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bueckers · 4 months

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² 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 ━━━ 𝐏𝐁

part one. a/n | here’s part 2 ! thank you for the love on the first one & please feel free to send requests to my inbox.

summary: in which the pleasure elicits a confession.

warning(s): car sex, jealousy, p eating, heated make-out, face riding, arguing, & love confessions.

pairing: paige bueckers x fem reader

It had been about two weeks since Paige’s confession, leaving you puzzled. Since then, there had been no texts, no calls, not even a knock at your door with an explanation. Paige had left you high and dry, her silence taking over the spaces she used to fill with her presence.

Today was Azzi’s birthday, a celebration you couldn’t miss despite the predicament you were in with her best friend. The girls hadn’t asked you about the night you stormed out of Paige’s room half naked, but you knew that they all knew now and there was no covering it up. Paige must’ve gave them intel— but it made you wonder what exactly she told them.

Despite this, you and Azzi had always shared a close bond, and you wouldn’t let Paige ruin that. The plan for the evening was straightforward: a night out at the club, drinks with the team, and a few of Azzi’s other friends. It promised to be a casual gathering, one where you could avoid an uncomfortable confrontation with Paige if you played your cards right.

You’d already been at Azzi’s dorm with Caroline, Aubrey, and Paige who had been keeping her distance from you since you arrived. After helping her pick out an outfit and adjusting her hair just the way she wanted it to be, the five of you all headed out and piled into Paige’s car, Azzi in the front and you having to take the middle of the backseat because of your shorter figure.

Everyone stayed engrossed in conversation, yourself only throwing out small comments when it was needed. As the song changed, you immediately became familiar with the playlist Paige was playing— the one you both shared for both intimate moments and late night drives. The voice of Drake’s Heat of the Moment echoed through the car, causing you to dart your eyes up to the rear view mirror to get a good look at Paige, squinting your eyes a bit. You knew the game she was playing.

She must have felt your gaze because, right then and there, she looked up too. You could only see her eyes, but it was enough to read her expression. It wasn’t cocky or teasing; it was filled with longing. There was meaning. Tearing your eyes away, you found yourself staring past Aubrey and out the dark window, as if you could really see anything. Your hands fidgeted in your lap as you waited impatiently to dart out of the car.

After a few moments, you seemed to have arrived at the club. Aubrey snapped her fingers twice, breaking you out of your daze and chuckling a little. “You good?” she asked as everyone began unbuckling their seatbelts. You grinned at her, quickly glancing at the mirror where Paige was already looking at you. That brief eye contact made you revert your gaze back to the girl next to you.

“Yeah, fine,” you assured her, though your mind was anything but settled.

It had been a long night. You weren’t even sure of the time but you’d been about four drinks in alongside Azzi who had definitely had more than you, dancing sloppily with her teammates. It didn’t matter to anyone though as long as the birthday girl was having the time of her life.

You hadn’t seen Paige since you parted ways from the car, and you were prepared to keep it that way. You’d previously been sitting with Jana and Ayanna at the bar before Jana announced she had to use the restroom. With your drunken state, you assured them that you’d be okay by yourself for a few minutes instead of walking through mounds of people while Ayanna accompanied her.

Twirling the straw around in the empty glass that had previously held your vodka soda, you looked around your surroundings innocently, trying to not make it seem like you were looking for anyone in particular. But you were. You were scanning the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of Paige, yet she remained elusive. The dim, pulsating lights of the club only added to your growing sense of frustration and confusion. Had she intentionally been avoiding you all night, or was it just a coincidence?

“Looking for someone?” an unfamiliar voice called from next to you. Your eyebrows furrowed as you slowly turned toward the stool beside you, raking your eyes up the body of a female— a very attractive one at that. She chuckled, her curls bouncing with the motion. She bore a slight resemblance to Aubrey, or maybe it was just the alcohol making your perception a little off. Her presence was a welcome distraction, so you didn’t mind it.

You smiled sheepishly, your fingers moving mindlessly around the straw. “Why, you wanna buy me a drink?” you flirted. Maybe Paige was the best at flirting, but you dabbled in it.

“I’m not opposed to that,” she smirked at you before calling the bartender over and paying for your next drink. Her confidence was disarming, and you couldn’t help but feed into it. It was certainly a way to win over a drunk girl. Here was someone who was clearly interested in you, a stark contrast to the ambiguity and distance Paige had left you with. You decided to lean into the moment, allowing yourself to be swept up in the flirtation, at least for now.

Eventually, the girl, Lena had pulled you onto the dance floor, her hand grasping yours warmly. The alcohol definitely loosened your limbs and blurred the edges of your thoughts as Lena stayed close, her own moves fluid, drawing you further into her orbit. You were living in the moment and all things Paige had seemed to be forgotten about.

You weren’t sure how much time had slipped by. You lost count of the songs, your only focus being her presence. You weren’t normally one to get so comfortable with someone so quickly, but Lena made it easy. The crowded dance floor felt like a cocoon, insulating you from any lingering thoughts.

But the spell was broken when you caught sight of a familiar face approaching through the throng of dancers. Paige was weaving her way toward you, her expression a storm of emotions that you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

As she swooped in next to you, you were too shocked to move as she spoke, her hand wrapping possessively around your waist. “There you are, baby,” she said loudly enough to be heard over the music, her voice edged with a sharpness that made Lena’s eyebrows rise in surprise.

“Excuse me?” Lena’s eyes flicked between you and Paige, confusion mingling. God, you felt bad, but you truly couldn’t bring yourself to say anything despite Paige not being your girlfriend or this being her place. Only Paige could make you at loss for words in a situation like this. Only Paige would put you in a situation like this.

Paige didn’t miss a beat. “I been looking for her all night.” she smiled cockily at Lena, who seemed to be just as perplexed as you were. “Come on, let’s get some air,” she urged, glancing down at you as you licked your lips in frustration. You could hear the fake joy in her voice. You barely had time to shoot an apologetic look at Lena before Paige was leading you through the crowd, yourself stumbling a bit as you barely made it.

Outside, the cool night air hit you like a splash of cold water, clearing some of the fog from your mind. You managed to wiggle out of Paige’s grasp, shooting her a look that she found amusing as you both arrived in front of the car. Your figure trailing a little behind her. She turned around, crossing her arms and looking at you with a mix of anger and something else you couldn’t quite place. Why was she upset?

“What the hell was that?” you demanded, your own temper flaring now that you were away from the noise and the crowd. “You always do this shit and I’m so fucking sick of it. You stopped caring about me a long time ago, Paige. Stop trying to remind me that you exist after every fuck up because you know I’ll fall into you every time.” You weren’t thinking about what you said before you said it— you didn’t even let Paige get a word out as you watched her facial expression soften in front of you. The entire situation had sobered you up and you could feel a headache coming in.

Paige took a deep breath, her eyes still burning with jealousy. “I couldn’t just stand there and watch you with her,” she admitted, her voice softer but no less intense. “It drove me crazy.”

“You avoided me the whole night— fuck, a whole two weeks! I think you can handle me trying to get in bed with a different girl.” You couldn’t fathom why she could treat you so poorly but not want to see you with anyone else. It irked you knowing she just wanted to hang onto the piece of you that still cared for her on a deeper level than sex and use it to her advantage. It hurt you.

Paige scoffed, her eyes widening before her tongue began to swarm her mouth in amusement. “Oh, that’s what this is about? The sex?”

You shook your head, becoming annoyed with the conversation and ready to storm off. “You don’t get it. You’re never gonna fucking get it.”

Paige’s eyes darted from yours to behind you for a brief moment, making you whip your head around to see a group of people looking your way, concerned looks on their faces. You both recognized the loudness of the conversation, and Paige was quick to move it. She opened the passenger door from behind her, motioning for you to get in with her hands and eyes.

You stood there, unamused. “I’m not getting in the car with you, Paige,” you said simply, a chuckle following your words. You didn’t want to because you knew being in such close proximity with her while trying to stand your ground and stay angry would not go well for you, especially with how good she looked tonight. But she always looked good— this was nothing new.

However, as you slowly met her eyes from just a few feet away, you ultimately knew just how over it was for you. “Get in the car, (y/n).” Her words were slow yet firm. You only stared at her with an unreadable expression for a few moments before you gave in with a roll of your eyes.

Paige walked around the car to the driver’s seat, twisting her keys around her fingers before opening the door and taking a seat. A silence fell between the two of you before you settled on breaking it, knowing too much of it would result in a certain type of tension. You stared at her, the night’s confusion swirling inside you. “You can’t just pretend to be my girlfriend and drag me away like that, Paige. It’s not fair.”

She looked down, her tough exterior cracking. “I know, I’m sorry. I just… I needed to talk to you.” Her voice was softer now, making your anger waver. God, she made it so hard to stay mad.

The sincerity in her tone was enough to make you gold. “You’ve had two weeks to talk to me. Why now?” you asked, trying to keep your frustration in check.

Paige sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I was scared. After what I said, I didn’t know how you’d react, and then I saw you with someone else tonight and… I realized I couldn’t keep avoiding this. Avoiding you,” she explained.

What did that even mean? Paige hadn’t gotten this open or raw with you since you stopped connecting on a friend level and you wondered where this conversation was leading. “So what now?” you asked, your voice losing some of its edge.

She looked up, meeting your gaze with earnest eyes. “I miss you,” she said quietly. You’d never seen her this vulnerable. She was always so composed, so sure of herself. The admission hung in the air, heavy with meaning.

Your heart ached at her words, a mix of longing and frustration battling within you. What did she miss, the sex or you? “I don’t know what you want from me,” you shrugged. Don’t give in.

“Jus’ want you,” she said simply, her eyes searching yours. “I’ve missed you so much. These past two weeks have been hell. Fuck— the past six months.” She was referring to the amount of time she’d shut you out for, and you were baffled that she had noticed. It wasn’t just some dick move of hers done unpurposely because it’s just instinct for her, there was a reason. Don’t give in.

The lick of her lips and the doe of her hooded eyes was enough to break down the last of your defenses. She studied the contemplation within you, glancing down at your bare leg before she slowly moved her hand to it. It’s like you couldn’t control the lean of your body. Paige hesitated for a moment, then closed the distance, her lips meeting yours in a desperate, needy kiss. It was like a dam breaking, all your pent up emotions pouring out in one moment.

You kissed her back, your hands finding their way to her hair, pulling her closer. Paige responded with equal fervor, her hands roaming your back and pulling on your clothes, holding you as if afraid you might disappear. The world outside the car faded away as if one nosey person couldn’t just peek their head in and see two girls making out, but it was the least of your concerns.

The small space of the car seemed to shrink even more as the intensity of your kiss deepened. Without breaking the kiss, you shifted, moving over the center console to straddle Paige’s lap in the driver’s seat. Her hands immediately went to your hips, gripping them tightly as if anchoring herself to you.

Your fingers threaded through her hair, tugging slightly, eliciting a soft moan from her that sent shivers down your spine. The sensation of being so close, feeling her heartbeat against yours, was overwhelming in the best possible way. Paige’s hands roamed up your back and down to your thighs, squeezing them. If there was one thing this girl loved, it was your ass and thighs. She could never get enough of them.

You pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, both of you breathing heavily. Her lips were slightly parted, her eyes barely open as she looked up at you, her chest heaving with the same desire you felt. But there was also a hint of confusion as to why you pulled away. “Paige,” you whispered, your voice full of uncertainty and hunger. “I can’t do this.” You were only breaking your own morals, and as much as you were feening for her right now, you knew you couldn’t keep running laps with her around a never-ending track.

Paige shook her head, licking her lips. Her expression shifted from confusion to concern. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice was desperate. “Please don’t say that,” her voice was low as she brought one hand up to cradle your face, you immediately leaning into her touch by instinct.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “I can’t keep going through this with you. I can’t if it’s just going to end the same way every time.”

Her grip on your hips tightened, her eyes pleading. “It won’t. I swear it won’t.” She paused, taking a deep breath as she searched for the right words. You only looked at her as you waited for what she was going to say, biting down on your bottom lip. “I meant it when I said I loved you.” The confession hung heavy in the air, the honesty causing goosebumps to raise to your arms.

You searched her eyes, looking for any sign of doubt or insincerity, but she was serious. “You really mean it?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper. It sounded pathetic to ask, but you didn’t care.

Paige nodded, her blue eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life than right now.”

Without another word, you leaned in once more, your lips carefully moving in sync as it quickly went from tender to passionate. Her fingers traced gentle patterns on your skin as if committing every contour to memory as you pressed closer, Paige pulling you in more if that were even possible. Your hands moved down her chest underneath her shirt painfully slow, your fingers dwindling over her abs. You wanted this stupid shirt off.

You shifted slightly, straddling her lap more securely, your legs on either side of her as you deepened the kiss. The feeling of her touch, the warmth of her body pressed against yours, and just knowing how she felt all made you feel more alive than you had in weeks. Her lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, trailing kisses down your neck, making you gasp softly.

“Wanna make you feel good. Okay, baby?” Paige mumbled. You only nodded in response, eager for any type of friction as you moved against her. The only thing standing between more of it was the thin piece of fabric underneath your hoisted up red dress. You were sure you left a mark of your slick on Paige’s cargos.

Pulling away, both of your breathing far from steady, Paige shifted her gaze to the side of her driver chair, reclining it back. Your mouth fell agape slightly as you realized what she wanted to do, and she only chuckled at you— a smirk not leaving her face. She still sat up as she reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head and tossing it into the backseat with ease. Your eyes raked down her body. She then moved to lay back, yourself still in full view as you stayed sat against her in pure shock. Paige Bueckers wanted you to sit on her face in a club parking lot after confessing her love for you.

“Take those off and come up here, ma,” she urged you lowly, her eyes flickering to the bottom half of your body. One of her hands were behind her head and the other placed warmly on your upper thigh, her thumb stroking your skin way too slow as you became warmer by the second. Your breath hitched as you complied, obviously, moving your legs to one side so you could slip the fabric from under you and toss them to the passenger seat.

Paige’s eyes darkened with desire as she watched you. She’d been wanting to do this all night. The moment your underwear left your body, she guided you to straddle her face, her hands gripping your thighs firmly as she pulled you closer. You hesitated for a brief moment, the vulnerability of the position causing a flutter of nerves. You’d done this before— I mean, the first few months were just full of figuring out each other and what you liked and disliked… but in this moment, it felt different. Like a new chapter.

Paige tapped your leg softly in reassurance as she looked up at you, realizing the way you were surveying the situation. “Come here,” she murmured. Everything that came out of her mouth was dripping with craving. She needed to taste you.

You settled over her, your thighs trembling slightly as you positioned yourself. The moment her mouth made contact with you, a gasp escaped your lips, your hands instinctively gripping the back of the seat for support. Paige’s tongue moved with skill like always, her hands guiding your movements as she devoured you.

“Paige,” you moaned out, your voice breathy. “Shit, that feels so good.”

Her grip on your thighs tightened, her fingers practically digging into your skin as she increased the intensity of the way her mouth moved. She mumbled something incoherent as you bucked against her slightly, lost in the feeling as you threw your head back.

The sensations were formidable, a mix of pleasure and intimacy that made your head spin. You could feel every flick and swirl of her tongue, every gentle bite and suck that sent waves of ecstasy through your body. Your breaths came in shallow pants, your moans filling the car.

Paige pulled back slightly, her breath warm against your skin as she murmured, “I wanna hear you say it.”

You shivered at the command, your mind clouded with pleasure and need. “Say what?” you managed to gasp, your voice trembling as you looked down at her, your legs on either side of her face. What a sight.

“I wanna hear you say you love me,” she said, her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race even faster than it had been.

You said it without having to think about it. “I love you, Paige, shit.” you whispered, your voice filled with emotion as she unexpectedly plunged into you. “So much.” A satisfied smile played on her lips against your throbbing cunt as she resumed her actions. The pleasure intensified as if your words had given her a new determination, each maneuver driving you closer to the edge.

Your body responded to her words and actions, the heat building between you both becoming almost unbearable. You rocked your hips in sync with her movements, your breaths coming in ragged gasps, your moans growing louder. “Paige, I’m so close,” you panted, squeezing your eyes shut so you could off a little longer.

“Look at me,” she demanded. Your eyes shot open, mouth falling open wider. “Let go for me, baby,” she encouraged, and that was all you needed. “Wanna feel you.”

With a cry, you finally let go, the orgasm washing over you in waves that left you breathless and shaking. Paige didn’t stop, her tongue continuing to tease and caress you through the aftershocks until you were too sensitive to take any more. You collapsed forward, your hands braced on the back of the seat as you tried to catch your breath. Paige gently guided you back to straddle her lap, her lips pressing soft kisses to your skin as you came down from your high, your head resting perfectly in the crook of her neck.

After pecking every inch of your face, she leaned in for one on your mouth before you mustered the strength to push her lips away, giggling. “Ew, no!” you exclaimed.

Paige laughed along with you. “I’ll take it then,” she shrugged, licking her lips and swarming her mouth with her tongue dramatically. After the banter, you gently rested your hand on Paige’s chest as you both reveled in the moment. The fogged up windows had came in clutch so no one could see the aftermath of it all, but you pondered on the thought of anyone actually seeing the two of you in action.

“I love you too, by the way,” Paige mumbled. You looked up at her, smiling.

“Yeah, you better.”

#paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #lgbtq #lesbian #uconn women’s basketball #bueckers’ works 🍒

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000-pawz · 3 months

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press play! (bnd) ˚ · .

bnd as male leads , ot6 , fluff , slight angst , movie/film tropes, loosely (!!!) inspired by random movies/dramas/books i've seen and read (with song recs <3)

more under the cut!

a/n: me pretending that all of these are real dramas so i can escape into my silly little fantasy land >___^ <3 also thank you so much for 400+ followers!!! i know i haven't been as active lately, but seeing the sweet messages in my inbox and your genuine reblogs keeps me going for sure. i don't deserve all of this love and support, and yet, i've managed to find my place here. thank you guys!!! my little strawberries ‧₊˚ 🍓 ⋅ ☆<333

sungho ˚ ⋆｡˚ - the "i have no idea why i like you, but i do" lead

university, streetlights, jackets, sunsets, fond eye rolls, sharing books, lunch dates, faint smiles, polar opposites, long calls, gardens, bouquets, lattes, butterflies

to put it simply, you are somehow everything sungho tries his best to avoid in life. disorganization, clumsiness, carelessness, and above all, making a fool of himself; four things you seem to have perfected. you always show up to lectures 30 minutes late, panting heavily as you clutch your backpack to your chest. your professor and everyone else in your course is used to your tardiness by now, so no one bats an eye—but when the only available seat left is next to sungho himself, he starts to mind. first, you ask him for a pencil, and then, you ask him what’s going on, and then you ask him how his handwriting is so neat. sungho responds to you in curt words, never sparing a glance your way as he tries his best to keep his focus on the lecture. but you keep. asking. him. questions.

he knows that you aren’t dumb. you somehow managed to get accepted into this school under a rigorous major, and you haven’t dropped out so far, so there’s no way you don’t know how to keep up. in a way, he sees you as a little yapping chihuahua who laughs way too loudly, and he sighs everytime you wave brightly to him across campus, cupping your hands around your mouth to tell him to wait up so you guys can walk to class together. it seems as if you’ve already claimed yourself to be his friend after your limited, brief interactions. great.

somehow you always manage to find him when he's studying at a cafe, pulling out the chair in front of him to plop down and pester him about what he's up to (and you always manage to convince him to buy you coffee just so you can leave sooner). you purposefully take the spot next to him everytime you show up to class, nudging hi sfoot under the table so you can pull a funny face at him or sneak him a lollipop under the table.

sungho likes to believe that he’s indifferent to you. you’re just another obstacle he has to navigate through in order to finish his day. but he realizes you may have struck a little deeper into his heart than he originally thought when he notices you sitting solemnly on a bench on his walk back to his apartment. you’re dressed up in a nice outfit and he can tell you’ve put in a lot of effort to your appearance, but under the glow of the streetlights, he notices your smeared mascara and wet cheeks, your purse clutched tightly between your fingers. you’re mumbling to yourself as you fiercely wipe at your face with the back of your hand, something about “that asshole” and how you’re “so dumb”. sungho doesn’t know what comes over him as he hears those words, but he finds himself stopping directly in front of you, watching as you slowly tilt your head up to meet his eyes.

“you’re not dumb,” he says, staring down at you with such sincerity. you sniffle a bit, tilting your head at his figure in a confused manner.

“sungho? what are you doing here?” you ask quietly, your voice shaky as you try to stop your tears.

“you aren’t dumb,” he repeats again. “it’s late. you shouldn’t be out here by yourself.”

you don’t respond other than blinking owlishly at him. in this moment, he realizes how beautiful your eyes are, glimmering despite the tears pooling at your waterline. a cord in him strikes; he doesn’t like seeing you without a smile on your face.

sungho shrugs off his jacket before leaning down to drape it over your shoulders, giving you a soft smile before offering his hand out to you. “may i walk you home?”

and from that day on, sungho seems to have opened up his heart to you. he asks if you want to visit a cafe after class, helps you catch up in schoolwork, his eyes lingering on your bright smile—and each minute he spends with you, he falls for you more and more. he’s not sure how you feel about him; he can’t read you quite yet, and he’s not quite sure why he likes you so much, but he thinks it’ll be worth the wait, as long as he gets to be by your side.

