off? Curtains open or shut? Music? Candles?”

“Undo the damn zipper before I smack you.”

His laughter is rumbling through his chest, contagious in its nature. You want to be angry at him, but you just can’t seem to find it in you.

“Turn around, gorgeous.”

You spin to face the door, taking a deep breath as you anticipate his touch. You feel his warmth behind you, fingertips dancing over the skin of your shoulders before they reach your zipper. You can’t see him, but you can envisage the sight - his broad chest, thick neck, that beautiful sun kissed glow he’s developed over the past few days. Your lungs heave as the room suddenly feels like it’s a thousand degrees.

Buck slides the zipper down your back slowly, with intent and clarity. When it reaches your coccyx, he stops, resting his other hand on your hip to keep you steady.

You know you should step away, maybe throw him a quick thanks as you leave. But you do believe in fate, whether you like to admit it or not - and this entire night has felt like it’s been written in the stars.

Who are you to deny what the universe is so clearly gifting you?

You let your arms relax, sighing as the dress falls off of you and down to the floor. You step out of it, finally turning around to face Buck wearing nothing but your lacy white underwear. Surprisingly, there’s not an ounce of self consciousness in your body. The only thing you feel is desire.

For the first time since you’ve met him, Evan is completely speechless. His eyes rove over you, drinking in the sight in front of him, and he has to remind himself to breathe.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispers in awe, fingers itching to reach out and touch you. “The minute I first saw you, I couldn’t believe you were real.”

“Evan?”

“Yeah?”

“Touch me, please.”

He grins, surging forward to cup your cheek with one hand while the other finds its home on your waist.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

“Finally.”

Buck leans in and presses his lips to yours surprisingly gently, testing the waters. You tangle your fingers into his hair, pulling him as close as possible. He gets the message, reeling you in and deepening the kiss until you can’t tell where he ends and you begin.

You’re being walked backwards and into the wall, pushed up against it for leverage. You hike a leg up over Bucks hip, groaning when the two of you grind forwards at the same time. His hands are everywhere - your face, tits, ass, waist - anywhere he can reach. It’s like he’s not quite sure where he wants them, as if he’s worried he’ll leave somewhere untouched.

“You’re all I’ve thought about for two days,” he’s muttering into your neck as he leaves open mouthed kisses on your skin. “Driving me crazy.”

“I got myself off last night,” you breathe, eyes fluttering shut when he sucks at the spot under your ear. “Thinking about you.”

“Fuck,” he moans, sinking down to his knees in front of you. “Tell me more. Please.”

It’s almost biblical, the sight of him. On his knees, practically begging, looking up at you like you’re his saviour. You’re dizzy with the power, blood rushing straight to your head.

Buck presses kisses into your leg, starting at your calves and moving up. When he gets to your inner thigh, he gazes up at you, pleading with his eyes for you to continue.

“Tell me more or I’ll stop,” he says sternly, hooking his fingers into your underwear to pull them down and off.

“Okay, okay,” you pant, dropping your head back against the wall. “I, I- I couldn’t stop thinking about your arms in that shirt. The, the, the-”

You’re stuttering as he licks a stripe up your core, diving in with no hesitation. His fingers are gripping your thighs so hard you know it’ll bruise, and you can’t wait to feel the imprints in the morning.

“The?”

He’s pulled away to look at you with his brow quirked, dirty smirk etched across his face.

“Keep going, gorgeous. You haven’t even got to the good part. Neither of us have.”

You scoff at him in defiance, but slide your fingers into his hair to tug him back to where you want him.

“You looked so strong,” you continue, sighing when his tongue finds your core again. “Kept thinking about how easily you could throw me around. Pick me up, sit me on your face…”

Buck groans, all deep and rumbled, and the vibrations have your legs going weak. He doubles down on his efforts, slipping his tongue inside as his nose nudges your clit. He’s a fast learner, taking mental note of the spots and pressures that make your knees buckle.

“Keep going,” he mumbles into your core.

“You keep going,” you retort, pulling at his hair.

He chuckles but obliges your request, sucking your clit into his mouth with purpose. You’re shaking, holding onto him for dear life as you reach your climax. The moan you let out is borderline pornographic, and it has Buck palming himself over his suit trousers with a groan.

“Fuck, Evan,” you pant, chest heaving as you slump into the wall. “You need to grab me before I collapse. My legs are jelly.”

Laughing as he does it, he stands up and wraps his arms around your middle, holding you against him as tightly as he can.

“You okay?” he asks, pressing a kiss into your hair.

“Better than ever.”

He rests his lips on your forehead, both of you breathing each other in for a moment.

“Can’t believe you were right across the hallway from me, trying to be quiet while you were getting yourself off,” he murmurs, fingers running up and down your back. “You should have come over here. I would have helped you.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you tease, cupping his face in your hands. “I was still acting like I didn’t wanna rip your clothes off back then.”

“Knew you’d crack eventually,” he winks, grinning when you laugh.

You pull him into you for a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue, clearly telling him exactly what you want.

“You gonna fuck me, Evan? Or are we just gonna stand here all night?”

He shakes his head with a smirk before throwing you onto the bed, chuckling when you almost bounce back off. As he starts to crawl over to you, you stop him with a foot on his chest.

“Nuh uh. You’re wearing too many clothes. Strip, Buckley.”

“Yes ma’am.”

He’s standing up immediately, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them off in one fell swoop. His boxers are next, leaving him stood bare and beautiful in front of you.

“Fuck. You’re not real,” you breathe out, eyes dancing over him.

“Oh I am so real,” he’s reassuring, situating himself on top of you.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him down so you can grind your hips into his.

“I’ve been waiting two days for this,” you murmur into his lips. “Make it worth my while, please.”

“Careful what you wish for,” he teases, kissing you again with such a force that you’re dizzy.

Buck sucks a bruise into your collarbone, licking a stripe up your sternum and tasting the salt that sits on your skin. Your patience is wearing thinner and thinner, anticipation bubbling up in your veins.

“How’d you want it?” he whispers into your ear.

“Just- deep. Wanna feel you for the rest of the weekend.”

He groans, a breathless chuckle leaving his lips.

“Anything you want, gorgeous. I’ll give you anything you want. Anything in the world.”

His lust drunk rambling makes you giggle, wiggling your hips into his to hopefully hurry him up. You tug at his hair, pulling his face so it’s level with yours.

“Now, Evan. Can’t wait any longer. Please.”

“Fuck. You’re so pretty when you beg.”

He lines himself up, pressing his forehead to yours as the two of you connect. He’s big and he’s stretching you out just right and you think you might have died and gone to heaven. You both groan, panting into each others mouths.

“Fuck, baby. It’s like you were made for me.”

The baby sends warmth running through both your core and your heart, all the signals setting your nervous system on fire.

“Please,” you whimper, kissing him with desperation as you tangle your fingers in his curls and pull. “Please, Evan.”

“I’ve got you,” he’s mumbling, pulling his hips back and sliding them forwards with clear intent.

Reaching up beside your head, Buck pulls a pillow down and situates it under your hips, putting you where he wants you.

“Want you to feel me as deep as possible,” he murmurs, tucking his head into the crook of your neck. “Won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

You can only moan at the promise, praying he delivers. There’s a shiny sheen of sweat covering his sun kissed skin, making him glow in the moonlight like some sort of angel. Sent just for you.

Buck sets a steady rhythm, not too fast but just fast enough. He clearly knows what he’s doing, and you ignore the pang of jealousy in your chest at the idea of him with another woman, even in the past.

Now that you’ve had a taste of this, you don’t want to let it go.

He’s pressing kisses onto whatever skin he can reach - your neck, your collarbone, underneath your ear. His hips never cease, determined to get you both to where you need to be. When he hitches one of your legs over his waist, you can’t help but drop your head back, eyes fluttering shut at the new angle.

He tilts his hips upwards, and hits a spot that has you keening. Speech has left you, and all you can do now is take it like you were made for it.

“Right there? Yeah? That’s it, isn’t it?”

You nod frantically, sucking in a shuddering breath like you’ve been under water. Your legs have started to shake, and Buck’s grinning when he thinks about how far he can push you before you’re at your limit.

“Come on, pretty girl. Give it to me.”

You’re so close you can taste it, desperate to find this release that’s been building for the last forty eight hours. When Buck moves his hand from your hip to your throat and squeezes just slightly, you snap.

You’re coming with a breathless moan, back arching into him to plaster your fronts together.

“Shit, you look so beautiful when you come. Jesus.”

You manage a soft smile, looking up at him to see those bright eyes staring into yours. He looks entranced, as if he’s staring at a piece in an art gallery. You swipe his hair back from his sweaty forehead, teasing your thumb across his bottom lip. When he sucks it into his mouth, your jaw drops open, mind foggy with arousal.

“Think you can give me another one? Let me see you come all pretty again?” he asks around your digit, tongue laving over your skin.

“Mhmm,” you’re agreeing before you can even process it, eager to please.

“That’s my girl.”

He moves your fingers from his mouth back into his hair as his find your throat once more, applying a little pressure. His hips pick up their pace, faster and harder than before. He’s fucking you into the mattress, strong arms keeping you from sliding off the bed.

He looks breathtaking, on top of you like this. He’s so broad, towering over you like he’ll shield you from the entire world if he has to. It feels like it’s just the two of you in the whole universe, unbothered by anything or anyone else.

“Buck- I… I-”

“I know, baby. Can feel it. Atta girl.”

You pull him down to kiss you as you reach your third climax of the night, arms wrapping around his neck so every inch of you is pressed together.

“There we go, good girl. That’s it, yeah. It’s yours, baby. It’s all yours.”

Buck finally finds his release, triggered by yours. His head drops into your neck, his frantic breath tickling your skin. You murmur sweet nothings into his ear, talking him through it as he shudders and shakes. Eventually, he collapses completely onto you, body weight pinning you down.

You’re both heaving for air, lungs burning as you try to regain an ounce of composure.

He murmurs something into your shoulder, the vibrations of it rumbling through your bones.

“Hmm?”

“You called me Buck.”

A breathless laugh escapes you, silvery and melodic.

“I’ve been trying not to for two days.”

“I know. You thought you were making a point.”

“I was making a point.”

“Sure, honey. Sure.”

“I hate you,” you grumble, but you can’t wipe the grin off your face. “I also hate that we’ve just made Lucy and Danny the happiest people ever.”

“Oh, shit. I hate it when they’re right.”

He pulls his head from your neck to look at you, resting his cheek against your chest so he can gaze up and into your eyes.

“I’m sure we can keep this a secret for a little while.”

“Yeah… we can’t.”

You quirk your brow at him in a silent question.

“I told Danny I was gonna marry you the minute you walked into the rehearsal dinner in that red dress. Can’t hide how I feel about you, gorgeous. It’s physically impossible.”

You can’t help but laugh, running your fingers through his hair to scratch at his scalp.

“Take me on a date first. Then we’ll talk about marriage, okay?”

“You did say forever, earlier.”

“That I did. Maybe my heart knew something my brain didn’t.”

Buck grins up at you, all blinding and giddy.

“The best man and the maid of honour, huh?”

“That old cliche,” you chuckle. “We weren’t the first, and we won’t be the last.”

“You’ll be my last, gorgeous.”

“Real smooth, Buck. Real smooth.”

“Buck,” he whispers, half in amusement, half in awe.

He could get used to this. You both could.

as always, reblogs are like gold to writers. if you enjoyed this, please reblog!! it’s invaluable <3

@peachysink @jjamjamie @alipap3 @spookyysinsanity @sophiah2253 @annaaaaanguyenn

[the-winds-of-destiny-xxx]

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[hanjisungslag]

attack on titan headcanons #14

synopsis: when attack on titan characters make you cry 💦

characters involved: eren, mikasa, armin, jean, sasha, connie, reiner, annie, bertolt, levi, erwin and hange.

notes: 2 posts in 2 days! arent you a lucky bugger x

☆ eren jaeger

it’s really situational for eren, he cannot take you seriously if you’re in a bad situation. if you’re on the battle field or doing anything important to do with titans, strategy plans etc. he will tell you that you can’t be crying in that moment. HOWEVER, if you’re not in any of those situations he is so empathetic!! my little baby is so sweet to you like, he’s like putty in your hands especially if he’s the one making you cry, oh my god. he would just DIE and probably cry with you.

☆ mikasa ackerman

her eyes soften… her eyebrows pinch together… her lip quivers and tilts into a frown… SHES SO DISTRAUGHT, HOW COULD SHE DO THIS? SHES SO STUPID GAHHH. super mellow, super quiet and of course, super sweet. she’ll approach you like you’re a fragile animal in the woods that she doesn’t wanna scare. she genuinely couldn’t think of anything worse in this world than upsetting you and her being that reason? HER HEARTTT, she’ll drop her nonchalant dread head act immediately and silently reassure you with physical affection.

☆ armin arlert

breaks the boys heart. he is absolutely and utterly DESTROYED. his self-esteem reaches an all time low in that very moment, as soon as that one tear fell of the apple of your cheek, GOD. he wanted the world to swallow him while to be honest, he was so upset and embarrassed he made you cry! but obviously, he really tried not to be selfish and start crying as he didn’t want to take any attention off you but trust, by the end of it, he will be crying alongside you.

☆ jean kirstein

god he is just so gentle, so caring, so comforting, so patient. he KNOWS exactly how to comfort you - he apologises profusely, sits with you, hugs you, talks the whole situation through with you LIKE UGH, and whatever it was that made you cry i can promise you this man WILL FIX THE FUCK UP! he lives to serve you and make you happy 🙇.

☆ connie springer

very quiet afterwards… he just feels really awkward, he wishes he could reverse time and just pretend nothing happened 😭. he’s like, do we break up now orrr…? he will eventually say sorry and become less awkward but, he definitely shows his sympathy through physical affection. after everything’s died down, he cracks a joke or two.

☆ sasha braus

SHES SO SWEET, definitely also awkward and she doesn’t realise you’re being serious for the first 2 minutes but afterwards oh my god, she’s so apologetic!! she gives does acts of service as an apology and of course, says sorry. profusely.

☆ reiner braun

breaks him into a million bijillion pieces. he turns into a puddle like, he just dies. HE made YOU cry? his life is over. sooo apologetic & he makes sure to let you know that he is! he will not be over this for days, days i tell you, he will continue to make it up to you even if you’re over it in like an hour.

☆ annie leonhart

she’s in shock honestly. she didn’t think you would be so upset over what she had said… but most of all, she’s shocked that seeing you upset had such a big impact on her. what- what was this? oh my god, she’s crying? because you’re crying? she’s in deepp😭. keeps her tears to her self and apologises to you and you make sure to tease her because you saw those tears!!

☆ bertolt hoover

crying with you. not in a way that would steal any attention from you or what he did to make you cry, he really tried to stop himself but after trying to not cry and apologise, he breaks down and now you’re both crying. a lot of ‘i’m sorry’ and ‘i love you’, ‘i won’t do that again‘s are being thrown around and it’s just an adorable sobbing, loving mess.

☆ levi ackerman

errrmmm, it’s kind of tough for him. he’s been very desensitised to mostly everything, even horrid things like people being eaten alive by titans, literally watching them be ripped limb from limb yk? the usual stuff! anyways, he does feel bad though because of course, he loves you. and he never wants to hurt you or be the cause of your pain so, he does apologise even if it doesn’t sound very normal coming from his mouth, lol.

☆ erwin smith

he feels bad, of course. he’s a very respectable, normal man so, as any other person, he’ll apologise for making you feel that way, say he won’t do it again, say he loves you and move on with his day.

☆ hange zoë

NOOOO THEY CANT BELIEVE THEYVE DONE THIS!! tragedy has struck 😔. they will do everything in their power to make it up to you, they will do a simple, straightforward and sincere apologise HOWEVER, afterwards they’ll do something extra for you, just as a cherry on top like, a candle lit dinner in your house or something along those lines ^o^.

[violettwrites]

teddy bear 🏹 daryl dixon

summary: just pure dad!daryl fluff tbh

author’s note: genuinely i was just trying to sleep when this popped into my brain and i had to get out of bed to write it otherwise it would have been lost forever. i hope you enjoy !

if you liked my work, please leave a like, reblog, and don’t forget to follow to keep up with my writing ! 🫶🏻 as always, requests are open

warnings: nada

word count: 1,555k

by the time daryl had realised he actually wanted kids, he thought it was too late. that he was too old to be a dad, and he’d be stuck with the “uncle daryl” title for the rest of his life. it hurt him, sometimes, thinking he couldn’t give you what you both wanted, and constantly kicked himself for thinking he didn’t want to raise a child in a world like this. you never blamed him either, for not wanting children. because he was right. this world wasn’t exactly made for kids.

daryl would constantly watch you with the kids in the community, the sight of you with children tugging at his heart strings, wishing they were your own children. and he’d sit and wonder what they’d look like. would they have his blue eyes? your nose? his loyalty? your loving heart? it made him regret what he had told you all those years ago, and how you simply agreed with him. because what if you didn’t want kids anymore either.

so when daryl climbed into bed with you one night, his chest pressed against your back with his arm wrapped around your waist, he had mumbled something that you didn’t quite catch.

“is it too late to ‘ave kids?” he spoke a little louder, his gravelly voice low in your ear. you felt your stomach flip at his words, turning around in his arms to face him, looking into his steel blue eyes.

“you want kids?” you questioned, a hand reaching up to cup his cheek and gently stroke your thumb across his cheekbone as he nodded his head, avoiding eye contact with you in case he had said the wrong thing. “i would love nothing more than to have your babies, dixon.” you chuckled softly, a small smile on your lips. “but only if you’re sure.”

“i’m sure.” he mumbled, his forehead pressing against yours. he may have sounded blunt, but you could tell by the look in his eyes that he had never been more sure of himself.

“i guess we’re gonna have a baby then, hey?” you giggled, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips as he wrapped his arm around you tighter, pulling your body on top of his.

— — —

you had been trying for what felt like forever for a baby, but there had been no signs of any little bundle of joy showing up in your lives anytime soon. until one day you had just woken up with this… feeling. you weren’t 100% sure that it was something, but you also thought it couldn’t be nothing. so you had made your way into the bathroom, rummaging through the drawers for the pregnancy tests you had found on a run a few months ago ( because you never knew when you’d need one ) and took the test. you paced anxiously in the small bathroom, chewing on the skin around your nails as you waited for what felt like forever, but was only a couple minutes before you flipped the test back over, seeing the little positive sign on the test.

absolutely overjoyed that you had actually managed to get pregnant, you couldn’t wait for daryl to come back home and ran out into the community to find him. you had located him by the front gates, running over to him.

when daryl saw you running towards him, his first reaction was to panic. he thought something was wrong, that something bad had happened to you, but when you had said those two words that he had been waiting months to hear, he wrapped his arms around you tightly, lifting you up off the ground and swinging you around.

“y’aint lyin’?” he looked at you after he put you back down on the ground, watching as you shook youre head with a huge smile on your face. “oh my god, ‘m gonna be a dad,” he grinned, hugging you tightly once more. “yer gonna be a momma, ‘m gonna be a daddy.”

“you’re gonna be the best daddy.” you squeezed him back just as tight, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

— — —

throughout your pregnancy, daryl had been amazing. he made sure you were always comfortable, that you had eaten enough— and would even try to give you food off his own plate. even if you protested every time. “don’ care. baby’s gotta eat,” he’d huff, scraping his food onto your plate, ignoring your huffs.

he’d make sure you didn’t do anything to strenuous, and when you were further along in your pregnancy, he would try to be by your side as much as he could. and when he couldn’t, he’d send carol to look after you. you’d tell him you didn’t need to be babysat, but he’d simply ignore you. because he wanted nothing more than to keep you both safe.

when you had gone into labour, he had ran to get siddiq, leaving you back at the house with carol just until he got back. he held your hand the entire time, letting you squeeze as hard as you needed too. and you were sure you were on the verge of breaking his hand multiple times, but he didn’t wince once. because he knew what you were going through right now was ten times worse than a broken hand.

“i can’t— i can’t do this.” tears filled your eyes as you looked at him, hours of being in labour had exhausted you, but you were so close. so close to delivering that little baby that you both wanted so badly.

he wiped the sweat from your forehead, brushing away your hair that had clung to your skin and pressed kisses to your face. “you can do this, baby. yer strong, ‘kay?” he encouraged you, squeezing your hand. “plus, i don’ think there’s any backin’ out now.” he tried to joke, but you just groaned, your head falling back as siddiq instructed you to push again.

when daryl heard the little cries coming from the little baby, he squeezed your hand once more, kissing all over your face. “ya did it, sweetheart. ‘m so proud of you.” he murmured, looking at siddiq as he had announced it was a boy. “a lil boy, we have a son.”

he watched as siddiq wrapped him up, placing the tiny little baby on your chest before stepping out of the room to give the both of you some privacy. you both stared in awe at the baby in your arms, your pinkie finger tracing over his tiny, delicate features.

“he looks like you,” you whispered, looking up at daryl with an exhausted smile.

“ya think?” he asked, his large hand brushing against the baby’s cheek, in absolute awe that the both of you had created something so precious. so beautiful.

“yeah. he’s got your nose, and your lips.” you pointed out, fingers tracing over each feature as you listed them off. and when your little boy opened his eyes for the first time, you grinned. “and he’s got your eyes. i’ve literally just given birth to a mini daryl dixon.” you rolled your eyes playfully, shaking your head.

when it came time for daryl to hold him, he was told to take his shirt off when he held him. you watched as there was no hesitation in him taking off his top as he sat down, his large hands gently taking the baby from your hands. you noticed how much tinier he looked in daryl’s hands, and your heart swelled with happiness.

“wha’ do we name ‘im?” daryl asked, eyes not leaving his little miracle once.

“i like theodore. teddy for short.” you looked at him for his opinion, and he had nodded his head, finally looking over to you with the proudest look on his face.

“theodore dixon. my lil teddy bear.” you heard a sniffle come from him, noticing the tears in his eyes as he looked at teddy. “thank ya, baby. don’ think ya know how much ya both mean t’ me.”

— — —

as teddy got older, being a dad had really changed daryl. he was ( obviously ) super protective over his little teddy bear, not letting him out of his sight if you weren’t around. and when he got to that wild toddler phase, daryl was having the time of his life. he loved to chase after his son, watching as his little legs carried him as fast as he could to you, wrapping his little arms around your legs for protection from the tickle monster. or how his giggles never seemed to end when daryl was blowing raspberries on his tummy. daryl was full of pure bliss when it came to his family.

he loved to lift teddy up onto his shoulders, walking through the community with the proudest smile on his face. and he especially loved when teddy would crawl up between the two of you in bed, planting himself right in between his two favourite people. when teddy had a bad dream? daryl was there. when he fell over for the first time? daryl was there brushing his tears away and kissing his sore knees better.

it made your heart swell at how much of an amazing dad daryl was, and you wouldn’t have picked anyone else to raise a child with in this world.

[luveline]

hello lovely angel!! humbly requesting zombie!steve au, perhaps more of jealous steve? i love their dynamic so much💗 maybe someone is flirting with reader, and enter protective steve:)

thanks for requesting! fem, 2k

You tend to think of it in two weird halves. You love Steve, and you never would’ve known that without the end of the world, so things are okay. Sometimes you wonder if he ever could’ve loved you if he hadn’t been so close to you for so long, but he loves you in this insane capacity of softness that says otherwise. Like, soulmate style. 

It didn’t begin that way. Steve your reluctant guide, and you his unlikely saviour. You’d stopped him from dying at the very start of it all and he couldn’t leave you behind. And Steve, he’d been mean to you. He didn’t want to take care of you initially, but you’d grown to get along. You’d argue black and blue and he’d still rub your back at night. 

There are so many moments you’ve shared that make what you have all the more special. A hundred different memories from before you’d ever kissed. You think about it now, watching him across the firepit as he shows a young girl, Cassandra, how to braid her hair. 

The one that’s sticking today is when Steve got really bad food poisoning for the first time. When you’d known you were in love with him for a while, and when he’d stopped pretending he didn’t know. He’d been sick everywhere, on both your shoes, and you’d rubbed his back through everything.  

It was nice to take care of him. Nicer that night when you’d shared a bed and he’d hugged you half to death. 

He has no idea how much he means to you, or how much those moments with him kept you going when you were all alone. You’re lucky now to have found community, but those stolen hours in bed with him hugging him and getting to be his support, you wouldn’t have made it here without them. 

“Hey.” 

You look up as a man sits down. A boy, a man —what do you call twenty somethings? You don’t feel like a woman most of the time, but you are. 

“Hi,” you say. 

“I’m Jamison.” 

“You’re Eddie’s friend, right?” 

“Who, Munson?” Jamison makes a kidding face, a disgusted scrunch of his eyebrows that falls away to more friendly fondness. “Yeah, we go back. You’re Eddie’s friend too, right? I saw you guys taking out some laundry a few days ago.” 

Jamison is handsome. He has tan skin, short hair, and a crooked nose. His smile is disarming. If you hadn’t fallen in love with the handsomest guy around, you might feel nervous under his gaze. 

Time spent ugly under Steve’s reverent handling makes you confident. You genuinely feel prettier knowing Steve loves you, and it makes it easier to be yourself with strangers. 

“Eddie’s awesome,” you say easily. “I thought he was gonna kill me when we first met, but he’s too nice.” 

“Nice, really?” 

Jamison is casual, as people go. You wonder what his motivations are for talking to you at first, but as conversation stretches, littered with the cracking pops of the fireplace and brief pauses of surprisingly comfortable silence, you realise he’s just talking. Maybe he’s lonely. You know how that feels. 

He tells you that he and Eddie had been in a rock band together before the apocalypse. You’d known to some extent that Eddie was in a band, but Jamison tells you all the details you’d been missing. They were called Corroded Coffin, four members, Eddie played guitar and Jamison thought he was pretty fucking good at it, actually. 

“I don’t think we would’ve been, like, Metallica. But we could’ve been good. We were gonna make a record.” 

You smoke sympathetically. “I bet you could’ve been.” 

“What were you doing? Before all this?” 

“I honestly barely remember,” you say quietly. Your life before Steve is a blur, and it’s painful, too. “Things are harder now, I know that. I wish every day that we could go back to how things were, you know, I miss TV and grocery stores and my family.” You lick your lips. “I wish things were different, but somehow, I think I like my life now. I have stuff to do. Is that crazy?” 

“It’s not crazy. Everything fucking sucks,” —you both laugh— “but that’s not crazy. I’m lucky, I still have my dad, and my friends. There’s purpose in being here.” 

You nod emphatically, just once. “Exactly.” 

You have purpose, now. You get to be a friend, a girlfriend, a confidente. You take care of people. 

It all comes back to Steve, at the end of the day. Would you change the world if it meant never having met him? 

Nope. 

You glance across the fire for him, but he’s not there. 

You put your arm behind your back and bend, looking for him. 

“Looking for someone?” Jamison asks. 

You deflate with relief when you spot him standing near the gaggle of tents about fifty feet away. He’s looking at you from over Robin’s shoulder. You wave, and he waves back with a big smile. 

Something seems a little wrong. 

“Steve,” you explain. 

“He’s your boyfriend, yeah? Eddie told me you’ve been together since the start.” 

You don’t bother correcting him. He might not mean together as how you’re thinking it. “Yeah, that’s him. Have you met him?” 

“Kind of. We all thought he was a huge dick, back then.” 

“He sort of was,” you say. “I mean, we all had our own stuff going on. I get that I’m biased, but he’s my favourite person I’ve ever met. He’s so kind, I don’t think I could describe it to you or anyone just how much he cares about people. I wouldn’t be here without him, and… I don’t know, I’m not saying you’re wrong, but if you ever wanted to meet him again, he’s amazing. He’s a great friend. He’s so fucking funny, he makes me laugh every day.” 

“He’s sort of giving me the stink eye,” Jamison says. 

You wave your hand weakly. “He has raging jealousy issues.” 

“Shit, am I getting you in trouble?” 

“No, never!” you say, tempted to laugh. “He doesn’t get mad at me for stuff like that. He’s normal, I promise. Just sensitive.”

You tell Jamison that it was nice talking to him because it really was, but you’ve been missing Steve for hours already and you need to get back to him before you go totally bonkers. 

He’s sitting on the floor in the tent. The weather has been beautiful lately, you could sleep under the stars if you weren’t scared of being zombie charcuterie. Steve has stripped down to just his jeans and socks, no t-shirt or shoes to be seen. He has his sketchbook splayed open on his thigh, but he abandons it the moment you kneel down. 

“Hey,” you say. 

Steve folds his book closed, pencil between its pages. “Hi. Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?” 

You shuffle in to take his hand. Clumsy touches, his fingers warm and a tad clammy between yours. “You told me yesterday that I have a smile like an angel. I know you were kidding, but I still felt it.” 

“I wasn’t kidding,” he says, wrinkling his nose with a smile. “You think every compliment is a joke.” 

“Don’t make me laugh so much, then.” 

He squeezes your fingers gently. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself to Jamison. Just, I knew him already from school. And he did not like me.” 

“That’s okay. He seemed nice, I think you’d get along if you met now.” You kick your shoes off and crawl as close to him as you can get. He looks up at you, but you look down at his lap. “What are you drawing?” 

“I was just trying to touch up that landscape I did of the river,” he says, a sheepishness to him as he opens his sketchbook. 

You read it with affection, trace lines and hatchings in awe. “Steve, I really wish you had time and space to do this stuff properly. Not that you aren’t doing it properly, just, I know you could make something just as beautiful as this with paint.” You slide to be sitting properly, putting you both at the same height, so you can meet his eyes as you continue. “Did you know what you wanted to do, when you were finishing school? Did you ever think about art?” 

“I thought about it.” His lips quirk. “Mostly about how my dad would’ve kicked me out if I said something that stupid.” 

“It’s not stupid.” 

“I know.” 

That would’ve been a nice life. You and Steve living together, with a basement for his paintings, or a garage turned studio. You’d read books together every night like you do now, and you’d scrub paint smudges off of his cheek. 

You love him so much it must give you an aura. 

“I’ve got nothing to worry about, huh?” he asks softly. 

You drift in, tipping your head back for a kiss you don’t take. “I don’t know, Steve, Jamison used to be in a rock band.” 

He scoffs in disgust. You think it might be a mixture of anger at Jamison and himself. “Who wants to date a rockstar?” 

“I might’ve.” 

You’re teasing, of course, smiling as your kiss draws nearer, and nearer. 

“Well, I can be a rockstar,” he says quietly, warmth of his breath on your lips. “Just give me a chance to get there.” 

You brush the tip of your nose against his and hold your breath. “That’s okay,” you say, letting it rush out of you in a huff, your excitement to be kissed too much to bear, “I like my guys all mixed up. Preferably good at track, and swimming, but with a soft side. Kind of guy who fills a sketchbook up with my face.” 

Steve lists to the side. Your lips are so close, you can feel the phantom of them against yours as he moves in. “It’s not just your face… it’s your hands, your arms… your everything–”

He cuts his own explanation off with a soft kiss. That softness swiftly hardens, turns rough, ten long seconds of sweetness before his hands coming up behind your head and he’s pressing inward, deepening the kiss, and giving you little room to breathe. 

You have no intention of dating any rockstars, but his jealous streak has nothing but upsides for you. Steve knows that his jealousy over the innocuous is his own problem, his own insecurity that he’s working on, and while you sympathise with him (after all, haven’t you yourself worried he’d find someone else he liked more?), you have to confess to enjoying the edge to his kissing. 

You make a pleased, humoured sound as he breathes you in like you’re a drug he’s been waiting for. He gets sloppier, and you can’t help pulling away to laugh. 

“What?” he asks, thumbing at your cheek in a soft juxtaposition. “Sorry, am I being a dick?” 

“No, it’s fine. Kiss me how you want to.” 

Steve kisses your cheek softly. “He knows you have a boyfriend, right?” 

“He knows.” 

Steve hums like he’s smiling and nudges your nose with his, until you part your lips, and he wades in for another dose. 

[leejenowrld]

ghostin' (one)

pairing na jaemin x y/n (fem)

word count 14.4k

genre smut, fluff, angst, situationship vibes, college au

synopsis after being brutally dumped by your ex hyunjin, you’re living a broken life, lost in the consumption of getting high and heartbreak. then you meet na jaemin, a one-night stand transforms into a bond. he becomes the catalyst for your healing. but can you genuinely break free from the attachment to your toxic ex? between newfound connection and lingering attachments, will you move on or hold on?

one | two | three | four

chapter warnings very broken, fragile, weak, intoxicated mc (not so much in the 1st chapter just wait lmao) cute friendship moments, girl moments, appearances from other '00 liners, explicit language, swearing, mention of drugs, smoking and alcohol, getting high, under the influence, unprotected sex, breeding kink, oral (f receiving) overuse of ‘baby,’ ass slapping, daddy kink, size kink and training, dirty talk, big cock jaemin, soft dom jaemin, groping, fingering, nipple sucking, a moment (the girls playing matchmaker) which teases all the other fics in the series which you can see about here, introverted, chill, emotionally intelligent, laid back, mysterious jaemin, jaemin with a darker side, a very sexy jaemin, black haired jaemin, jaemin who has no flaws

author note haerin is the protagonist (y/n) in my one shot mfal, which can be read here. she’s a side character in this so i wanted to give her a name so avoid confusion for myself lmao. but you can still imagine haerin as mfal!y/n. also there’s a lot of jeno and haerin in this chapter, a lot of friend moments, girl moments, jaemin only makes an appearance at the end. please stay patient and trust me!! the wait is worth it. he comes in at the perfect time :) i wanted to make this more friendship group based and explore the side characters compared to mfal, so :))) enjoy. also hana is heejin now from mfal! i changed her name, sorry about my bad planning, this is the second story that i’ve ever written (mfal my first) so i’m still learning and making mistakes. hana is an og so i didn’t wanna give her a popular idols name!! still need to change her name in mfal lol

part of neo heartbreaker series, same universe as mfal but can be read as a standalone. comment to be added to the tag list for future parts!! this is a 4 part series

“i know that it breaks your heart when i cry again, over him, i know that it breaks your heart when i cry again, instead of ghostin’ him”

playlist ariana grande ghostin, prettymuch phases, ghosting txt,

♥♥♥♥

“Jeno told me to show you this.”

You point your phone in Haerin’s face, eyes closed as she grips the device in her hands, mouth watering as she lets out a sigh, fighting her urges but she gives in, whining about Jeno’s ‘monster cock’ and how much she loved and missed it, how she wanted to fuck herself dumb with it… something like that. You chose to drown her words out. Hana let’s out a sound of realisation from beside you, understanding why your eyes were closed. It’s because you didn’t want to see Jeno’s cock.

“Why is he sending you that photo?” Hana asks, eyes puzzled.

“It’s because Haerin is ignoring all his texts and calls so he told me he’d make me my favourite dinner for a week if I shoved the photo of his cock in her face.” You explain, Hana giving you a knowing nod. Who would refuse that offer? Lee Jeno belonged on master chef.

“Well you can tell him he can shove his cock in his own mouth.” Haerin shakes her head furiously, words high pitched and spoken with anger. She sneaks a final glance and lets out one last whimper before handing you your phone back.

You nod, fingers typing away.

you - she basically said fuck you and that you can shove your own cock in your own mouth

jeno - bet my baby was moaning at the photo though. i know what she’s like

jeno - needy slut tries to act like she doesn’t want me when she’s mad at me

jeno - when she wants me even more

you - seems like something you should text her!

jeno - bitch that’s the point she’s ignoring me

“I'm gonna kill Jeno." You look up from your phone, your gaze shifting to Hana as you share amused glances, spotting a very annoyed and pissed-off Haerin sitting opposite you both in the canteen. It's been a long day of back-to-back lectures, and Haerin has been frustrated throughout them all. Uncharacteristically, she hasn't been paying attention in class, even though she's easily the top student and smarter than every single one of her peers.

She swirls her noodles around with her chopsticks, more focused on her irritation than her meal. "Why did he leave so early this morning?" You question.

"You tell me." Haerin exclaims, her voice raising a few octaves as she shakes her head in frustration.

"Wait, why are you pissed off at him again?" Hana asks in confusion.

"It's Jeno."

“Yeah I know, I asked why –”

"He was about to go down on me, but then he got an 'important' phone call, said sorry and left." Haerin explains with a huff. "I say 'about,' but he was already inside of me! He had just put his cock into me and then left before he started fucking me!!!!" Anger seeps through Haerin as she recalls the incident.

You and Heejin share a look, raising your eyebrows and holding back a laugh. Haerin and her boyfriend, Jeno, have a lot of sex. They're intimate every day, and he practically lives with you three girls. You admire the fact that they're deeply in love, evident to everyone around (and sometimes heard), but you're also put off by how frequently they engage in sexual activities. You and your roommate Heejin have become too accustomed to walking into any room in the house and seeing Haerin getting her back blown out.

“I need him so fucking bad that I’m genuinely kill the next person I see if they’re not him. I’m so fucking stressed right now and getting my back blown out by him is the only solution. I just need him to slap my pussy and my ass and spit in my mouth. I need him to choke me and I need his cum in my mouth or in me!!! Fuck I need his babies. I just need his cock shoved down my throat, I need him to wipe the drool from my cheeks after I’ve sucked him off, I need him to fuck my throat, I need him to tie my hair up for me and move the strands that get stuck in his mouth when I’m sucking his cock.”

Hana lets out a loud laugh at how the chatter on the tables surrounding the three of you had silenced completely, obviously in reaction to Haerin’s loud and incredibly sexual words. She usually had no filter when it came to the desires she shared with her boyfriend.

Haerin cries out, scrolling through photos on her camera roll and you wish you wouldn’t have glanced her way but you’re pretty sure you see Jeno’s cock grace her phone screen, (you also wish you didn’t know what it looked like.) Your eyes widen in shock as she lets out the loudest and horniest moan you’ve ever heard, she wasn’t even trying to conceal it, clearly not caring about who hears. Her mouth waters at the photos she has of him saved on her phone.

Haerin continues complaining, staring down at her noodles with a scowl, gaze moving to her phone once again and rapidly scrolling through the photos. "We haven't had sex since like… last night!"

You huff, contemplating how Haerin, if in your shoes, would likely struggle. The memory of your last intimate encounter, five months ago, casts a shadow, and a momentary sadness clouds your features. Shaking off those feelings, you ignore Hana’s observant gaze – she notices everything. How is she so observant? You disregard the look she's giving you, hoping she won't give it any more attention.

A sigh of relief escapes when Haerin continues to complain, Hana’s attention shifting.

"I'm going crazy.” Haerin breathes heavily, her eyes widening. "I keep crossing my legs, but nothing feels like him."

Her voice and expression turn darker. "I wanted to cut his dick off, especially when he kissed me and said he'd make it up to me."

Your eyebrows raise. "That's quite sweet, though?" You've seen the way Jeno kisses Haerin. If you were ever kissed like that, you'd melt. You'd complain about nothing. The heavy feeling overtakes your heart once more when you remember that once upon a time, you were kissed like that.

"Isn't this the third time this week it's happened?" Hana questions.

Haerin nods immediately. "He keeps saying sorry, telling me he can't tell me where he goes off to, but I know where he's going and who he's seeing. He doesn't need to tell me to know."

"And I know you guys already have an idea. If you think about it, it's not difficult to figure out."

The three of you say "Jaemin" unanimously.

"I swear you said that the only time he'll leave you mid-sex is for one reason... it's Jaemin.” Hana mumbles. Her attention is more focused on taking Haerin's chopsticks from her hand, swirling around her noodles, and then feeding her. Irritation almost overtakes her at the sight of Haerin staring down at a plate of empty food.

"Has he fallen off the face of the earth?" You question, thinking about the last time you saw him. You didn't know Jaemin that well. All you knew was that he was the best friend of your best friend's boyfriend, and he occasionally hung out with the group. But you don't think you've heard him mutter more than three words, ever. He was quiet and didn’t like speaking, there was nothing wrong with that, you was like that too..

When you don't get an answer, you return to reality and find a choking Haerin, obviously struggling to eat her noodles. Hana swiftly hits her back and offers water to ease the situation. Once the scene simmers down, Haerin, with a few chesty coughs, explains, "Jeno's not telling me everything because he has this sworn secrecy not to air out his best friend's personal life and problems to his girlfriend. But from the small things I've seen and heard around, I hear that Yeeun dumped him –"

"I heard that Yeeun cheated on him and he's literally on his death bed, depressed and getting high all the time," Hana whispers.

"I heard that she left the country and he tried to follow her." Haerin whispers back. The two of them go back and forth on rumors and speculations, which you observe, choosing not to get involved. Instead, you lean back and watch with a grin. You were never too interested in partaking in gossiping and bitching; it wasn't your thing, but you don't deny that hearing it was always good.

The gossiping comes to an end when they realize they're getting nowhere. You and Hana both turn to Haerin with a sigh. "Why can't you just ask Jeno? He obviously knows."

Lee Jeno, the one who harasses you with cock photos, Haerin's boyfriend, Jaemin's other half, they’ve been connected and attached since they were kids. The bestest of friends. Brothers. If Jeno isn't with Haerin, he's with Jaemin. It's a bromance that's heartwarming and sweet – two guys who are platonic soulmates. He obviously knows what's happened with Jaemin.

Haerin shakes her head. "He's not telling me. He's told me little bits, but he's being so vague. I've asked so many times."

"I even did my really cute 'no no' and puppy eyes smiling look, but he didn't budge. You know how I can make him do anything once I call him 'no no,' but it didn't work this time, so whatever happened is pretty serious."

You look at her astonished. "Why? I thought you told each other everything."

"Yeah, we do. If it's concerning him, he'll never keep it a secret from me. But he's told me it's unfair to air out his best friend's business like that. Jaemin's obviously told him the entire Yeeun situation with secrecy, and I'm sure he'll be hurt if Jeno just tells his girlfriend everything he trusted him with. It sucks to open up and become vulnerable only for everything you've said in trusted privacy to be shared."

You both still look confused. Doesn't having a boyfriend mean the 'don't tell anyone' rule doesn't apply to him?

Even though Haerin is admittedly annoyed at Jeno, she'll always defend him. "Look, I see where he's coming from. Something's happened with Jaemin, and it's clearly Yeeun. I'm worried for him, and obviously Jeno is. That's why Jeno is always going over to him, even when he’s about to put his dick inside of me." She rolls her eyes, accepting the fact that Jeno would drop anything for his best friend.

“Hey! You three come over right now!”