˚ ⋆｡˚ riwoo - the "i'll look after you, no matter what" lead

bustling city, dinner dates, gentle hands, puppies, headlights, midnight talks, watching the stars, wishes upon dandelions, breakfast in bed

it’s riwoo’s second year working at this company—and subsequently, his second year dealing with his inconsiderate seniors and selfish boss. so when you, the new, sparkly-eyed intern, are assigned two giant stacks of paperwork to go through on your first day, riwoo immediately empathizes with you. when it starts to grow dark and most of your coworkers begin clocking out, you find yourself trapped at your tiny desk with at least 3 more hours worth of work to do.

you’re basically falling asleep, your eyelids slipping shut every few seconds before you finally doze off. riwoo watches you from across the office and some part of him feels guilty at the thought of leaving you all alone here. so instead, he makes you a cup of coffee and brings you a snack, placing it quietly at your desk. he even leaves a few sugar packets next to the mug because he’s unsure of how sweet you like your drink.

and then he waits. he exhaustedly types away at his keyboard, his knee bouncing under his desk to keep himself awake. you finally wake up an hour later with a tiny yawn, stretching in your chair before sleepily blinking at the scene in front of you. he watches as your eyes widen at the coffee and snack before looking around the office, locking eyes with him above his computer screen. he gives you a small smile and wave, to which you return, mouthing out a ‘thank you’. if you’re going to be working overtime, he’ll be there with you.

and it becomes a thing. riwoo makes sure you eat as you work through the mistreatment from your boss, comforting you when you stress cry in the breakroom, taking you out for dinner when you clock out and making sure you get home safe with a small reminder to get some sleep. you find yourself falling his selflessness. he works through those sleepless nights with you, cheering you on with shy smiles and quiet encouragement. before you know it, riwoo becomes your rock.

as you wait for the bus to head home, riwoo jogs up to you, his chest rising and falling quickly as he attempts to catch his breath.

“riwoo, hi,” you greet with a small, tired smile. riwoo’s cheeks are flushed red, his hands tucked deep into his pockets as he returns your smile with a weak one.

“hey, y/n. i just, um… i wanted to ask you something before you leave…” he starts, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. your bus is nearing your stop in the distance, so you stand, adjusting the bag on your shoulder.

“yeah, what’s up?” you ask, meeting riwoo’s eyes. they’re big and round, glossy as the headlights of passing cars speed by. your heart flutters in your chest at just the sight of him.

“i was wondering if i could take you out? on a date, i mean,” he stumbles out, pressing his lips into a thin line once the words escape.

“like a date date?” you clarify. you guys hang out all the time and you have to admit that you’ve started to want more. riwoo is the sweetest, most giving person you’ve ever met and you think you’re already in too deep.

“yeah. a date date.” at his words, your entire face lights up, quickly nodding your head as you answer.

“i would love to.” right then, your bus pulls up to a stop, so you give him a tiny smile, motioning toward the doors. “ i’ll call you when i get home, okay?”

“okay. yeah,” he breathes out with the brightest smile on his lips. “get home safely.”

“i will!” you wave enthusiastically through the doors before they close behind you and riwoo watches you through the windows with a small smile until your bus disappears down the road, his heart light in his chest.

from there, one date turns into two. and then two into three. and then suddenly, you’re at his apartment playing with his puppies while he cooks you guys breakfast, the sunlight beaming through his sheer curtains. even if the weight of the world is falling on your shoulders, you deem it impossible to feel down around your ray of sunshine.

riwoo always waits with you for your bus, letting you rant to him about your day, or things you're interest in, or to just tease him about how he dropped a stack of papers that day. and you never forget to text him when you get home, going to sleep with a smile on your face as you reread the long paragraph he sends to you about how proud he is of you and how he can't wait to see you tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. in this big city full of hustle, bustle and noise, he is your solace.

jaehyun ˚ ⋆｡˚ - the "everyone wants me, but i want you" lead

road trips, rooftop hangouts with friends, bright smiles, street vendors, shared hoodies, soccer games, skateboards, sparklers, bonfires, sunny days

ever since you moved onto campus for university, you’ve had a crush on myung jaehyun. from his silly smiles, to his friendly nature, to his cute nose and cheeks. you like everything about him. the only problem is that everyone loves myung jaehyun—in fact, you can’t name a single person that doesn’t know and love him. so you’ve managed to keep your feelings to yourself for the longest.

you were in the same friend group from the very start, with your roommate dating his roommate, the intermingling of your circles was bound to happen. and in all honesty, you couldn’t wish for a better group of people to be around. you guys always go on road trips together, visiting different cities and towns to sightsee and explore. you attend jaehyun’s soccer games with your friends, cheering him on from the sidelines only to celebrate with drinks in someone’s dorm room after another win. the proximity is inevitable, and the first two years of college pass by before you can even blink. by the end of your second year, you and jaehyun became closer than you would’ve ever thought. but it always remained at that. close friends.

it’s the night of your friend group’s annual bonfire—something you’ve been looking forward to all year. you’ve been worrying about your future: what would happen when you graduate college, whether you would move away or not, would jaehyun ever like you back. but mid-summer is your favorite, especially when the tide is low, everyone has sparklers and drinks, and the night air is light and fun. your bathing suit clings to your skin after your friends had splashed sea water on your earlier, but you don’t mind it. it’s a break from your own thoughts.

you notice jaehyun sitting in the sand near the bonfire, shivering a bit, so you grab an abandoned blanket from someone else’s chair and skip over to him. when you drape it over his shoulders from behind, he looks up at you, his eyes scrunching up with the smile that overtakes his face at the sight of you.

“hey,” he speaks, looking you up and down. you feel your body heat up under your skin, returning the smile with a small one of your own before taking a seat next to him.

“hey. you okay?” you ask, your eyes searching his face. usually, jaehyun is at the center of all the action, but tonight, he seems quieter than usual. the bonfire is warm on your skin, illuminating the sand in front of you.

“yeah, i’m okay. just thinking,” he says weakly, flashing you a tiny smile before looking back at the fire.

“about what?” you pry, bumping him with your shoulder. he looks especially good tonight, with his wet hair and soaked t-shirt, his tanned skin washed in a hue from the fire. you’re snapped out of your gazing when he speaks, though.

“you,” he says bluntly. he doesn’t look at you, but you’re staring holes into the side of head.

“what about me?” you nearly whisper, your voice almost drowned out by the loud laughter of your friends at the shore. jaehyun watches the fire for a bit before he turns to look at you again, his eyes glimmering with something you can’t quite put your finger on.

“how pretty you look. how pretty you always look,” he says. you scoff at his words, bumping his shoulder again.

“stop playing around, jaehyun. i almost thought you were being serious,” you nervously laugh, looking down at the sand.

“but i am,” he replies quickly. “i am being serious. you’re beautiful.”

when you meet his eyes again, they’re boring into yours with an intensity you’ve never felt before. something so foreign and yet familiar at the same time. you can’t do anything but whisper a thank you before your friends are rushing over to drag you guys back to the water. some part of you is unsure of whether that was just another passing comment made by jaehyun. he jokingly flirts with his friends all the time. what difference would it be when it’s towards you?

but when jaehyun texts you the next morning to meet him on the beach, and you see an entire picnic set up with flowers on the sand, you realize that maybe he wasn’t joking. he’s standing there with his arms awkwardly spread out in a ‘ta-da’ manner, a shy smile on his lips as you near him. the sun isn’t fully risen yet, so the sky is still slightly orange near the horizon. he looks softer like this, with his puffy morning cheek and his messy hair.

he confesses that your friends gave him the extra push to confess and helped him set everything up for you. over chocolate covered strawberries and french toast, he finally confesses that he’s had a crush on you this entire time and almost went crazy from keeping it a secret. the morning started with shy gazes, soft touches, and laced fingers as the ocean waves lulled you. with your head rested on his shoulder, you finally feel content. maybe the future won’t be so bad.

˚ ⋆｡˚ taesan - the "everything sucks, except you" lead

big school, skipping stones, handwritten notes, late-night bus rides, comfortable silence, dirty shoes, convenience stores, headphones, lingering gazes

han taesan always tries to stay out of the spotlight. he keeps his head down, his hood up, and his headphones on—in a way, he feels like if he can disappear from other people’s lives, it wouldn’t be so hard to disappear from himself either. he doesn’t have any friends, and if anything, people seem to act like he doesn’t exist at all. he’s okay with that. it’s comfortable. that is, until you come along.

he’s not sure how he’s never noticed you at first. maybe it’s because you’re just like him; you stay out of the way, you don’t speak to anyone, and you’re simply going through the motions. he’s not even sure if you go to the same school. he first sees you on a late bus ride home, near the back. your head is leaning on the window, your face blank and solemn, with one earbud in your ear as you watch the passing city through a blur. taesan doesn’t know what it is about you that intrigues him. let it be the way your sweater is a few sizes too big, or the melancholic look in your eyes, or the way those same eyes meet him from across the bus, piercing and inquisitive.

he sees you again at the convenience store a week later, pushing around noodles in a cup with your cheek in your palm, staring down at your food with no intentions of taking a bite. even in the harsh lighting of the store, your face stops him in his tracks. your eyes follow him as he pretends to not notice your stare, his heart pounding in his ears with every movement. and when he makes it up to the counter to pay, you’re gone, as if you were never there in the first place.

he doesn’t see you again for a while; not until he runs into you on his walk home, sitting on a swing at a vacant park. your shoelaces are untied, and you’re watching the way they flow in the wind. your unreadable gaze intrigues him in ways he’s never felt before. he’s always told himself to not get involved, to not get attached, and to not get in the way. but his feet seem to have a mind of their own as they drag themselves towards you. the sound of his shoes against concrete catches your attention, and he watches with shallow breaths as you lift your head to face him.

“your… your shoes are… um, untied,” he stutters out, moving his headphones to rest around his neck before pointing at your laces. you don’t say anything, but you do follow his gaze down to your shoes, cocking your head.

“can you tie them for me?”

the request is odd, especially for the first words he ever hears you speak, but he finds himself unable to decline. he kneels down by your shoes before taking a quick glance up at your face, his palms growing sweaty with the way you watch him. with shaky fingers, he helps you tie your shoes before he stands back up, tucking his hands in his pockets.

“you, um… i see you around a lot. what’s your name?” he doesn’t know why he asks, but some part of him is overwhelmed by curiosity. he knows why he is the way he is, but with you… you’re an anomaly that eats at his mind. he wants to know you.

“y/n,” you say quietly, looking up at him from your position on the swing. taesan nods with pursed lips, averting his gaze for a second.

“i’m taesan.” when he speaks, the corners of your lips perk up ever so slightly, nodding softly in acknowledgement. something about your faint smile makes his stomach churn and his head spin. he decides then and there that he would like to see you more often; and subsequently, your smile too.

“nice to meet you, taesan.”

“nice to meet you, too. y/n.”

from there, you guys meet every now and then. taesan likes to place his headphones over your ears to show you new songs, and you like to share earbuds on the bus ride home together. he slips little notes about his day in your pocket before you get off with a little p.s. to meet him at the park before sunset. you pick clovers and tie them together to make bracelets, sitting on the swings as you bounce conversation back and forth.

there’s no judgment from the outside world in the little bubble that you’ve created with him. and if he starts falling for you with every curious gaze and passing smile, he barely notices the shift. with you , existing becomes natural. there’s no guilt, or shame, or need to hide from yourself. it’s you both against the world.

leehan ˚ ⋆｡˚ - the "i wouldn't mind living with you" lead

new to town, seashell necklaces, oceanviews, birds in trees, sunrises, midday strolls, the youngests in the neighborhood, cooking together, white t-shirts + flannels

it’s not easy living in a new town, far away from the city that you grew up in, but you can’t bring yourself to regret anything. you wake up the the sound of beach waves and boats docking, the grandmas of the neighborhood leave fresh food on your doorstep, and you get to gawk at the beautiful man that always seems to be at the shore collecting seashells. he’s the only person near your age in the entire town, but for some reason, you haven’t spoken to him yet. maybe it’s because of the way that he’s always alone at the shore, or running around the town helping everyone he can.

leehan, they call him. a few of the grandmas have encouraged you to talk to him, saying that it’d do him well to have a friend his age. yet, something about him is unapproachable—let it be because of his long wavy hair or those flannels he wears way too often. you can’t place your finger on it. so you stick to admiring his bright smile from afar, taking in the way he speaks with fishermen as if he grew up in the water himself, or the way he assists the grandmas in caring their groceries home. he’s entrancing, moving with swiftness and speaking with intention. an aura of confidence follows him around like a glowing shadow. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a small, small crush on him by now.

you sit at the beach with your knees pulled up to your chest, the soft breeze kissing your cheeks as you gaze out at the water, the sun sparkling against its gentle waves. moments like these remind you why you moved here. your escape. although, you’re too wrapped up in soaking up the atmosphere to notice the figure moving to sit beside you, and the clinking of seashells is what pulls you out of your trance. you jump a bit at the sun block of sunshine, shielding your eyes to look up at the culprit.

the handsome, handsome culprit who’s currently holding something out towards you with a small smile on his lips, the wind blowing his long hair into his face. in the midst of your shock, you manage to drag your eyes down to his hand—it’s a handmade necklace, made of white string and polished shells from the shore. the shells are an assortment of light blues, whites, and pinks, perfectly complimenting each other, replicating where the setting sun meets the sea. it’s gorgeous.

“made something for you,” he starts, his smile lopsided and charming. his head is cocked in a playful way, his eyes slightly squinted from the bright sun. he’s even more gorgeous up close. “y/n, right?”

“uh, yeah,” you stutter out, too distracted by the way the sun hits his face so perfectly.

“i realized i haven’t given you a proper welcome yet,” leehan speaks as he hands you the necklace, his voice deep and gentle. your eyes flickered back up to his sparkling ones, quickly shaking your head in dismissal.

“oh! no, it’s okay. i’ve seen you around enough times,” you laugh as you avoid his eyes again, running your fingers over the shells. leehan hums in response, his eyes watching your fingers. alone like this, up close, his atmosphere is affable and soft—nothing like the unapproachable man you’ve seen from afar.

“so, are you liking it here? i heard you moved from the city.”

“i do like it here, actually. i couldn’t ask for more,” you speak, finding his eyes again. leehan’s are curious, sincere, and inviting in all the ways that makes you want to keep speaking. so you do. you tell him about why you came here, how you’re starting a-new and leehan, with a wide smile, offers to be your personal guide around town.

you end up meeting up every morning for a walk by the beach, watching the sunrise as you exchange stories about anything and everything. leehan teaches you how he makes necklaces from seashells, his favorite recipes to cook, and where to find the quietest spots in town when you just need a break from it all. you’re falling for him—with his chivalrous, kind-hearted nature and warm smile—but you don’t mind it at all. you really do like it here; especially if he’ll be around too.

˚ ⋆｡˚ woonhak - the "i'm secretly in love with my best friend" lead

small town, childhood best friends, neighbors, growing up together, coming of age, grassy fields, tiny markets, bicycles, fireflies, shorts + graphic tees

woonhak's big smile has been a constant in your life for as long as you can remember. some of your earliest members are of making mudpies and catching fireflies in jars together, playing tag in the long grassy fields that border your town. you guys are partners in crime, drawing silly pictures in chalk outside of your neighbor’s houses or riding your bikes down to the store to buy all of the mango popsicles in stock with your pocket money.

in your eyes, woonhak is just… woonhak. he is familiar. existing with woonhak was as easy as breathing to you. you remember teasing him when you lost your first tooth before him because it proved that you were going to be more mature than him, or when you took your training wheels off first.

your parents are best friends, and it also helps that he lives directly next to you. you guys have sleepovers all the time, using flashlights under the blankets as you pull funny faces at each other, sharing stories about past crushes or what show you’re currently watching. woonhak knows everything about you and you know everything about him.

your favorite spot to meet up is the flower field behind your house. the grass is so tall, it reaches up to woonhak’s chest, the flowers spotting the green with blooms of yellows, pinks, and purples. it’s quiet there, and you guys are free to discuss whatever and whoever. that’s where you are when you’re watching the stars one night with woonhak by your side, his arms tucked behind his head. you mirror him as you talk about something woonhak did earlier that week.

“you’re so cute, hakkie. still the same after all these years,” you laugh, covering your mouth with your hand so your voice doesn’t echo too loud. at your words, woonhak sighs, a big one that catches your attention. “huh? what’s wrong?”

woonhak shakes his head, looking straight up at the sky. “i just… sometimes you say things and it reminds me that you still see me as a kid.”

you turn your head toward him at that in confusion. “what are you talking about?”

“y/n, what am i to you? honestly.” his words come out so quick, you don’t have time to linger on the sharpness in his voice.

“you’re… you’re my best friend, woonhak,” and you’re telling the truth. the answer is simple. woonhak is your best friend.

woonhak is silent for a bit, the crickets and frogs in the distance filling in the lack of noise. his gaze is far off as he stares up at the night sky, his body framed by grass and flowers. for the first time in your life, you can’t read his mind and it terrifies you.

“we are best friends, right?” when he remains silent and your heart drops a bit. “woonhak?”

suddenly then, he turns his head towards you, the side of his face illuminated by the glow of moonlight. his eyebrows are slightly furrowed, his cheeks flushed red from the humidity of summer nights.

“what if i wanted to be more than that?” he whispers, his gaze locked intensely on yours. you feel your heart stop in your chest, your palms growing sweaty from more than just the heat.

“more… more than best friends…?” you repeat dumbly. it’s as if you’re short-circuiting, all of the words that were once on your tongue dying off one by one.

“i…” woonhak sighs dejectedly, turning back up to face the sky. “i like you. i like like you. a lot.”

at the words, something in you clicks. something about the way your eyes always linger on his bright smile when he shows up on your doorsteps at the crack of dawn. something about the way your stomach churned when that girl from fourth period asked woonhak out last year. something about the way he links your pinkies together when you walk side by side, and the way he cups your face when you cry to him, and the way he holds you with so much security and love.

your lips move faster than your mind, sitting up quickly to look down at him with a wide grin. “i like you too. i like like you, woonhak. a lot. too.”

you aren’t sure what any of this means for your relationship, or for your future—but as woonhak laces your fingers together to press a small kiss to the back of your hand, any worry or doubt dissolves with the wind. you’re here now with him and for you, that could be more than enough. more than you’ve ever dreamed of.

reblogs are greatly appreciated! thank u...<3

masterlist

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umemiyan · 5 months

Text

𝙇𝙀𝘼𝙍𝙉 𝙊𝙉 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙅𝙊𝘽.

𝗠𝗘𝗚𝗨𝗠𝗜 𝗙𝗨𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗚𝗨𝗥𝗢 𝗫 𝗙!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥 𝗫 𝗧𝗢𝗝𝗜 𝗙𝗨𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗚𝗨𝗥𝗢. ⌇ 18+ only, mdni / incest, stepcest (not specified for reader's role) / threesome / unprotected piv / reader with female anatomy and pronouns / toji calls reader ‘mama’ once / 1.6k words.

so. this was supposed to be a brief thought but i have once again gone overboard. i blame @kentohours for her glorious ability to spark my brain with her ask (and all the other lovely people in my inbox giving me inspiration today).

You’re sitting on your knees on the bed, face to face with Megumi while you're both stripped down to nothing but underwear, and there's a lump in his throat. You place a hand on his thigh when you lean in to kiss him, and it takes him a moment to rest a nervous, shaking hand of his own just above your knee. The kiss is tentative and has his heart racing a mile a minute, but he can smell the familiar scent of your shampoo and it puts him at just the slightest bit of ease.

Megumi almost forgets that Toji's standing off to the side with crossed arms and a look of scrutiny in his eyes, seemingly unimpressed thus far with the juvenile nature of the kiss—evenly-paced, chaste lip locking that slowly but surely has Megumi's cock hardening in his briefs. His hand moves just an inch further up your leg and squeezes to ground himself, while his father looks on with growing impatience.

Toji's streak of jealousy colors his voice with a harsh tone, his words covering up the fact that he'd prefer to be the one touching you right now. "Feel her up. She's not made of fuckin' paper."

Megumi's brow furrows as his tongue sweeps across your bottom lip, and as much as he'd like to disobey his father out of pure spite, his need to explore you overrides everything else. He shuffles closer to you, moving his hand up to your waist and then just below your breast, feeling the swell of it graze over his fingers as you breathe.

You separate yourself from Megumi's lips and say a little breathlessly, "Toji, stop. It's his first time."

A brief wave of embarrassment washes over Megumi at the sound of your voice, but then you smile and give his thigh a reassuring squeeze. "You're doing a great job, baby."

That encouragement urges Megumi to reconnect your lips and swipe a thumb over your hardened nipple, feeling you sigh into the kiss at the careful touch. Toji huffs but silently takes note of how you respond to his son's brand of tenderness.

After what feels like eons of timid groping and testing the waters, Megumi finally has you underneath him, virgin cock leaking against your already dripping slit as he prepares to take the final step. He softly ruts between your folds with sweat on his brow, catching your clit with his tip and taking in shaky, focused breaths as he studies the familiar beauty of your face. his adoration for you consumes him, and he forgets that he’s being watched.

Toji reminds him.

"Jesus fuck, son—grow a pair and give it to her already," he berates, egging the younger man on with sharp words.

Megumi growls and resists the urge to slam into you, instead opting for a gentle push through your entrance until he's hilted and completely surrounded by your warmth. Once his arms stop trembling and he's almost certain he won't cum at the slightest movement, Megumi sets a pace with his hips and revels in the pleasure your heat provides.

Meanwhile, Toji sits back and leisurely strokes himself to the sight of you being stretched open by his own flesh and blood. He nearly takes pride in it, but it only tides him over for a while, because even though the sound of your sweet moans and praises are endearing, it’s been far too long for you to not have had an orgasm by now. Never mind that his son has no experience—Toji wants to see your toes curling, and he’ll be damned if Megumi doesn’t learn how to do it properly.

He's provided little instruction thus far, keen on appraising Megumi’s natural talents, but he anticipates having to intervene soon.

Toji moves to loom over the two of you and uses a large hand to take a fistful of Megumi’s hair, pulling the younger man’s head back to look up at him. "You gonna make her cum or what?” he says with a challenging look on his face. “Gonna give her what she needs, or do I have to step in and take care of my woman?"

“Toji—” you attempt to interject but are cut off—

“Shut up,” Megumi snarls, hips stuttering and face flushed from the exertion and humiliation of it all.

Toji laughs at his son’s heated reaction and uses his strength to rip the boy away from you in an instant, flinging him off to the side before he can even try to fight back. Megumi’s blood boils as his spine hits the mattress in the space next to you and Toji’s taking his previous place with finesse, slipping your legs over his shoulders and putting you in a mating press with nothing less than practiced ease.