You and Hana turn around at Haerin's call, scanning the surroundings to spot Yangyang, Shotaro, and Xiaojun. The scared looks on their faces are evident even from a distance, a clear response to Haerin's tone and directness.

"We don't know anything." Yangyang quickly states as he takes a seat opposite you, anticipating Haerin's impending interrogation.

"You don't even know what Haerin's gonna ask you." Hana chuckles, playfully teasing the boys.

"I know we're about to get an interrogation.” Shotaro responds, the corners of his lips lifting as he grins sweetly at Hana, who ruffles his hair. Eric has now joined the table, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, and sits with you guys without a word. Come to think of it, that's what Eric was—someone who just appeared from nowhere.

You watch with a laugh as he leans his head toward Hana, silently pleading for her to do the same to him and ruffle his hair. However, she just shakes her head and focuses her attention on Shotaro. You smirk, well aware of Eric's crush on Hana, a fact not hidden from anyone at the table.

Turning to your side, you find Xiaojun taking a seat beside you, his knees knocking against yours. He offers a soft smile and a greeting, followed with a series of caring questions. "Are you okay? Have you eaten? Did you sleep well?" His genuine concern warms your heart.

"I did. I'm doing okay, Xiaojun, really." You reassure him, hoping he believes your words. You glance briefly at Hana, who gives you a knowing look and wiggles her eyebrows, hinting at something you try to downplay. You roll your eyes nonetheless, dropping your head to his shoulder, yawning and letting your eyes flutter shut but the loudness will make it impossible to nap.

Haerin cuts through the air, your attention shifting to her. "If you guys know where Jeno is and you're not telling me, then I'm seriously gonna cut and boil each and every one of your dicks. Starting with my boyfriend."

The threat hangs in the air, but Shotaro, ever charming, sweetly questions. "Shouldn't you know where your boyfriend is?" Shotaro asks sweetly, his dimples on full display. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he adjusted the beanie on his head, the thick layer of sleepiness evident in his voice. His charming smile and undeniable cuteness make you coo, prompting you to pinch his cheeks gently. Confusion flickers in his eyes as he wonders why everyone always showers him with affection when he feels he hasn't done much. However, the collective looks of endearment directed at him from all corners of the table convey the unspoken truth—he's effortlessly lovable, no effort required.

"We all fucking know where he is. He's with Jaemin, and he has been with him ever since Yeeun did her shit and fucked him over like the heartless and selfish bitch that — anyways — Why the fuck are you acting like you don’t know where Jeno is, Haerin, don’t you guys tell each other everything?” Yangyang asserts, frustration evident in your words.

Hana’s eyes light up. "You boys know! You know what's happened with Jaemin."

"Yes, we do, and we're not telling you. It's no one's business. Plus, you guys clearly already know; Jeno told Haerin, which means she told you.” Yangyang responds.

"Jeno hasn't told me!!!! Oh my god, how many times do I need to tell you guys?" Haerin exclaims, her voice raising and whining due to reaching full frustration.

"I'd be kinda worried if I was in a relationship and he didn't tell me everything—"

Haerin is a testament to defending her boyfriend even when she wants to cut his dick off. “He tells me everything that I need to know, everything that concerns me and him. There's no secrets with that stuff. He just doesn't air out other people's business to me. My boyfriend is honest and fair. Plus, I'd never tell him anything personal about you guys. There have been so many times you guys have confided in me about something personal and private and promised me not to tell anyone, and I haven't. And I would never. Telling my boyfriend my close friends personal life isn't something I'd be proud about; it's disrespectful and crossing boundaries. We both have a mutual agreement to that. There are standards and expectations in our relationship."

Xiaojun nods, laughing out loud. “If you know why he's not telling you, then why are you bothering us and trying to get the information from us?"

"Because I'm not perfect and I'm a nosy bitch, okay? Happy???? Plus, if I heard it from you guys rather than Jeno than he’d have nothing to feel guilty about and it would satisfy my craving to know everyone’s shit.” Haerin exclaims dramatically, truthfully revealing her nosy intentions. Suddenly, she groans and loudly slams her head on the table, shedding real tears when she realizes one of her nails from her set has broken off.

♥♥♥♥

Later that night, the comfort of your own house embraces you after a long day of classes. You and the girls gather on the sofa, indulging in your favorite rom-coms, creating an overall cozy evening.

Haerin, as usual, is talking about Jeno. You can't find it in you to get annoyed; she loves him, and sharing her happiness is second nature. She excitedly recounts the details of one of the many expensive getaways he took her on.

"We went skinny dipping," she begins, "He fucked me in every corner of the cabin we were staying in. The kitchen, the lake, on a blanket outside by the lake, against the wall of our room – we actually broke the bed and had to pay extra for it."

"Oh, and we did it in the bathroom and the shower a lot. I remember he was balls deep inside of me, he had made me cum for the sixth time in a row, and we were both close to falling down and fainting. He was fucking my cum back into me then he told me he wanted to marry me be the father to my children. We didn’t use protection for that entire day and he kept trying to fuck a baby into me. Thank God I didn’t get pregnant. He was quite high at that time and although I wasn’t, I was on my 6th orgasm. We were literally ready to be parents at that time… that’s what good sex does to you.”

You and Hana widen your eyes at Haerin. She always shares stories about their very intense and loving sex life, sometimes she even shows you videos and photos, you never look at them the same way after hearing it all – especially Jeno. He's a freak

“You guys are… on another level.” Hana laughs.

"You guys are the cutest." You smile for Haerin, masking the twinge of loneliness and heartache you feel. It's selfish, but seeing your best friend so happily loved up hurts, even if you're genuinely happy for her.

Haerin notices your silence and sends a sweet smile your way, patting your head and asking if you're okay. You can tell she feels a twinge of guilt, especially when she offers her way of making you feel happier.

"Let's get you with someone!" she claps her hands excitedly, trying to play matchmaker.

"Nooo," your hands make a crossing motion, but she won't listen. Once her mind is set on something, it's set.

"Yes!" Hana claps happily, and you huff when you realize you're outnumbered.

Haerin starts listing potential bachelors. "First of all, there's Donghyuck – hot and he knows it. A bit of a lost cause, but he's fearless and obviously good in bed! You're the opposite of him – more sensible and mindful, you can guide him in the right direction, like me and Jeno!"

You shake your head at that idea immediately. "He's high 95% of the time. He isn't serious. Plus, I heard he's got his eyes on that girl. What's her name again? She's the older sister of Jieun, used to be popular but now she’s the typical rebel. She's kinda rude.”

Hana offers her batch of men. "Okay, then... Yangyang! He's cute, he's –"

"He's gay," You laugh as you watch her realise it. “He’s gay and I don’t know if he knows it yet.”

Haerin's eyes light up when she thinks she's found the man. "Mark's cute! Smart, nerdy, apparently has a big cock and is really good in bed. Plus, he's sweet, emotionally mature, and just recently broke up with his girlfriend –"

"He's in love with his best friend.” You mutter. Mark and his best friend have been attached to the hip since birth, and they're also in love. They're both just oblivious idiots, but somehow everyone around them knows.

“There’s Xiaojun, he’s boyfriend material and he definitely wants to fuck you.” Hana nods to you, rolling her eyes when you shake your head at her amazing idea.

“He’s sweet but he’s such a fuckboy… he wants to fuck everyone.” You respond, truly not wanting to get involved with a player. You stray far away. He was one of your closest friends and you did trust him with your life but that was emotionally. You knew his sexual side was another side to him that you quite simply didn’t want to get involved with. It was unexpected how much he rolled around in the sheets. Plus, he was one of your best friends!

Hana scratches her neck and whispers to Haerin, "This is hard."

Haerin grits her teeth in pure frustration. "There are so many guys at ‘Neo Culture Technology’ but at the same time, they're all either gross or unavailable."

"Who's left?" Heejin questions.

"There's Shotaro – but apparently, he's got a thing for that really hot Wonbin guy. There's Eric – but he's in love with Hana. There's Sunwoo – but he's in love with me. And I can't think of anyone else. There's Jeno, but if you touch him, I'll kill you," Haerin starts giving the rebuttals herself.

"Eric is not in love with me.” Hana tuts, shaking her head in denial.

“Yeah and Jeno’s not in love with me.” Haerin rolls her eyes dramatically, speaking in a sarcastic tone, trying to emphasise how naive and oblivious Hana was.

"Also, Sunwoo's stopped trying to chase after you. Jeno scared him away forever." Hana laughs, but you widen your eyes in slight fear, remembering the night when Jeno put an end to Sunwoo's dreams of having Haerin permanently.

Haerin however dreamily closes her eyes at the memory. "My man."

"Wait, there is someone else. Jeno gave me this idea, and I didn't get it then, but I do now. It's Jae –"

Speaking of the devil, the atmosphere shifts as Jeno casually strolls in, exuding a magnetic presence. His confident gait and tousled hair give him an effortlessly cool appearance. His eyes, a warm and inviting shade, immediately soften as he reaches Haerin.

Greeting everyone with a charming smile, he seamlessly moves toward Haerin. The room becomes a canvas of love as he leans in to kiss her softly. Arms looped around each other, they share endearing whispers, lost to the outside world.

A bittersweet feeling washes over you as you witness their intimacy. Yet, the mood takes an unexpected turn as Haerin gasps, extricating herself from Jeno's embrace, adopting a dramatic stance.

"I'm supposed to be mad at you! You dick!!!!! Leave me again during sex and see what happens. You will have no dick." Haerin warns, forcefully putting on a pissed off voice and expression. You know this was her acting and being dramatic, She found it easier to melt into his arms rather than hold a grudge against him, you understood it. I mean, have you looked at Jeno?

You and Hana share an amused expression as the scene unfolds. Jeno's playful silence only serves to annoy Haerin more. She huffs at his smirking demeanor, her words stumbling initially but gaining clarity. "Can you tell this man that he can sleep outside tonight?" Her arms crossed, a satisfied smile playing on her lips as she faces you.

Nodding, you face Jeno. "Haerin said that you're not allowed to sleep with her tonight."

Jeno tuts, responding with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Can you tell Haerin that if that happens, then she'll come to me in the middle of the night and beg to ride my –"

Haerin cuts him off, shaking her head and narrowing her eyes. "Can you ask him why he's in my house?"

“Haerin asked why are you –”

“Y/N, shut up.” Jeno says seriously, warning you not to speak.

“Hae, I’m in your house because you gave me a key for our anniversary." He explains, his eyes soft as he reaches for Haerin's hand, attempting to make her melt into him but he widens his mouth when she doesn’t take his hand like he expected her to.

"Baby." He whispers, his voice a soft and tender melody, likely to make her heart flutter. Despite the softness in his tone, she remains resolute, dodging his attempts to kiss her.

"Why are you mad?" He questions, shaking his head in confusion. Haerin persists with the silent treatment, prompting him to turn to you and Hana with a light-hearted chuckle.

"It's because she wanted you to shove your dick in her throat, but you left." You inform him with a nonchalant tone.

Jeno, with a determined look, works his magic on her. He gently takes Haerin's hand, and this time, she doesn't pull away. His smile, radiant and affectionate, speaks volumes, a sight capable of soothing any emotional ache. His eyes, dreamy and captivating, have the power to make anyone melt.

His voice drops to a low whisper as he utters sweet promises into her ear. "I'll make it up to you, all night long.” He vows, kissing the sides of her cheeks. A low moan escapes Haerin's lips, catching you by surprise. Was she that horny?

You and Hana turn to each other with wide eyes when you hear intense smooching noises and passionate sighs and moans. You take that as your cue to leave.

You walk back in 2 hours later, and they’re still making love on the sofa. You turn to Hana with a playful smirk, congratulating yourself internally when she pays up. You bet that it would take Haerin less than a day to let go of her grudge, and it did.

“I didn’t think she’d give in so easily.” Hana sighs, defeated, giving you the money with a frown.

“She always does with him.” You respond.

“I would too.” Hana smiles. The two of you turn to each other with a playful smirk. “I mean, have you seen the way he manhandles her? Have you seen his cock?”

“Unfortunately.” You mumble.

“It wasn’t unfortunate for me.” Hana bites her lips and sighs dreamily.

♥♥♥♥

The morning air is filled with the tantalizing aroma of Jeno's pancakes, a comforting scent that wafts through the entire house. Sighing in relief, you're grateful that it's Jeno preparing breakfast, saving you from the potential culinary disasters that Haerin or Hana might unleash.

The lively chatter in the kitchen reaches your ears before you step in. "I will put the two of you on a sex ban!" Hana warns, yawning as she has another night of insomnia to add to her list.

Chuckling, you enter unnoticed, preferring to remain a subtle presence in the background. You stroll in with a laugh, savoring the fact that they're oblivious to your entrance. Being the subtle presence in the background suits you well – there’s no need to draw attention to yourself; it's just the way you like it.

Jeno, however, breaks the pattern and spots you immediately. You smile when you see Haerin attached to his back, arms around him as he cooks up.

He turns around, flashing a grin and offering a nod. "Good morning, princess. Finally got up?" His tone drips with playful mockery for no apparent reason.

You respond casually, "I've actually been up all night, thanks to two particular people rolling around in the sheets."

“It was actually against the wall, on the floor, in the shower, in my car, on the sofa, on her chair and against her desk. I had her arched against the kitchen countertop too. We did it in the bed the least.” Jeno sighs, nonchalantly reminiscing about his night of passion with his girl, leaning down and kissing her on the head, slapping her ass and keeping his hands there, squeezing every now and then.

“Fucking hell. All that in one night?” Hana questions, wondering how that’s even possible.

“As if that’s the most they’ve done.” You laugh.

Haerin passionately complains, "You guys are complaining, but I didn’t get any sleep either! He had to carry me downstairs and I can barely feel my thighs, I don’t know how I’m standing up right now. I’ve woken up with a hundred bruises on my body because of this man–

"Babe." Jeno swiftly interrupts, shaking his head at how it sounds.

"We get it. He's a rough lover.” Hana responds, pleading with her hands and begging Haerin not to share more of her intimate stories with him.

Jeno prods his tongue against his cheek. "Loving and passionate is how I like to say it.” He corrects Hana with an affectionate smile.

You smile at the heartwarming scene unfolding before you. In moments like this, the pain in your heart doesn’t attack you so brutally. Jeno’s in the kitchen, whipping up breakfast for everyone, and, as per usual, Haerin is attached by his side.

Meanwhile, Hana and Jeno engage in a playful bicker about the correct way to make pancakes (though you’d never admit it to Hana, you secretly prefer Jeno’s pancakes by far). Jeno then presents you with a plate stacked high with beautiful pancakes, adorned with your favorite syrups and fruits.

“Just the way you like it.” He says, and your mouth waters at the enticing sight.

“You better finish every last bite or else.” Jeno playfully warns, adopting a protective brotherly tone. It’s a side of him that has emerged over time. He was there when Hyunjin dumped you, he saw the state you was in, he saw how detrimental your health became, how you were neglecting meals. He witnessed he toll it took on your well-being. His increased care and protection over you hasn’t gone unnoticed.

Now, you’re surrounded by people who genuinely care about you, you’ve come a long way from those difficult days. Despite the strides you've made, the battle persists. The grip of your drinking habits remains firm, and solitary hours in the dark persist. Yet, amidst the struggle, there's a genuine improvement. You compel yourself to believe in the progress, even though the vulnerability still lingers. The fear persists; one trigger, one misstep, and the possibility of crumbling back to the depths looms.

They flash warm smiles your way while you savor your meal. Surprisingly, they haven't even started on their own food.

"You're all weird." you quip, narrowing your eyes as you playfully lock gazes with them, your cold expression meeting their endearing ones.

♥♥♥♥

Jeno is casually perched on the countertop, methodically dipping his sushi into a pool of spicy mayo before guiding the chopsticks to his lips. The furrow of his brow reveals his deep focus on the phone in his hand, typing away with practiced ease. Just as he's about to indulge in a bite, he abruptly halts, raising an eyebrow as his gaze shifts to you three girls.

The widening of his eyes is evident as you initiate a circling formation, you’re a trio of inquisitive troublemakers, with a determination to unearth the mystery about Jaemin that he's hiding. Despite Jeno's clear reluctance to spill about Jaemin and his ex, you girls, fueled by curiosity, launch an attempt to pry the information loose. Hey, nobody's perfect. You’re all nosy!

A palpable sense of fear colors Jeno's demeanor as the three of you unite your efforts. Questions barrage him, but he remains resolute, shaking his head with a firm "no" and countering every inquiry with a blunt and direct response. "All of you, stop it. If I said I'm not telling you what happened, that means exactly that."

In the face of Jeno's unwavering stance, Haerin's frown deepens, and yet, Jeno's expression softens, he swiftly pulls her onto his lap with one arm and feeding her the sushi on his chopsticks, kissing her cheek softly. "Look, it's not my place to tell you personal things regarding Jae. It's not my story or my heartbreak. As much as I'd love to spill the tea about what a selfish and heartless bitch that Yeeun is—"

“Yeeun is so sweet, though.” You cut him off, a hint of disbelief in your voice as you register the language he’s using. His expression shifts abruptly, turning hard and cold almost instantly.

“You’d think.” He laughs, but the disdain in his face tells a different story. He despises her, a revelation that catches you off guard, considering she was his best friend’s girlfriend for the longest time.

Jang Yeeun, a girl in the year above, is a vision of beauty that triggers a twinge of envy within you. Whenever you catch sight of her on campus, it’s as if she belongs in a magazine. Her smile, breathtaking and radiant, could light up any room. Her blonde hair, so luminous and silky, seems to catch the sunlight in a way that leaves you in awe. It’s no wonder she’s popular – sweet and undeniably attractive. She’s always smiling and she radiates such a brightness.

Jeno's annoyance intensifies, a scowl etching across his face. His cheeks flush with frustration, and his eyes darken with a mixture of irritation and discomfort. The tension is palpable as he digs his nails into his palm, a physical manifestation of his inward turmoil.

Observing Jeno's visible agitation, Haerin, perceptive and caring, notices the telltale signs. She reaches out, gently rubbing his cheek with her thumb, and in a gesture filled with intimacy, she plants a soft kiss on his lips. Concerned, she mumbles. “You okay, my love?”

He responds with a whispered assurance that he's fine, urging her not to worry. His lips find their way to her forehead in a tender kiss, a silent expression of gratitude for her understanding. “I love you.” He whispers against her forehead.

"I just don't wanna talk about Yeeun.” He mutters, the words escaping in a low murmur that carries the weight of unspoken emotions. The intimacy of the moment contrasts with the underlying frustration, creating a complex interplay of feelings within the scene.

Jeno, quick to change the subject, does anything to help the anger in his heart pass. "Anyways, you three are invited to my party. I'm throwing it for Jaemin."

Immediate reactions unveil the distinct personality differences among you and your friends. Hana nods enthusiastically, fully on board with the party vibe – much like Jeno, she loves getting high and wasted, finding joy in nights where memories are non-existent.

Haerin, on the other hand, frowns, turning to face her boyfriend and shaking her head. "Another party?" She questions, her preference leaning towards cozy movie nights, cuddling Jeno, and ordering takeaway. The contrast between her and Jeno is striking, making you ponder how these opposites found each other.

Your reaction remains impartial, but confusion is quick to find a voice. "Huh?" You question, expressing your bewilderment at his idea. "Isn’t he currently heartbroken and struggling to get through each day? You think a party is the solution?" Your words hang in the air, a reflection of your practical and contemplative nature compared to the contrasting preferences of your friends.

"Shut up.” Jeno shoots his eyes in your direction, a clear signal for your voice to be silenced.

Haerin’s eyes widen and she sucks in a breath. Seriously? She’s turned on right now?

"My man needs some pussy.” The crude statement hangs in the air, and you huff as you realize the reasoning for the party. Of course, people always hook up at Jeno's parties, and it gives him immense pride – he loves being the matchmaker and now he wants his best friend to have rebound sex.

"That's really not—" You begin, only to be shushed by Jeno.

"You're throwing the party for that?" You inquire, a mix of disbelief and amusement coloring your voice. “Can’t you just set him on a blind date or something?”

"Yeah.” Jeno responds simply, a sly smirk playing on his face as he crosses his arms defensively. His eyes light up with humour as he senses your scepticism. He laughs. “Jaemin and blind date? Do you even know him? He’ll never show up to that shit.”

"He's gonna hate the party.” You laugh, anticipating Jaemin's reaction. “If he won’t turn up to a date then you think he’ll turn up to a party?”

Jeno, however, gets defensive, a sly smirk still playing on his face as he challenges you. "Suddenly, you know him better than me?" His voice carries an edge, a playful challenge.

When you don't respond, the tension deepens. "Oh, I get it." he continues, his tone implying that whatever he says next won't be pleasant. "You're jealous. You don't think there's any point in throwing him a party because you're here?"

The accusation hangs in the air as he pushes further, daring to ask, "You want him? You wanna fuck him?"

"Fuck off, Jeno." You assert, shaking your head in frustration at his relentless words. He was a pain in the ass.

He continues, pushing his blunt perspective. "It makes sense. Hyunjin dumped you, and then Yeeun tore Jaemin's heart out of his chest with her tacky and disgusting spider fingers and then stepped on it—anyways, you both need good rebound sex. It's better than moping around, crying in the sheets all day when you could be getting your bones jumped in the sheets."

You cut Jeno off, your voice raised in defensiveness. "You don't know what I need." You mutter, defensive goosebumps rising on your arms at the harsh yet uncomfortably true nature of his words.

He shrugs. "Just trying to help. Maybe you should fuck Jaemin; he's really good in bed."

"Maybe you should fuck off, Jeno." You retort, rolling your eyes at his audacity.

Haerin begins scolding Jeno for his behavior as if you weren't there. "Don't talk to her about him. She's still dealing with the heartbreak. How will she fuck Jaemin so easily if all she wants is Hyunjin?" Their words sting, leaving you feeling unsettled. Is this how your friends see you – as weak and fragile?

However, Jeno's honest words bring slight comfort. "He's a fucking idiot, and I want to talk about it. There's no point not talking about what happened, bottling it up and not communicating will just fuck everyone's heads even more. He's not some sacred God whose name shouldn't be spoken; he's the opposite, he's a fucking dickhead. If I see him again, I'll punch him like I did that one time when he was making out with that girl in front of you. He's a cunt, and I'll help you kill him."

"Thanks, Jen." You say, a genuine smile breaking through. Gratitude washes over you – at least someone gets it. He returns your gratitude with an understanding smile, providing a flicker of solace in the midst of emotional turmoil.

Jeno, the master of redirection, skillfully changes the subject. You sigh in relief when the conversation finally shifts away from your heartbreak. He turns to Haerin, locking eyes with hers. "You're coming to the party, and I don't want to hear no."

Haerin huffs, her face dropping – she's not a fan of parties, a sentiment she doesn't hesitate to show.

Without giving a direct response, Haerin's silence prompts Jeno to poke further. "If you don't come, then no sex for a week. He threatens, adding a playful edge to his attempt to convince her.

“You think you’re the one who proposes sex band in this relationship?” She questions, eyes a siren as her voice deepens. It was true, she had Jeno wrapped around her little finger.

"Why do you want me to come so bad?" She asks, curious about his motives.

"Because don't I deserve to get laid like Jae?" Jeno says with a smirk. "I'll only have fun if you're there." You can't help but roll your eyes at his cheeky remark, fully aware of his regular romantic encounters towards her.

You observe as Jeno leans in, whispering sweet words into Haerin's ear. Whatever he says seems to work like a charm. "Fineeee. I'll come but only for you," Haerin relents, a playful smile crossing her lips as she succumbs to Jeno's persuasive tactics.

You observe them closely, a genuine smile gracing your face as they share a sweet and joy-filled kiss. Their cute smiles and the affectionate atmosphere only contribute to the happiness you feel while witnessing the scene. “He’s probably gonna fill the tables with your favourite wine.” Hana playfully predicts.

Later that night, in a hushed tone, Jeno whispers to you, revisiting the topic from earlier, "You know I was joking around earlier, but I do really think it's a good idea if you move on and fuck Jaem."

"I don't want that or need it." You mumble in frustration. "Sex isn't the solution to every problem."

"Yeah, it is." Jeno interjects with a confident nod and a smirk.

You roll your eyes. "You're just obsessed with getting your dick wet. You think fucking solves every problem."

“In Haerin’s pussy, to be exact. I’m obsessed with getting my dick wet in her pussy.”

Haerin, who has been silently observing the conversation, tuts and playfully hits Jeno on the head. "Stop acting like that. You know when we argue, first of all, we talk about it, explain ourselves, and communicate our emotions, and then we have the best sex of our lives." She scolds him.

Jeno only smiles, not responding to Haerin. Instead, he turns to you with a smirk. "You should think about what I said though. It's a good idea."

"It's so random. I mean, I've never spoken to Jaemin once." You express, noting the mystery and introverted nature of Jaemin, someone you've only exchanged nods and smiles with.

He was a complete stranger to you, shrouded in an air of mystery and introversion. Your interactions had likely been limited to nods and smiles. He didn't go out of his way to engage with people, preferring to keep his circle small and interactions to a minimum, only when necessary. However, you couldn't help but wonder why a connection never formed between the two of you. He seemed to be on good terms with everyone else in the group—Jeno, Haerin, Hana, Eric, Mark, Yangyang, Xiaojun. It left you questioning the unspoken distance between you and him.

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted when Jeno turns serious, looking at you with empathy. He shares a revelation that sends a shock through you, "It's not really that random. Apparently, Hyunjin's sleeping with Yeeun." He whispers, offering a sweet smile while Haerin rubs your back, looking at you with caution.

Your throat dries, and your vision blurs at the news. You force the words out, "Oh—how—how did you find out?" The stutter in your voice betrays your attempt to sound unaffected.

He doesn't answer directly, a regretful expression crossing his face. You're grateful he shared the information, knowing it's better to be aware than blindsided by the painful truth later.

"Y/N—" Haerin begins, concerned, but you cut her off, pretending not to care.

"I'm fine." You mumble, excusing yourself to the bathroom. Once there, the façade crumbles. The scene unfolds with you crying, water splashing on your face, your hands feeling foreign. Your heart falters, dizziness and sickness overwhelming you. Your head shakes violently as you hope for an end to this torment. As long as your heart beats for Hyunjin, someone who betrayed you, you fear being broken forever.

♥♥♥♥

You girls got ready in preparation for the party ahead. The bond you and your girls shared made getting ready together a cherished ritual, a source of laughter, and a confidence boost when you needed it the most.

Haerin took charge of your hair, her skilled hands transforming it into a sleek, silky cascade. The soft hum of the straightener filled the room as she worked her magic, creating a look that exuded confidence. Hana couldn't help but gush about the result.

The encouragement from your girls always provided a much-needed confidence boost, especially in those moments when it mattered most. "You look so beautiful and hot!!! If you’re not in someone’s bed tonight then I’m gonna get you in mine.” Hana exclaimed, her words laced with genuine admiration.

“Let’s do it.” You turn around and wink at her, giggling when she leans down to kiss your cheek.

With your hair done, the focus shifted to Hana, and you eagerly joined in to help with her makeup. You concentrated as you applied eyeshadow to her eyes, a black smokey shadow look that complemented her features flawlessly. You paired it with a red lip. She looked hot. She beamed at the mirror, hugging you tightly and smooching your head once again, clearly satisfied with the look, you can’t find it in you to be mad at the lipstick that stains your hair.

You then turn your attention to Haerin's outfit choice. You couldn’t believe how slutty yet elegant her wardrobe was, it was truly a mix of the extremes. She had the tiniest of skirts that barely covered her ass cheeks but then she also had elegant and pretty long dresses, you guess she wore whatever she felt like on the day.

After a moment of contemplation, Hana and you helped her decide on a pretty pink mini dress that will catch everyone's eye. You tie her necklace around her neck, giving her an array of bracelets and rings to accentuate the look. As Haerin slipped into the dress, a hint of uncertainty crossed her face.

"Can you see my ass cheeks through it?" Haerin whispered, turning around and tilting her head towards the mirror, attempting to gauge the view.

"Yeah.” You chuckled, admiring the hot pink lace thong peeking through the thin seams of the tight dress, "but you look incredibly sexy, Haerin."

Haerin's face lit up with a shy smirk at the compliment. "I'm not gonna change it. Jeno loves this thong so much.” She shared mischievously, "It’s my way of getting him to take me home as early as possible and to get out of this party."

You watch with a laugh when she tries to take a mirror selfie with her ass in the camera lense, Hana silently takes her phone from her hands and assists her, not being able to watch as she struggles, the two of you sharing an amused look when Haerin starts texting away on the phone, blushing when she shows you the texts.

haerin - [photo attachment of her ass cheeks]

haerin - what i’m wearing tonight baby :)

jeno - it’s see through?

jeno - you know my hands will be on your ass the entire night?

haerin - i’ll be disappointed if they weren’t :(

jeno - you know i’m just gonna rip that off you?

haerin - that’s why i’m wearing it

jeno - you just wanna get out of the party as soon as possible, don’t you?

jeno - funny of you to think that i’ll take you someplace private to fuck you when you know that i’m more likely to let the whole party hear you moaning my name

jeno - anyways do you need me to pick you up beautiful

haerin - no baby hana’s taking us

haerin - see u soon <3

Moments later, the trio of you made your way to Jeno's house. The house exterior exudes sophistication, with sleek lines and expansive windows that hinted at the luxury within. Upon entering, the richness of the house enveloped you.

Immediately, an electric atmosphere pulsated through the air. The party was in full swing, as expected from the notorious extravert and party thrower. The space was alive with a sea of people – some familiar faces from campus, others unknown.

The place was packed, almost bursting at the seams with laughter, chatter, and the rhythmic beats of thumping music that reverberated through the walls. It was a sensory overload The air was thick with the lingering fragrance of smoke and other substances.

Amidst the crowd, Jeno navigated his way through effortlessly, exchanging smiles, nods, and handshakes with friends and acquaintances alike. It was clear – everyone knew Jeno, and Jeno knew everyone.

Jeno quickly spots you, his already dilated pupils widening further. Haerin immediately becomes the focus of his attention and they share a greeting that evolves into an affectionate embrace. He lifts her up, her legs wrapping his waist and his hands find her ass cheeks immediately, his grip tight and firm. As sucking face noises fill the air, leaving you to awkwardly glance around.

Sensing your discomfort, Hana finds you, squeezing your hand to guide you away. However, you unexpectedly bump into familiar faces, and your face lights up with genuine joy. "Yeonjun!!" and "Soobin!!" escape your lips as you greet them, hugging both with grins that reflect the warmth of your reunion. The genuine happiness in their eyes mirrors your own, and you've genuinely missed having them around. They seem happier than ever, forming a couple that could rival Haerin and Jeno.

In the past, Yeonjun was your fourth roommate, and Soobin was always a constant presence. Now, you feel proud seeing them take the next step in their relationship, having moved in together. Their new flat stands as a beautiful testament to their love. Yeonjun is about to drag you somewhere; however, your escape is interrupted by the arrival of the troublesome trio—Renjun, Xiaojun, and Yangyang. They greet you with hugs, but mischievous glints in their eyes make you prepare yourself. They’re a pain in your ass before they even speak up

“There’s no fucking way you actually came.” Renjun exclaims, speaking louder than he needs to, each word marked by his intoxication.

Xiaojun was your sweetheart. “You look beautiful.” He kissed your cheek, his sweet words causing flutters in your heart as you smiled up at him with gratitude . You wrap your arms tightly around him as he whispers in your ear. “Missed you.”

“Never thought I’d see the day where you stopped moping around, crying in bed, and actually got off your ass to have some fun!!” Yangyang adds, he’s the only one who’ll be honest and upfront with you, his tone blunt which can come across as mean.

You force a smile, concealing the sadness that lingers within. Despite understanding that he intended for his words to be harmless, there's a lingering ache that suggests your friends might still perceive you as fragile. So what if you weren't in the mood for a wild party? You didn't find solace in the bottom of a bottle or in the haze of substances to cope with heartbreak. And yet, here you are, navigating the sea of unfamiliar faces and the thumping beats that echo the sentiment of your own muted heart.

A tender ache fills your heart. Haerin is like you, shy and reserved, yet the difference lies in the way her vulnerability seems to be guarded by an unspoken shield. You've noticed the whispers that never reach her, the kindness that eludes her gaze, and you can't help but feel a twinge of envy.

In the soft glow of the room, Haerin rests in the secure embrace of Jeno. Their eyes lock, unspoken words passing between them. Their smiles radiate a genuine warmth, an intimacy only for them. In this moment, you realise the unspoken truth – no one targets Haerin. She carries an invisible shield, woven from the threads of love and protection that Jeno provides.

A melancholic frown plays on your lips as you question silently: will you ever find an embrace like theirs again? One where vulnerability is met with understanding, and the world's harshness is softened by the warmth of love. It's a yearning that echoes in the quiet spaces of your soul, a desire for a connection that feels as secure and enveloping as the one you witness.

Parties are overwhelming for you, with their throbbing beats and lively chatter; however, the free alcohol makes it worth it. The liquid courage momentarily hushes the heartbreak and pain, providing an illusion of security in a world that often feels too tumultuous to navigate.

Amidst the pulsating music and vibrant chaos of the party, you find solace in the repetitive ritual of downing drink after drink. The fiery liquid drowns down your throat, leaving a burning trail that momentarily numbs out the whirlwind of emotions within. In the midst of the swirling lights and distant laughter, the free-flowing alcohol becomes the singular silver lining, the only solace you seek in the crowded abyss.

With each sip, you sink into the familiar embrace of intoxication, a sanctuary where vulnerability is masked. The glass in your hand transforms into a shield, shielding you from the prying eyes and unwelcome questions that linger in the shadows. It's a ritual, a coping mechanism that had recently become ingrained in the fabric of your existence, a way to drown out the dissonance of emotions echoing within.

The sensation of getting high and drunk becomes a substitute for the unspoken emotions that remain buried deep within. It's a fleeting escape, a momentary reprieve, where the clinking of glasses and the hum of the crowd momentarily drowns out the echoes of your own struggles. In this sea of temporary numbness, the allure of the next drink beckons, promising a brief sanctuary from the storm within.

You settle onto Xiaojun's lap, feeling the warmth and comfort of the familiar position, both legs on either side. A giddy smile plays on your lips, thinking nothing of it – you always do this was him, it was just another moment of closeness between you two. You were both always touchy and you thought nothing too much of it, it was natural, you assume he thought the same.

Little do you know, your presence on his lap subtly transforms his entire demeanour, leaving him momentarily speechless. You tut and shake your head when you feel his hardness prod against your thigh, a teasing comment escaping your lips. "Really?"

He’s shrugs. "Not the first time you’ve made me hard and not the last." He murmurs, his eyes dark as he rubs his clothed cock against you and you jab his arm. His eyes turn soft as he looks at you. Unbeknownst to you.

You find sanctuary on Xiaojun’s lap, observing the party unfold around you. Mark and his best friend catch your eye, seeming unusually close as they dance with whispered words and foreheads pressed together. Your eyes widen in surprise when you witness Yangyang, Soobin, and Yeonjun engaged in a three-way kiss. Maybe Yangyang has embraced his sexuality, or perhaps he always knew. Your gaze shifts to Haerin and Jeno, on the sofa, trying to conceal that she’s riding his cock but they’re not fooling you. They’re entwined in each other's arms, lost in their own world of affection. Then Donghyuck, looking incredibly close with someone you didn’t realise and you wonder, has he finally found the girl that’s grounded the wildness inside? You lean back against him with a grin, the familiar ritual of the hot alcohol burning down your throat as you observe everyone.

He lets out a weary sigh as you down another drink, the overpowering scent of alcohol swirling around him, momentarily drowning his senses in an intoxicating haze. "Instead of drinking, you can always just talk to me.” He suggests, concern etched in his voice. "I always tell you, I'm here for you." Xiaojun leans in to kiss your forehead, his gaze holding a mix of care and understanding.

Feeling a twinge of guilt, you shake your head, eager to change the topic. "Let's dance!" You exclaim, trying to lighten the mood. Xiaojun sighs, having just become comfortable with his hands gripping your thighs. He enjoys being in your presence, away from the busyness and loudness, and reluctantly agrees to join you on the dance floor.

You tossed expectations aside, party you did. You cheer at the top of your lungs, dancing close to Shotaro and Eric, the whole group surrendering to the music. Your arms flung up, and you let loose in the wild rhythm of the night.

The beats were relentless, matching the reckless abandon as you downed drink after drink, head held high in the haze of the party. You don’t realise how hot you look when you allow yourself to have fun. Drunk on both the music and the drugs, you remained blissfully unaware of eyes following you like a shadow – he wants you.

The lightheadedness sets in, and you can already sense the impending headache that will haunt you tomorrow. Later in the evening, you find yourself inches away from Xiaojun's lips, dancing with closeness, Let loose. Jeno's words echo in your mind – maybe he was right, and you do need a rebound.

Let loose. You glance over to see Eric and Hana taking their passion to the sofa, dry humping in the midst of an intense makeout session. Their uninhibited display stirs a desire in you to embrace the same level of outgoing freedom. Hana finally gave in to Eric’s want of her.

Let loose. You trust Xiaojun, one of your closest friends, you know he won't push it further; you're not ready for that, and he's aware. He knows that you’re only looking to rebound and have a good time. you know he knows. At first you was sceptical, he’s a fuckboy but that means he’s not serious and isn’t looking for any commitment, just what you need.

Your emotions are fucked, Hyunjin still has a control on you. You miss him, you want to see him, you want to forget about him, all you want is him. Longing to forget, you desperately wish the grip he has on your heart would release. Xiaojun, smiling and wasted, nods. You’re both on the brink of closing your eyes, ready to lean in but he's like a magnet, drawing your gaze into the distance. You see Hyunjin, the truth unfolds before you. The man who still holds your heart with his tongue shoved down someone else's throat.

Everything comes crashing down, the raw reality hitting you like a tidal wave. The reckless escape you sought in the party, the dance, the drinks – it all pales in comparison to the harsh truth that pierces through the night. The man you once shared an intimate connection with is now lost in someone else's embrace, and the weight of that realisation hangs heavy in the tumult of emotions.

Jeno was right— the lucky girl was Yeeun, Jaemin's ex. As you caught sight of her, envy gnawed at you like a persistent ache. Yeeun, with her radiant blonde hair, possessed a beauty that felt enchanting, almost ethereal. Her presence seemed to cast a captivating spell, leaving you mesmerised yet resentful.

Her blonde locks framed a face that radiated an undeniable allure, making every movement she made seem effortless and captivating. The air around her seemed to shimmer with a certain grace, intensifying the envy that gripped you. In her presence, you couldn't help but feel like an observer to a scene where she effortlessly stole the spotlight.

Time halts, and you find yourself frozen in the moment. Desperation takes hold as you bite your tongue with a force that rivals the pain in your heart, attempting to stifle the sobs threatening to escape. Despite your efforts, tears stream down uncontrollably. Suddenly you’re sober again; the drinks no longer provide an escape, instead it works to intensify the emotions, making everything a hundred times more poignant.

In an abrupt decision, you make a swift exit. Xiaojun, sensing your drop in happiness, attempts to follow, but you halt him with a silent plea. You’re grateful that he’s not sober or else he’d follow you.

The feeling of invisibility intensifies – no one pays attention to your breakdown. It's not a plea for attention, but in these moments, it seems like you're navigating this emotional storm alone. Hyunjin remains oblivious.

Navigating through the crowd, you find solace in an empty room. As the door closes behind you, a switch flips within. The facade crumbles, and you break down in a way you haven't allowed yourself to before.

Take a moment to collect yourself, leaving the room with the unsettling realization that going home might be the best option. The desire to avoid running into anyone on your way out is fueled by a doubt that anyone would even notice your departure. You don’t stand out. No one notices when you’re not there.

As you move through the hallway, your eyebrows rise at the unmistakable sounds echoing through the seemingly thin walls – loud moans, skin slapping against skin, the headboard banging, and the unmistakable noises of passion emanating from not one but two rooms.

This is Jeno's house, a place you've visited before. You can easily discern that one of the passionate pairs comprises Jeno and Haerin, obviously now in the comfort of closed walls. Unfortunately, you're all too familiar with the unique way they express themselves when they fuck, given Jeno's frequent nights spent at your house.

You hear Haerin's unrestrained cries of ‘daddy’ at the top of her lungs, audible every minute. Your eyes widen, she’s genuinely calls him that more than his actual name ‘Jeno.’ The absence of any attempt to mask the sounds with music speaks volumes about their boldness. To your surprise, the door is left slightly open, revealing an audacious lack of secrecy, these freaks want people to watch and hear. Your didn’t want to look but you glanced before you even thought about it. You nearly choke at the way he has her body bent under him. How the fuck can a human body move in that way?

The sounds from the other room trigger a quick realisation – it has to be Na Jaemin. After all, this is his house too; he shares it with Jeno. Recalling that the party was intended for Jaemin to find rebound sex and move on, you acknowledge Jeno's fair play in orchestrating a night where Jaemin seems to be thoroughly enjoying his time.

The stark difference in the way both couples fuck becomes unmistakable. Haerin and Jeno, unapologetically basking in their love, make no effort to conceal themselves, fucking openly for anyone to see and hear. On the other hand, Jaemin and his mystery girl attempt to be more calculated, trying to mask their moans with loud music but it doesn’t work. It seems like you’re witnessing an unintended competition of who can emit louder moans (it’s Jeno).

Before you spot Jaemin, his voice reaches your ears, introducing you to a side of him you never expected. This is not the same introverted, quiet guy who usually utters no more than three words in a conversation or lingers silently in the background, fading into all the buzz. His words, unexpectedly crude and filthy, pierce through the air.

"Scream my name then, go on."

"You didn't say please?"

"Such a tight cunt."

"So wet for me."

His voice, low and deep, transforms his entire persona, a sultry air that causes a rush of heat surges to your cheeks, and you find yourself blushing uncontrollably. You squeeze your thighs together, an action that doesn’t make sense but also makes so much sense. It's a revelation, leaving you grappling with the realization that this is the same guy you thought you had figured out – a quiet introvert who has now revealed a whole different side of himself in the throes of passion.

As you prepare to leave, shaking your head at how distracted you became, your steps halt when Jaemin's bedroom door swings open right in front of you. The initial sight that catches your attention is how he’s practically naked, the only thing he has on is tight boxers and you’re wondering, why are you unable to tear you gaze from the sight? You also notice the multitude of hickies adorning his skin, he has cum all over his body.