Megumi knows better than to take the risk of protesting, especially when Toji buries himself in you with one swift stroke, looks over at his son and says, “Start taking notes.”

Everything is a blur for you after that. Toji’s cock works you as well as it always does, splitting you open and sending pleasure down to the very tips of your toes. You’re unable to glance over and see how Megumi’s length twitches against the dark patch of hair on his belly at the sight of your sticky cunt being used, but Toji can see it—he makes a point to turn his head and flash a cocky smirk at his son as he rails into you.

Megumi fights the urge to touch himself while your arousal still glistens on his shaft, and although he resents Toji for stealing you from him, he can’t deny that watching you receive such pleasure is an incredible delicacy. It may be in a much harsher way than he himself had ever imagined being able to enact, but he is indeed taking pointers from Toji’s efficiency at making your eyes roll back.

After a couple of orgasms wrack your system, your husband finally presses his pubes to your clit and floods you with his seed as deeply as he can manage. Toji pulls out with a satisfied groan once he’s finished and moves to leave you wide open again, casually gesturing for Megumi to assume his position and top you off after the demonstration.

“Pop quiz. Were you paying attention?”

Megumi wants to snap and toss out harsh words, but he’s too desperate to be buried within you again to the point where he says nothing, opting for ignoring the way his father’s cum gushes out of you and pushing his own cock back inside to shove it even deeper. He immediately sets a pace and uses his indignation to drive him forward and please you, but not in the same way that Toji had—no, he’ll lick your neck and work your favorite spots in his own way, coaxing the pleasure from you with reverence and hailing you for letting him.

Toji’s admittedly a little shocked by how Megumi’s technique has already improved, albeit being quite different from his own. The younger man is still pulling those same pleased moans from your lips as he strokes your insides with filthy wet sounds, but it somehow doesn’t detract from the air of devotion that lingers between the two of you. Megumi even kneads your breast and does his best to roll your clit beneath his thumb a few times—anything to try and bring you the same ecstasy his father had.

“I wanna make you cum,” Megumi softly proclaims with a desperate voice in your ear. He needs it just as badly as you do.

“Fuck—you’ve got it. Just keep doing it like that, baby,” you reply, feeling the heat in your core build with each passing second. Megumi continues his rhythm without faltering, lest he ruin this opportunity to please you, and the nudging of his pelvis against your clit with each deep stroke has your head beginning to spin.

“Yeah, yeah… such a good job, pretty boy,” you praise him with breathless, hurried words, and the two of you are completely wrapped up in one another. Toji would be jealous if his cock weren’t already almost twitching back to life.

You’re nearly at the edge but Megumi is at his breaking point, balls tightening and promptly shooting his load out as you begin to constrict around him with need. However, he doesn’t stop his movements, pushing himself to keep fucking you despite the overwhelming desire to freeze as the pleasure takes hold of him. Thankfully, it doesn’t take much longer for you to topple over as well, milking him with the flutters of your used cunt and gifting him with the pride of having been able to please you.

Megumi takes refuge against your neck, huffing and panting as both your bodies recover from their respective highs. You’re overflowing with the seed of both father and son, the mixture trickling from your hole and onto the bed sheets before Megumi can even pull out and lay next to you. Once he does, however, Toji approaches again and captures your lips in a celebratory kiss.

“Well done, mama.” he grins and traces along your sloppy folds with a curious hand, causing your breath to hitch and body to jolt at the overstimulation. Toji then slides two fingers up your cunt and covers them with the mixture of everyone's cum before promptly removing them with a squelch. “Think we’ve got him off to the right start.”

Toji looks down at his exhausted son, filled with both pride and competitiveness at the results of this excursion, but he knows there’s so much more to be learned.

He provides no warning before shoving his two digits into Megumi's mouth with a wicked grin, forcing him to taste the combination of the family’s pleasure on his tongue. And there's more where that came from.

"Ready to learn how to eat pussy?"

#dividers by @cafekitsune #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #re: megumi fushiguro #re: toji fushiguro #my writing.

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gloomwitchwrites · 6 months

Note

I wish to see how each of the 141 boys respond to their ex, reader, calling them for emotional support bc readers newest bf was toxic af

bonus points if 141 boys are still possessive over reader, but doesn't do anything besides telling reader to leave her toxic bf. OR ORRR he's possessive bc him and reader have been together for so long, who would know how to treat her better than him? He knows every little detail she cares about, every little action that makes her fall head over heels in an instant. Her toxic bf? He doesn't care to learn about those types of things, even if reader outright says it

EVEN MORE BONUS POINTS for smut to show reader what a quick fuck of satisfaction looks like vs genuine sex / love making

Apologies, Anon. This has been sitting in my inbox for…a while, but I’ve been thinking about it off and on since you’ve sent it in.

I’ll drop some HC’s about how this would go down but I absolutely want to explore this further as part of the Imagines & What If Series.

I'll tackle these separately and make them individual one-shots (with much more detail) once I wrap up the By the Belt prompt. But for now...enjoy my HC's (if you will) on what I think would go down in this scenario.

The official masterlist for the extended fics can be found HERE.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

Content & Warnings: suggestive themes (it's vague), brief mentions of protective/possessive behavior, canon-typical swearing

John Price

Breakup status: Strained (at first), but settled into friendship.

Absolutely hates texting, and you know if you need to reach him immediately, you have to call. Price isn’t an old man, he’s just the old man of the group, and would absolutely be tech literate but also super picky on how he communicates with people personally. It’s Price’s job to be calm, to be a leader, and pick up on things others don’t necessarily notice. So, Price would know you’re upset with your current boyfriend without you even having to spell it out. Besides, Price hates the guy, and knows he’s not worth even a lob of spit.

Plus, Price has been wanting to get back with you for ages. Now that the two of you are friends and have repaired whatever it is that separated the two of you in the first place, Price is looking to find a way to move in again, to slowly (or quickly) win you back, and now he has the opportunity.

Price insists on talking in person, and the moment the two of you are together, he makes the effort he knows you’re needing—because he wants you back, but also because he knows you better than your current boyfriend. Price doesn’t understand why you even gave the guy a chance, but he’ll do everything to get you back.

He would start with subtle indications eventually moving the conversation into past memories, reminiscing on happier times when you were his woman, and how that felt. It slowly devolves until you’re admitting first that you still miss him, and Price goes in for the kill, stating clearly that he still has feelings for you.

The final act is passionate, rough, and intense. Like an atom splitting, it is explosive.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Breakup status: mutual (away all the time; hard to make it work)

When you call, on the verge of tears, needing to talk to someone, Gaz immediately knows something is wrong the moment he picks up. (Sorta like Price but more attuned emotionally to the situation).

I can see Gaz not being a fan of chatting for long periods on the phone, so you don’t even need to ask, Gaz will drop everything and come to you without you having to suggest it. In fact, Gaz picks up, realizes your upset, and immediately says he’s coming over.

When he arrives, it’s like the two of you have never been apart. It’s almost routine, completely natural the way the two of you come together. Gaz is very much about physical affection. He’s constantly touching you, comforting you, and saying sweet things that always make you melt.

Totally knows you need a distraction, and while you’re upset, you’re having a difficult time expressing yourself. When this happens, Gaz just shuts it down, guiding you toward distraction to help you calm down and ease your mind before probing to see if you want to return to the topic.

Once that happens, game over for boyfriend. He’s lost you to Gaz.

The reunification is absolutely passionate and soft. I will die on that hill.

John “Soap” MacTavish

Breakup status: Messy. (You cannot tell me Soap isn’t a hot mess. Our boy is a little too high energy at times.)

While the breakup between the two of you is messy, Soap has always been a “safe” person for you. So, when you call him to vent, you don’t realize that Soap immediately starts heading in your direction until he knocks on your door and the two of you stand there staring at each other, phones held up to your ears. It’s an impulsive decision on his end to come to you, but you don’t turn him away.

Like Simon, Soap would be forward in the way he addresses your concern and the issues—which is your shitty boyfriend who deserves to only be known as your ex. However, where Simon is more of a blunt “these are the facts” kind of communicator, Soap will go for the jugular, using harsher language about this “boyfriend.” He won’t be critical of you, but he will be overly critical of him, listing all the ways this idiot doesn’t deserve you. He might even grow a bit heated in tone and pitch, becoming creative with his slang, and his accent might thicken slightly especially if he’s going off.

But ultimately, Soap is defending you, and reiterates the need for you to stand up for yourself and get rid of this loser.

I don’t think anything passionate would happen in that moment. But I could also see Soap in the middle of him criticizing your toxic boyfriend, you shutting him up with a kiss. Now…that could easily go sideways with someone like Soap. He’s very much impulsive at times, and I think that would win out. Soap would totally kiss you back and not allow you to pull away from him again until you’re…satisfied.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Breakup status: Tumultuous, eventually mellowing to mutual understanding afterward.

Would listen to you rant without interrupting. He would not ask any clarifying or follow up questions.

When you have it all out of your system, his response is simple: break up with him. Simon is direct—could even say blunt depending on the situation, and he would absolutely be that way in this scenario.

He makes it clear that you’re obviously not happy and that the relationship is making you miserable. He might even lay it out plainly, stating only the facts, sliding into that mindset when he’s in the field, thinking about all scenarios and problem-solving while doing so.

Internally, he’s absolutely ecstatic that your current boyfriend is a garbage heap of a human being. He will see this as an opportunity to slip right back into your life if he plays this right. Sure, the two of you aren’t together anymore, but he’s not over it. Simon is possessive and territorial to the core. Totally still considers you his.

Will absolutely make up a reason to come over, and it will likely fall under the “I’m looking out for you” or “trying to protect you from him” insisting that your boyfriend could escalate and he won’t allow you to potentially be in harm’s way.

When he arrives, Simon immediately turns soft and attentive in just the way you like. He gives you his full attention, doesn’t lecture, and offers plenty of physical touch.

The physical touches turn…well, I’ll save that for the full fic. But it is a reminder of how you’ve always been his and you just need to realize it.

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hederasgarden · 14 days

Text

Something Better

Summary: A chance encounter with your academic rival reminds you there's more to life than looks. Pairing: Scott Miller (Twisters) x F!Plus Size!Reader Word Count: 1.4K Rating: Mature, 18+ only. College AU. Light angst, body insecurity, heavy petting and kissing. A/N: For my dearest @clairewritesandrambles based on this ask. Thank you @ryebecca for the beta. Turns out I'm terrible at sticking to the 100 word prompts. Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Masterlist ♡ David Corenswet Characters Masterlist

It’s a struggle to escape the press of bodies on the dance floor, the pounding bass thrumming uncomfortably in your chest. You wipe angrily at your face, jaw clenched as you fight to keep the tears at bay. No one seems to notice — everyone is too drunk or high. You could find your friends, but beneath the desire for comfort is the sharp, burning sting of shame.

You should have known better than to trust Tyler Owens.

All those sweet words and flirtatious smiles were meaningless to him. In the end, you were just another notch in his belt and the worst part is, that you have no one to blame but yourself. Everyone knew he wasn’t the type for commitment, but you were blinded by his charm and the way his deep green eyes made you feel beautiful. He said you were special and you were just stupid enough to believe him.

Escaping into the cool night air brings you a brief moment of relief. You close your eyes and tilt your head back.

"Where’s the cowboy?"

The unexpected voice makes you flinch. You don’t need to turn around to know who it is. Only one person ever called Tyler Owens a cowboy.

"Not now, Scott."

Usually, you didn’t mind going toe-to-toe with him, enjoying the opportunity to match wits with someone as sharp as Scott. Tonight, though, you’re exhausted, and he’s the last person you want to show any weakness to. In class, he was quick to exploit any hint of vulnerability in an opponent.

"Is that all you’ve got?" he taunts. "Spending time with Owens must have really lowered your IQ."

You bite your tongue, curling your hand into a fist. You can’t handle this right now. You can't handle him.

"Just...go away." Despite your best efforts, your voice betrays how you feel — strained and fragile.

He doesn’t listen, of course, the gravel crunching under his feet as he approaches. Your shoulders slump, and a fresh wave of tears escapes. You stare at the ground and wait for the cutting remark Scott's sure to deliver when he sees you like this. When nothing comes, you hesitantly look up, meeting his cool blue gaze. You’re surprised to see a soft furrow between his brows. He almost looks…concerned.

"You're crying."

It's such an obvious statement from him that you laugh, but it comes out more as a sob and you press the back of your hand to your mouth. Scott steps forward, making an abortive gesture like he means to touch you but thought better of it. He looks past you, the soft curve of his lips tightening into a sharp, displeased line. Then his gaze cuts back to you.

"Did Tyler do something?" He asks.

You shake your head. The truth is, you hurt yourself by thinking someone like Tyler would ever want to date you. Why would he, when he had Kate Carter on his arm? She looked beautiful tonight, her honey blond hair curling softly around her delicate features. She was slender and striking in a way you'd never be. She’d be easy to hate if she wasn't so kind and smart.

"He did something," Scott presses.

Just then, the door swings open, and a group of people spills out into the night. A few of them look over, and you’re quick to turn away, hunching your shoulders in embarrassment. It’s bad enough that Scott saw you like this; you don’t need anyone else witnessing it.

Beside you, Scott lets out a sharp huff, his breath escaping through his nose in a rush. Without a word, he grabs you, his long fingers wrapping firmly around your bicep. He pulls you effortlessly to the side of the building, out of view.

“Sometime happened. You never shut up, and now you’re just…” He trails off, using his free hand to gesture irritably.

You shrug out of his hold and wrap an arm around your middle. You try to steady your voice, but it quivers when you whisper, "It's nothing."

“Oh, I see,” he responds coolly. “You think you’re better than everyone now because you’re dating the star football player.”

Scott’s accusation is so far off the mark it’s almost laughable, and on any other day, you’d relish the chance to set him straight. But right now, all you want is to disappear.

“Typical,” he mutters.

A sudden burst of anger flares under your ribcage and you surge forward, jabbing a finger hard into his chest. You’re so close your body brushes his but you don’t care.

“You want to know what happened?” you ask. “We slept together, but the second someone skinnier and prettier showed up, he acted like I didn’t even exist. And honestly, I can’t even blame him," you continue with a bitter laugh. "Just look at Kate Carter.”

As soon as the words are out of your mouth and you realize what you’ve just admitted, you shrink back against the brick wall, feeling exposed. Scott rolls his eyes, and you tense up, bracing yourself for whatever he is about to say.

"Kate Carter isn't as smart as us," he says dismissively. "She's a fucking bio major. You think she even took differential equations?”

Of course he didn’t get it. People like Scott and Tyler moved through the world differently than you. “No one’s looking at her transcript She’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, and so are you.”

You freeze and the unexpected compliment hangs in the air between you as you search his expression for any trace of sarcasm. Scott stares steadily back at you and something in your stomach flutters to life, sweeping up your chest in a hot rush.

“Scott…”

“Don’t make this a thing,” he says quietly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “It’s not a thing.”

He dips his head and then suddenly, he’s kissing you, those soft, plump lips of his sliding against yours almost sweetly. You clutch the front of his sweater, tilting your head back until your nose brushes against his. A quiet moan builds at the back of your throat and Scott surges forward, caging you in between his body and the wall. The rough brick catches against the soft skin of your shoulder but you don’t care, not with the way he’s kissing you.

“Gonna let me in?” he whispers.

Without hesitation, you part your lips, welcoming him into the wet heat of your mouth. He groans in response, grasping your hips. He kisses just like he argues with you in the classroom — relentless in his pursuit, overwhelming you in the best way possible until you yield. This time you want him to win, but you can’t resist trying to outdo him. You draw his lower lip between your teeth and bite down until he grunts.

“Fuck,” he pants, his hands sweeping up and down your sides.

You cant your hips forward and he grabs the back of your thigh, grinding into you.

“I’m going to take you home,” he promises, mouthing at the side of your neck. "Then I’m going to fuck you until you forget that asshole's name.”

You shudder, freeing one of your hands trapped between your bodies and burying it in his thick black curls. A light tug has him nipping at the soft skin of your throat. Everything about him feels so good. It would be easy to lose yourself to this, to him, but you pull back, blinking away the haze of lust. You refuse to repeat your mistake with Tyler.

“What happens after?” You ask him, breathless.

Scott blinks, running his tongue over his swollen bottom lip. “After?”

“After we, you know….” That little shadow appears between his brows again. You shift uncomfortably, drawing back. “With Tyler…after, he—”

“We date,” Scott interrupts.

Maybe it’s the kiss or the whirlwind of emotions you’ve experienced tonight, but for the first time, you're at a loss for words with Scott.

“Date?” You repeat dumbly.

“Yes.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing. “Do you require the definition of the word?” He looks half annoyed now, staring down his nose at you. “If you can’t keep up, I’m not sure we can do this.”

“Do what?”

“Date,” he replies tersely. “You know, you’re killing the mood here.”

“Well,” you sputter, “it’s not my fault you’re a poor communicator.”

Scott rolls his eyes. “This was better when we weren’t talking.”

“Agreed,” you fire back.

“So it’s settled.”

When you nod, Scott grasps your hand and tugs you forward. His long legs make it difficult to keep up but after a few seconds, he seems to notice and adjusts his pace to match yours. He casts a brief glance at you and you see a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth, as if his lips were about to part but he thought better of it.

“What?” You ask, amused.

He shrugs. “Nothing.”

“Okay,” you agree. “Just as long as you’re not making this a thing.”

Scott lets out a small, exasperated sigh and turns away, but not before you catch the smile tugging at his lips.

Send me a request

#scott miller x reader #scott miller x you #scott miller #scott twisters #scott x you #scott x reader

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ohwowimlonley · 8 months

Note

poly!marauders x drunk!reader at a party and reader needy but they don’t want to help reader because they don’t want to do anything when reader basically unconscious of what’s happening because reader is drunk. So they try to explain to reader that they will gladly take care of them after they get better and go to bed. Thank you!

Small psa to all the people that have requested recently - im trying to get through all of them but some i want to write longer fics for and some im keeping in my inbox for blurbs! <3

—

You reach out for them blindly, fingers groping at dead air as you murmer their names. You’re strapped into the back passenger seat of James’ car on the way home from girls night. It’s safe to say that even three hours with Lily and Marlene drinking wine and gossiping about your boys had caused the three of you to go through maybe five bottles of wine between the three of you. Lily had called the boys to pick you up when it got too late, leading to them all but carrying you out to the car while you try to grab at them.

“Siri,” you muster up your sweetest voice, but it’s tinged with a slur and you can’t quite pinpoint where he is when you open your eyes to gaze at him. He makes a small sound from next to you, and his fingers finally brush yours, “you’re so pretty, d’you know that?”

“Oh yeah?” You can hear the grin in his voice, along with the other boys chuckles from the front seats. You squeeze his fingers and follow the line of his arm until you get to his jeans.

“Mhm,” you nod, clenching your fingers around his thigh and fumbling your way towards his crotch, “I tell the girls all about it, like how good you make me feel,”

“Alright, enough,” Remus calls from the passenger seat, leaning back to grip your arm and remove it from Sirius’ crotch. He shushes your whines at the loss lf contact, and fends you off as you lean forward and try to wrap your arm around his chest, “sit back, love, you know that’s not safe in a moving car,”

“But daddy,” you keen, tugging against your seatbelt and pouting around at your boyfriends as they gently keep you from touching them. As your last resort, you turn to James, “Jamsie, you’ll make me feel good, won’t you?”

“I’m sorry, sweetness,” he makes the briefest glimpse of eye contact with you as his head whips back to look through the rear window to check his clearance as he reverses into your driveway.

You don’t exactly remember the next five minutes of your life, it’s mostly a flurry of opening doors and light switches flicking before you’re sat squarely on your shared bed by Remus. The others aren’t far behind him, shutting the door behind them and busying themselves with clinking a glass of water onto the bedside table and finding pyjamas out for the four of you.

Your eyes brighten as James begins removing your dress, and you surge forward and plant a firm kiss on his plush lips. He indulges you for a brief moment before pulling away and tugging your clothes off, only to replace it with one of his tshirts.

“Jamesie,” you whine, wide eyes filling with tears as he moves away from you to begin changing himself, “why won’t you fuck me?”

“Oh, sweetness,” Remus turns in his spot as a tear dribbles down your cheek. He pulls the boys over to you and all of a sudden you’re crowded by your boyfriends.

“Baby,” Sirius takes your hand and crouches down to your level, “you know we love you, and we love makin’ you feel good, but you’ve had way too much to drink tonight,”

“No I haven’t,” you insist.

“Yes you have,” Remus does the same thing as your curly-haired boyfriend, bringing your fist up to smooth a kiss there, “how much wine did you drink with Lily and Marls? You know red is your weakness,”

“But- but that doesn’t mean anything, you can still fuck me,” you grip their hands tighter, nodding at your own words.

“No, baby, not when you’ve been drinking,” James, as always, has the most gentle voice of the three of them, “you’re not in your right mind when you’re drinking, right? You might say yes to something you might regret,”

“But we’ve had sex loads,” you complain, “and I’ve never regretted it before!”

“That’s not the point, sweetness,” Remus interjects, “look, why don’t we go to bed, and when we wake up, I promise we’ll make it up to you, okay?”

“But-“

“No buts,” Sirius extends back to his full height and presses a kiss to your forehead, “go to bed now, okay?”

“And drink some water before you fall asleep,” James reminds you, reaching over and handing you the glass as you resign yourself to silence, pouting to yourself.

“Will you at least kiss me?” Immidietly, you’re overwhelmed with kisses all over your face, causing you to giggle drunkenly at their affection.

#•megs ask box•#•megs smutty daydreams•#poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders #marauders x y/n #marauders x you #marauders x reader #marauders moodboard #marauders fic #marauders era #marauders smut

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spamgyu · 3 months

Text

Inbox, Full // Seungcheol Oneshot

DESCRIPTION: Four years has passed many has changed, but yet not quite much at all... A highly requested Part 2 to Disconnected Calls PARING: Seungcheol x Reader GENRE: Angst

If this exact moment had been granted to him four years ago, his reaction would have been much more different.