His heavy breathing and a glazed look in his eyes suggest he's not fully present, as if dwelling in another realm. There's a palpable sense of disorientation, a dizziness that separates him from the pulsating beat within his own chest. Jaemin appears not just physically spent but emotionally detached, lost in a world beyond the immediate surroundings.

His features strike a harmonious balance between softness and sharpness, creating a visage that is both captivating and alluring. His dark, tousled hair adds a touch of casual charm to the overall allure.

Yet, what intrigues you most are his eyes—deep and penetrating, yet tinged with an emptiness. Despite recent intimate engagements, the light seems to have eluded his gaze, introducing a layer of complexity that adds to the enigma surrounding him.

This is a side of him you never expected to see—it’s almost like it’s not him. The eyes you're looking at reveal a detached and broken person, so out of it that he doesn’t even see or notice you at first.

As your gaze shifts downward, his toned chest, sculpted abs, and peaks make your mouth water. His physique is undeniably attractive and hot, creating a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil reflected in his eyes.

"What the fuck are you doing?" His voice crashes into the moment, causing you to snap back to reality. The sudden sharpness catches you off guard; his tone is darker, more blunt than you ever expected.

"The party's downstairs. I swear to God, I told Jeno not to let anyone come upstairs—"

You attempt to respond, but your throat feels dry and stuck, leaving you momentarily speechless. Before you can collect your thoughts, Jaemin takes the lead.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" His voice softens instantly, concern washing over his face as he furrows his brows, carefully assessing your expression.

"I—yeah, I'm fine," you lie, the words escaping through gritted teeth.

Jaemin shakes his head, skepticism evident. "Obviously not true."

He shakes his head slowly, his expression a mix of concern and disappointment. "How much have you had to drink? You look a mess.” He admits with blunt honesty, his perceptive eyes seeing through the facade you try to maintain. He studies your flushed cheeks, the slight unsteadiness in your movements, the glaze over your eyes. the rosy tint of your complexion and the way your words occasionally stumble.

A gulp is your only response as you glance at your reflection in one of the mirrors against the wall. The sight is a disheveled mess—smudged makeup, tears still streaming down your cheeks. The emotional toll and crying have become so familiar that they seem like your default state. You only now realize that you're still crying.

"I—I'm sorry.” You mumble, the words coming out pathetically, struggling to find your voice.

Jaemin's eyes soften, and he offers you a sweet smile, twisting something inside you. You can't help but wonder why he's being so kind.

"What are you sorry for?" He chuckles.

"Is it Hyunjin?" He asks, his voice low and whispered, a hint of caution present as if he's mindful about uttering that name around you.

Jaemin stands there, visibly awkward, scratching his neck and desperately searching for a lifeline to rescue him from the situation. His eyes dart around, unsure of how to navigate the emotional turbulence around you. He subtly rolls his eyes in the direction of Jeno’s room, they were still fucking.

In a fumbling attempt to offer some comfort, Jaemin starts a motion, perhaps to retrieve a tissue from his pocket. Then, the realization hits him—here he is, practically standing naked in front of you adorned with hickies and remnants of cum. His eyes widen in a mix of surprise and embarrassment, but you shake your head reassuringly. "It's not a big deal."

Your gentle voice acts as a balm, stirring something within him. His eyes lock onto yours, and in that unspoken exchange, there's a shared understanding. Jaemin's thumb delicately grazes underneath your eyes, wiping away the tears from your delicate skin.

"Fuck Hyunjin.” He whispers, his voice soft and tender yet carrying a sharp edge of hurt and anger on your behalf. You nod in response, a genuine smile naturally forming on your lips. In that moment, as Jaemin expresses both solidarity and indignation, you feel an unexpected sense of settlement.

What is it about Na Jaemin? You’re left pondering, did he even know your name? This is someone who you never expected to be so kind and respectful to you, you’ve heard endless stories about how he’s quiet and doesn’t talk but you’re seeing a whole different side.

He continues wiping away your tears, and you can't believe you're still crying. The weight of vulnerability starts to lift, making room for a mix of bitterness and a twinge of sadness in your voice as you mumble, "Our exes are fucking."

You wonder if Jaemin already knew, as he doesn't react with sadness or shock. Instead, his facial expression remains void and unchanged. You can't help but envy how he maintains such control over his emotions. All the times you’ve seen him, he’s had one expression on his face, nonchalant and unbothered.

“How are you not reacting?” You cry out more than you wanted to, perplexed as to how he has such a tight control on his emotions. You envy it, you wish you could be like him.

“Come with me.” A surprised gaze lingers in your eyes as his suggestion hangs in the air. He nods towards his room, and you can't help but feel a flush of red creep onto your cheeks. The first thought that leaps into your mind raises questions – does he want to sleep with you? It seems plausible, given the fact he had just been fucking and that this party was thrown to help him find a rebound. What if he sees you as another opportunity?

"I don’t wanna fuck you.” You whisper back, the words leaving your lips with a mix of uncertainty and anticipation.

Jaemin shakes his head, a subtle smirk playing on his lips as he contemplates the notion that you believed he was suggesting something more explicit. "I didn’t say that was going to happen. Do you want that to happen?" He teases, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he tilts his head, awaiting your reaction. However, you evade giving him a response, breaking eye contact.

"I should be getting home anyway.” You mention, attempting to steer the conversation away.

"How are you gonna get there?" he probes further.

"Hana said she’ll take us, if not then Jeno –" you begin, but he cuts you off with a knowing smirk.

"Hana is shit-faced high downstairs and fucking Eric on the sofa and we can still hear Haerin screaming 'daddy,' so obviously Jeno's busy." He interjects.

"Then I’ll just walk home." You assert.

"It’s 1 am." He points out. “Do you know how dangerous the street are at this time?”

"It’s 10 minutes away.” You counter.

“Just come into my room.” He suggests with a confident assurance, the conversation steering in a way you didn’t expect. The straightforwardness catches you off guard.

"Just trust me.” He murmurs, his words something you're willing to trust. Weakness washes over you, you don’t have anything else to lean on. The prospect of going home in isolation, with only your broken heart and the lingering drink in your hand as companions, feels unbearable.

Without much contemplation, you nod, surrendering to the solace he seems to offer in the unknown. “Ok.” You mumble, your response sealed with a hint of anticipation.

Jaemin's room is painted in a rich midnight blue, creating a calming atmosphere. The walls are adorned with posters of indie bands and artistic prints, showcasing his eclectic taste. Muted gray decor complements the deep blue, and lights strung along the walls provide a soft, ambient glow. A well-organized desk sits against one wall, littered with notebooks, a laptop, and scattered pens. The minimalist furniture, including a sleek bed with monochrome bedding, adds a touch of simplicity to the room. Various trinkets and souvenirs line the shelves, hinting at Jaemin's interests and experiences.

Numerous photographs cover one section of Jaemin's room, creating a nostalgic collage on the wall. The alcohol in your system blurs the faces, but the emotions captured in each snapshot are vivid. Smiles, laughter, and shared moments freeze in time. Your vision may be hazy, but the warmth of those memories makes you smile.

Your heart pounds when you realise there’s an unexpected sight—a half-naked girl perched at the end of his bed. Shock and embarrassment wash over you, she’s the girl you heard him fucking earlier.

“Get out.” Jaemin's stands with crossed arms, watching her exit with impatience. You recognize her as Karina, a girl from your year. Her eyes meet yours, and she smirks, offering a thumbs up with a mischievous giggle. In a hushed whisper, she says. “You’re gonna have so much fun, he does this thing with his tongue…”

Her words leave you blushing and flustered. Before you can make it clear that you were not here to fuck, Jaemin swiftly escorts her out, locking the door firmly behind her.

In an awkward atmosphere, Jaemin proceeds to put on a simple top and jeans. The tension is palpable as you fumble through your reasons for being in his room. Confusion clouds your gaze when he extends his black leather jacket towards you, and you silently drape it over your shoulders, catching a scent reminiscent of midnight rain and cinnamon.

"I'm gonna go home.” You mumble.

Jaemin shakes his head in response, "I already said that it's too dark and dangerous –"

"I'll just –"

"Either I'm gonna take you home or you're staying with me," he says sternly. "I can't leave you alone like this… wasted and clearly upset. Plus, Haerin is staying over, so I want some sleep tonight. I know her and Jeno will be fucking all night long.“

You nod, the two of you sharing a silent understanding as your eyes meet in the moonlit room. In that moment, your gaze holds a mix of darkness and glistening emotions. "Take me home.” You softly request.

“My house is gonna empty. You can stay over.” You whisper, heavy breaths taking over your voices.

♥♥♥♥

The air is charged with anticipation as his bulge pressed firmly against your thighs, the sensation sending shivers through your body. You can feel the warmth between you, he’s so hard that his length is digging into your skin.

Jaemin’s staring down at you, body pressed against yours as you fall onto the bed, him following. You can’t believe how sexy he looks. His gaze met yours with an intensity charged with an electric current of unspoken words. The moonlight played across his features, highlighting the depth of his dark eyes and accentuating the sharp contours of his face.

He hovers over you, his fingers delicately caress your face. They trace the contours underneath the hollow of your cheek, along your sleek jawline, and over your fluttering eyelashes. His voice was a low murmur, a tone that revealed a depth to him you hadn’t noticed before. “So fucking pretty.” He whispered, and you felt your pussy throb and ache for him.

The room seemed to pulse with anticipation, a magnetic tension pulling you closer in the dimly lit space. There was a certain warmth in your closeness, an unspoken connection that seemed to bridge the gap between you two effortlessly.

The moment you stepped into the sanctuary of your empty house, your lips found each other in an instant, pressing fervently, lost in a mutual hunger. It was unclear who made the first move; it seemed to be a shared impulse. All you were aware of was the rapid beat of your heart as you found yourself breathlessly kissing and biting his inviting lips, your legs wrapped around his waist in an embrace of longing.

As he carried you upstairs, a whirlwind of desire and impatience in his every step, he threw you down on what was, unknown to him, Haerin’s bed. The room, adorned with countless photos of her with Jeno and her friends, went unnoticed in the dim light, its significance lost in the intensity of the moment.

He had mistaken this room for yours but you can’t be bothered to correct him. In that instant, the only truth that mattered was the closeness between you two. Besides, a part of you relished the thought of fucking him in her bed - this was a subtle payback for all those times Haerin had fucked Jeno on your bed.

Jaemin’s voice, low and teasing, broke the charged silence. “Are you just gonna stare at me all day?” He teased, his voice a low whisper that caressed your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Tell me what you want, I’ll give you everything, darling…” His hot breath against your ear, followed by a gentle bite on your earlobe, intensified the moment.

You continued to gaze into his eyes, finding yourself at a loss for words. His presence was overwhelming — a side of him you hadn’t seen before. There was a captivating darkness in his demeanor that left you both stunned and deeply attracted.

His finger traced your lips, gently pulling them down. A smirk played on his lips as his gaze dropped to your legs, wrapped tightly around his waist. Your movements were restless, you keep shuffling, desperate to feel something between your thighs to which Jaemin let out a soft, playful tut too.

“Just fuck me.” You moan out, the words laced with desperation.

He smirks, the embodiment of a tease. “Are you sure?” His whisper is a mix of sweetness and seduction, his eyes soft yet resolute as he looks down at you. His breath fans over your skin, a contrast to the intensity in his gaze.

You nod, trying to attach your lips to his but he dodged, a playful glint in his eyes. “Tell me exactly.”

A moment of silence hangs heavy in the air, filled with unspoken longing.

“Tell me you want me.” He presses, his voice a gentle command.

“I’m sure.” You reply, your voice barely a whisper.

He tuts softly, a sound that sends a thrill through you. Shaking his head, it still wasn’t enough.

“I want you. I want you to touch me, I want you cock in my pussy. I want you to fuck me.”

The air knocks from your lungs when his lips suddenly meet yours in an explosion of sensation. His lips are a perfect mix of softness and firmness, molding against yours with an intensity that sends waves of heat through your body. The taste of him is intoxicating, a hint of sweetness that lingers and beckons for more.

It’s a collision of longing and emotion, intense and all-consuming. Your mouth opens against his, and the moan that escapes you vibrates against his lips, a raw sound of pleasure that deepens the kiss. His tongue meets yours in a dance of shared passion, exploring and responding with equal fervor.

Each brush of his lips sending shivers down your spine. The world around you fades into a blur, leaving only the exquisite feel of his kiss, the taste of him, and the shared breath that seems to connect you on a level beyond words.

His mouth found the sensitive area of your neck, his mouth moving with a mix of tenderness and urgency that made your breath hitch in surprise, having not been touched like this in so long the air has already been sucked out of you. The warmth of his breath against your skin, mingled with the softness of his lips, created an intoxicating sensation, stirring a deep craving within you.

He then trailed a path of fervent kisses up your jawline, each one imbued with a burning intensity, his lips moving against the contours of your face, each kiss a declaration of desire. His movements were both deliberate and instinctual, as if each kiss was guided by a deep, primal need.

With a deep breath, he reached for the hem of your top, fingers brushing against the fabric in a gentle, almost reverent touch. The material was soft and lights

He slowly lifted the top and there was a moment of quiet, a hush that seemed to fill the space with anticipation. The fabric whispered against your skin as it rose and cascaded down your body prettily, the sound as soft as a breeze through autumn leaves.

Jaemin’s eyes found yours, and in them, you saw a whirlwind of emotions. His gaze was intense. The air between you two crackled. His eyes, dark and expressive, spoke volumes more than words ever could. There was a hunger in them.

He lowered his mouth to your chest and immediately brought your nipples to his lips, his first touch was a slow and thoughtful lick, savouring your taste. He took his time, lavishing your nipple with light swirls of his tongue and gentle kisses, which elicited moans of pleasure to spill from your lips.

He gently bit on the sensitive bud of skin, his teeth releasing with a ‘pop,’ followed by a contented smile as you moan his name. His attention to making you feel good was thorough, a mixture of playful bites, long licks, and occasional sucking.

Slowly, he continued with small, delicate kisses, down your body, from your boobs to your upper thigh, the soft press of his lips against your skin made you whine, pulling on his hair and begging him for where you wanted his touch the most. You slowly grind your clothes pussy against his face, he looks up at you with a smirk. “You wanna feel me here?” He whispers, voice filled with breath as his soft fingertips tread along your lower stomach, his lower lip captured between his teeth.

You nod eagerly, a mixture of anticipation and nerves filling you as you hadn’t had sex in 5 months and you didn’t expect to be doing it right now, with Na Jaemin, of all people. It intensifies your emotions but you surprisingly feel ready, you never expected to be so settled in such an intimate embrace with a complete stranger but there was something about Na Jaemin that made you horny.

He presses his lips against yours intensely as his hands gently tease the edge of your mini skirt, eventually slipping beneath the fabric. You break the just for a second, maintaining strong eye contact with him as you pull your mini skirt down your legs, his hands gripping your thighs tightly, caressing it with his soft fingers before eagerly pushing your lace thong down your thighs, lips smashing against yours once again as he tosses both your skirt and thong to the side, trailing kisses up your legs, his fingers beginning to delve into your pussy.

“You’re so fucking wet.” He hisses against your ear, cold fingers making circles against your folds, the hard metals of his rings touching your burning skin as he rubs on your clit.

His fingers push deeper and deeper into your cunt as your head hits the pillow and you let out a loud moan of his name. He drops open mouthed kisses to your neck as he thrusts his fingers in and out your pussy, grunts leaving his lips at how your slick coats his fingers completely, the feeling of you clenching around his fingers and growing wet making his head dizzy.

“Do you see how fucking wet you are?” He whispers, suddenly shoving his fingers in your tiny mouth, making you gag but you suck nonetheless. He brings his fingers to his own mouth, licking your cum and moaning. “Just wanna fucking taste you.”

His eyes close as he delves into your pussy. He starts off slow, soft licks and nips of your already wet clit, you curl your toes, your vision becoming blurry due to the tears of pleasure but you can feel how fucking good he’s eating you out. His tongue laps at your clit, you whine and push his face closer, desperate for him to eat you out like it’s his last meal.

He kisses your folds, giving the delicate and wet skin a loud smooch before moving his lips and tongue at a pace that already has you crying out for him. He’s moaning into you, the sensation causing a vibration within your folds. “So fucking tasty.” He growls, the words muffled against your skin.

His nose presses against your pussy, you wrap your legs around his shoulders and he grips onto your ass, squeezing the flesh and giving it one compact spank before gripping onto your thighs, his grip so tight that you’re caged against him. His nails dig in and you’re sure he’s leaving harsh marks and your grip on his hair is so tight but neither of you care.

Your eyes roll back in pleasure and you the prettiest noises spill from your mouth when your climax hits, you squirt and drip all over your folds and he has every last bit of it, his lips lapping up your sticky wetness as if it’s a treat.

He leans back momentarily to appreciate the sight. Your hot cum leaking out of your tiny and tight hole, before he moves his tongue to lap up every last drop. It goes everywhere, all over his face, down his chin and neck but he’s grunting so loudly, begging you for more. “Taste so fucking good.”

“Jaemin.” You moan out, thrusting your pussy against him and reaching for his hard cock, desperate to feel him where you want him most. “Come on!!!!” You cry out.

He tuts at your impatience, eyes soft as he looks into your teary ones. “Yeah, yeah. Just be patient, baby.” His mouth pops, a sweet smile as you whimper at the use of the pet name, a sweet word said in such a mysterious and sensual way.

A realisation comes to you, have you even introduced yourself to him? Your mouth opens with a heavy moan when Jaemin’s eyes, dark and intense, locked with yours. You could hear the sound of his heavy breathing, a rhythmic echo that matched the quickening pace of your own heart.

You found yourself reacting instinctively. You bucked up slightly as Jaemin’s fingers deftly worked to loosen the belt around his jeans. Sliding it down his legs and tossing it far away.

He’s so hard. You hold his massive cock in your hands, eyes wide and mouth watering at the sheer size of it. You can feel the firmness beneath your fingertips. As you roughly rub his cock, he groans and drops his head to your shoulder, allowing you to touch away. Your fingers glide over the length, he removes your hands and replaces his own, dropping down and aligning his cock with your tight hole. His mouth pressing against yours with an open mouthed kiss.

“I’m Y/N by the way.” You gulp, voice barely audible due to the fucked state that you’re in.

“I know.” He whispers back.

You hum. “I know your name.” He groans louder. “Can I call you baby?” He asks with a smirk, you don’t know if he’s forgotten that he already has but his low and deep voice already has you weak in your knees so you nod enthusiastically.

“Please.” You whimper, feeling so incredibly turned on right now.

He distracts you with sweet kisses to your cheeks, when his cock finally enters your pussy but you’re instantly crying out from overstimulation and sensitivity. He’s so fucking big. You cry out when you realise he’s too big for you. You look down and the feeling of sadness intensifies when you realise only his tip has entered.

He coos in your ear, wiping your tears, holding your hand tightly in his and making the slightest of movements inside of you but you shake your head, a feeling that you can’t describe overtaking you. “You’re too big, it won’t fit. I can’t take it.” You say with an adamance.

“It will fit, baby.” He says simply, giving you a sweet smile and you get lost in his eyes, you find yourself instantly trusting him and it has you questioning yourself, you never trust this easily.

He kisses your temple softly, a tenderness that makes you whine and cry at the same time. You wrap your legs around his waist, craving the closeness. You nod, your doe eyes gazing into his as he makes you promises. “It will all fit, I know I’m big but I’ll make sure of it. I promise I’ll make you feel good, I’ll won’t hurt. I’ll go as slow as you want me to, ok?” His voice is filled with so much genuineness and by kindness that you find it impossible not to melt, your trust growing for him intensely.

He thrusts into you at a slow and sensual pace and before you know it, more and more of his length fills you up until you tighten around him, smiling at how fucking good and cosy it felt. “I told you baby, just trust me.” He smiles, looking down and cooing at the beautiful sight, your walls sucking him in and you tightening around him.

“You’re such a good girl, baby.” He purrs into your ear as he fucks into you at a pace that made your head spin. It was suddenly so fast, the headboard banging, skin slapping against skin, his hands slapping your ass, heavy breathing, passionate moans concealed even though they didn’t need to be, you had the house to yourself, however the two of you found comfort in smashing your lips against each other and moaning into each others mouths.

He fucks his cock deep into you hole, hitting your pleasure spot over and over again, your back arches, your toes curl and your pleasure pool deepens with every thrust. He wipes away your tears gently with his fingers, whispering words of praises that make you whine. The way he’s looking at you fucks your mind up and makes your head spin. His eyes are so soft and so piercing, you feel as though you don’t deserve to be looked at with this tenderness.

However when you try to cover your eyes with your hands, he takes your arms and cages them above your head, shaking his head firmly and giving you a serious look, enough to tell you that he wants to look at you as he fucks you.

Your pussy tightens around him and he groans, your walls continuously clenching around his cock and sucking him in deeper. Your thighs shake around his waist and his hand that’s slapping your ass becomes sloppier and slower. The noises of his cock fucking your wet and creamy cunt turns him on, the need to cum inside you deepening. His moans are more needy and the volume increases, his eyes darken in ways you didn’t expect. He’s pounding into you at an incoherent pace when he feels your high is near.

“Cum in me.” You beg into his ear, panting heavily and he lets out a growl at your needy side.