He would have stood frozen in his spot, trying to swallow the pain that would have formed in his chest - the one that he waited for but didn't quite appear. It's been a long while since this crippling pain, the one that left him gasping for air, was associated with you.

Hell, it's been a long while since he had associated any emotion of pain to you.

You were nothing but a distant memory now. The person that he once felt pure regret and anguish towards was someone he now cherished – someone he thanked.

You were his greatest lesson.

It may have taken him a while to learn, but Seungcheol wouldn't have had it any other way.

Years has passed, and though you two may be strangers now, he knew you.

He knew how you stood, Seungcheol could pick out that posture in a crowded room.

He knew that you liked to cut your hair shorter during summer months – wanting to relieve yourself from the overstimulating feeling of the strands sticking to your neck as the humid season rolled in.

You may have had your back towards him, but he knew – Seungcheol knew it was you that was sorting through the pile of watermelons. It was your favorite summer fruit after all, there was never a day during the hot months that your counter space didn't have that large green fruit.

He waited for a couple more seconds for that familiar feeling of grief to show up – but nothing.

Letting his legs overpower his brain, he made his way towards you.

"Need help?" Seungcheol came up from the other side.

You have heard his voice in passing; on the radio, television ads, and other forms of media – you didn't think you would hear it again. Not in person at least.

Looking up to meet his eyes, you couldn't help but notice how much brighter they were.

The bags, they were gone.

The cloud that seemed to have formed above his head, lingering for months after the break up, was nowhere in sight.

The warm smile formed on his lips was no longer forced.

It was as if a brand new man stood before you.

"I- Hi." You breathed out, almost as if you were still trying to register if he was in fact stood before you.

"Sorry– that was a really lame way to approach you." He chuckled sheepishly.

"No, I– No it's fine." You shook your head.

You knew this was a big step for him; after all, he was the one that shut you out. Him approaching you meant he had finally healed.

"How have you been?"

"Good, I- I'm actually just visiting."

"Oh-" His eyes grew wide, his bottom lip jutting out as he nodded.

You had followed your dream of starting a new life outside of the country. Seungcheol should have known the bustling city across the globe that you two had jokingly made plans to settle down at is now the place you called home... with a whole different man.

The one he heard about. The one that brought happiness back in to your life.

The man that was able to place a ring on the finger Seungcheol had once promised on doing.

"How about you?"

"Ah, well you know–" Seungcheol trailed off, not exactly knowing how to sum up the past four years. "The kids aren't kids anymore."

"That's a given." You let out a small laugh at his poor attempts of making a joke – some parts of him had not changed one bit.

Still addressing the band of brothers, who aren't too far from either one of your age, as kids. Something you had gotten accustomed to referring them as during the days when you were his.

There was a brief pause as the two of you tried to find more words to say to one another – using your eyes to communicate all that your mouths couldn't.

With the simple silence, you were able to see how much he had grown since parting ways. You were able to accept his silent apology; the apology he had been meaning to send out for pulling the rug right under you.

And you were able to let him know that he had been long forgiven.

It was all in the past and despite the initial anger, you never were angry at him for too long.

You couldn't be.

You cared for him far too deeply, loved him far too much, to not understand why he had chosen to end things the way he had.

Besides, no amount of anger and hatred could have changed the outcome – you had forgiven Seungcheol not just for him, but for yourself as well.

"It was great seeing you, Cheo–Seungcheol."

Seungcheol pulled his lips into a tight smile, hearing how quickly you had caught yourself from uttering that nickname he had missed so dearly.

Not that he was aware of it.

Hearing it had nearly transported him back in time; back to when all he knew was chaos – and you were the only constant in the midst of it all.

It was a strange brief feeling of nostalgia; the warm feeling radiating in his chest confusing him.

"You too, Y/n." He breathed, taking one last glance at you before heading back to the cart he had abandoned a few feet away.

You didn't dare look behind you to bid him one last goodbye, the interaction putting a sudden halt your new reality.

It was as if you were thrown back in time – back to when you had first caught glance of the ring you had thought you wanted.

Back to a time when everyone had been congratulating you for reaching a new milestone and all you could think of was the man that had left you out cold – letting you fall only for him to not be there to catch you, as he had promised.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

Seungcheol hated many things and moving was at the top of that list.

"Let's get this shit over with." He grumbled as he opened the one last box he had promised himself he would sift through – making sure the contents inside were something he wanted in his new space.

He didn't need to dig through the contents of the small 12 x 12 cardboard box to know what it held. The only indicator he needed was the iPhone 13 that sat atop the piles of letters, pictures, saved receipts, and miscellaneous trinkets.

It was a box that held the evidence that you were once in his life.

Just as earlier in the grocery store, his limbs worked faster than his brain; reaching to grab the phone – turning it on.

Within minutes, notifications began to roll in – no, rush in.

It was as if he had opened the flood gates without realizing there had been a ten foot wave waiting for him.

They were all voicemails from you.

Seungcheol knew it wasn't a good idea to check it out, he knew he should turn the phone off and go back to what he had originally been doing.

But curiosity had gotten the best of him and he had opened the application.

The notification bubble had been in the double digits and as he scrolled through, he realized you had done exactly what he had been doing during the times he had felt he was at his lowest – you had been leaving him messages.

For once, Seungcheol chose to listen to his brain and opted to not listen to any of them – at least, not the ones that were dated at the time when the break up was still fresh.

He knew what those voice memos contained; it was similar to the ones he had sent out to the void all those years ago.

It wasn't until he had reached the very bottom when a particular date peaked his interest.

It was the date he had found out you were engaged.

You had called him the same day he had called you.

That pain, that tightening at the chest, the one he waited to appear at the grocery store – it had finally come.

Stumbling back, allowing for the back of his legs to indacate him that he had reached the side of his bed, Seungcheol plopped his body down – his thumb hovering over the play button.

"This is a bad fucking idea." He chewed at his lip, almost as if he was attempting to talk himself out of the decision his heart had already made for him.

There was no going back now.

Hitting the play button, your voice began to play aloud. "Seungcheol, if you're out there– if you somehow get this– I– I made a mistak–"

"No." He shook his head, not bothering to listen to the rest of the message. Seungcheol knew he was a coward for not wanting to let the message play on, but he also knew there was no good in listening to the remainder of it.

Especially knowing that he was somewhere across town doing the same – expressing how much he had regretted his decision of ending things between the two of you.

He didn't want to let himself spiral down the rabbit hole of what if's; he had covered that hole.

Seungcheol refuse to dig it up again.

He was finally okay.

He has finally moved on.

Unfortunately, the voice of reason had once again been over powered as his curiosity took notice of a voicemail that was dated a few months after that god forsaken day.

"Fuck." He sucked in a deep breath as he felt his thumb press onto the device.

"Cheol," You sounded just as broken as the previous message; if not, even more. "I called it off. I couldn't do it."

Seungcheol felt all the blood from his body drain and pool at his feet upon hearing this.

You had called off the engagement.

The engagement that had sent Seungcheol over the edge, spiraling for months on end – unable to see the light at the end of the tunnel as he tried his best to move on from you.

"I'm moving to New York. I– I need to leave." You sniffled back a sob. "I– one of us has to fulfill that dream, right? I'll do it. I'll go. Maybe I'll tell you all about it one day. I– I just can't stay. Not when I feel like I see you everywhere I turn."

He took a glance at the time stamp once again – his brain sifting through the memories to try and recall where he was at the time that message was sent.

He was barely moving on from you at the time.

All while he had thought you were making plans for a wedding, you had actually called it off – because of him.

Seungcheol had forcibly moved on from you because he thought there was no longer a chance to make amends; to take back all the pain and suffering he had put you through.

If he had only–

"No, there are no if's or but's." Seungcheol scolded himself. "Not anymore."

He had worked so hard to get himself out of that rut, he had spent many nights crying on his best friend's shoulder – he couldn't take all that he had worked for and throw it all away over a message that he had missed four years ago.

Standing up from the bed, Seungcheol swiped out of the app – ready to turn the device off once again when the unthinkable had happened.

Another voicemail.

Dated to today's date.

It was as if the universe wanted to see him down – as if it wanted him to suffer.

Can't he just move on? Can't he finally enjoy the life he was living now? The one without the guilt?

"Y/n what are you doing?" He stared at the notification, hearing his heart grow louder in his ears as each second passed.

He has no choice but to listen to it, right? Considering he missed all the other ones.

Right?

Seungcheol internally groaned knowing that, despite all the years that has passed, he never could resist you.

He will always have a soft spot for you.

Maybe it was the love he had for you – the one he had come to terms would never fully go away. It may not take up the same amount of space as it did before, but he was mature enough to acknowledge that you will always be there.

Or maybe it was the guilt, the one that kept him up at night for as long as he could remember. His brain never failed to remind him of all the wrongs he had had committed against you – reminding him of all the promises he made and neglected.

There was a long silence that filled the room before your voice was heard; almost as if you were still finding the right words to say.

"I saw you today." Your voice was soft. It didn't sound quite as pained as the previous voice memos – but it was there. He could hear it.

You sounded almost defeated.

"I thought I was okay. I should have known I would run into you one day." Your voice had now become shaky. "You looked good– mature."

There was another silence.

"You– you look happier."

Seungcheol's heart began to ache at the thought of you realizing how much he had changed since you had last seen him.

He saw that you had changed as well – but he didn't catch on the way you did.

Maybe he didn't quite know you after all. How could he have missed the fact that your shoulders dropped the second you caught sight of him?

How did he miss the fact you had grown pale, seeing that he was clearly in a better mental state than you were?

You were once each others worlds, revolving around one another – but now, you two were just stars passing. Both completely lightyears away – hurdling towards different suns.

Or at least, he was.

"I– I know I said that last time was the last time– But seeing you– I– Everything came rushing back." Your voice cracked.

"Just let it out." He found himself mumbling, knowing that you had been suppressing the tears.

"I swear after this, I'll stop. I'll let go."

Don't.

Because he hasn't fully let go.

Maybe that's why he approached you.

Maybe that's why his feet found it's way making over to you instead of leaving you alone.

"Honey," Seungcheol whipped his head towards the sound of the sweet melodic voice – pulling him out of his thoughts and back to his reality. Within seconds her head popped into the doorway of the room, that beautiful smile painted on her face – the one that melted his heart at first sight.

Just as quickly the pain had appeared, it disappeared at the sight of the woman who now held the key to his heart.

The confusion, the pain, the guilt – it had washed away.

It was all just a temporary feeling.

"Movers are here, you ready?"

Blinking quickly, to regain focus, Seungcheol mirrored the her smile. "Yep. Just gimme a sec, yeah?"

"Take your time." She hummed before disappearing back into the hallway.

Take your time, whatever that meant.

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orchidniins · 5 months

Note

hi! would you please be able to write a fic of george picking us up from a drunken night out and looking after us? i think he’d be so lovely 🥰🥰

Drunken Adventures | George Clarke

Summary: Just boyfriend George taking care of his drunk girlfriend Pairing: George Clarke x F!Reader Warnings: Fluff Word count: 2.8k+ A/N: George is such boyfriend material and would just be such a caring boyfriend. The biggest simp in the world. tbh not my best work, but this request has been in my inbox for like a month now. Hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

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George lounged in the familiar living room of the Arthurs’ and Chris's apartment, unwinding after a long day of filming. It had been quite some time since he moved out to live with you, and with you out all night for your best friend Jenna’s hen do, he was not looking forward to the prospect of returning to an empty apartment. So, when the opportunity arose to spend some time and catch up with the boys, he was more than glad to seize it.

Midway through their conversation, George's phone begins buzzing on its spot on the coffee table. Glancing at the phone, he expects to see your name on the screen, assuming you would be calling to let him know you were on your way home. However, concern washes over him when he’s instead met with the caller ID of your friend Lily. Instantly springing up from the couch, he excuses himself to take the call.

George's fingers hurriedly tapped the screen as he accepted the call. "Hey, Lily. Is everything okay? What's the matter?" His tone carried a hint of urgency.

"George, it's me, Lily," came the slurred voice on the other end. George let out a soft huff, realizing just how intoxicated your friend was. Patiently, he asked again, "Yeah, hi Lily. Is Y/N with you? Is she alright?"

Amidst the muffled voices and the noise of people talking over each other, he patiently waits for Lily's response. Finally, her voice broke through the chaos. "Yeah, she's fine... mostly. But she's like absolutely shit-faced right now. She's insisting that she'll get back on her own, but none of us trust her to do that, so you better come and pick her up. I'll send you our location."

"Tell her to stay put, I'm on my way," George says as he walks toward the door. With his phone pressed between his shoulder and ear, he begins putting on his coat. Lily responded with a quick, "Okay, thanks," before abruptly ending the call.

With a brief goodbye to the boys and a quick explanation of where he was headed, George was out the door in a hurry, calling a cab on his way down to your location.

A quick cab ride later, he reaches the club where you were at. He steps out into the cold night air and almost instantly spots your small group gathered outside. You were seated on the pavement, legs criss crossed, your head leaning against a lamppost while you scrolled through your phone, laughing at whatever was playing on your screen. The faint glow illuminated your features in the dim light of the street.

George couldn't help but shake his head and laugh at the spectacle before him.

The bride-to-be was video calling someone, oblivious to the chaos around. Meanwhile, one of your friends was bent over a nearby bush, puking her guts out, while Lily stood holding her hair back. The rest of the girls, keeled over in drunken laughter.

George made his way over to where you were sitting, a smile playing on his lips as he crouched down next to you. "Hey there, troublemaker," he greeted softly, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

You look up from your phone at the sound of his voice and your face lights up with a goofy grin. "Georgey!" you exclaimed, without a moment's hesitation, you threw your arms around him in a tight hug, causing him to stumble back slightly. His hand lands on the pavement, steadying him, while the other instantly wraps around your back.

"Hey there, love. You feeling okay?” he says, his voice filled with laughter. You returned his gaze, a grin spreading across your lips. "Yeah, I'm great," you replied, your words slightly slurred. You reached out and gently grabbed his face with both hands, planting a kiss on his lips, catching him off guard.

"I missed you, you beautiful man." you continued, George chuckled softly, thoroughly amused by your actions. "How much have you had to drink?" he asked, his tone gentle and caring.

"Not that much, I feel fine," you insisted, trying to sound serious but failing as a smile inevitably crept back onto your face, causing you both to laugh.

"Alright then, let's get you up first," George says, gently brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen out of place before tucking it behind your ear. He then slowly gets you up to your feet, fixing your dress after it had ridden up while you were sitting down.

"Now, let's get you home," he says while you eye him with a small pout. Once you're up on your feet, you lean into his side, wrapping your arms around his waist and tucking yourself under his arm. His arm naturally settles on your shoulder, providing support to keep you steady.

As George reached for his phone and opened up the Uber app, you swiftly snatched it away, declaring, "But I'm having fun! I don’t want to go home yet!" In your haste, however, you accidentally dropped his phone, which landed squarely on his right foot.

"Ouch. Careful there, love, you nearly decapitated me," George joked, his laughter ringing out in the night air. You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, unable to suppress your own laugh. As he bent down to pick up his phone, you playfully attempted to hold him back by his waist. However, your drunken attempt at holding him back proved worthless, causing you to stumble back as your arms detached from his waist. But, before your bum could hit the pavement, George was quick to grab onto your waist and keep you from landing on the ground.

"Okay, that's a sign, you're done for the night, Y/N," he says, gently getting you back on your feet. Once you're standing, you turn around to face him, his arms still securely wrapped around your waist to prevent another potential stumble.

You shake your head stubbornly, determination shining in your eyes. "No, I don’t wanna go back home just yet," you insist firmly, your conviction clear. "The entire city is ours, George. We can't miss out on this adventure," you explain, pointing towards the street. "Each street, each building, they all have stories to tell. And tonight, we get to be a part of those stories."

George smiles at your intoxicated ramblings, gently teasing, "What are you going on about?" His laughter follows. that contagious sound that you love so much, accompanied by the crinkle in his eyes.

As you continue trying to convince him, George can't help but think how absolutely adorable you are, even in your drunken state. And despite his initial resistance, he finds himself giving in to your whims.

"Fine," he finally gives in with a sigh, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I can never say no to you, can I?” he admits.

You smile at him as you raise up on your tiptoes and give him a peck on the cheek "Exactly, now off we go Georgey!" With that, you grab his hand and pull him away from the club.

Turning back to your friends, you shout a goodbye, waving enthusiastically. George shoots them a quick farewell before turning his attention back to you. "You sure it’s a good idea to leave them to fend for themselves?" he quips, laughing as he gestures towards your just as wasted friends.

You laugh and shrug, "Eh, they'll be fine,” you reassure him, "Jenna’s brother is coming to pick them up, they're crashing at her place," you explain as you start walking down the street together.

George raises an eyebrow as he asks, "Do you know where you’re going?"

"We’ll figure it out, the night is still young," you reply, sounding carefree.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. "You're so full of shit," he remarks, and you roll your eyes, playfully swatting at his chest while he continues to laugh at you.

As you continue walking, you stagger a bit despite his support, catching George's attention. "Let's get you some water first," he suggests, concern coloring his voice. You pout in protest, but he remains adamant, guiding you to the nearest corner shop. He has you sit down, and makes you chug some water to help sober you up a little.

You two navigate the city streets just past midnight, the Friday night nightlife around you is full of energy. The neon glow of club signs casts shadows on the streets as the late-night crowds stumble out onto the streets. "Hey! Oh my god I love your dress! You have to tell me where you got it," you exclaim as you strike up conversations with random people on the streets as if you've known them for years, becoming extra extroverted when you are even slightly drunk.

George stays glued to your side the whole time, equally as amused and anxious, just wanting to make sure you’re safe and don’t hurt yourself, his protective side kicking in.

"Woah there, do you wanna sit down for a bit?" he interjects as you stumble slightly, tripping over your own two feet. His hand reaches out to steady you, but you brush it off with a dismissive wave. "No, I’m fine," you insist. Throughout the night, you two continue to dance under the glow of street lamps, sharing laughter over each other's absolutely terrible jokes, almost falling from laughter multiple times.

As you’re practically rolling on the sidewalk laughing, you hear the click of his camera, and you immediately sit up, "Hey! What are you doing?" you protest, but your laughter betrays the mock seriousness in your voice. George just grins mischievously, snapping a few more photos, definitely exploiting your drunken state for blackmail material later.

He takes a moment to look at the photo he had just taken of you, a grin spreading across his face as he laughs. "You're laughing way more than you should at that. Show me!" you demand reaching out to grab his phone, but he pulls it away, hiding the screen against his chest.

"Come on, baby!" you plead, giving him your best puppy dog eyes, and he can’t help but melt, quickly flashing his phone at you, revealing the photo. Your mouth falls open in disbelief, but you burst into laughter at the sight of yourself. Still giggling, you make another attempt to snatch his phone from him, playfully demanding, "Give me that! Get those photos off your phone, George!" But his height advantage keeps the phone just out of your reach, and you make a feeble attempt at jumping to get it back.

Your attention however suddenly shifts from your antics when you spot a lime bike stand out of the corner of your eye. You instantly forget about what you were just doing and run up closer to it, leaving George momentarily confused before he follows your lead. “George,” you exclaim eagerly, turning back to face him with excitement. “Lime bikes! We should totally ride bikes!”

“Great idea when drunk, huh?” You continue, trying to take the piss out of him. You shoot him a mischievous grin. “Bet I can actually manage to stay on one though,” you tease, throwing him a wink.

George rubs his face with his hands as he laughs, “Haha, very funny… absolutely not,” he replies with a playful shake of his head. “I think you’d actually kill me if something were to happen and you end up in the A&E. Not how I wanna spend my Friday night, love,” he quips, sharing a knowing smile with you. He then joins you and gently turns you around, pushing you in the opposite direction, away from the bike stand.

"Boo, party pooper, you're no fun," you jokingly accuse him, a slight pout on your face as you tease him for being a buzzkill.

"Who else is gonna keep you from making horrible decisions?" George quips, nudging you slightly as he can’t help but laugh as he says it. You roll your eyes at his playful jab, but a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. He brushes it off, intertwining your fingers with his, enjoying the warmth of his hand as you both start walking hand in hand.

As you walk, George notices you getting tired, your steps becoming a little slower and your conversation gradually quieting down. He looks down at you with a caring expression as he notices a small yawn escape your lips. "How about we get you home soon?" he suggests softly, his voice filled with concern.

But you shake your head, looking up at him with a soft smile on your lips. "Not yet," you insist, tugging him along until you arrive at a nearby park.

As you stroll through the park, the stillness of the night surrounds you, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves and distant noises of the city. You two find a nearby bench and take a seat, kicking off your heels and swinging your legs over his lap. The cool night air kisses your cheeks, and you shiver, prompting George to take off his jacket and drape it over your exposed legs. You glance at him and mumble a small "Thank you, baby" before continuing to rub your hands together to warm them up. George instinctively wraps his arms around you, pulling you close and rubbing his arms against your shoulders in an attempt to warm you up. You lean into his warmth as you snuggle up close to him, gazing out at the twinkling skyline.

You sit in silence for a moment, feeling the weight of the night settling over you. You start to feel drowsy, comfortable and warm in George’s arms, and you let out a soft yawn, catching his attention. He watches you with affection in his eyes, taking in the sight of you under the moonlight. Your hair glows softly in the gentle moonlight, framing your face and he thinks it makes you look absolutely angelic.

As you snuggle in closer to him, you feel your eyelids growing heavier. George softly brushes the hair out of your face with a gentle touch. He whispers softly to you, his voice barely above a murmur, softly nudging you awake. "Can I take you home now?" he asks. You nod in response, finally agreeing to call it a night.

Once you're back at your shared apartment, you stumble in, shedding your heels and tossing your jacket haphazardly in the living room before making a beeline for the bedroom. George follows closely behind, gently nudging you in the direction of the bathroom. "Hold on there, love," he says with a chuckle. "You very well know you'll be absolutely pissed at me in the morning for letting you go to bed with makeup on."

You nod as you enter the ensuite, hopping up onto the counter and facing George as he comes to stand between your legs, his palm resting on your thigh. You point to the drawer, and he retrieves the packet of makeup wipes, pulling one out to gently start wiping your face.