“Fuck, baby. Are you on the pill?”

You cry out, shaking your head when you remember he’s not even using protection, you were two horny sluts who forgot.

“Fuck. I forgot to wear a condom.” He says in an apologetic voice.

“I don’t care. Cum in me.” The words spill from your mouth so easily, you question whether you want to take it back but you take a look at him. His hair, a dark cascade, fell just above his dark and intense eyes and he hasn’t broken eye contact with you, not once. His smile, so boyish and warm.

Yeah. You’re definitely sure you want his cum in you.

His thrusts become slower and more messy but it still feels fucking good. He kisses you passionately when he cums, moaning against your mouth when you beg for his cum once again.

He fucks you through your high, you moan out his name as your hot cum leaks out of you but he fucks it back into you, his own cum coating your arousal, drops falling down your thighs and leaving a sticky mess. You look down and the sight is beautiful, you don’t know where you start or where he ends.

He paints your walls as he sighs at the feeling. As Jaemin’s lips met yours, there was an immediate rush of warmth and desperation, a culmination of longing transformed into a single, fervent kiss. His lips moved against yours with a passion that spoke volumes, tender yet insistent, The kiss deepened, and you could feel the gentle pressure of his mouth, the soft brush of his breath against your skin.

“Good girl.” He whispers, pressing a soft kiss against your temple.

You fall asleep like that, in his strong arms and grip, his cock buried deep inside of you, thighs still sticky with cum and you know you needed to be cleaned up but as you lay on top of him, head resting against his chest, the lullaby of his heartbeat sends you to immediate sleep.

liked it??? send me an ask please <333 give feedback and share your thoughts it would mean the world to me

comment to be added to the tag list for part 2!! (will be a 4 part series)

taglist - @sexygrass @tywritesstuff @666-aiko @leep0ems @kyuuniversee @daegalfangirl @side-effects @kgneptun @thecaffeinatedfangirl @i6renj @hcaeh @buns-inhiding @pinknjm @nominsgirl @liliansun

[onsomenewsht]

from the vault:

she's unpredictable, unforgettable

》 Beautiful Crazy, Luke Combs

》 Leah Williamson x Reader

》 wear one's heart on one's sleeve [idiom]: to show one's emotions very openly

“My love, just one more”

“Don’t my love me, Williamson!”

“Use my full name if you want to make it believable”, she smirks as she comes closer to you.

After years together, the blonde footballer still manages to amaze you with that effortless charming attitude.

Whipped around her finger, that’s who you are.

“I’m still on time to call the wedding off”

“Jokes on you, we already signed the papers”

The work you’re trying to finish is forgotten on the kitchen island as soon as she slots herself between your legs, hands on your thighs too strategically placed to be casual.

Leah closes the distance, kissing first your forehead to then carefully graze her favourite features of your face – the tip of your nose, your cheeks, even the hidden space behind your ears.

When she finds your lips, the kiss is soft and tastes a lot like the comfort of home.

“Nice try, we’re still not adding another one”, you whisper with your eyes still closed.

“Oh, come on!”

“You’re turning it into a country concert”

“And how could that possibly be a bad thing?”, she genuinely asks, folding her arms in the stubborn way you learned to love.

A child-like behaviour that, despite her frown, always gets a loud laugh out of you. One more proof you actually just married a tall, blonde, stubborn toddler.

You prompt her to sit on the kitchen island top, holding her waist in your hands - work long forgotten.

“I want to renegotiate”

“Let me hear your terms”

You realised pretty soon in your relationship with the English skipper that the best way to deal with her in a mood to get what she wants is letting her think she can have her way.

The fact that you usually end up giving her anything she wants regardless is a completely different story.

“You let me add one more country song on the reception’s playlist and I’ll take that cooking course with you”

“You promised that three one-more-songs ago”

Leah’s frown grows in contemplation. You can’t tell if she forgot or she just hoped you did. Either way, she needs to find something else to bribe you with.

“I’ll dedicate my next goal to you”

“You’re a defender”, giggles escape you as a finger traces the deep line between her eyebrows, “and you already do”

“Ohi, I will stop buying those big boy shorts you hate”

“You promised that on our first anniversary and I can’t even remember how many times you broke that promise at this point!”

“I never promised that, I said I would try for you”

Another country song is not gonna ruin the party you two are planning to celebrate your marriage, you know that. But the curiosity to see how much she’s willing to put on the line to win this little game of yours is just too much fun.

“You could let me add it just ‘cause you love me”

“Already done that one Taylor’s Version ago”

“My love, please!”

The athlete’s blonde head drops dramatically on your shoulder, her arms enveloping you and holding you firmly. The calm lasts a second, though. Your hands barely reach the back of her neck when she sprints away with a new determination on her face.

“Just listen to it, you will like this one”

Laughs fill your home as she runs to find her phone, almost tripping on her own feet, to come back in the kitchen with a cocky smile and two country hats.

“Don’t even try–”

The acoustic version of a familiar song resonates in the room. Leah carefully places one hat on your head before finding the right key to join the singer in an quite impressive duet.

And here you were, thinking you couldn’t fall in love with her more.

When she offers you her hand, lovingly guiding the two of you in a slow dance in the middle of your kitchen, you’re sure she is more than the love of your life.

The song stops, and you don’t even realise. Her lips and hands fade the world around.

“Just one more”

[helenanell]

Every Saturday || Challengers

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

Every Saturday || Challengers 

Art Donaldson X Fem!Reader 

CW: Kissing. Emotional affair. Infidelity. Angst. Yearning. Bittersweet / slightly sad ending.

Notes: No smut. No use of y/n. Set after the events of the film.

(This is not connected to my other Challengers story - ‘Breath Of Life)

Wordcount: 4K

This is the response to a request from @anehkael :

‘Art, exhausted by the pressure of competition and his wife, decides to escape for a day. He ends up at a local tennis court, where he meets a talented and charismatic female player. Their instant connection on the court turns into an unexpected love affair, but Art's professional and marital obligations threaten to keep them apart.’

  ━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

You had always known that tennis would never be your vocation. Vocation implies dedication; a calling to pursue that ever evasive thing in life: utter fulfilment. 

You love it and you know that you’re good, really good, but you’re also realistic. 

The expanse between ‘really good’ and ‘great’ also contains the capacity to make something your career. You don’t have the capacity to go pro. Which is fine. Totally fine. 

You content yourself with filling all of your free time on your local–and free to use–court. Hours that would otherwise be whiled away on the realisation of your own loneliness or swiping right on dating apps only to panic and ignore any messages you receive. 

It’s Saturday evening and the sun is waning, its outlandishly burning rays absorbed by clouds as it sinks down the horizon. 

You’ve just wrapped up a match with a woman who you see at the courts from time to time- shamefully you don’t remember her name. She did tell you it once, the first time you met, but then a month passed before you saw her again and you felt too awkward to ask. Besides, there’s no post-match conversation between the two of you, the woman is in a perpetual rush and always disappears immediately after you finish playing. 

You, on the other hand, have nowhere else to be. 

A young woman with nothing to look forward to beyond the hits of adrenalin and the all too temporary sense of fulfilment that comes with beating other amateurs at tennis.

You’re alone as you sit down on the bench at the edge of the court, chest still moving with erratic breaths. Your skin is already adorned with beads of sweat but when the sun dips down even further, its light is replaced by a swathe of blue shadow and your burning flesh immediately pebbles at the sudden change in temperature. 

Your body is seized by a reactionary shiver, so you jump up off the bench and hurry over to your bag, crouching as you unzip it and dig around for your sweater. 

Your fingers have just closed around the soft fabric when you hear the metal gate to the courts creak open, the chainlink shaking as it shuts again. 

“You forget something?” You call out. 

As you’re presuming it’s your acquaintance, you don’t bother to look, busy pulling the sweater over your head. 

Your head is awkwardly pushing through the neck hole when a distinctly male and very amused voice hits you square in the side of the face: 

“Not to my knowledge.” 

You go still, your sweater settling down onto your torso of its own volition. 

Your mind has a sort of detached recognition for the voice: you’ve heard it before, but perhaps not in person. On the radio, or a movie or…or in a post match interview on tv. 

You scramble, pivoting violently to face the new arrival. 

“What the fuck?!” 

You’d meant for the exclamation to be internal, but in your shock it tumbles out of your mouth that’s already agape. 

Art Donaldson, the champion tennis player– infamous and beloved athlete– is standing in your shitty, free to access local court. 

A genuine, full watt smile spreads across Art’s face before he lets out a soft chuckle. 

“I’m sorry if I startled you.” 

You watch, dumbfounded as he saunters closer to you, placing down his bag and racket just beside yours. 

Fuck, his racket…it probably costs more than your practically antique car. 

“I'm sorry, but are you lost or something?” You blurt out. 

Art straightens up, hands placed on his hips as he surveys you. He’s enjoying your panic, you realise. Not in a malicious way, just highly amused. 

“What gave you that impression?”

You let out a clipped laugh. “Well…you’re standing here when the exclusive country club is fifteen minutes that way.” You point over his shoulder. 

“I know where it is.” He answers simply, still smirking. 

He’s toying with you. And never one to back down from a challenge, defiance rids you of your nerves. 

“So why aren’t you there, Mr Rich and Famous Tennis Champion?” 

At that Art tilts his head, as though he’s been given new information and has to reassess you.

“Because I don’t want to be.” He responds. “Why are you here?” 

You shrug, brushing past him to gather up your things, heart beating punishingly in your chest. 

“Because I want to be.” 

“But you’re leaving.” Art points out, bordering on exasperated despite his goading tone.

“Because my match is over.” You throw your bag over your shoulder and turn to face him, unable to stop yourself from teasing him back. “Oh, did you think I’d stay just for you?”

“Yes.” He answers unabashedly. It glues you to the spot. “I caught the tail end of your match, you were great but you were holding back. I’m guessing you don’t encounter many people here who challenge you.”

His tone injects some defensiveness into your veins. “I don’t need to be challenged, I’m not a professional. This is fun for me.” 

Art quirks a blonde brow. “Oh, but being challenged is very fun.”

“Are you offering?” You shoot back sarcastically. 

“Yeah, I am.”

And just like that you’re gawking at him again. “Are you kidding?”

Art holds his hands up placatingly, as if showing you he’s not concealing a weapon. “Deadly serious.” He says. 

You look around the abandoned park, searching for hidden cameras. This has to be for a prank show. It has to be.

“I can’t play you.” 

Art frowns as if disappointed at your lack of self-belief. 

“Sure you can. I was watching you, I'm certain you can keep up.” 

You hold his stare, his blue eyes glinting as his expression settles into something anticipatory. You glance at your racket that’s sitting on the nearby bench.

“Don’t go easy on me.” You order. “I’ll know if you do.” 

“I don’t doubt it. Come on, quit stringing me along and pick up your racket.” 

You reach down, your fingers hovering above the racket as you grin at him. 

“Careful Donaldson, it sort of sounds like you’re calling me a tease.” 

His cheek dimples as the corner of his lip tugs up. “Prove me wrong then, pick it up. Play tennis with me.” 

Eyes still on his, you curl your fingers around the racket and straighten up, raising your eyebrow. 

Challenge accepted. 

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

The moment Art wins, you let yourself fall to the ground.

You lay down, uncaring of the harsh surface beneath you as you suck in breaths, your throat aching, your whole body shaking with exertion. 

You’d never felt like this after playing tennis. 

Whoever you’d gone up against before, it had always felt like you were waging war on a one person army across from you: you would bear down on them with all your might to achieve victory. You were an attacking force.

But playing with Art it hadn’t felt like a battle it had felt like…a joining. You were so attuned to all that he was and every move he made, that it felt like you had become one with him. 

For a brief moment in the daunting expanse of time, it had felt like only the two of you existed, only the stars bearing witness. 

Stars. 

Only now as you’re staring up at the sky, do you realise that night has well and truly fallen; the harsh automatic floodlights throwing your exhausted form into stark relief. 

You let out an almost giddy laugh. 

In your peripheral, you see Art run over, easily jumping and clearing the net to get to you. But you’re too tired to move, so you just lay there inertly as he comes to stand over you, placing one foot either side of your hips.

He smiles down at you.

“How you doing down there?”

All you manage to do as your eyes drift shut, is lift up your hand and flip him off. 

Art lets out a full-bellied laugh that catches hold of you and takes you along for the ride. With your breaths slowing, you find yourself able to laugh along with him. 

“Okay.” He begins, shaking off another chuckle. “Let’s get you up.” 

You feel a shift in the air and open your eyes to see Art stepping to the side of you before he’s leaning down and holding out his arm for you to take. 

Like you, he’s drenched in sweat, but neither of you even really notice as drops of it fall from his cropped blonde hair and onto your body.

With a dramatic groan, you sit up and grab onto his arm.

Art tightens his grip and pulls you up, placing his free hand on your back for extra support and tugging you close. 

You’re quickly back on your feet, but as you sway slightly Art keeps his hands on you. 

“You good?” He asks genuinely. His face is so much closer than you realised. 

When the hand on your back begins to rub soothing circles, a traitorous flutter appears in your stomach. 

You’re suddenly extremely grateful that your face is already flushed. How embarrassing, fawning over a married man who likely just wanted to play some tennis in relative peace and with no absolutely no stakes. 

God you needed to have sex.

Your own thought startles you- the same effect as being doused with a bucket of ice water. How desperate were you, that playing tennis with Art had got you so worked up?

No, actually you knew the answer to that. The experience had been beyond any sort of intimacy you’d ever felt. You want him. 

You shake your head, scolding yourself as you pull away from him, stepping back. 

But Art follows you, closing the small distance you’d created. As concern blooms on his features, his hands settle on your arms, bracketing you in his hold. 

“You’re not okay?”

You blink up at him. “What? No, I am. I’m fine.”

Art narrows his eyes, unconvinced. “But you shook your head.” 

When one of his thumbs starts brushing back and forth on your skin, the answering heat that begins to pool in your belly tells you it’s time to leave. 

“Did I?” You ask airily as you shake out of his hold and pick up your racket.

“Yeah, you did.” 

“Well, I didn’t mean to. I’m fine. That was great. Really great.” Each word is forced out.

As you walk over to the side of the court and start gathering your things, you feel him walking up behind you. 

“Yeah, it’s the panic in your voice that’s so convincing.” 

You shove your racket into its case, your back still to him. “I don’t think you know me well enough to judge my moods. You don’t know me at all.” 

He’s by your side in an instant. His hand is hovering over your waist, as if he wants to hold you in place to stop you from leaving but knows he has no right to do so. 

“Look, will you please slow down? I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable.” 

You let out self-pitying scoff as you turn away from him again and throw your bag over your shoulder. 

“You’ve not done anything wrong. This was…I’ve never felt like that playing tennis. Or ever, really. So thank you.” 

“So why are you running away?” 

You halt, your sneakers scraping against the abrasive ground. Art’s voice has taken on a new severity; a frustration that even he sounds confused by. 

“I’m not running, I’m just going home.”

You’re stepping out of this court and extricating yourself from his orbit that he’d so easily pulled you into. You’re not just attracted to a man who’s one half of America’s Favourite power couple, you also really like him. 

But this court isn’t the real world and he’s almost certainly just passing through. If you can get out now, he’ll be gone: by the time you wake up in the morning, he’ll likely be on a flight with Tashi Duncan, en route to his next competition.

When you walk away and out to the gate, you’re beyond grateful that Art doesn’t call out to you again.

But instead of the disconnect you hope to feel once you're free of his presence, instead there’s a tugging, as if he managed to tie a cord around you and is pulling on it in the hopes he can reel you back in. 

You keep walking until you reach your car, still tense as you peel out of the parking lot.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

Exactly a week after you first met him–almost to the hour–Art Donaldson reappears in your life. 

As you’d played your weekly match with the woman whose name you still don’t know, he had been watching. You’d caught him in your peripheral vision, leaning up against the fence and tracking your every movement. 

You curse him and thank him in the same breath. 

You curse him because he’s only going to exacerbate the issue that you’ve been having, which is that he’s taken root in your mind. He’ll burrow his tendrils deeper and stop you from thinking of anyone else for a long time. 

You had been so sexually frustrated after meeting him, that you’d actually committed to a date with a Tinder match for once. You’d just been there for the sex, which you might have felt bad about had your date not made it clear that he had had the same motivations. 

It had been fine. 

You’d thought of Art the entire time. 

And you thanked Art, because…well, you thanked him because you’d been desperate to see him again. Tortured by the ghost of his touch and furious at yourself for the way you’d left things.

It’s a good thing your opponent is always seemingly in dire need to be somewhere else, because she leaves the court with such rapidity that she doesn’t spot the world famous tennis player making his way over to the now open gate. 

Your breath stutters in your throat as Art approaches. It’s the same time of day you’d first seen him the week before, so the light is at the exact same point of fading into darkness. But this time, he seems to be bringing the shadows with him. 

Art looks utterly forlorn. And yet, he still manages to smile at you as he approaches. 

You’re still standing on the centre of the court, your racket hanging in your hand. 

Only as he gets closer do you really register that he’s not in sports gear. Instead he’s dressed in jeans and black t-shirt. 

“You never told me your name.” He says, still making his way over. 

The statement jolts you out of your reverie. Had you really…he didn’t know your name? The evening you’d shared had been so intense that you already felt like you knew him and he knew you. 

You give him your name and he smiles almost gratefully, as if you've bestowed him with a gift. 

When he comes to a stop before you, you find more words waiting on your tongue: 

“Why are you here?” 

Art pushes his hands into his pockets, eyes dropping briefly to the ground. 

“You didn’t ask me that last time.” He says quietly. 

You scoff, gesturing at his clothing and the clear disparity between his casual attire and the tennis court. 

“You’re clearly not here to play another match.” 

“You shouldn’t presume.” He teases. “Maybe I secretly love the feeling of denim and sweat on my skin.” 

Despite yourself, you laugh and it causes Art’s dimples to make an appearance. 

“Well, that would make you a psychopath.” You say.

Art’s eyes skitter over your face, it’s brief but unnerving. It’s probing. Then he steps closer, so close you can feel his breath on your face. 

You’re suddenly sure that meeting his gaze will open up a horrible, confusing can of emotional worms, so you set your eyes on the racket in your hand, twisting the handle around in your fingers. 

Art is undeterred by your withdrawal: “Let me walk you to your car?” 

The question sounds so much like a hopeful supplication, that you have to look at him. When you make eye contact, his brows draw together as his gaze turns entreating.

Your eyes widen slightly as your heart sinks. You know what this is. A goodbye. 

“You’re leaving New York.” You say flatly and with the utmost certainty.

“We have a flight in a few hours.” 

“Art.” You say admonishingly, a sharp pain in the shape of that ‘we’ digging into your chest. “You shouldn’t be here.”

We. ‘We’ meaning him and Tashi Duncan. Art and his wife. 

He says your name for the first time and it makes your heart stutter. 

You’re pathetic. You scold yourself internally. You’ve only interacted with this man once before. He’s a professional athlete with a beautiful wife. He can’t be wanting for anything more.

So then why has he been driven to this run-down public court? Why did he spend an evening playing with a stranger? An amateur stranger.

Why has he felt the need to come and say goodbye to you?

You know why:

It’s because the two of you have started something that you can never finish. You’re both enamoured with the idea of a connection that can never be fully realised. 

Art reaches out and tentatively touches your arm. 

“Please let me walk you to your car.” 

You can’t bear to see his face, not when his words sound so sorrowful. So you nod shortly and then move past him to collect your things. 

 ━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

The walk to your car is made in utter silence, but Art remains close to you the entire time, his arm brushing yours. A couple of times you even feel the touch of his fingertips, as if he’d gone to take your hand but stopped himself. 

As if to compound on your delusion that in this moment only your and art exist, your beaten up red car is the only vehicle in the parking lot. It stands bright against the darkness as an ominous ending point: the moment you reach it, you both know whatever this nascent but potent thing between you will be stifled.  

You don’t let yourself dwell on how Art might have got here if his car isn't here. Whether fear of being spotted had him parking elsewhere, or he was staying somewhere so close that he’d been able to walk to you.

You both slow your pace as you approach the vehicle. You want to stop completely but you know you have absolutely no rational reason to. 

Once you reach the car, you dig your keys out of your pocket. 

“Thank you for walking with me.” You say on an uneven breath.

When you turn to unlock the door, Art steps up behind you, his arm crossing into your vision as he closes his larger hand around yours, stopping you from completing the action. 

You go still, relishing the contact but feeling awful for wanting more. All you find yourself able to do is stay still and wait- wait for him to do something that he shouldn’t. 

You let out a conflicted sigh as his other hand lands on your shoulder and turns you around to face him. He then takes your hands in his own. 

Your sight can’t help but snag on his wedding ring and he must be watching you so closely that he notes the very brief flicker of your eyes.

“It’s just a ring.” He says the sentence like he’s afraid of it. “It doesn’t mean what it used to. To either of us.” 

“But you are still married.” You reply, hating how small your voice sounds. 

“Yes.” 

“And you’re leaving.” 

Art’s hands tightens on yours, his thumbs running over your knuckles. “I’ll be back in New York.”

“When?”

He reaches up and cups your cheek, fingers sinking into your hair.

 “I don’t know.” His tone is somehow simultaneously mournful and apologetic. “But I will.” 

Even though you know you need to pull away, you lean into his touch. 