The whole time, your eyes remain fixed on him, a loving and dreamy look in them. Once he's finished removing your makeup, he tosses the used wipe into the bin and chuckles, eyeing you with a curious look, “What?”

"Nothing," you begin softly, your hands reaching up to rest on his shoulders. "I just... I feel so lucky." Your voice is quiet but earnest as you gaze into his deep blue eyes, a soft smile gracing your lips. "Thank you for taking care of me tonight. You didn’t have to, you know. I know how much you were looking forward to hanging out with the boys."

George’s hands begin to softly rub the exposed flesh on the side of your thighs as he looks at you with just as much affection, placing a featherlight kiss on your forehead. “It’s fine…I was with them all morning," he begins, “But for you, I’ll always be there, whether you like it or not."

You smile up at him, your laughter bubbling over. "You're such a sap," you tease, but there's genuine affection in your tone.

He smiles down at you, his eyes warm. "I mean it, though," he insists. "There's never a dull moment with you, drunk or sober."

Then, he leans in, closing the distance between you, and places a tender kiss on your lips. As you pull away, you look into his eyes and whisper, "I love you."

"I love you too, you drunken mess," he replies, his voice filled with adoration.

With a gentle smile, he wraps his arm around your waist and effortlessly lifts you up, setting you down on the ground before placing a kiss on your temple. You quickly change into more comfortable clothes, and together you head to bed, snuggling into each other's warmth as he wraps his arms around you, finally putting an end to your late-night adventures.

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Check out my other fics and oneshots here. Not working on any new requests currently but feel free to drop into my asks for a chat! 😊

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projectionistwrites · 1 year

Note

moonboys and a reader who maladaptive daydreams?

hi, nonnie! thank you for this request, you must’ve seen my blog description haha. this is my first fic request which is very exciting! my inbox is always open so if you’d like to request something, i’d appreciate it. :) anyway, i hope you like it!

IMPLODING THE MIRAGE

Moon Knight x afab!reader (primarily Marc Spector) (10.6k+)

You’ve been escaping into yourself more and more often, and the boys are starting to notice. How are you supposed to explain to them that you don’t want to live in the moment, when the version of your life inside your head is so much better than reality on the outside?

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+, mdni) WARNINGS: maladaptive daydreaming, insecure reader & negative perceptions of self, depictions of injury & violence, kidnapping, miscommunication, SMUT (inappropriate fantasizing, unprotected p in v sex, cum eating, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics if you squint)

imploding the mirage — the killers

i had to do it, i had no other choice you’ve got to listen to the inside voice a bullet train will get you there fast but it won’t guarantee a long last sometimes it takes a little bit of courage and doubt to push your boundaries out beyond your imagining

He was the moon, and she was the stars.

It was serendipitous, how the couple had come to fall in love throughout the course of their divine adventures alongside each other—two servants to a pair of primordial Egyptian deities, serving as Avatars to protect those who could not protect themselves. She’d met him at a meeting of the Ennead, when he’d been called upon to answer for his actions against a human named Arthur Harrow, who was accused of attempting to raise Ammit from eternal isolation.

The trial hadn’t gone well, and certainly hadn’t worked in his favor, but her goddess protector had a soft spot for Khonshu, the God of the Moon—after all, he was the reason she had been given five extra days with which to bear her five children.

So her Avatar was secretly assigned to keep watch over the Moon Knight, to aid in his fight to keep Ammit contained and offer her services should he need them.

He was resistant at first, but Khonshu insisted that having Nut as an ally could only serve to benefit them in their journey—after all, she was the sky, and without her, the Moon could not rise.

Marc Spector and his alters didn't anticipate becoming so infatuated with the soft curve of her Avatar’s smile or the cosmos she seemed to hold within her eyes. But as time passed, they grew closer, and when she saved him again and again, the navy blue of her armor shimmering with glowing silver emblems of stars, he felt as if his soul was tethered to her. It seemed to be fate, as clear as a constellation, that their lives were somehow intertwined and their happenstance meeting was actually the result of some unseen gravitational pull, guiding them through the darkness until they found solace in one another.

He heard her sandal-clad feet softly hit the solid ground, her body drifting down from the sky to land beside him after her short flight in the air. He turned to look at her—the flowing robes of her ceremonial armor billowed in the evening breeze, her hair pulled back intricately with thin glittering bands of silver, adorned with five-pointed stars that captured the moonlight in her curls. She was ethereal, heavenly, celestial, and when she turned and smiled at him, he swore the planets aligned in some brief moment of rapture.

“Where to next, Moon Boy?”

She teased lightly, her nose crinkling with amusement. His hands twitched at his sides, unable to control the movement of his arm as it reached for her hand.

He heard Khonshu chuckle deeply from somewhere behind him, condescending and slightly mocking. Still, he always spoke kinder about the woman beside him than any other being on this Earth.

“I should’ve known you would become enamored with the little star. Nut always finds a way to reunite the beings of the night sky.”

Marc ignored him—he was too enthralled by the way her breath hitched in her throat at the feeling of his fingers brushing her own, the hood and mask of his armor receding to reveal the tenderness of his gaze. He turned to face her, his other gloved hand reaching to cradle the side of her jaw. He watched as her gaze flickered down to his lips, and he smiled.

“Anywhere, as long as it’s with you.”

He leaned forward to capture her lips with his own, swallowing her contented sigh as she melted into his touch—

“Jesus Christ!”

You nearly toppled forward when Marc abruptly yanked his arm away from you, his face contorted into a look of pain. You blinked once, then twice, eyes clearing to focus in on the blood staining your hands and the curved needle that was pinched tightly between your forefinger and thumb.

“The fuck was that? Are you even paying attention to what you’re doing?”

Marc hissed at you, cradling his injured forearm to his chest, gritting his teeth as your eyes widened in realization.

“Shit, shit, I’m sorry, Marc, I zoned out, here, just let me see—”

“Forget it, I’ll just do it myself.”

He snatched the suture from your hand and laid his arm back on the marbled countertop of your bathroom sink, giving you a clear view of the mistake you’d made—you’d laid the stitch nearly a full inch from where the edge of the gaping incision had started, sinking it into completely uninjured, healthy skin.

“Marc, stop, I’ll do it.”

You stopped him before he could hurt himself even more—he never had the patience to treat his wounds properly, but for ones that were this deep, it was smarter to close them by hand than wait several hours for his magical suit to heal it on its own.

He grunted in protest, but nonetheless allowed you to retrieve the needle from his hold and lean over his arm, tongue pinched between your teeth in concentration.

You were much more careful, this time, deliberate with each pull of the thread beneath his skin, finishing sewing shut the injury quickly. When you’d finally finished, you leaned forward to bite the end of the stitch and tear it away with your teeth. You reached for a piece of gauze, pouring a generous amount of saline solution onto the cloth in order to blot the excess blood from his skin.

You could feel his eyes on you the whole time, burning into your skull as if he was trying to read your mind. You sulked.

“I said I was sorry, Marc, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Your words were soft, and he could hear the guilt that was churning in your stomach. He didn’t flinch when you began dabbing at the drying blood around the wound.

“S’fine. But—what happened? It’s like—you just tapped out for a second, there. Did you even hear what I was saying to you?”

You frowned.

“No, I’m sorry. I just—got lost in thought.”

“Hell of a time for that to happen.”

He chuckled in an attempt to lighten the mood, but you didn’t laugh. Your eyes were still fixed on the skin of his arm, even though you’d successfully wiped away most of the remaining blood.

“I was just saying that—that I appreciate that you’re willing to do this for me.”

Your eyes darted to his face, surprised at the vulnerability he was displaying by expressing his gratitude.

“I mean—I never figured that when I’d stumbled onto your balcony all those months ago, beaten to all hell, that I’d meet someone who was willing to patch me up over and over again. Well—at least, before you stabbed me with a needle.”

Your eyes fell again, cheeks reddening at his jab. But he just laughed warmly, lifting his arm to rest his hand on your shoulder. Your bristled beneath his fingers, although his touch was nothing more than a friendly expression of appreciation.

“I’m just teasing you. But either way—just wanted to say thanks. Steven told me that I don’t say it enough, so...”

Now you laughed. It was more of a scoff, really, accompanied by the roll of your eyes as you reached for the knobs on the faucet, rinsing the blood from your fingers.

“Of course Steven made you.”

A lopsided grin found its way onto his face, and when you looked at him again, there was a twinkle in his eye. Your breath stuttered in your throat as you gazed at him—ebony curls spilling messily against his forehead, his lips quirked upwards at the corners, the fondness that was lingering beneath his brown irises. Was it possible? Could he really care about you the way you cared for him?

You turned away, standing and exiting the bathroom quickly before you could make a fool of yourself, face heating up at your own naïveté. Of course he didn’t feel that way about you. You were just—you. Only in the sanctuary of your imagination would he ever look at you and see anything beyond just a nurse playmate, or even maybe a friend.

You heard his heavy footsteps follow you back into your flat, where you wandered into the kitchen and retrieved a couple glasses.

“Do you mind if I—”

“Spare bed’s already made, I washed the sheets since last time you bled all over them and didn’t even tell me.”

You turned on the tap to fill the two cups with water. You were certain Marc hadn’t remembered to drink anything since his most recent escapade as a masked vigilante, and being around him always tended to make your mouth run dry.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

You slid the glass of water across the countertop towards him, leaning back against the kitchen island to sip at your own. You watched him above the rim of your glass—the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he took a large swig of the cool liquid, the way a stray droplet of water dribbled down his chin when he pulled the glass back, the way his hand came to wipe it away, the plush of his bottom lip supple beneath the swipe of his fingers.

She fell back against the mattress, breath temporarily stolen from her lungs as she felt the heat of his lips hungrily mouthing at any exposed skin it could reach—her jawline, her neck, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts. A soft whine fell from her mouth and Marc swiftly lifted himself back to her face to swallow the sound, tongue sinking into her mouth to taste her.

Her fingers clawed at the fabric of his t-shirt, twisting and yanking him impossibly closer, legs lifting to wrap around his waist to press the heat of her core against the growing tent in his pants. A low groan escaped his chest as he rutted against her, pulling back to take stock of the hazy fog of lust that clouded her eyes and the O-shape of her lips as she let out a shaky exhale.

“Fuck, Marc.”

She whispered, arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders, fingers digging into his shoulderblades.

“Want you—need you so bad.”

“You’re doing it again.”

You blinked once, then twice, finding Marc's dark gaze staring straight at you as his voice pulled you back to reality. Your brows lifted in horror when you realized you’d shamelessly been ogling at him, too engrossed in your thoughts to notice how long you’d been standing there.

“Shit, I—sorry.”

You rubbed at your eyes with your fingers, hoping that maybe if you pressed hard enough, the image of Marc’s body hovering above you would erase itself from your mind. It didn’t work.

You heard the clank of his now-empty glass as he set it down on the granite countertop, his arms crossing over his chest.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

You should be used to the rush of heat to your face by now—just being in Marc’s company caused you to blush uncontrollably, but still, the discomfort of your ruddy cheeks made your pulse quicken. Your gaze flickered down to your feet, eyes meeting the stupid fucking bunny slippers that you wore to accompany your fleece pajama bottoms. Fucking embarrassing.

“It’s nothing, Marc.”

You whispered quietly in response, although nausea was beginning to settle in the pit of your stomach. You were out of control—this man was driving you insane.

He studied you for a moment longer, eyes narrowed in suspicion, but when you didn’t look back up at him, he just sighed.

“Okay. I’ll just—leave you alone, then. Goodnight.”

There were tears pricking the back of your eyes. You wanted to ask him to stay, to come share your bed instead of the one in your guest room, to kiss his stupidly handsome face.

“Towels are folded in the bathroom for you, and there’s clothes in the wardrobe if you want to change.”

You said instead, turning to refill your glass of water in the sink behind you. If he heard you, he didn’t respond—you listened to his footsteps disappear down the hall before the door to the guest bedroom creaked shut with a quiet click. Your shoulders immediately slumped forward, eyes squeezed shut tightly in an effort to combat the desperate urge to break down.

Her eyes were full of detestation as she glared down at him, nostrils flared with rage. He wanted to shrink beneath her disapproval.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

The woman started, and in spite of her towering figure looking down at him, he couldn’t help but gawk at the way the moonlight framed her, her silhouette outlined by the subtle glow of the night sky behind her. She offered him a hand and he took it, allowing her to yank him to his feet without an ounce of gentleness.

“You’re lucky I was here, Lockley, or things would’ve ended differently.”

She hissed, dusting herself off as if to showcase the strenuous effort she had put into saving his ass. He scowled behind his mask, the blood from the wound on his forearm beginning to soak through the bandages of his suit, tingeing the cream-colored fabric a dark crimson.

“I don’t need your help, estrellita. I was handling it.”

She scoffed as he turned on his heel to stomp away, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

“Yeah, sure looked like you were handling it—why didn’t you call me? Nut had to drag me out of bed so you didn’t get yourself killed. Didn’t the old bird tell you we were together on this?”

He scowled, eyes narrowed in contempt.

“Yeah, he did, and I said no. We are not partners. We’re hardly even friends.”

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, the way her face fell and her brows creased causing a pang of guilt to stab through his already-sore chest. He sighed.

“Estrellita, I didn’t mean—”

“Why do you push me away?”

She interrupted, and Jake was taken aback by the question.

“What do you mean?”

“You need me, Jake. We need each other. I’m just—I just want to help you, why won’t you let me help you?”

He didn’t respond, just stared at her as her eyes flooded with tears. At his silence, she shook her head, turning away to stare up into the star-filled sky.

“We’re supposed to be a team, Moon Knight. The stars and the moon—you can’t have one without the other.”

He could see the reflection of the crescent-shaped moon in her glassy eyes, the soft glow painting her face with silvery beams of light.

You’d left the balcony door wide open—your routine was fairly habitual, now. A mug of warm tea was cradled in your fingers as you curled up in the wicker chair, eyes flitting across the scattered stars that were visible from your tiny apartment complex.

You watched him sit down beside you in your periphery, the movement to your left pulling you from your reverie. He reached for the glass of bourbon you'd set out on the table in front of him.

You sat in silence for awhile, finding comfort in the man’s quiet presence. You liked that about Jake—you never felt like you had to fill the air with meaningless conversation. He was perfectly content to just enjoy your company, the same as you enjoyed his.

You heard the ice in his glass clink against the side as he took a sip.

“Are you going to tell them?”

Neither of you looked at each other when he spoke—the question was spoken out into the world, not really directed towards you, although you knew what he meant.

Jake was too fucking perceptive for his own good. Even when he was silent, he was always there, watching, listening, observing—even if the other alters were oblivious to the yearning that was thinly veiled within your eyes, he certainly wasn’t. You sighed.

“No.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, but something about his lack of verbal response bothered you, itching at the back of your brain. You turned to scowl at him.

“What?”

Jake hardly spared you a glance, barely quirking a brow at your emotionally-charged reaction as he shook his head.

“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“Exactly.”

You glared, fingers anxiously tapping at the rim of your mug. The contours of Jake’s face were sharp in the dim light of the moon, features accentuated by the shadows. He finally turned to look at you.

“You know what I think, nena. You’re only hurting yourself. And your constant...daydreaming. It’s not as subtle as it once was. You—You should talk to them. Or me.”

The last bit of his proposal caught you off guard. His eyes had already drifted elsewhere when he said it, staring into his half-empty glass of liquor, but your brows lifted in surprise.

“I—you?”

He glowered playfully.

“Don’t sound so surprised, nena. I always listen to you.”

That was true. Some of your fondest memories with Jake were of late nights spent out on your balcony, getting drunk on cheap wine and sharing stories.

“Yeah, you’re good at listening, but not so much the talking part.”

Jake shrugged, although he nodded in understanding. He was all too aware of his own weaknesses.

You took a sip of your chamomile tea, letting its warmth combat the chill of the evening air.

“Why won’t you tell me?”

You asked quietly, and even without elaborating, Jake knew what you were referring to. He sighed, tossing back the last of his bourbon before setting it on the small table between you, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“I’ve told you before. It’s not my place. I know what they think, but not what they feel.”

You huffed quietly, although deep down, you knew he was right. It wasn’t his place to share how Marc or Steven felt about you. You sort of admired the way he was so strict in his moral obligations—especially considering the lengths you were willing to go in order to change his mind.

Jake stiffened when he felt your hand rest on his bicep, fingers wrapping around it and squeezing lightly.

“But what about how you feel?”

His jaw rippled, and you felt the muscle beneath your fingers tense at your coy words. You could feel the restraint within him as he sat up abruptly, pulling away so his arm fell from your grasp. He still didn’t look at you.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel, nena. Not until you talk to Marc. He—you were his first. I’m not going jeopardize your relationship with him until he knows the truth.”

Anger flared within you.

“I’m not his. I don’t belong to anyone. My choices are my own.”

Jake flinched, eyes softening as they flickered over to you.

“You’re right, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean it like that. I just—you have to understand. He—I can’t go behind his back like this. Yo no sería capaz de vivir conmigo mismo.”

“But you can’t even tell me if he feels the same way?”

You asked, and he could hear the pain in your voice as your tone wavered slightly. You’d had this conversation many times before, but things had been escalating recently—perhaps because it was getting increasingly difficult for you to be content in the reality you lived in.

Jake’s eyes were full of sympathy as he regarded you.

“No, nena. I’m sorry.”

You turned away.

“But you need to tell him. And Steven, too. They deserve to know. And so do you.”

You heard his weight shift as he stood to head back to bed, having spent too much time keeping the body awake—he didn’t want his alters to grow suspicious at the exhaustion when they woke in the morning.

“What if he breaks my heart?”

He paused in the threshold on the doorway, glancing back at you when he heard the thickness in your throat as your eyes welled with tears.

“What if he doesn’t feel the same way?”

Jake pursed his lips, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as he pondered his response. Finally, he released a long sigh.

“I don’t think you have to worry about that, nena. He’d be crazy not to.”

The smell of cinnamon wafted down the hallway as Steven rose from his slumber. There was a gentle melody floating in the air as he pulled himself from the bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes, his bare feet padding along the tiled floor towards the source of the noise.

She was singing quietly to herself, back towards him as she chopped the fresh strawberries into fourths. He couldn’t help but smile at the domesticity of it all—the woman he loved, that he fought beside, making breakfast for them to share. His heart felt whole.

He sidled up behind her, arms wrapping around her waist and his body pressing flush against her back. He placed a kiss to the exposed skin of her neck, her hair pulled up in a sloppy updo.

“G’mornin’, darling.”

He hummed sleepily, and he felt her chest rumble with an airy giggle as she leaned into his touch.

“Hi, handsome. Sleep okay?”

He reached over her shoulder to steal a strawberry from the cutting board, taking a bite of the succulent fruit before offering the other half to her by pressing it to her lips. She smiled and happily accepted his offering.

“Would’ve slept even better if I’d woken up to your face beside me.”

She threw her head back, leaning against his chest as she laughed brightly—his favorite sound.

“Oh, boohoo. Sorry for getting up early to make you breakfast.”

She teased, and Steven pressed his face into her hair, the smell of her coconut shampoo enticing him. His arms reached to rest on the countertop to either side of her, successfully caging her in. He heard her breath hitch as the movement of the knife in her hand stalled, his body pressing up more firmly against her—enough so that she could feel the hardness of his manhood against the flesh of her ass.

“The strawberries are sweet, darling, but I’d rather have something even sweeter for breakfast this mornin’, yeah?”

“G’mornin’, darling.”

The knife fumbled in your grasp and the blade slipped across your fingers, slicing a divot in the tender flesh between your thumb and forefinger.

“Steven! Shit!”

You immediately dropped the knife and rushed towards the sink, rinsing your wound under the cold water to inspect the damage and dilute the blood.

“Oh, Gods, m’so sorry, love—are you alright?”

You could feel his body creeping up behind you, an arm reaching around to grab yours in an attempt to investigate the source of your discomfort. The warmth of his presence against your back startled you, a fierce blush rising to your cheeks as you reached for a towel and sidestepped, trying to put as much distance between the two of you as possible.

“It’s—I’m fine. It’s just a tiny cut, it’s no big deal.”

You brushed it off, although your palm was beginning to throb. You pulled the washcloth away from the afflicted area, finding it soaked with a generous amount of your blood.

“Looks like it hurts. Can I—may I help you with it?”

There was trepidation in his big brown eyes, obviously put off by the hastiness with which you’d pulled away from him. You surrendered yourself, offering a sigh and a slow nod.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You found yourself in a similar position to the previous night, although this time, the roles were reversed—and your wound was from an unfortunate kitchen incident, not a scuffle with a group of evil antique smugglers.

Steven’s bottom lip was pulled between his teeth as he secured a piece of gauze on the injury with medical tape, winding it around your palm so it fit snugly against the area. His hands were nimble and his touch was painfully gentle, the pads of his fingers just barely skimming over your skin in an effort to prevent you from more discomfort. A chill crept up your spine at the close proximity.

He looked rather satisfied with himself when he’d finished, shoving the medical supplies back into the bin beneath your sink that you had specially packed for him.

“There we are—good as new.”

He smiled cheerily at you, and it was so contagious that you couldn’t help but grin back at him. Your mind briefly darted back to your conversation with Jake the night before; then the unholy thoughts you’d been having this morning when Steven had snuck up on you. Gods, you really were getting out of control...

Steven led you from the bathroom and you returned to your post, rinsing the knife and the sliced strawberries to ensure they weren’t contaminated. You stepped over to the stove to check the steel-cut oatmeal that had been simmering—Steven’s favorite. You gave it a few good stirs before deciding that it was finished, filling up two bowls with generous servings and sprinkling the top with strawberries, brown sugar, and a pinch of cinnamon. Steven was already seated at you breakfast bar when you turned to offer him his meal.

“Bon apétit.”

You flourished playfully, passing the bowl in front of him as you seated yourself on the stool across the way. His eyes crinkled with appreciation when he smiled.

“Oh, it smells bloody lovely. Thank you, darling.”

He always called you that, you rationalized. It was nothing more than a term of endearment—a friendly pet name.

You ate in silence for awhile, save for the sound of silverware clinking against porcelain and the birds chirping from your open window. Your eyes couldn’t help but follow him as he slipped a strawberry past his lips, something reminiscent of a moan escaping him as he savored the flavor of the fruit. Your face flushed bright red.

“Yes, darling—just like that, please.”

He was whimpering beneath her, pupils blown wide as he gazed up at her from where she straddled him, sliding her naked and exposed core over his boxer-clad erection.

“You wanna be inside me, Steven?”

She cooed, leaning forward to kiss along his stubbled jawline, and he moaned wantonly, hips rutting up against her.

“Gods, yes, love, please, I can’t—”

“S’there somethin’ on my face?”

Panic flooded you at the bewildered expression on Steven’s face, his hand coming up to wipe at his mouth in case you'd been gawking at some remnants of food on the corners of his lips.

You shook your head, eyes wide and cheeks already turning pink.

“I—No, no, there’s not, I—sorry. I was just—just thinking.”

He gave you a brief scrutinizing look before shrugging and diving back into the remainder of his oatmeal.

“What were you thinkin’ about?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Oh, it’s—nothing, really. Sometimes I just—space out, I guess.”

You offered sheepishly, toying with the last few bites of your food with your spoon—your appetite was suddenly gone.

“You seem to do that a lot, yeah? S’everything alright?”

“Yes.”

You answered him a bit too quickly, hastily jumping to end the conversation before it even began. His brows furrowed, watching as you quickly grabbed both bowls to busy yourself with cleaning up.

He wasn’t quite satisfied with your answer—in fact, it only served to startle him more. He watched you carefully as you began to viciously scrub at the blue porcelain bowls with a sponge.

“Are you...sure? I’m just—you’re worryin’ me a bit, yeah? And with last night, with Marc—if somethin’s the matter, you know you can always talk to us, ‘lright?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing yourself to take in a slow, careful breath in an effort to soothe your frazzled nerves.

“Yeah, I know, Steven—thank you. But—but everything’s just fine, really.”

She’s lying.

Steven was surprised to hear Jake’s voice echo from the back of the headspace—it wasn’t often that he offered internal commentary to any conversations outside of when he was fronting.

And how do you know that?

Marc quipped back in his mind—Steven hated when they argued in the headspace, especially when he was the one in control of the body. His brain felt too full and it was easy for him to get overstimulated.

What—you think she’s telling the truth, jefe?

Marc didn’t respond, and Steven was silently grateful that their quarrel had ended quickly. Still, he knew his alters were correct—you definitely weren’t ‘just fine.’

But the last thing he wanted to do was push you away, especially since it already felt like you were putting up a wall between you, keeping him at arm’s length.

He let out a long sigh, standing up from the bar to get ready to depart for his shift at the museum.

“Well, thank you for brekky, love, and for—everything else.”

You startled when you turned, finding him standing directly behind you, pulling you into his warm embrace without any due warning. God, why was he so fucking sweet? Guilt gnawed away are your insides—Jake was right. He really did deserve to know the truth, why you were spending more time living in your fantasyland than grounded in reality—but surely it’d scare him off. Marc, too.

Perhaps it was just better to keep imagining what it would be like to be loved by them—at least without being outright rejected, there would always be that small sliver of hope gleaming in the back of your mind, that tiny semblance of ‘what if’ that you let linger.

You melted into his arms, face pressed into his shoulder.

“Anytime, Steven, really. It’s my pleasure.”

There was always a smile on her face when they departed—even if their time away from each other was difficult, she knew she could look forward to the next time they'd see each other. The way his big brown eyes would light up with elation when he saw her, like an overexcited puppy reuniting with its owner.

The grin remained on her face, still, after he’d kissed her goodbye and they parted ways. She hummed softly to herself as she journeyed down the hallway to remake the bed and tidy up the room.

He never did remember to tuck in the blankets. She laughed quietly to herself and she entered the room, filled with the distinctive cypress scent of him. She reached to fluff the pillows—

Oh. That shouldn’t be there, should it?

Your fingers wrapped around the small white trinket, strung along on a leather braided band. You lifted it up to your face to inspect it more closely—it was an pendant carved from ivory, shaped like a cross with a loop at the top. An ankh—the key of life—you recalled, as Steven had once taught you. There was a certain texture that ran along the sides, and only when you brought the object right up to your nose were you able to see that there was a teeny tiny pattern etched into the surface. Hieroglyphics.

Shit, you realized. This looked like something that would be in the museum Steven worked at—although it looked a bit too high quality to be sold in the gift shop. Nonetheless, you realized that it must’ve slipped from his pocket while he was getting dressed. What if it was important?

You wandered back to the kitchen and tried calling his cell, once, then twice, without receiving an answer. He was probably already being berated by Donna—oh, well. The museum was on your way to work anyhow, just one bus stop before the café that you worked at. You could swing by and give it to him before your shift.

You glanced down at your phone to shoot him a quick text.

hey, you forgot something here i’ll drop it off for you in a bit x

It was only when you were strolling down the street with the pendant strung around your neck that a thrill of excitement ran up your spine.

What if this was from his latest mission?

It wasn’t something you’d considered before, but now that you thought about it, it seemed like the likeliest explanation. The boys didn’t tell you much about their escapades as the masked lunar vigilante, save for the vague explanations about the injuries they asked you to patch up—but you knew enough to be two-and-two together. This must be the ancient artifact he had been sent to retrieve on Khonshu’s behalf the previous night.

You suppressed a smile by sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, filled with giddiness. You were actually helping.

“Where is it?”

A venomous voice seethed, peering down at the crumpled form of the man at his feet. Marc was hunched over, arms chained behind his back, blood from his abdomen beginning to soak through the white fabric of his suit. His mouth tasted like copper, teeth coated in the sticky red substance as a gruff hand came to harshly grip his jaw, forcing his eyes upward. He sneered.

“I told you. I don’t know.”

Another punch collided with his face, this time connecting with the bridge of his nose and sending him careening backwards, landing against the concrete with a grunt.

“You’re full of shit. We know it was you at the burial site, Spector. We have eyewitnesses. You’re the only person in the world who could have possibly taken it.”

To the man's utter surprise, Marc Spector began to laugh. It was a wet sound, his mask receding so he could spit out a wad of crimson-tinted bile as he chuckled wolfishly, his lips curling up into a snarl. The perpetrator felt fear shoot through him at the look on his face.

“You’re wrong, actually. See, I was there.”

He clarified, eyes glinting dangerously. His attacker stumbled backwards as a harsh silver light blinded him briefly, and when his vision cleared, the Moon Knight had risen to his feet, freed from his shackles.

“I just wasn’t alone.”

The hair on the back of his neck prickled as he slowly turned around, met face to face with intense glare of a woman, her eyes still glowing with residual power. She tilted her head at him condescendingly, before lifting her right hand—the white ankh charm was dangling from her fingertips as she smiled coyly up at him.

“Looking for this?”

She cooed, smirking innocently, and before the man could even blink, she had pounced, wrestling him to the floor and pressing his face down against the cold flooring, cheek smushed against the pavement. She straddled his back, using her weight to hold him still while her fingers made a curling motion in the air—a rope of pure silvery light materialized with the sweep of her hand, binding the man’s hands behind his back with tendrils of starlight.

Her partner was dealing with the other two lackeys, one already laid out on the ground and the other lifted in the air by his neck, one of Marc’s gloved hands raising him up with his fingers pressing beneath his jaw.

When he stopped resisting, Marc let his body collapse to the floor in a heap before he turned back to face the woman, whose chest was rising and falling with heavy breaths. Even after a fight, she somehow appeared graceful and collected—she reached upward and pulled a stray hair from her eyes, tucking it back into it’s place beneath her star-laden headdress. Their eyes met briefly.

“Thanks.”

Marc swallowed, his head bowed low in embarrassment. He waited for the jab to come—‘I told you so.’ He deserved it, really. It was stupid to come in alone.

Instead, he was startled when she approached him softly, her eyes glittering as she lifted her hand to gently brush over his cheekbone, her smile gentle and kind.

“I’ll always have your back. You know that, right?”

He looked away, ridden with guilt and remorse, but she urged his eyes back to her with the nudge of her fingers.

“Marc. I mean it.”

He felt tears stinging the back of his eyes as he sniffed, trying to play off his emotions with fabricated nonchalance.

“Yeah, I know.”

She nodded once, withdrawing her hand from his face before lifting the ancient artifact up to his face, waving it for emphasis.

“We should probably get this to the old bird, then, huh?”

Her head snapped to the side at the gust of wind that abruptly passed them, her eyes trailing up the heavenly form of the aforementioned deity, the slope of his ivory beak towering above her. She swallowed—she’d never actually seen him before, only heard of him in passing from his Avatar. Khonshu.

Time seemed to freeze, briefly, as her breath slowly made its way back to her lungs. The skeletal bird tilted his domineering skull downward, staring her down with intensity.

“Wake up, little star.”

Her brows furrowed, her jaw dropping to reply, but he interrupted.

“You are not a part of this. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

Her head started to swim, the image in front of her turning hazy as her vision began to blur. She blinked profusely. This isn’t a part of the script, this isn’t supposed to happen—

“Wake up!”

With a jolt, you were pulled from your daydream—just in time for a hand to slip over your mouth to muffle your scream before everything went dark.

When your eyes blinked open, heavy with exhaustion, you were staring up at the white ceiling of your bedroom. You made a move to sit up, but the movement caused a throbbing pain to bloom in the back of your skull, forcing you back down against the pillows as a groan of discomfort fell from your lips. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to regain your bearings, when a set of heavy footsteps grabbed your attention from the hallway.

He faltered in the doorway when he made eye contact with you, his dark brows furrowed heavily with concern, dark purple bags settled beneath his lower lashes. When his initial shock wore off, his jaw set as he approached you slowly, a glass of tap water clutched in his left hand. He perched carefully on the edge of the bed, mindful not the nudge you.

“Marc?”

You croaked, your throat hoarse and dry, and he wordlessly reached forward, propping you further up onto the pillows before lifting the glass to your lips.

“Drink.”

He said sternly, pressing the rim to your mouth, and you obliged blindly, letting him tip the contents of the cup back into your mouth as you took slow, tentative sips. When he was satisfied with your water intake, he pulled the glass away and set it on the bedside table, the movement punctuated by a heavy sigh. Your eyes followed him carefully, brows knit together in confusion.

“I—what happened?”

You asked slowly, sitting yourself upward just a bit more. The pain in your head was lessening, although their was still a dull ache lingering at the back of your neck. You could see his jaw ripple again as he clenched his teeth, his body facing the door and his eyes focused on the wall across from him. You studied his profile carefully before he ran a tired hand down his face, rubbing at his eyes with his fingers.

“What do you remember?”

He prompted, and you hesitated, thinking back on the last thing you recalled. You remembered leaving for work, and finding the little white pendant you were planning on returning—and you remember getting lost in another fantasy before a hand clamped around your mouth and—

“Was I kidnapped?”

You asked incredulously, eyes blowing wide with realization as you recalled the sensation of a strong grasp around your face and neck before your fell unconscious. You watched his lip twitch with frustration.

“No. Well—yes. But you, I mean—what the fuck were you thinking?”

He finally turned to look at you, and when he did, you immediately wanted to shrink away and evaporate. His eyes were fiery, burning red hot with fury, the disapproving expression on his face striking something deep in your chest.

“What do you mean?”

You asked quietly, feeling tears begin to prick at your eyes, and Marc stood up, running a hand through his unruly curls as he took in a deep breath, obviously attempting to maintain some semblance of composure.

“You almost got yourself killed—bringing that charm with you, parading it around like a trophy.”

“I didn’t know, Marc, I just—”

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t let you get wrapped up in all of this—fuck, if I hadn’t been there...”

His back was towards you, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, his body heaving with heavy panting breaths. You felt small, like a child being reprimanded. You felt your eyes flood with tears.

“I was just trying to help.”

“Yeah, well, don’t.”

His voice was firm and harsh as he snapped over his shoulder at you, glaring.

“You can’t help. You’re not a part of this.”

You felt your heart hammering in your chest, desperation clawing inside of you as you threw back the blankets, swinging your legs off the side of the mattress so you could approach him.

“But maybe I can, Marc, if you’d just give me a chance, if you’d let me—”

“Stop!”

He whipped around to face you, voice louder than you'd ever heard it before. He was yelling, towering over you as he snarled, fuming.

“Just stop. If you keep this up, you’re gonna get yourself and a lot of other people hurt. You’re not a fucking Avatar—”

“You don’t think I know that?”

Marc flinched when you matched his intensity, the tears falling down your cheeks a stark contrast from the sheer anger that dominated your expression.

“You don’t think I realize that? Or think about it every goddamn night when I have to sit here, alone, wondering if you’re gonna show up, or if you’re somewhere dead and I can’t do anything but wait.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, attempting to swallow your tears down as you broke down in front of the man, your internal conflict reaching a boiling point and spewing out of you without warning.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve wished I could be out there with you, doing something, helping, anything—how often I imagine what it would be like if I wasn’t fucking useless, if I was actually a part of—”

“What did you just say?”

Your eyes snapped open, and your anger faltered when you saw the look of pure horror on Marc’s face, his skin looking several shades paler than it had before. Your mind was reeling, trying to look back on what you said, what your mistake had been, but he quickly clarified for you.

“Did you just—are you saying you wish you were an Avatar?”

His body was rigid, his expression suddenly stony and impenetrable as he looked down at you, offering a barely perceptible shake of his head as he grimaced.

“How could you—how could you possibly want that? Why would you ever—”

You could see his eyes turn glassy as he turned away, his chest beginning to heave again as he ran both of his hands through his hair anxiously, his gaze suddenly appearing frenzied. His words were laced with something adjacent to betrayal.

“You have no idea what—what I wouldn’t give to go back to my life before all of this, to—to not carry this weight, to not—I fucking kill people, do you not understand that? I’m a monster, because my life is fucking controlled by a monster, and you wish you were like me? You wanna suffer like this?”

“At least we’d be suffering together.”

It was barely more than a whisper, your addition, but Marc caught it. You couldn’t bear to look at him anymore—you turned and sat back on the bed, folding your hands in your lap and staring down at your fingers as your heart finally poured out of your chest.

“I don’t know what else I could do, Marc. I don’t know any other way to get you to actually see me.”

“See you?”

He asked incredulously, face marred with confusion, and your lip quivered as you looked anywhere but at him, awaiting his rejection as you spoke.

“I just—all I’ve ever wanted was to be able to help you. To—for you to trust me, for you to—to care about me, and—and the only scenario I can actually imagine you wanting me is if I’m not myself, I’m a version of myself that’s actually strong and capable and—”

You stifled a sob, your face scrunching up as your arms wrapped around yourself in a protective stance, huddling inward as you cried.

“—I don’t know what I’m trying to say, but I just—I want to be more than I am because—because I want to matter to you, Marc, but I know that won’t happen because I’m just—I’m just me.”

Marc fell silent. Your heart was hammering in your chest as you squeezed your bleary eyes shut, forcing yourself to take slow, deliberate inhales despite your desire to hyperventilate. You felt like the room was closing in on you, the walls shrinking and shrinking and you wished the space would swallow you whole.

“What have I done to ever make you think you don’t matter to me?”

His voice was soft and quiet, and when you blinked your tear-filled eyes open, he was staring at you, a look of genuine hurt on his chiseled features. You stuttered.

“I—what?”

“I—”

You watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed thickly.

“Why would you ever think that I don’t care about you? That you have to—to be someone else for that to happen?”

He sounded broken, his big brown eyes wide and imploring, and the sight made your chest feel tight. You pressed the butts of your palms into your eyes.

“I don’t know, Marc. You’re—you’re a fuckin’ superpowered badass who was chosen by an ancient Egyptian god to beat up monsters and go on these epic missions, and—and how can I even compete with that? I don’t even understand why you waste your time with me.”

“Why do you keep saying things like that?”

You startled when he took a few hulking steps towards you, his brows creasing in a look of frustration.

“If you’re so convinced that I’m some superior being to you—which I’m not—then rationalize that, for me. Why would I keep coming back if I didn’t care about you?”

Confusion flashed across your face as you contemplated his question.

“Because—because I patch you up when you get hurt, and I—and I take care of you. You only come here when you need something—”

“But that’s not true.”

He insisted, sounding exasperated with your obstinance.

“I have a magic suit of armor that heals me, I don’t even need you to stitch me back together—”

“But you told me—”

“Well, I lied.”

He snapped, his arms crossing over his chest, and you felt a foreign feeling flutter in the pit of your stomach as his hands came up to rub at his jaw—a nervous habit.

“It was an excuse, and honestly, not even a very convincing one. An excuse to see you.”

Your head was starting to pound again, a dull ache blooming behind your eyes as your mind continued to reel. It didn’t make any sense.

“But you—you never needed an excuse. I would’ve dropped everything for you, Marc—for all three of you.”

“I know.”

He nodded sadly, his face pained as he flinched at your words.

“And that’s what’s so bad about all of this. I shouldn’t have—you shouldn’t feel that way about me. I’m—it’s dangerous. I’ve been trying so hard to push you away because if something happens to you, if you get hurt—that’s on me. And I don’t know what I’d do with myself if—”

“I’m a big girl, Marc.”

You defended, and he seemed impressed with the conviction of your tone.

“You’ve never been anything but honest about the kind of life you live, the kind of things you do—if that scared me, you wouldn’t be standing here right now. I made that choice for myself.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, his lips parting to scold you or deny your claims, but there was resolve in his eyes. You watched as he slowly walked towards the bed, slumping into a seated position beside you, utterly defeated.

“I know.”

It was difficult for you to focus with the proximity of your bodies. He’d left a generous gap between the two of you, but his legs were spread wide as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and your legs were almost touching. It was unbearable.

“I always thought you were taking advantage of me.”

You spoke smally, a bit ashamed and hesitant to admit the truth, and you saw Marc’s shoulders tense before he hung his head low, a deep sigh coming from his chest.

“Yeah. Jake told me that you might be feeling that way.”

Your eyes darted to his face, taken completely by surprise.

“He—he did?”

Marc chuckled ruefully, scoffing a bit at his alter.

“And I never fuckin’ listened. Told me I needed to come clean—be honest about how I feel, or else I’ll just keep hurting you more—”

“I didn’t realize he’d actually tried to talk to you about it.”

Marc’s brows furrowed.

“Wait, are you—did you tell him that?”

You blushed, feeling somewhat guilty as you nodded. You weren’t proud of the fact that you’d been talking about Marc and Steven behind their backs to their other alter.

“Why did—why didn’t you just talk to me?”

Marc leaned towards you, trying to catch your gaze with his, but you quickly looked forward again, eyes focusing in on your shaky hands.

“I didn’t know if—I never had to question things with Jake. He’s never been shy about how he feels about me.”

“Jake’s never been shy about anything in his entire goddamn life.”

You actually giggled at that, Marc’s tone sour and somewhat envious, but a soft smile easily curled on his lips at the sound of your laughter. When your amusement faded slightly, your breath caught in your throat when you felt a warm hand fall atop your knee, thumb rubbing over the flesh gently. You stared at the place where his skin met yours, heat flushing your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. If I would’ve known sooner—if he’d have told me—”

You shook your head quickly, dismissing his apology.

“No, don’t. I made him promise me he wouldn’t tell you. And—and the reason I didn’t say anything is, well—he would never tell me if you felt the same, so I didn’t—I just kind of assumed you didn’t.”

“I don’t understand why you think so little of yourself.”

His fingers gripped your knee a bit more firmly, the heat of his hand traveling upwards despite your attempts to stop it.

“You really think—thought the only way I’d want you is if you were an Avatar?”

You laughed wetly, swiping the last of your tears from beneath your eyes as you shook your head abashedly.

“When you say it out loud, it sounds so fucking stupid.”

“Hey, it’s not stupid.”

He corrected, and you froze when you felt his hand lift from your knee to reach towards your face, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear so he could see you more clearly. His fingers slipped beneath your jaw and gently coaxed your head to face him. You forgot how to breathe.

“It’s just not true.”

“Baby, I’ve wanted you since the day I met you, Avatar or not.”

She let out a quiet gasp at his confession, face lighting up with delight as he surged forward and captured her lips with his own, whimpering against her mouth as his arms encircled her body. He guided her back towards the bed, laying her out beneath him, looking absolutely heavenly, truly ravishing, and the sight made him ravenous as he worshipped her, starting by dragging his tongue—

“Hey. Where’d you go?”

It was only a brief moment of wistfulness, your daydream, but Marc saw the way your eyes misted and filled with a faraway look. He let his fingers dance across the softness of your neck before reaching to cradle your jaw in his hand, fingers threading into the hair behind your left ear.

You blinked away your reverie, trying to ground yourself in the present regardless of how desperately you wanted to fantasize about how much you craved him, how much you just wished he wanted you—

“Sorry.”

You uttered, voice barely above a whisper, and you blinked up at him through your wet lashes, doe-eyed. Your shame quickly melted away into something entirely different when you saw the ghost of a smile flicker over his lips.

“What were you thinking about?”

Your breathing stuttered, and you opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off quickly, the timbre of his voice low and gravelly.

“You can tell me, sweetheart. Whatever it was, whatever you want—I’ll give it to you.”

It all became too much too quickly—the swirling heat of desire coiling lowly in your abdomen, the warmth of his exhales across your face, the roughness of his hands against the soft skin of your cheek, the almost taunting gleam in his dark eyes. His promise emboldened you, and without much thought, you surged forward and captured his lips in your own, whimpering against his mouth as your arms encircled his body.

He was quick to meet your pace, his free arm twisting to wrap around your lower back so he could pull you into his lap, one of your hands sinking into his brown curls and the other digging into his right shoulder. You heard him groan into your lips and you took the opportunity to sink your tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss as you pressed your body flush against him, desperately seeking as much closeness as possible.

When his lips left yours and began to trail down your jaw and throat, you were pulled out of your stupor.