“I guess I’ll see you then.” You say, trying and failing to sound unaffected. 

“You will.” Art concurs softly. His heavy-lidded eyes drop and his hand shifts, his thumb running along your lower lip. Then his other hand is on your thigh, rising up beneath your skort. 

“Art.” His name is meant to be a warning on your tongue, but it comes out as a whispered plea. 

His thumb drops away and then he’s cradling your face in both hands, he closes in and presses a slow, sweet kiss to your lips.

But his next words are anything but chaste. “Unlock your car.” 

His command is feverish, his hot breath skimming over you as he kisses along your cheek.

Only then do you remember that your car keys are still clutched in your hand. You're holding them so tightly the metal grooves are digging into your skin.

“Art, you have to go. You have to get on a plane. We can’t have sex in the back of my car.”

You let out a small gasp as both of his hands fall from your face to encircle your waist, then they go lower, gliding over the curve of your ass before settling just beneath, causing your skirt to ride up.

“I have time.” He mumbles against your jaw, moving down to press desperate kisses to your neck. “We have time.” 

His words are so glaringly false to both of you, that a visceral melancholy appears between the two to you and as it grows larger forcing you apart.

Art strains to stop his kisses, his lips lingering as if he’s fighting against an engrained instinct to be connected with you. When he presses his forehead against yours, his hair tickles your skin. Then as his hands shift to grip your waist, you rest your own on either side of his neck. 

You feel a tightness in your throat, panicking as you realise how deeply entangled you already feel with this man you’ve only met twice. You don’t know him. He’s a stranger. 

And yet, you can’t let this unknown being go. 

But you have to. 

You force yourself to say the words, making them sharp and swift like the severing snip of scissors: “Art, you need to go.” 

He nods, his forehead brushing yours where you’re still pressed together. But he doesn’t move, instead his lips press to your forehead as he encircles your body with his arms. The hug is the same sort of crushing yet comforting force of gripping someone’s hand when you’re afraid you’ll lose them in a crowd. 

When Art buries his head in the crook of your neck, he places a gentle kiss there. You raise your arms and squeeze him back. 

“How often do you come here, to the court?” He asks, another kiss placed on your neck. 

“Every Saturday, the same time.” 

Art pulls back and takes your face back into his hands. His eyes alight on each and every dip and curve of your face as if he's mapping your features like they’re the stars of the night sky. As though he’s memorising patterns so he’ll be able to find you again. 

“Then I’ll see you on Saturday.”

You smile sadly, smoothing back his hair. “Which Saturday?” 

His answer is another passionate kiss.

[redocity]

Hi!! Saw your requests we open so I thought i’d send one in <3

So we know Buck loves kids right? Can we get a fic where the reader is a single mom and Buck meets her kid for the first time? Thank you!

BALL OF SUNSHINE - E.BUCKLEY

buck absolutely loved kids. so when your ex-husband throws a wrench in your plans he’s more than happy to finally meet the little boy you won’t stop talking about.

WARNINGS: single mother!reader, horrible ex-husband!oc, son!oc

evan buckley x fem!reader Il fluff? Il 2.8k Il requests open!

a/n: thank you for the request! i hope this was okay <3

₊ ⊹ masterlist!!

“You know that I can’t pick him up today,” You sigh into your phone’s receiver with an exasperated expression, pinching the bridge of your nose with your free hand. “You have my work schedule, you knew that I’m working ‘til seven,”

It was always like this, even before the divorce. Aaron just seemed to have an inherent talent of getting on your nerves and uprooting your schedules.

“Look,” You sigh heavily, dragging your palm down your face. “Either you pick up Matthew like we’ve arranged for the past five years, or you don’t see him at all.”

You can hear Aaron’s tone shift instantly through the phone speaker and he becomes enraged at your comment. “You have no right to keep him away from me. Just because you decided to leave me doesn’t mean that I’m not still his father!”

“Then be his father! Pick him up from school like you’re supposed to and look after him until my shift is over. You know how this works.” You’re pacing up and down the break area by now, thankful that you were the only one on the upper floor.

“Well I can’t just pick Matthew up from school today. Things have come up.” Aaron hisses into the phone.

“What has come up Aaron? something more important than your own child?”

“I have a date, okay?” Aaron answers angrily. “I’m meeting with some girl for coffee. Can’t I have a life too? You’re the one who decided to divorce me, remember?”

“You’re a father, Matthew is more important than a date with a girl that might not even go anywhere,” You’re becoming increasingly frustrated at his attitude, and it’s very quickly reminding you of why you divorced him in the first place.

“I know I’m a father but I’m trying to move on with my life! I can’t be expected to just drop everything every time I'm needed. I have my own life and wants too!” His tone carries a noticeable edge as he replies to you, and you can practically picture the look on his face.

“He’s a five year old Aaron. It’s not like he can get home by himself.”

“Then get a maid or babysitter or something, I don’t care! I’m sure you’ve got plenty of options. Or how about you change your goddamn shift so that you can pick him up? It can’t be that hard to switch with someone for once.”

“That’s not how my job works and you know it.” You press your lips taut into a line in attempt to keep your seething anger suppressed.

“Whatever…” Aaron snaps back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m busy tonight, so you’re just going to have to figure this thing out yourself. I’m sure you’ll manage.”

“Aaron-” You don’t even have the chance to get his whole name out of your mouth before the end dial echoes out of your phone speaker, and you have half the mind to throw it at the wall out of frustration.

If you’d told your sixteen year old self that you’d be a single mother and divorcee at 22 you’re sure you would have laughed in your own face.

Yet here you were 26 years into your miserable life and four years rid of the parasite that is your ex-husband. The only silver lining was Matthew, and that was only because he was basically the definition of a perfect child.

“You good?” Buck’s voice pulls you out of your moment of self-beration as he rounds the stairs up to the lounge area, a concerned expression on his face.

You turn sharply at his voice, jolted out of your own mind once you realise that there are in fact other people walking around. “Yeah I’m- Fine,”

His face softens slightly and he asks with genuine concern, “You sure? Aaron getting on your nerves again?”

You sigh heavily at Buck’s question, dragging your palm down your face as you shove your phone in your pocket. “He bailed out of picking up Matthew from school and I don’t get off shift ‘til seven,”

Buck notices the change in your mannerisms and can practically feel the waves of frustration emanating from your body. You look like you just want to curl up into a ball and have a good long cry.

He can't help but feel bad at seeing this side of you. You're normally so strong and independent, yet here you are now feeling like a complete mess because of this situation. “I'm sorry...”

“It’s fine, I’ll figure something out-“

“It's not fine.” Buck replies softly. You're clearly unhappy. And he can't stand to see you like this. "We can bring him back to the station? He loves firefighters right?"

You shake your head quickly as you shut down his idea, raking a hand through your hair. “I don’t even know if Bobby would allow him to stay here-”

“Bobby wouldn't say no. He loves kids you know that, and everyone on the team’s been wanting to meet him for ages. Plus we could always just bring him along on a call or something. It's the middle of a Wednesday afternoon, it's not like we're going to be busy with anything major. Just something small or a car accident, nothing that would be dangerous...” Buck seems convinced by his own idea.

“I don’t know Buck-“ You purse your lips awkwardly at his suggestion, finding hesitance both out of anxiety of Matthew inconveniencing the team and also because it could possibly put his safety in jeopardy if you were to take him on a call with you and something happened.

“C'mon, it would only be for a little while. I’m sure Matthew would love to get to ride in the fire truck. He'd be the coolest kid in his class. Besides, he'd be safe, we'd make sure of that. It wouldn't be too much of an inconvenience either. We'd all love to meet him.” Buck dismisses your concerns with a small shake of his head, gently pushing his idea for what could be a fun day for Matthew in the wake of his father’s failure.

And as much as you wanted to deny his ideas, you didn’t really have any other option.

“I’ll speak to Bobby about it,”

—

You climb into the back of the fire truck with a small sigh. You’d really let Buck convince you into bringing your five-year-old to work with you.

You’d been most surprised at the willingness from Bobby to allow him in the station, although you suppose Chris had opened him up to the idea with how often he was here with Eddie.

Buck smiles as he gets into the driving seat and starts the engine, apparently not satisfied with just seeing him at the station, but wanting to be the first one on the team to meet him.

Bucks inherent love for kids was always quite funny to you considering the fact that he’d never actually talked about having kids of his own, but if the way he acted with Chris was any indication, you knew Matthew would be in good hands.

You pull on your headset as Buck revs the truck’s engine ready to head off to Matthew’s school, shaking your head at him even though he can’t see it. “You’re ridiculous you know that?”

“What can I say? I try my best to make everything better,” Buck chuckles from the driver’s seat. “It’s no big deal. I’m glad to do it. Plus, this way I get the little ‘ball of sunshine’ you keep raving about,”

You laugh softly into the microphone at Buck’s enthusiasm at picking Matthew up from school. “He’ll probably be just as excited to meet all of you-”

Buck smiles softly at your laughter as the truck pulls out of the station, making a mental note to bring up Matthew around you more. Just seeing you genuinely happy and laughing is enough to fill him with joy.

You arrive at Matthew’s school soon enough, with Buck pulling up the truck right at the entrance of the school, where a handful of kids are standing in a group in the afternoon sun waiting for their parents to pick them up.

Buck rolls the window down once he’s parked, watching as you pull open the side door to get out of the truck, holding your hand perpendicular to your eyebrows to block the sun from your eyes as you scan the group of kids for your son.

“Mommy!” A small boy smiles excitedly and waves enthusiastically at you as the rest of the kids on the sidewalk start pointing and whispering to each other, and he runs over to the firetruck with his arms extended in your direction.

Buck guesses that must be Matthew, and he is just as goddamn adorable as you’d described him to be. He was almost the spitting image of you, hair colour, eye colour and all, the perfect little mini-you.

“Hey baby! How was school?” You pick the boy up enthusiastically, holding him on your hip as you press kisses all over his face. Buck swears he melts at the sight.

“Good!” Matthew giggles as he wraps his arms around you. “Why are you here mommy? I thought you were working?” He says excitedly as he looks from you to the firetruck and at Buck, who is leaning against the open window of the truck with an ear-to-ear grin on his face.

“Daddy was a bit busy so he couldn’t pick you up today, so Buck had the idea to pick you up in the truck, cool right?” You point towards Buck with a small smile as you move a small section of hair from his forehead, downplaying how dismissive Aaron had been about picking Matthew up from school.

You point in Buck’s direction as you mention him, bouncing Matthew gently in your arms as you walk over to the open window, and Buck gives him a little wave that Matthew eagerly returns with a smile.

“Very cool!” Matthew cheers excitedly as he looks between you and Buck. The two of you seem excited, so he knows that he should be too. His grin gets wider as he tries to take in everything at once. "Does that mean I’ll get to ride in the fire truck?”

"Yes it does little man," Buck says with a bright smile, immediately enraptured with Matthew’s excitable attitude. He really was a ball of sunshine. “Are you ready?”

"Mhm!” Matthew replies confidently, his eyes brimming with excitement at the thought of riding in the firetruck. He smiles back at Buck and holds his hand up for a high-five before turning back to you. “Are you going to be in the fire truck too mommy?”

“Yes baby, I’m going to be riding with you too,” You give a short laugh at the mild absurdness at his question, giving Buck’s forearm a squeeze of appreciation for how child-friendly he was before carrying Matthew into the back of the truck and closing the door behind the two of us.

Matthew smiles excitedly as he is buckled in the back of the truck with you. He seems to forget all about his dad not picking him up today, his whole focus on the fire truck.

“What's that thing?” He points curiously at your headset as you place it over your head, scrunching his eyebrows together when you adjust one to put on his head too.

“It’s a headset baby, it lets us speak to Buck in the front seat as he drives, say hi!”

Matthew puts the headset on and smiles before he speaks into it. "Hi Buck!" he yells excitedly into the headset.

Buck smiles widely back at Matthew in the rear-view mirror. "Hey there little man," he yells happily into the speaker. "How're you feeling, excited?"

Matthew laughs excitedly and nods his head. "Yea! It's so cool in here!" he shouts excitedly at Buck. "Can you make the noise?" he shouts into the headset with his usual enthusiasm and excitement.

You chuckle softly at Matthew’s display of excitement coming out the mess of his hair with your fingers as he continues to speak to Buck with all the excitement of if it was Christmas morning.

Buck smiles brightly at you from the front seat. Hearing Matthew happily talking to him through the headset fills his heart with pride. Here you are, sitting in the back seat of the firetruck with your son, and he can't think of anything that makes him more happy.

He looks back into the rear-view mirror and meets Matthew's eyes with a proud grin. "I'll make the noise for you, buddy. Just hang on."

Buck reaches his hands up towards the steering wheel and begins to push buttons and flick a few switches. Matthew squeals in excitement as the siren begins to blast, laughing excitedly as the sound fills the air.

“Having fun?” You have to raise your voice slightly to be able to hear yourself even through the noise cancelling of the headphones, giving Matthew’s knee a small squeeze with a smile plastered on your face.

He responds to your question with a sharp nod and a double thumbs up, and you can’t help but laugh at the adorable mess of the sight. You could swear your heart was melting at seeing him so happy at experiencing something that you’d become so desensitised to through working everyday.

"He’s having the time of his life," Buck smiles at you in the rear-view mirror. "Look at him." Buck gestures with a nod of his head towards Matthew, who is visibly grinning from ear to ear. He's giggling with delight as the noise of the the sirens fill the air. Buck is surprised by how much fun the young boy is having, but he isn't disappointed. He's thrilled by the energy that the little boy is giving off.

“Do you want to come back to the station with mommy for a bit baby?”

Matthew nods his head vigorously. "Yes please mommy! I'd love to come to the station!" he says happily, his grin spreading even wider across his face. He's clearly having the time of his life with you, and he wants to keep the fun going as long as he possibly can.

“To the station it is then,” You laugh softly, hugging Matthew into your side to press a kiss to the top of his head.

To say you were relieved by the fact that you’d managed to work something out in terms of looking after Matthew whilst still on the clock was a massive understatement. And the fact that Matthew seemed genuinely excited about it was even more relieving.

Buck had really come through today. You’d have to make it up to him at some point.

“You're the best mommy in the world mommy,” Matthew says excitedly as he hugs you tightly, his lips curling up into the biggest grin as he wraps his arms around you.

Buck glances back into the mirror once more and laughs to himself. Your son is so full of love and joy, and he supposes that Matthew only has you to thank for that.

“Awe thank you baby,” You lean down to press another kiss the Matthew’s forehead. “I love you,”

“I love you too mommy,” Matthew replies happily as he leans his little head against you, giggling with each kiss that you give him.

Buck glances back into the mirror with another big grin. Watching you two together is just so sweet.

He really is your little ball of sunshine.

[colourstreakgryffin]

Yo sup! I love your blog soooooo much!!! Your writing style is great in my opinion ^^. I'd like a yandere! Rui (platonic) with sister reader. She actually puts effort into making "family bonds" and while she is nice to the other "family" members, she never questions Rui's methods and actions and genuinely loves him despite the behaviours he displays. He is really overprotective over her and he likes her attention. I'd love a scenario like that

Hmmm! Okaaay! I have never written for Rui yet so let’s try it out, I’m optimistic! Been getting a lot of Platonic Yanderes lately tbh!

Yandere! Platonic! KNY Lower Moon Scenarios: Ayaki Rui

Rui, on the inside, is a lonely miserable child that is so desperate to feel nearest and dearest love for once in his new life that he does truly cruel and twisted means to get what carves so badly

Rui finds weak, pathetic demons and transfers his strength to them so they become infused by blood, cementing them as his family for good. He has done this too many to count… but most go against him and end up fried

Rui figured you’d be the same. Another sister who dares to try run away from him and will become his next toasted spider but no. You’re nothing like the ones who came before you and he is very shocked at first

Rui, needing to know if this behaviour is genuine, begins to keep a close eye on you and is very pleased everytime with the answers. You’re sweet and considerate to the other family members he brings home, you never argue with his methods nor measures and you even ask him how he is

Rui suspected you’d be angry at him for his drastic punishments to your siblings and parents, but no. You never once go against him, you just smile and proclaim you understand if he must hurt you. But in that moment, he won’t lay a single thread on you, he gently pats your head and orders you return to your room

Rui becomes favouritistic towards you, to the point it becomes obvious to everybody in the house. You’re a real sister and he needs to keep you as his, at all causes. No demon slayer can take you away from him and no demon can try trick you into abandoning him, he grows a intense sense of overprotectiveness over you, his one true sibling

Rui never really gets the love he wants with this makeshift family he has forcibly created. You’re the rare diamond of the pebble pile, you give him love and affection with no fear nor opposing intent. He is very tense and tries to push back but once he realises you’re just kissing away the blood on his cheek, he lets you. His obsession over you growing in the process

His obsession over keeping you as his sister at all means. Must he kill all those other failures? None of them please him at all and none has true worth to him, Rui is tempted to just kill them all and keep you. Sure, two siblings aren’t necessarily a family but the risk of losing you, who actually loves him, over a family who doesn’t love him. He is going to pick you everytime

Rui eventually moves you out of the attic you were in with your surrogate siblings. You don’t deserve to be around those pieces of filth and he ends up giving you the room, right next to his. So he can come to you very easily and demand your affection without needing anybody else around

He wants you nearby 24/7, his one and only beloved. He wants you close so he knows you’re still here and you haven’t been twisted by anything else that can twist your views

Rui is very desperate for attention so he wants it from you all the time. He’ll just sit down before you as you read/other and wait for you to acknowledge him. He doesn’t get hissy nor attack like he usually would if you take a little while, since he knows you’ll apologise and give him hugs or kisses as extra sorries

Rui will never let you out of the house nor out of the forest. You can go outside when he is with you, just to make sure no slayer can hurt you nor a demon can intervene. It’s all from his anxiety that makes him step in and take those extra precautions to keep you with him

At all causes, he doesn’t care how big the bill is he must pay to have you

Rui holds your hand as often as he possibly can, loving the feel of your warmth. He summons you to stand besides him as he deals out punishment, he sends you to the safety of the household when he finds threats he must dispose off. He is loving, he is favouritistic, he is possessive, he is overprotective; he is all of the above and so much more

“My dear sister. Come here, I am exhausted from taking care of such useless humans, may I get some affection to ease all my tense nerves? I don’t suspect you’d refuse, here now. You know I don’t bite you”

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

A fluffy/ mild angsty valentines fic with Bucky where reader gets HIM flowers ( because of the whole guys don’t get flowers thing :((( ) maybe there’s some mutual pining and sweet confession? Like she gets the flowers for him because he makes some joke about not having had a valentine for nearly a century and she’s just like “absolutely not will not allow that >:(“ but he thinks it’s just a joke at first :(

Anyway thanks! Love you!

Bloom.

bucky barnes x female reader

warnings - none

valentines masterlist. inbox. masterlist.

“Are we almost done?”

Bucky looks so miserable, you can’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, we are. We just need flowers, and then we have everything on the list.”

He grabs the shopping cart and pushes it across the grocery store, determinedly marching in the right direction. You’re practically running to keep up with him.

“Which ones?”

You look at all the flowers, touching some of the petals gently as you decide.

“I’m not sure. What’s your favourite kind of flower, Buck?”

He looks at you with a blank expression.

“I don’t have one.”

“What?”

Now it’s your turn to look blankly at him.

“I’ve never been bought flowers. Why would I have a favourite type?”

You frown at him. The idea of Bucky never receiving flowers makes you much sadder than it should, but you’re trying to play it cool.

“Oh. Well… which of these do you like the look of the most? They’re going to go in the middle of the table in the kitchen, so they need to be bright. Give the room some colour.”

He circles the flower display a few times, looking around carefully. Eventually, he picks up a bouquet of tulips, all pinks and oranges and yellows.

“I like these.”

You smile softly, nodding your head.

“Good choice.”

You’re somewhat distracted as the two of you check out. You put the tulips in the bag carefully, glancing at Bucky every so often. He catches you looking, and can’t help but wonder what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You’ve been standing outside Bucky’s door for the better part of fifteen minutes.

He knows.

He heard your footsteps, can hear your chest heaving, lungs working overtime. He’s just waiting for you to make your own decision.

Eventually, you do. After thirty minutes, you decide to just do it. You’ve got nothing to lose.

You knock.

Bucky swings open the door as if he’s been waiting for you, standing patiently on the other side.

“Breathe, honey.”

You didn’t even realise you’d been holding your breath. You exhale, never breaking eye contact with the man in front of you.

“Hi, Buck.”

“Hi, you.”

“I got you something.”

“You did?”

You grab the bouquet from where you’ve leant it against the wall, holding it out to him.

He stops in his tracks, brows furrowed in confusion.

“They’re… for me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

You inhale deeply, willing yourself to find some temporary courage.

“Because tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. And no one has ever bought you flowers.”

He’s smiling now, soft and knowing.

“You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met.”

He says it so sincerely, so genuinely, that it makes you want to cry. You hand the flowers to him, grinning as he admires them up close.

“They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

That takes you by surprise.

You and Bucky have always had a careful, consistent friendship. Ever since he first barrelled into your life, you’ve thrown tender smiles his way, nodding your head in acknowledgement every time he passed you in the hallways. He warmed to you, slowly but surely. Your kindness, your generosity, your genuineness - you’ve charmed him delicately, somewhat accidentally.

You’ve also been in love with him since day one.

You never thought to mention it - he’s healing, learning, growing as he goes, and you don’t want to halt his progress. So, you’ve pined from a distance, gently and quietly.

“Buck… will you be my valentine?”

He beams at you, the most luminescent smile you’ve ever seen from him.

“Oh, sweetheart. I’ve been working up the courage to ask you that every year since I met you. Knew you’d beat me to it.”

You laugh, stepping in closer to him. He puts the flowers down carefully, reaching out to cup your face in his hands.

“Can I kiss you, my valentine?”

You nod, already leaning in. He presses his lips to yours, and he swears he feels flowers bloom in his ribcage, bright and alive.

[daddy-kinard]

Nobody actually asked for my bucktommy/tommy headcanons, but instead of feeling left out I’m just gonna share some anyway…

1. Tommy came to reading books later in life. Like he read for school but never voluntarily and then he was a Movie Guy, like to the point that it was deliberately part of his personality. But then he started reading a couple of autobiographies maybe, on his days off, and realised that they take a lot longer to get through than movies and when his head was all messed up and looking for distraction maybe that was a good thing. He moved on to fiction, starting with the book versions of some of his most worn dvds, and now he has a pretty healthily stocked bookshelf.

2. Their first I Love You’s are both completely mundane, thrown into everyday conversation. No big planned speeches or grand declarations, just truths that spill out on a random Tuesday morning because it feels like they should have been said 100 times already.

3. Tommy’s first tattoo is the coordinates of harbour station. It’s where he was first able to grow into himself, and it’s where he met Evan, so he figured it’s saved him twice over now, really.

4. Tommy only has a couple of fancy suits that aren’t his LAFD dress uniform. Sure, he has nice shirts for date nights, but not full suits for formal occasions, and when Buck rips half the buttons off one of his smart shirts in his haste to get Tommy naked, when they get back from one event that had dragged on way too long, he’s finally persuaded to go suit shopping together. He rolls his eyes the whole time about just how much fun Buck is having blatantly ogling him, but it’s also the first time Tommy overhears Buck introduce him to a complete stranger as “my boyfriend, Tommy” and the shirt and tie he’s trying on feel suddenly tight across the balloon of joy that’s just expanded in his chest.

5. Despite Tommy’s “I could teach you” and Buck’s genuine willingness to learn Tommy’s hobbies, they actually have more success learning new things together - not entirely due to Buck’s competency kink when it comes to Tommy, so blatant it’s probably visible from space, rendering most of Tommy’s lessons unproductive pretty quickly.

[miley1442111]

Hi! I don’t know if you were already planning this but I was wondering if I could request a part 2 of your new fic ‘Regrets’? Maybe like a few years later they see each other again? You can decide if it’s a happy or sad ending, I love your work!

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

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

regrets, part 2- s.reid

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

a/n: thank you so much for requesting, i think this is becomign a series !!! (aka it's got it's own google doc, yay!)

summary: 5 years after you and spencer call of the engagement, he's back in your life. For a case. obviously.

pairing: spencer reid x fem reader

warnings: fighting, brief spencer in prison mentions (nothing about the storyline though dw), set a few years after so ik he's 'no in the bau' but just go with it please.

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

You didn’t see him. For 5 long years in your new town of Colorado. You became a nanny for a wonderful family, you were paid well, and you were happy. That was until one fateful day. 

When Spencer Reid, Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareou, David Rossi, Penelope Garcia, and Luke Alves, showed up at the doorstep of the O’Connor family mansion. 

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

Knock knock knock

“One second!” you shouted, juggling Annaleise, the youngest of the O’Connor children, in your arms as you tried to peel a banana for Xander’s, the second youngest, breakfast. “Xander, stop playing with your porridge, eat it!” You playfully scolded, resulting in a laughing fit from Xander, and the surrounding four children. 

Annaleise was 2, Xander was 3, Jamie was 6, Poppy was 9, Juliet was 14, and Megan was 16. All the kids adored you, you lived with them as their parents went on various business, and pleasure trips. They were typical rich parents who didn’t exactly care about their children, but you did. You cared about them alot and you’d grown to love taking care of them.

“Coming!” You shouted as you bounced Annaleise in your arms and rushed to the front door.

You wished you hadn’t opened it. Then, the world wouldn’t have stood still. Then, you wouldn’t have seen Spencer. You wouldn’t have seen the awful dark rings under his eyes, his sunken and pale skin, the shock in his eyes when you came to the door with a child. “Hello?” 

“Mrs. O’Connor-” David started. 

“I’m not Mrs. O’Connor. She’s on a business trip with Mr. O’Connor,” you explained quickly. Had you not been making eye-contact with David, you would’ve seen how Spencer’s entire body untensed. The small breath of air he didn’t realise he’d been holding left his mouth in a spluttering cough of sorts and Jj had to slap him on the back to stop him from choking on his own spit. 

“My apologies, Y/n how are you?” David had always been kind to you. 

“Fine, I’m good David. Thank you,” you smiled. “I’m the nanny.”

“Do you mind if we come in to ask you some questions?” he asked, flipping over his FBI badge. 

“I wouldn’t mind if you came in but everyone is getting ready for school and this isn’t really an ideal time. Would you like to come back later?” You asked and Emily nodded. 

“That’d be perfect,” she smiled. “It’s good to see you Y/n.”

“You too,” you smiled and went back inside, 5 sets of eyes on you. 

“Who was that?” Megan practically screamed. 

“Old friends,” you lied, rushing back to get everyone’s breakfast plates away, and Annaleise in his chair.

5 voices were speaking over each other, aided by Annaleise’s incoherent babbling and you genuinely had to shout over all of them. 

“Get in the car!” You shouted. “We’re going to be late!” You reminded them. Soon, everyone was springing into action, grabbing their bags and packed lunches, and piling into the car, Megan and Juliet getting into Megan’s car to drive to their high school. You dropped Xander to his Montessori first, then Jamie and Poppy to their grade school. 

All was calm in the car as Annaleise babbled to you from the backseat. 

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

“I can’t tell you anything,” you answered., “I signed an NDA.”

Luke’s eyes narrowed and he sighed. “This is a murder case Ms.-”

“And I will go to prison if I break my NDA. I'm sorry and I really wish I could help you, but I can’t.”

“Y/n, we can get a warrant,” Jj reminded you.

“Jj, I know that. I’d honestly prefer if you did,” you sighed. “What’s this about anyways?”

“Human trafficking,” David answered and you sighed. “When will Mr and Mrs. O'Connor be back from their trip?”

“3 weeks time,” you answered. 

There was a collective eye roll from the entire group. 

“Alright, Spencer stay here with Y/n while we get a warrant to search the house,” Emily ordered and both your faces fell. 

“Emily-” He tried but she gave him a look. One that made you feel that there was no room for arguing. 

“Right,” you stared at the ground, trying to find your footing in this new dynamic. “Hi Spencer.”

“Hi,” he squeaked out.

You sat in silence in the kitchen as Analeise slept in her bassinet in the next room. “Do you want a drink or anything?” You offered. 

“Just some water, please,” he smiled softly. You grabbed a cup out of the drawer and handed him a full glass of water. For the brief split-second where you two were touching, everything felt… different. “How are you?”

“I’m good, how are you?”

“I’m… I’m alright, yeah,” he clearly lied. 

“How’s your mom?” 

“She’s good,” he chuckled. “She misses you.”

You smiled. “Well, you can always tell her that I miss her too.”

Spencer chuckled sadly at your words and nodded. “I will.”

“I like your hair,” you smiled. “It suits you.” 

Spencer hadn't looked in a mirror in what… three weeks? He usually refused to. “Thank you,” he swallowed the lump in his throat. “Y-you look good too.”

“Thank you,” you nodded. 

“I should’ve never snapped at you like that,” he shook his head, trying to keep the multitude of emotions that were threatening to spill over at bay. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright. We’re both happy now,” you shrugged. "It was a long time ago-"

“I’m not,” he admitted. “Everyday, I spend my waking moments just thinking about you. Where you went, what you were doing, everything! Anything. And now you’re here in front of me. And I don't know what to do.”

“What do you mean Spencer?” you asked, suddenly the air was turning sour, just like your opinion of him. “You broke up with me.”

“And I wish I hadn’t-”

“But you did Spencer. You did. And I moved to another state to get away from it. And now you’re here, saying all this shit about ‘us’. As if there is an ‘us’ anymore,” you scoffed. “That’s a joke Spencer.”

He nodded, his eyes falling to stare at his dirty, broken converse. You’d gotten him a pair just like these. A red pair, to match the red scarf you’d made him. For his birthday, back when you were just the cool girl he had a huge crush on. Back before you were his. Back before he ruined it all. 

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

“Happy birthday Spencer,” you smiled from your spot on his living room couch. He had been shocked that you’d even shown up, let alone brought him a present for his 25th birthday. “Open it!”

He did. And what he would find inside was a hand-written note (one that he’d treasure forever, with the rest of the notes you’d give him while you were together), a pair of red converse in his size, and a crocheted, chunky scarf that looked warm and comfortable. 

“I know you usually match something in your outfit, so I thought this would be good,” you smiled. “But there’s a gift receipt for the shoes if you don’t like them. The scarf is for keeps though.”

Both of them were for keeps. You were for keeps. 

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“If you’d just excuse me for a moment-” he started, trying to get up but you just pulled him into a hug.

“But I’d really like to be friends,” you whispered. “I miss all of you. But you most of all.” 

His hands felt into their rightful place, around your waist as you held him close. “I’d like that.”

“Me too.”

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criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, the bear, the hunger games, obx+)

[toomiieimagiines]

hihihihihi

rui kamishiro having crush on his friend (reader) n then confessing to them by accident like they r handing out one day and he quietly says ‘i love you so much’ without realising

please and tyy <333 have a good day darl!!

THIS IS THE CUTEST REQUEST EVERRR!!! UGHHH MY HEART HURTS! i saw your other submission, i’m just replying to this one because it’s the actual request!! ur the best, thank you all for so many asks! this is the longest thing i’ve written on here! this sparked me with so much inspiration!! sorry if it gets a little emo, i’ve not been feeling all that well myself recently mentally! ^_^” sorry for projecting on you rui!

CW: it gets really angsty, but it’s a hurt comfort, i promise! food as a metaphor for love at the beginning. reverse comfort. rui is autistic coded sorry i just can’t help myself

Rui Kamishiro is an idiot.

Rui had a problem.

A problem that swelled up in his stomach, travelled to his chest, and landed in a horrible place- his heart. He didn’t even notice it at first too, the warmth in the back of his throat, the burning in his lungs. Countless days sitting at his desk, mindless tinkering with something, wondering why he suddenly felt so apprehensive around you. A shocking pain filled his gut,

Rui Kamishiro was in love with one of his best friends.

He couldn’t stop it. He tried to snap himself out of it- he really did! He knows he can’t feel that way, knows it isn’t right. He feels so perverted every time he’s next to you because all he can think of is how your lips would feel on his, how sweet your gaze is on him, how you’d warm his cold hands-

God, he’s the worst. Thoughts would slurry through his head every time you’re near. You’re his friend! He should be thankful you want to speak to him, it’s selfish to feel this way about somebody, especially somebody like you.

He truly believes that close relationships like those, are not for the likes of him.

He braces himself for the day you realize that he would be no good as a lover - he’s sure you know - but he comes to a gut wrenching epiphany that he doesn’t seem to mind all the much how you’re in his life. He loves you, but you like him, and he can deal with that. He can take friendship, what he can’t take is disgust, that’d be agony to him, so he’ll make sure you never feel that way towards him.

He locks his feelings deep inside where nobody can ever find them. Not you, not Nene, not anybody.

And he’s okay. Truly, genuinely, okay with it. He should take what he can get. He should be grateful you talk to him.

He sighs, lost in his thoughts, you shoot him a look. He shouldn’t have done that, he laments, he’s probably gone and worried you.

Class ends quickly, he dodges you ‘till lunch time.

You find him, you always were good at quickly sniffing him out. What a predicable friend you have, you muse. The two of you sit down, a pregnant silence overtaking the both of you.

“Rui? You’ve been-“ you search for the word, “spacey. You feel alright? No one was bothering you or anything, right?” You jab whatever was in your lunchbox today, as if killing the meat for a second time. Your tongue lulled out in concentration, he lets out an amused laugh.

“Aren’t I always spacey?” His head cocks to the side, a lopsided smile appearing. How come all of his worries about you vanish when you two are like this? Isn’t this supposed to make him feel worse?

“Spacier than usual.” You decide, pointing your utensil at him threateningly. “I know you better than you think, don’t play with me.”

Not well enough, he wants to beg. He wants to know you in every way possible, wants you to know him-

“You’re doing it again!” You groan, shoving a bite into your mouth. Your face lights up at the taste, it’s endearing to him - well everything about you is endearing to him. “Ooo! Try this!” You beam, grabbing some between your chopsticks.

He thinks you’re going to place it on this lunchbox, but is shocked when you just stare at him, holding the food an inch or two away from his mouth. He opens his mouth, and you let him take it between his lips.

A thousand thoughts flurry in his head again, and he tries to grasp at them desperately to contain himself. A few rose colored pieces of paper appeared in his hand.

The first, was that that was way too domestic. That’s what you’d do with a lover. That’s what you’d do on a picnic in a meadow, a radio playing classical- God, his emotions are really getting to the better of him. When did he start thinking about things like that?

The second paper he discovered, was the realization that your lips had touched those very chopsticks too. Did you not realize that you had just touched your lips to his - in a way? Did you not care? Maybe it was meant to be familiar, he’d drink off Nene all the time.

The last paper was a simple thought, a thought he would actually be willing to tell you about.

That was really good.

He realized you had been watching him intensely, and he prays that you didn’t see his face contort three times in the 8 seconds he had been chewing. You looked at him as if you were expecting a response, and the paper butterflies stop shooting all over the place.

“Good, right?” You say, egging him along like a parent who had finally gotten their child to resign and eat vegetables. He’s always been particular, even now his lunch box only really had snacks in it. You’re glad when you see him eating.

He decides to give you a hum of approval, and a nod of his head. He doesn’t trust himself to talk to you. You feel giddy that he enjoyed it, and it shows on your face. He feels giddy too.

“You should eat more. I can start making you lunch that you’ll actually like if that’s what it takes. You’re looking pale.” You tease, shoving him gently. “Is that why you’re so spacey today? Because you’re hangry?”

You’re a good friend, he thinks. You’re such a good friend, and that’s why I love you.

“I’m not hangry!” He pushes you back, laughing heartily. “And you don’t need to bother making me lunches. I’m capable, I just don’t want to.”

“Whatever than, weirdo. Starve.” You shrug, “if you pass out during a show and I have to nurse you back to health, I’ll say I told you so!”

You two finish eating quickly, not really talking that much, and he’s resigned to looking down guiltily during class again. School flashes by quickly. He has rehearsal today, he wants to groan. Maybe it’ll take his mind off things. He has a new idea to pitch to Tsukasa anyway.

Rui soon discovers that rehearsal isn’t going to be all that good today. He steps on Nenes foot twice, he runs into Emu a handful of times, and now he’s in a bad mood because on top of all of his thoughts, Tsukasa turned down his idea for a flame shooting Robo-Nene.

“Rui!!” Nene whispers, breaking him out of his thoughts when she jabs him in the side. “Cmon, you gotta pay attention or ‘Kasa’ll get moody.”

She cares about him, in her own sisterly way. It’s funny. He’s sure she can even guess what he’s thinking about.

“Sorry, Nene..” He says softly, rubbing his face in frustration. Why does he have to be such a freak? He wishes he were more like Tsukasa. Tsukasa probably doesn’t have paper butterflies in his head.

What a dumb thought that was, paper butterflies. He wishes he didn’t have stupid thoughts like that. Normal people don’t think of feelings that way, he knew you definitely didn’t think that way, what a weird person he was.

Rehearsal passes after time, he leaves quickly, too quick for him to even offer walking back with Nene. She’s going to Emu’s probably, he thinks so at least. He checks his phone, a notification from none other than ‘Weirdo’ - your doing, not his - Popping into view. You had insisted he’d change your contact when you had seen it was simply your name. It always got a chuckle out of him, despite the irony of you calling yourself the weird one.

Weirdo: wanna come over after your dance dance time?? i need help with math, mr smarty!

Me: Sure, I guess I can spare some brain power. Let me whip up a little Rui Math magic

Did that sound weird? Whatever. He sends it, changing his route to end up on your street instead. The walk is filled with the usual misery of a smitten teenage boy, apprehensive feelings washing over him. He prepares what he should talk about, repeating things that he’s sure wouldn’t be weird to say. He wishes he could make feelings disappear, he wishes he could disappear really. What a different world it would be if he weren’t in it, what a better life you’d have if he weren’t in it. He shakes his head, trying to block that away. He’s so dramatic, it makes his skin crawl in disgust.

He knocks on your door, but quickly gets another text.

Weirdo: just come in.. i left it unlocked!

You should really be more careful, he frets, opening the door and pulling off his shoes. He thinks you’re too trusting of people, even of people like him. If you knew his disgusting thoughts of love towards you, you’d certainly be frightened. Like when a miserable diseased stray wants you to pet it. Actually, you’re too kind to be deflected from petting a flea-ridden animal. That’s just the kind of person you are, maybe that’s why you two are so close.

He pushes the door of your room open, being met with the dejected stare you’re giving your math homework.

“Rui,” you look up at him, “I think I may be stupid.”

“You’re not stupid.” He chides, sitting down on the bed next to you.

“Whatever, I give up!” You toss it onto your desk.

“I just got here, I haven’t even tried to help you yet!” He says amused, trying to go grab it. you stop him, pulling him back next to you. His breath gets caught in his throat. You’re close to him, way too close to him.

“Honestly, I used that as an excuse for you to hang out with me. I was desperate, okay?!”

Those words shock him. You thought you’d have to trick him into hanging out with you? Did you not know how devoted he was to seeing you? Just the thought of you wanting to see him mad him giddy. If only you knew how quick he’d go if you’d asked him to be there.

He tries not to think about how close you two are. It’s not weird, Rui, they’re your friend. Friends lay together, don’t they? He’s played video games together with Nene in her bed, this is normal. He’s looking too much into this. What a weirdo he was for thinking like this, he’s a total slime ball.

“Y’know, Rui.” Your voice breaks him out of his thoughts, your touch lingering as you nudge him. “If you want to talk to me about something, you can.”

He feels like he’s been shoved under water, the current throwing his body around. Everything is too stressful, and now even your presence can’t make the weird thoughts go away. He suddenly becomes hyper aware of how close you are to him. He’s guiltily dreamed about being this close to you, feeling your warmth, touching him gently like you always did.

Those dreams weren’t for the likes of him, he can’t hope for things like that, he tries to remind himself every chance he gets.

So why does this feel so real? Why can he smell your perfume, and see your worried face, and feel you touching him so tenderly. You can’t keep getting his hopes up like this. He wishes he could be a good friend for you.

He wishes he didn’t love you in such a depraved, disgusting way. He wishes he wasn’t such an odd person. He wishes he didn’t think the way he did. He wants to be normal.

“Rui?” You say worried, grabbing his cheek. Stop it, he wants to beg. He can’t feel you in this way and act like it’s normal. He can’t be this close to you and be casual about it.

His face contorts into something awful, a helpless expression coming forth. His mouth opens to beg you to understand that he is okay. He truly is okay.

“I love you, so much.” The words are like a ghost, shooting out of him. His breath gets caught in his throat, and so does yours.

What?? How could he do that?? All he can feel is despair curling up inside of him. His worst fear is going to come true, you’re disgusted. This is the most humiliating thing he’d ever felt in his entire life. He’s failed the one rule he set between the two of you, you’re going to leave his life forever. You’re gone now. This is worst than any torment he’s ever faced in school.

He needs to try and defend himself.

“I-“ His words are hasty, and he reaches to tear your hands off of his face to grab them earnestly. “I- I don’t know why I said that-“

He finds himself unable to continue talking, what can’t he talk?

Your mouth is on his.

His face relaxes, his brows unfurrowing as he hums miserably into it. He grabs you desperately, relishing in how wonderful your lips feel. He really shouldn’t be doing this. He really shouldn’t-

He deepens the kiss, trying to bask in you for just a second longer. His thoughts are all gone now. It’s just you, you, you.

It’s hasty, and needy, and salty. Your noses bump together carelessly, your teeth scrape each other. It’s both your first time kissing anybody, after all.

You two part shortly after. He’s panting, and so are you.

His breath gets caught once again once he sees the depraved line of spit connecting you two. You wipe his cheek, when did he start crying? How embarrassing.

“Rui Kamishiro, you’re strange.” You smile shakily, voice sickly-sweet with fondness. “is that what’s been on your mind this whole time?

He nods, apprehensive to admit anything.

“I love you too, if that’s what you’re so concerned about.”

You say it like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like he doesn’t love you like a stay dog loves the person who gives him scraps. He feels like everything is lifted off of him, like his head is finally above water.

He can’t help but let out a pathetic gasp. It makes his skin crawl. “I-“

“It’s fine. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.” You bring him towards yourself, holding him so gently he thinks he’ll faint.

He decides that he’s willing to be guilty if it means he gets to be like this with you.

What a selfish, hormonal, smitten, weird, depraved boy he is.

Strawberry chapstick, huh?