“Wait—wait.”

You whispered, fingers tugging at his curls so you could see his face. His brows furrowed in concern as he looked at you with worried eyes, his lips dewy and kiss-swollen.

“What’s wrong?”

He asked carefully, his voice gruff but still attentive, and you lifted both hands to cradle his face, thumbs sweeping over his cheekbones as you drank in his features, studying his face carefully.

“I just—”

You let out a shaky exhale, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his.

“I need to know that this is real. That you’re—that this is all real.”

He pulled away from you slightly, grinning somewhat wolfishly at you.

“This is real, baby—does it feel real?”

You nodded eagerly, your lips still tingling from the severity of his kisses, and he pulled you in for another one, his touch deliciously bruising.

When he pulled away again, you felt his fingers trace down your arm before he grabbed your hand in his. Your brows furrowed in confusion as he guided your grasp between your bodies, but your hips jolted when he pressed your hand into the hardness of his bulge in his jeans. You whimpered at the feeling, fingers curling around his length to squeeze him. His lashes fluttered.

“Yeah, baby—you feel what you do to me? That’s fuckin’ real.”

You felt yourself grow increasingly desperate at his words, fingers curling into the hem of his shirt and yanking it over his head with abandon. He seemed in tune with your own neediness because pretty soon, clothes were being ripped off and haphazardly tossed around the room, lips meeting newly-exposed skin at every opportunity.

You were laid out beneath him, his body slotted between your parted legs as he hovered over you, pumping his cock languidly as he gazed down at you with hooded eyes.

“I’ve pictured this, too, you know.”

You felt a small smile find your face.

“Really?”

He bit his lip, the pace of his hand jerking his length speeding up just slightly.

“Oh, fuck yeah, baby. You’re even more beautiful than I ever imagined.”

His sweet compliment was a stark contrast to the depravity of the current situation, but you could hear the sincerity in his words. You smiled up at him, reaching forward to take his cock in your grasp and line him up with your awaiting entrance.

“And you’re even bigger than I ever imagined.”

You purred, watching his eyes flash with pride as he leaned forward to brush the tip of his cock through your sopping folds, causing you to mewl unsurepetitiously.

“Please, Marc, shit—I can’t wait anymore, please.”

He grinned wickedly down at you, and before you could even take a breath, he was plunging into you with force, his cock sheathing itself fully within the softness of your cunt.

He choked above you, his arm slamming down on the mattress beside your head for support, his fist curling into the sheets.

“Jesus fuck, you’re tight.”

He breathed out, his expression almost pained with just how perfectly your walls were squeezing him.

The sudden intrusion was a startling sensation, but the burn of the stretch was quickly evolving into an addictive sting of pleasure.

“Oh, God, yes—move, Marc, please.”

You begged, brows furrowed deeply, and Marc quickly obliged, starting a rapid pace as he hammered into you, his hips snapping forward with jarring strength. The sound of slapping skin echoed within the room and only served to add to your arousal, the noises leaving your lips sinful and completely involuntary.

“Fuck yeah, baby—is this what you wanted? This what you’ve been daydreaming about, huh? My cock filling you up?”

You moaned wantonly, back arching at Marc’s words. His curls were falling across his forehead, dampened with sweat, and you reached up to grip his shoulders for support, fingernails digging into the carved muscle.

“Yes, fuck, yes—so good, Marc, so fucking good—”

He reached down and lifted your legs to wrap around his waist, forcing his cock even deeper inside of you, the new angle earning a sharp cry. Your walls were fluttering around him.

“Yeah, you wanna cum, baby? You wanna cum on my cock?” He hand reached between your bodies to thumb at your clit, and the added stimulation sent you suddenly toppling over the edge into your orgasm, your eyes rolling back into your head as you let out a long, drawn-out moan.

“Yeah, attagirl—fuck yeah.”

Your walls were clamping down on him, pulsing rhythmically over the ridges of his cock, and he felt his release rapidly approaching.

“You want my cum, baby?”

You nodded frantically at him, eyes wild with desperation, and Marc groaned as his pace began to stutter.

“Where, baby? Where do you want it?”

You fingers sank further into the flesh of his shoulders.

“Mouth—want you to cum in my mouth.”

Your request alone was enough to send him hurtling over the edge.

“Oh, shit, gonna cum—”

He pulled out of you quickly, hand reaching down to fervidly fist at his cock as he crawled forward to straddle your stomach on his knees—you eagerly leaned forward just in time as his balls drew up tight, his cum shooting straight across your awaiting tongue as you opened your mouth wide for him.

“Oh, baby—fuuuuckkk—”

His hips thrusted into his fist with each pump of cum that escaped him, some shooting above your lip and dribbling down your chin. He grunted harshly as he tapped the tip of his cock over your tongue, coating the head in his release that had pooled within your mouth. You quickly closed your lips around him and suckled the tip into your mouth, swallowing all of his seed as you swirled your tongue around his length.

He let out a low groan before he finally reached forward to tug you off of him, collapsing onto the mattress beside you heavily.

You both caught your breath for a few moments, coming back down to Earth after your intense climaxes.

It was Marc who broke the silence first, a deep chuckle coming from his chest.

“If this is what you’re constantly daydreaming about, then fuck—you gotta tell me. I will make every goddamned one come true.”

Your laughter matched his own as he reached over to wrap an arm around you, pulling you towards the warmth of his body comfortingly. Your smile quickly faded as the heat of the moment made way for reality.

“Was this—I mean, this wasn’t just—just a one-time thing... right?”

Marc pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering along your hairline.

“No, baby. Besides—Jake and Steven haven’t even gotten their turns with you.”

His attempt at a joke fell flat.

“That’s not what I mean.”

You said quietly, and Marc sighed, letting his head rest atop yours as he held you close.

“Sorry. I know what you meant, but still, the answer’s no. Kinda hoping this is an all-the-time thing.”

Now, you laughed, and he swore it was his favorite sound in the entire world.

You had a brief conversation with Steven about your mutual feelings, later—although he was a stuttering mess, his smile was wide and eyes were bright with elation when he finally kissed you. He fell asleep holding you close to him, and you listened to his breathing slow as you began to doze off beside him.

Just when you were about to fall asleep, his arms around you squeezed tighter.

“Told you so.”

Jake’s voice taunted jokingly, and you lifted a fist to punch his shoulder at his teasing. He chuckled, and you tilted your head so you could see his face—he looked relaxed, truly at ease, and you practically melted into his touch.

“Yeah, I guess you did.”

You admitted defeat, and Jake gave you a cheeky lopsided grin before he leaned down and gave you a soft, chaste kiss that left you breathless.

You rested your head back against his chest, but he interrupted your peace yet again.

“Can I ask you somethin, nena?”

You nodded.

“You told Marc you imagined being an Avatar. ’m just curious—what kind of things do you think about?”

You felt your face flush with embarrassment, still feeling silly and insecure about admitting to your daydreaming habits, but Jake gently encouraged you enough until you relented, explaining how you’d always had an infatuation with the deity Nut and liked the poeticism of the pairing of the moon and the stars.

“And you called me estrellita.”

You informed shyly, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, but you could hear the way his breath caught in his throat, his muscles tensing just slightly.

“Estrellita?”

He questioned, and you lifted your head to look at him, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Yeah, it—it means ‘little star.’”

You explained, and he shook his head.

“I know that, but I—hmm.”

His lips pursed, and you nudged him, his confusion worrying you.

“What? What’s wrong?”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye before staring back up at the ceiling, his expression contemplative

“No, it’s nothing. It’s just—today, when Khonshu came to tell us that you were in trouble, he—he called you that. Little star.”

You bolted upright, the color quickly draining from your face.

“He fucking what?”

Jake shrugged uneasily, but you felt your heart begin to hammer in your chest, recalling the bizarre intrusion Khonshu had made in your fantasy today, interrupting your own train of thought. Was that—actually him?

Little did you know, Khonshu had been eavesdropping on your daily mental escapes for some time, entertained by both your active imagination and the elaborate stories you seemed to conjure up on a whim. As a matter of fact, both he and Nut found great amusement in your investment in the life of the Egyptian deities, and should something happen to the Goddess of the Sky’s current Avatar—she knew exactly where to find her next candidate.

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fayes-fics · 1 year

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Rescue and Ruin

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Anthony rescues something for you... and it will likely lead to your ruin.

Warnings: None really. Flirting, sexual tension, banter, and the promise of more. A lot of teasing, soaking wet Viscount.

Word Count: 2.7k

Author's Note: Unbetaed. Very belated request fill for @daisfordaysstuff (request: I’m rewatching season 2 again, and I think I need one on this scene [lake Anthony]). I just had to post an Anthony story today to commemorate the birthday of Jonathan Bailey, the man who plays this titan of a fictional character. This is actually my oldest request fill, lingering in my inbox since Sept 2022. Sorry, my lovely; I hope late is better than never. I just got an idea of how I wanted this to play out. I hope you enjoy <3

“I’ll get it!”

A chivalrous call comes as you watch in dismay as your favourite bonnet take off in a gust of wind and flies over the lake, landing almost gracefully about twenty feet out into the gently rippling water.

You had just stolen down to the water's edge to get away from the crowds for a few moments of solitude, drawn to the beauty of the water as the sun danced on the little peaks caused by the gusty breeze. It had looked like a shimmering mirage from the terrace.

You are shocked when the one and only Viscount Anthony Bridgerton gives you a brief, polite nod as he passes you, then dives off a little jetty, still fully clothed, making you gasp loudly.

What on earth?!?

This is his garden party. Well, strictly his mother's, but he is Viscount, and this is the Bridgerton family country estate, Aubrey Hall. You are still awestruck to be here, a guest of your maternal aunt you are staying with here in Kent. Why on earth he would dive into his lake to rescue something as trivial as a hat seems mystifying. You are certain he has staff that could assist rather than take it upon himself and quite clearly ruin his outfit.

He re-emerges to the surface from his dive and swims with awe-inspiring speed towards your hat as it skates across the surface, propelling along not unlike some toy boat. When he finally reaches it, he holds it aloft triumphant and twists to swim back one-handed as he keeps it above the water.

You find yourself drawn down to the jetty he jumped off of. To give your thanks, express your surprise, and take back your hat and hope it is salvageable. You twist around to check, but all the other party guests seem oblivious to the incident or his actions, the string quartet playing so loudly closer to the house and the buffet table so laden everyone's eyes and ears are preoccupied.

“Thank you, my lord,” you demure as he pulls up to the jetty and places your bonnet on the wooden slats by your feet. “That was completely unnecessary, but I am, of course, so very grateful,” you curtsy and pick up the bonnet.

Luckily, thanks to his swift actions, it will be fine. Just the brim and lower edge touched the water. You wring out the soaked ribbons as best you can, then wrap them around your neck and tie them in a secure bow. It may be too wet to wear on your head for now, but at least it should dry while tied securely and draped down over your back. You curtsy again as you feel him watching you, unsure what else to do to convey your gratitude.

He laughs, and you see him fighting with the buttons on his jacket, still standing in the lake, the water around waist height. “There is no need to curtsy or to be so formal Miss…?” he squints up at you expectantly.

“Oh, it's Miss y/l/n,” you rush out and, for some reason, curtsy again.

“I mean it; please stop curtsying, especially to a man in such a state as me,” he says drolly, fighting off his jacket and tossing it, sodden and heavy, onto the jetty.

You are blatantly staring as he peels away his waistcoat and fights with his cravat. His thin cotton white shirt has turned entirely transparent in the water; it is barely there. Under it, you can see so much skin, toned and rippling muscle as his jerking movements strip off his clothing. Over his chest is a patch of dark hair clinging to the material you cannot look away from. You have never even so much as seen how a man looks without a shirt on before, and this sight makes your heart pound and your body tingle.

Glancing up from his actions, the corner of his mouth quirks up, and you know he has caught you—openly ogling him. Your cheeks are aflame, and you cut your eyes away.

“You may look, Miss y/l/n,” his pitch has dropped to something low and velvety, and it buzzes right into your core. Hesitantly your eyes dart back to his handsome face; the lip quirk spreads into a devastating, stunning smile. “It is alright; no one has marked us,” he assures, his gaze cutting to your right towards the house, then back to your face. “You shall not have broken any rules of propriety by talking with me. Or staring at me as you are,” he teases, an eyebrow arching appealingly.

“My lord, that is not what….” You begin to protest, knowing it's a lie even as you voice it; your reflex to appear chaste is so crucial to your need to find a match that your aunt and parents are so desperate for you to make.

But your words die out as he places both hands firmly on the dock and propels himself up and out of the water in one swift, athletic move. Your tongue feels too heavy in your mouth as he unfurls upwards from the kneeling position, drawing up to his full height. Water sluices down his body and makes his clothing cling to every single contour of his toned, defined torso. He looms closer; you tilt backwards, entranced by the tracks of droplets over the lines of his handsome face, his burned umber eyes catching the sunlight and boring into you as he crowds closer.

“Do not lie to yourself or to me, Miss y/l/n,” he rumbles, “we both know you were and, indeed, continue to stare”.

His words make your body riot; your stays feel too tight for your lungs to breathe, your skin pricking hot. He’s so close now you can smell the vaguely mossy lake smell on his skin, on what little clothing he has left on; it’s dancing there on the breeze alongside something spicier and amber that you can only assume is his cologne. You want to stutter an apology, to offer your thanks again, to ask him to leave, to ask him to stay, to ask him to touch you—so many jumbled, contradictory thoughts.

“The more pertinent question is, do you like what you see?” he murmurs and leans in, his words ghosting warm on the shell of your ear.

This is the sort of thing your aunt has warned you about. Rakes. Handsome, wealthy, titled men who will tease and take what they can from young, innocent ladies such as yourself. You want to be affronted, tell him to desist, and give him a scathing remark about appropriate behaviour. But once again, you don't. Your body drawn to him, you want to trace your fingers over the swell of his chest muscles, to feel those strong arms grab your waist and haul you against his sodden form.

“No answer is, in some ways, an answer,” he chuckles with a lilt that is both arrogant and devastatingly attractive.

“My lord, we may be seen at any moment…” Your protest is weak and breathy, not moving away as he continues to stand far too close to you, as lake water drips onto your shoes.

Suddenly a clammy hand wraps around your elbow, and you are being pulled towards the nearby cluster of thick trees and bushes that abut the lake. You almost stumble and smack into him face-first as he pulls up short and releases your arm. The air feels cooler here, with dappled shade, verdant and alive with the scent of flowering bushes and leaves. The view of the house and, indeed, the party guests is wholly obscured. No one would ever know you are here.

“Do you have an answer now that we cannot be seen?” he breathes inches from you, towering over you.

“My lord… I,” you cannot find words, hanging your head. You know this is wrong. Very wrong. Your aunt would kill you for being this wanton, for allowing him to do this to you. And yet…. Every fibre of your being wants this. To see what he will do. To see what you will let him do. You suspect it's more than you even understand.

“Say it after me….” he intones, a finger tilting your chin up to look into his fiery gaze.

“I…” he begins.

“I…” you parrot.

“Like…”

“Like,” you repeat, and the grin on his face grows wider.

“What….”

“What,” your breath quickening with each word.

“I…”

“I,” that finger still lingers under your chin, caressing gently.

“See.”

“See,” you exhale shakily.

“There. Now was that so hard…hmmm?” he teases, that finger now joined by his thumb stroking over the point of your chin, the lake water running down his forearm to the point of material bunched under his elbow that now drips down the front of your dress. The dampness seeps through the material and into your heated skin.

The cord of tension in the air is palpable. You don't know what to say or what to do.

“I have another question for you,” he buzzes, and the fingers on your chin slip lower, over your throat, lighting a line of fire as they trail over your delicate skin. Your pulse pounding in your veins. You swallow hard and feel the calloused fingertips trace into your suprasternal notch. “Maybe this one you can answer,” he huffs a sarcastic laugh as your body spirals and you fight to keep your breath even.

“What is it, my lord?” your voice barely a whisper.

“Would you be willing to help me, your gracious host today, get dry?” he practically purrs.

“How…. how on earth could I do that?” you stumble.

He smiles predatory and so handsome you give up and let your chest heave, ragged breathing.

“Under your dress, you wear a chemise, do you not?” he continues, those fingers tracing over the wet bow of your bonnet strings tied over your clavicle.

“Yes, my lord,” you answer shakily.

“Well did you know such items can be an excellent towel in a pinch,” he shrugs one shoulder and lifts an eyebrow as his fingers slip lower over your breastbone until they reach the neckline of your dress, at the swell of your breast.

There is no point in pretending he is not utterly destroying you now. You can’t school anything—the blush darkening over your skin, creeping up from your chest, the tingle in your lips, the hot flush you feel all over. A viscous pulse in your underwear that feels entirely alien and where your decision-making seems to be centred at right this very moment.

“So I suppose my last question, for now, is, are you willing to give it to me?” you gasp at his turn of phrase as those fingers swirl patterns over the neckline of your dress. “Your chemise, of course,” he amends with a wink.

Utter, utter rake.

“H-how can I give you my chemise without removing my dress too?” you wonder aloud.

“Well, that is the challenge, isn't it?” he smirks. “Now I can see two options here. I can do the gentlemanly thing, turn my back and allow you to undress and then you may hand me your chemise once decent again. I will dry myself the best I can and return to the house to change.”

“And the second option?” you cannot resist querying.

“Ahh, that,” he seems to pull even closer, and the fingers slip over the neckline and onto the silk ruching that covers your breasts; even through the material layers, you can feel his fingers lingering over your nipple and the throbbing between your legs turns almost painful. “The second option is that I am not a gentleman. Not in the slightest,” his answer cryptic but dripping with a dark, forbidden promise.

“What does that involve…?” you pant.

You watch, enthralled, as his tongue pokes out of his mouth and licks his bottom lip, and in seeming slow-motion, his mouth begins to form a shape to speak words…

“ANTHONY!!”

The yell is from a few feet away, on the other side of the bushes. Both of you jump apart as if burned.

“ANTHONY?!” the male voice calls again, “ARE YOU AROUND?”

It's obvious the person has no idea you are merely a few feet away, only that they are looking for him.

Stay here, Anthony mouths silently, and you nod, your heart beating wildly at the whiplash of experiences.

With one rueful glance at you, at the interrupted moment, he turns around and fights through the mass of foliage back out to the lawn.

“Oh, there you are!” the voice exclaims. “We wondered what the devil had happened to you!!”

“Colin…” you hear him respond.

“Hell and the devil. Why are you soaked through?? Did you decide to go for a swim fully clothed? Did you find my special tea??” his voice ramping up in incredulity as he likely clocks Anthony's bedraggled appearance.

“I have no idea what you are referring to,” Anthony’s reply seems clipped. “I rescued a small beautiful creature, if you must know,” he obfuscates.

“Ahh, hero antics,” Colin laughs. “Well, you had better go change right away. Mother expects you to make a toast for our esteemed guests in a few minutes.”

You hear Anthony’s frustrated noise of derision and have to stifle your giggle behind the back of your hand between deep breaths, trying to bring yourself back to a state of normality after the rollercoaster of experiences you just had.

“Urghhh, alright,” Anthony sighs, embattled, “I think I dropped my pocket watch back in the bushes. Give me one moment to find it, and I will accompany you back to the house.”

“Side entrance,” Colin responds dryly.

“Indeed,” you hear Anthony call.

You tense as the bushes before you start to rustle as he fights through them to reach you. He stalks up to you, and you gasp audibly.

“Shhh,” he warns quietly, his lips right at your ear, gusting hot, “it looks as if I must sadly depart. Your chemise is safe for today, Miss y/l/n.”

With a boldness you didn’t know yourself capable of, you grab the shirt's sleeves rolled up around his elbows.

“I would never want not to be helpful to you, my lord,” you whisper tremulant, fingers twisting in the soaked fabric. “If removing my chemise can ever be of assistance to you in future, please be sure to let me know.”

You cannot believe you allow yourself to say something so scandalous.

He pulls back slightly, and it's his turn to exhale unsteadily, his pupils dilated; his expression wild. You can see a vein hammering in his throat.

“Oh goddd,” he moans, closing his eyes as if pained.

“What?” concern suddenly flooding your tone.

His eyes reopen, and they pin you with their intensity.

“Mark my words,” his tone is low, gravelly, “if you continue to talk so brazenly, it will only encourage me.”

It is the sexiest warning bell you have ever heard.

“And if you continue to tease and defy me, I will pursue you. Relentlessly,” he growls, and once again, your body is rioting.

“Good god. How long does it take to find a pocket watch, man?” Colin calls impatiently, once again breaking the moment between you as it threatens to bubble over.

“I've found it!” Anthony twists to call over his shoulder. “I’ll be there presently!”

“Hurry up!” Colin grouses.

Anthony turns back, and his breath is hot over your cheek. He seems to stare at your lips for an inordinate amount of time as you stare back. Transfixed.

“Today, I shall be a gentleman,” he states reluctantly and draws away slightly. “However…” and your heart spikes in victory, “once that clock strikes midnight. I make no promises. And I shall be standing right here,” his tone decisive, his finger pointing to the spot right by his feet. “Just so you and your chemise will know where to find me,” he rumbles, then gives you a polite bow and is gone.

You have to grab onto a tree to stop yourself from swooning. Already knowing you will be stealing away from your room as the clock strikes midnight. Uncaring of consequences.

You want him to ruin you.

Anthony taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @malpalgalz

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kingdom-of-sins · 25 days

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Logan Sargeant x f2 driver!reader

You are an F2 driver and a long term friend of Logan. When you called Logan and asked to meet him he happily came to see you...but he was not ready for the news. This takes place by the end of the summer break

A/N: I swear this has been sitting on my draft for a few days now. I was planning to post it next week but after the news today I just decided to post it now. Logan deserves better and FU Williams

You fidget with your phone, trying to calm the nerves that have been gnawing at you since the email from Williams hit your inbox. This was supposed to be the happiest moment of your life—the culmination of years of hard work, sacrifices, and endless hours behind the wheel. But now, sitting in this quiet café, waiting for Logan to arrive, all you feel is an uneasy sense of guilt.

The door chimes, and your breath catches when you see him walk in. Logan is dressed in a casual T-shirt and jeans, his familiar blue eyes scanning the room until they land on you. His smile is instant, the kind of smile that makes your heart skip a beat. You try to smile back, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Hey,” he greets as he approaches, his voice carrying that light, easy tone you’ve come to adore. “You sounded a bit nervous on the phone. Everything okay?”

Your stomach twists, and you force yourself to nod as he sits down across from you. Logan looks relaxed, excited even. It’s that excitement that makes this moment so much harder. He’s been one of your closest friends since you entered the world of motorsport. The guy who pushed you when you were down and celebrated your victories like they were his own. He had no idea what was coming, and that’s what made it so painful.

“I—uh…” You start, your voice shaky, and you bite down on your bottom lip to keep it from trembling. “There’s something I need to tell you, Logan.”

His eyebrows knit together with mild concern, but he’s still smiling, like he thinks whatever you’re about to say can’t be all that bad. You wish it wasn’t.

He leans forward slightly, and for a split second, you notice the way his eyes flicker over your face like he’s trying to read what’s going on in your head. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” he says softly, his voice warm.

You take a deep breath and just spit it out, the words tumbling from your lips in a rush. “Williams offered me the seat. They want me to sign the contract tomorrow.”

You watch his face closely, and it’s like you can see the exact moment the floor drops out from under him. His smile falters, his eyes widen just slightly, and then he blinks, trying to recover before you can notice too much. But you do. You see the exact moment everything shifts for him.

“Oh,” he says, his voice quiet, like he’s trying to process the news. “Williams offered you the seat…”

You nod, feeling your throat tighten. “I swear I didn’t know, Logan. I had no idea they weren’t going to re-sign you. If I’d known—” Your voice cracks, and you look away, blinking quickly to keep the tears at bay. “I’m so sorry.”

Logan forces a smile, but it’s not the same. It’s tight around the edges, like he’s holding back a storm of emotions. “Don’t be,” he says, his voice soft but strained. “You deserve it. You’ve worked so hard for this. You shouldn’t feel bad.”

But you do. You feel terrible. You can see how much this is hurting him, even if he’s trying to be supportive. You’re not just taking a seat—you’re taking 'his' seat. The seat he fought for, the seat that was supposed to be his future. And now, it’s yours.

“Logan…” Your voice trails off, unsure of what to say. There’s nothing you can say to make this right.

He leans back slightly in his chair, his gaze dropping to the table. His jaw tightens for a brief second, and you can tell he’s fighting to keep it together. “Look,” he says after a long pause, “this is Formula 1. This is what we’ve both been working for, right? I’ve had my shot. Now it’s your turn. You’ve earned this.”

You shake your head, tears now threatening to spill over. “But it doesn’t feel right. It was your seat, Logan. I don’t want to take it from you.”

He reaches across the table, his hand brushing against yours for a brief moment before pulling back. That brief touch sends warmth through you, but it only makes the situation worse. You know he’s trying to be strong for you, but all you can see is the pain in his eyes.

“Hey,” he says gently, his eyes meeting yours. “You’re going to do great. Don’t doubt yourself because of me. This is your dream too.”

Your heart aches at his words. It’s everything you’ve wanted to hear, but not like this. Not when it’s causing him so much pain.

“I just—” you start, but the words die in your throat. You want to tell him how much he means to you, how you wish things could be different, but the words won’t come.

Logan stands suddenly, pushing his chair back with a soft scrape. “I should get going,” he says, his voice a little too casual. “I’ve got simulator work to do. Still got the second half of the season to focus on. Gotta give it my all, right?”

You stand too, feeling like you’re losing him in more ways than one. Before he can leave, you reach out and pull him into a hug. He tenses for a moment, then relaxes into your arms, holding you a little too tightly, like he doesn’t want to let go. You don’t either.

You stay like that for a moment, his chin resting lightly on the top of your head, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. You can feel the steady beat of his heart against your chest, but there’s a sadness in the way he’s holding you, like this is the end of something neither of you had the courage to admit was there.

When he finally pulls back, his hands linger on your shoulders, his eyes meeting yours for one last moment. You can see the weight of unspoken words in his gaze, the things neither of you ever said but both of you felt.

“You’re going to be amazing,” he says softly. “Don’t let anything hold you back.”

You nod, trying to smile but feeling it fall short. “Thank you.”

Logan gives you one last look, something soft and bittersweet in his expression, and then he turns and walks away, his footsteps heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. You watch him go, feeling helpless and heartbroken, knowing that this is one of those moments that will haunt you for a long time.

You didn’t want to lose him, not like this. But as Logan disappears from view, you realize that maybe you already have.

#logan sargeant #fuck williams #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant x you #f1 imagines #f1 #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula one #formula 2 #f1 predictions #f1 one shot #formula 1 one shot #logan sargeant one shot #motorsports #williams racing

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aurumacadicus · 5 months

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69 🫡🫡🫡

There were eight 69's in my inbox I just want you all to know.

"Hey, um, so, hello," someone said, voice cracking.

Steve blinked slowly, not quite understanding. He'd heard that tone of voice before, but never directed at him. Normally Thor, or Bucky, or even Natasha, when she was wearing a tank-top that showed off her arms. Someone seeking help, needing muscle. Steve was scrappy, but he also wasn't the first person anyone ever turned to for help. He turned, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

The man who had sidled up to him was wearing clothes way too nice for the bar Steve and his friends called home base. As he watched, the man shifted, and he saw a peek of a red sole on the bottom of his shoe. His watch looked expensive, too. He bet the guy's buttons were more expensive than some of the liquor behind the bar.

"Hello," Steve answered belatedly.

"I'm gonna be frank with you," the man said, glancing nervously over his shoulder. "My ex is following me. I have a restraining order and the police are on the way but. You know. New York. So. Just pretend to be my date? Please? So I don't look like I'm wandering around helplessly. I need to look like I came here on purpose."

"Okay," Steve answered, the novelty of the request sort of making everything else absorb slowly. Then the rest of what the man said hit him, and he straightened up from where he'd been slouching over his beer. "Restraining order?!"

"You said okay no take-backs," the man answered, eyes darting back and forth as if he was already choosing someone else to ask if Steve really said no. "I'm Tony. Can we hold hands? Or. Like. I can go. Is there a bathroom here? Is there a window in it?"

Tony was panicking, Steve realized. He was about to shake out of his skin. Whoever his ex was, he was really scared. And he should be, Steve figured belatedly. From what he'd been told, restraining orders could be hard to get.

He reached out, bypassing Tony's trembling hand to instead grab Tony's chin, gently forcing him to turn to face him. "I'm Steve," he offered kindly. "Hi, Tony."

Tony squeaked, cheeks taking on a pink tinge. "Hi," he managed, shuffling his feet awkwardly.

"Don't worry," Steve told him, trying to convey that no matter what, here, he'd be safe. If Steve couldn't protect him, his friends were here to take up for Tony instead. "I won't let anything happen to you."

Tony exhaled shakily. Steve took a moment to wonder if it was from relief or if it had anything to do with the shocked blush on his cheeks. Now probably wasn't the time to figure it out, he lamented, even as he stood from his stool to offer it to Tony and subtly waved over at Bucky and Clint by the dart board. They noticed, and Clint got Natasha's attention where she was talking with Maria and Sharon.

Good. Everyone was on alert.

Steve turned his attention back to Tony, giving him a kind smile. "So. Can't say I've ever been someone's first choice when it comes to choosing a fake boyfriend."

Tony swiveled his gaze away from the menu to blink at him, stunned. "Why? You're very cute."

It shocked a laugh out of Steve. "Yeah, but I don't look very strong," he offered.

"...I don't. Want him to go after you," Tony answered after a brief, uncomfortable pause. "He'll just feel sorry for you. That I'm your date. So."

Steve bit back the urge to grip his hands into fists. "...Hmm," he offered, instead of 'what the fuck' or 'lemme at him.' He patted the back of Tony's hand soothingly. "Well. If he says even one thing wrong, rest assured, my fists are up."

"Huh?" Tony asked, but Steve just patted his hand again.

#aurumacadicus answers #starkexpos #1-161 stony ficlet challenge #stony

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arminsumi · 1 year

Text

AFTERCARE WITH EREN.

𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍 — エレン⋅ gn reader

NOTE: when was the last time i wrote for my fav genocidal maniac 🤭💀 kidding. fun fact i started writing online because i had it bad for eren lol. anyways i have one of these coming for gojo 👍 and maybe others!! bc i love aftercare and crave more stuff centered around it, if u have any good aftercare post recs send em to my inbox thank uuu!!

🔞 mdni / mdnr / 18+ content

SUMMARY — just gentle/caring bf Eren cleaning you up after rearranging your guts 😇

WARNINGS — implied/mentioned smut, n.sfw, implied smut contents; light roughplay (?), against the wall, condoms used 👍, spanking/hairpulling, very small and brief "daddy", he calls u baby, i think it's gn reader? lmk if there's something that's not gn thank u

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 — サクランボ ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

He pulls his sweatpants up and discards his condom. You slump against the wall and slide down it, moments earlier you were just being fucked against that very wall by your boyfriend. His hands and dirty talk may have a tender touch, but his cock sure doesn't; it rearranges your whole perspective on reality, you feel so shaky after a good session.

"Erennn." you call out his name, "help me up."

"Pretty baby. Did I go too hard on you?" he asks worriedly.

"A little bit. But I liked it." you smile with a tired, satisfied look.

He gives you an almost pitiful head tilt. "C'mere — hold onto me. Lock those legs 'round my waist baby, there we go."

Of course Eren can't refrain from planting a light tap to your ass while he carries you to the bathroom of his little apartment. You still feel the numb sting of all that spanking, and a vague tingle across your scalp from when he pulled your hair when he came so hard.

"You good baby?" he asks in a gentle murmur. "You spaced out."

He's set you down on the sink counter top, slowly cleaning up your between your thighs, tentatively pecking your ears and cheeks. You almost laugh. Is this really the same boy that just fucked you standing against the wall and made you scream daddy loud enough to wake the neighborhood?

"I'm fine, 'just fucked me too good." you murmur back at him.

He has a very slight smile adorning his features. "Need a rest, huh?" he teases.

"Yes, please. Let's nap."

"Nah, you nap, I'm gonna go get us food. Wait for me."

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blossomwritesthings · 4 months

Text

𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞. | 𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐬 & 𝐰𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐬

⬷ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬

pairing: felix x fem!reader (afab) // chan x fem!reader (afab)

genre: nonidol/collegegrad!felix. waitress!reader. college au. hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. smut - MDNI, 18+ only. reader pov. friends to enemies to lovers au. slowburn romance. lots of pining. cheating. abusive boyfriend/ex. drama galore. the sexual tension is REAL in this one.

content & warnings: brief depictions of violence/a person getting jumped, and the aftermath of that. smut that includes: unprotected sex, breast play, dirty talk, riding, slight breeding kink, creampie, lots of making out, y/n and felix are basally two switches in this ngl. please take care in reading.

word count: 6.2k

summary: ever since you were born, all you've ever known is living a simple life in the small australian coastal town of bridgeport bay. you're content with working at your parent's beachside restaurant angel waves for the rest of your life, and you're happy with your place in the world - you have good friends and an even better boyfriend. that is, until everything comes to a standstill when a familiar face from the past visits town for the summer. and in the wake of his return, lee felix upturns everything you thought you were content with here in your comforting little beach town.

a/n: you guys, I swear to GOD that I did not fucking forget about this fic!!! 💀 trust me, I see all of the msgs and comments in my inbox across my platforms. I've just been too busy and tired from my daily life to keep up with writing much these days. on top of that, I don't feel particularly inclined to write straight-coupled smut rn. plus, my long-distance girlfriend just left from her weekend visit, so besides uni and work, she's been keeping me quite busy. 🤭 anyways, I hope ya'll enjoyed the end of this small series of mine, and thanks for all of the love you guys have shown it over the past year~!! 💗

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). do not copy, spin-off, or write inspired work based off of this fanfic without full permission to do so. ©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

The worst thing about the next two weeks after your moment with Felix in his bedroom was that the entire time, Chris didn’t even reach out once.

There were no calls, no texts, no emails, no letters.

Just… nothing.

And that hurt the most out of everything else.

Pretty soon after your night spent over at Felix’s house, you came to terms with the end of the relationship. With the cheating and all the other shit.

But the one thing you couldn’t shake was the fact that there was complete radio silence on his end.

He didn’t even try to fight for you.

Didn’t even do his very best to get you back.

Instead, he just kept living his life, while he continued to fuck your best friend.

Yeji, on the other hand, had texted and called you at least a dozen times. None of which, you replied to.

She was acting like you two were in a romantic relationship. Like she was Chris in the situation.

It took her showing up to Angel Waves on a busy Friday night to finally be your breaking point. You were fed up with her bullshit. What ensued was a huge blowup between the two of you at the front of the restaurant.

But mostly, it was just you screaming. You who was the one who yelled at the top of your lungs, the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

For the most part, Yeji stayed silent. Just standing there and taking the brunt of all your hatred and disgust. And finally, when you told her you guys were done… that the friendship was officially over, that’s when she started to protest.

Soon, she was yanking on your hands, begging you to ‘not do this,’ and to ‘think it over some because-‘ But you had heard enough. From the moment you saw that long-ass text thread between her and your boyfriend, it had been over.

And just like that, the friendship was broken, and you were having your father escort her out of AW. Before you knew it, he was telling her never to come back again, and never to grace the doorstep of your house, otherwise he’d press charges. Since you had told your parents about the breakup and everything else that had happened along the way, they were fully on board with protecting you from the people who had hurt you so much.

Thankfully, Yeji didn’t go any further. As quickly as she had shown up at the front door of Angel Waves, she was gone. Forever. Good riddance to her, you said to yourself as you watched her walk down the side of the restaurant and towards the parking lot.

Perhaps the worst part about those two weeks after the breakup was the fact that you hardly got to see Felix. Between you grieving the relationship alone late at night in your room, studying homework, and waitressing at AW, you hardly had any free time to yourself to reach out to him.

But because Felix was… well, Felix, he made it a point to text you every single morning and night. Checking up on you and letting you know he was always there, rooting for you. That his door was always open in case you wanted to talk.

And for the most part, you found that you were doing okay. You wanted to be left alone in your thoughts. At least, for a little while. Yet, late at night, when your eyes were puffy from crying and your throat was scratchy, you’d look out of your bedroom window and watch the dark tidal waves ripple in the distance.

The changes in the blue colors of the ocean felt like your feelings throughout that time. One moment they were crystal clear, the next they were the deepest shade of cerulean. Through it all, you were lucky to have Felix by your side. Silently supporting you from afar.

That’s why, when Han Jisung showed up one random Thursday night to Angel Waves during a lull, you were confused out of your mind. He had already been served and was chowing down on a huge burger and fries. When you walked up to him, already smoothing down your apron and dress, he didn’t even pay you any attention.

“Uhm- Ji, what the fuck are you doing here?” You asked incredulously. Because although you guys were friends, he hadn’t frequented the restaurant much, quoting that it was ‘much too bougie for his taste.’

At the sound of your voice, he looked up from his plate and flashed you a wide grin just as he stuffed a couple of fries into his mouth. “Goddamn- this shit is good… did you know that, Y/N?” He laughed as he took another bite out of the burger.

Rolling your eyes at him, you looked around the restaurant to make sure you weren’t needed elsewhere before you sat down in the booth’s seat across from him. “Yeah, because my parents own the fucking place.” You deadpanned, raising an eyebrow his way as he grinned at you from behind his burger. “But I don’t think you came here tonight to devour a burger. So… what’s up?”

He took a swig of his chilled bottle of coke before finally answering your prodding. “Did you know that Chris is in the hospital right now?”

And just like that, your entire world stopped.

Everything came to a standstill.

The noise, hustle and bustle. The energy flowing throughout Angel Waves honed down to a single point as you focused on Jisung’s words.

Because… what, the actual, fuck?

Leaning forward in your seat slowly, you could feel your heart beat wildly against your ribcage as your eyes grew in shock. “I’m sorry- what?”

Jisung shrugged nonchalantly like this news was completely mind-blowing. “Yeah, Jeongin texted me last night, guess he visited him in the ER yesterday. Rumor has it he got jumped or something…” Then he was leaning forward too, eyes floating around the room before locking onto yours and dropping his voice down into a whisper. “But c’mon, a jump in Bridgeport? No fucking way. My bet is, he got mixed up in the wrong crowd involving drugs or some shit.”

“Chris. Got. Jumped.” You said slowly, shaking your head in disbelief as your mind started spinning with millions of thoughts. But the one that came to the forefront, you blurted out immediately. “How bad is it? It must be pretty horrible if it landed him in the ER.”

Jisung was busy stuffing his face with more burger and talked between chewing. “Beats me- Jeongin mentioned something about a few broken bones and some really bad cuts, but I’m sure that fucker will survive no problem.” Since everything that had happened between you and Chris within the past few weeks, Jisung had also cut all ties with him and officially hated his guts. “Serves him right, honestly, from the kind of freakish shit he pulled with you and Yeji…”

After that, Jisung kept talking. But you couldn’t hear him, couldn’t pay attention to him any longer.

Because all you could think about was what Felix had told you a few days prior. How he had to go out of town for the weekend to complete some “interviews” for a dance instructor position he was interested in. He had mentioned something about it being a few hours away, but so suddenly, everything was clicking.

How he told you not to worry if he didn’t reply to your calls and texts.

How he said he’d be back late at night that Wednesday.

You were shooting up from your seat after that, checking the current time on your phone. It read just a little past eleven at night. Hopefully, Felix was still up. Hopefully, he was home.

When Jisung noticed you moving away from the table, he grabbed ahold of your hand to stop you in your tracks. “Where are you going?”

“I think I know who did it.” You began, giving him the look. Jisung’s eyes searched your entire face, and for a moment, you automatically knew when it clicked in his mind. When it registered, with stark clarity.

“He did what he had to do.”

“It’s fucking illegal, Ji.”

Shrugging nonchalantly for the second time that night, Jisung took a dainty sip of his coke. “I mean, if it was me- Chris wouldn’t even be alive at this point.”

You pushed on his shoulder, scoffing lowly. “Well then, good thing you’re not in the same position.” And with that, you were fleeing from the restaurant entirely, ripping off your apron and throwing it on a nearby barstool as you made your way out the back entrance.

Felix’s house rose against the horizon in the distance. You broke out into a run, turning breathless fairly quickly from the adrenaline and worry running through your veins. As you got closer to the white-wooden paneled house, you noticed how most of the lights were switched off.

Save for the one in his bedroom.

Taking in a deep breath of relief, you made to climb up the porch and hoist open his bedroom window. Just like he had taught you all those years ago when you’d sneak into his bedroom after curfew during high school.

The fucking pane wasn’t even unlocked - figured, since he trusted the police officers a little too much in Bridgeport - and soon, you were climbing through the window and sitting down at the edge of his bed.

The nearby bathroom light was on, the warmth radiating from the crack of the door near the floorboards, and you could hear water running just behind the door.

Holding your breath, your hands twisted together with your nervousness. The air suddenly felt so fucking stifling and warm, yet you could feel the gooseflesh running down the lengths of your bare arms as you sat there.

Perhaps you shouldn’t have worn such a thin white tank top when it was on the chillier side of a summer night. Looking down, you realize just how short your ripped shorts were. They rode up your thighs as you sat there across his bed, and you hastily pulled them down to save some form of modesty.

Before you could fix up any other part of yourself, the bathroom door was swinging open and the trapped light was flooding across the entire dimly-lit bedroom. The warmth cascaded across your skin, and when you looked up from the ground, Felix was illuminated by it.

He was… shirtless.

With… messy, dripping wet hair and a pair of loose black sweatpants haphazardly thrown on.

“Y/N- uh, what are you doing here?” He asked hesitantly, running his hands through the back of his hair in the way he always did when he was taken aback. “I just got back from a swim, I didn’t-“

“Is it true?”

“Is… what true?�� He raised a dark, perfectly manicured eyebrow your way as he neared his desk. Reaching out, he squirted out a tiny bit of lotion onto his delicate fingers and gently patted the product onto his skin.

“The fact that Chris is in the fucking hospital right now.”

“Oh. That,” he didn’t even seem surprised to hear your words, meaning that he had already heard about it. He rubbed a small amount of emulsion onto his cheeks before flashing you with a tiny grin, staring at you through the mirror. “Minho told me this morning. Heard it’s pretty bad.”

“Show me your hands, Felix.” You said, voice low and icy against your tongue. For a moment, Felix stopped his movements at the desk. He just stared at you from the mirror that was hung on the wall in front of it. And when he made no sign of moving, of heeding your words, you pressed again. “Felix. Show me your fucking hands.”

Felix raised an eyebrow your way, as he closed the bottle of lotion and placed it back on its glass holder atop his desk. “I’m at no liberty to do what you say. You can’t tell me what to do, angel… As much as you probably want to.”

The way the pet name sounded coming from his mouth did something funny to your insides just then. The way it twisted around his tongue and came out softly yet a little bit harsh, too, twisted up everything inside of you and made you want to scream out loud.

But you didn’t know if you wanted to scream at him, or for him.

And before your heart could catch up to what your brain was doing, you were standing up from the bed and your legs were stretching across the floor. The length between the desk and bed frame wasn’t long. And before you knew it, you were just beside Felix, taking ahold of his hands and bringing them into your line of vision.

They were…

Bruised.

Badly cut.

And various shades of violent reds and purples.

Half of his hands were bandaged up, the other halves were completely open.

“Felix… what-”

Yanking his hands out of your hold, he ran them through his unruly blonde locks, sighing heavily. “He’s lucky I didn’t fucking kill his sorry ass. I almost did, that night on the highway- when I saw him hit you like that.”

Reaching out, you grabbed onto one of his hands again and squeezed it slowly. “You could go to jail for this, Lix. Chris- he’ll… he’ll press charges. You know he will.” Your voice sounded strained and desperate. And you could feel the tears pricking at the corners of your vision at the sheer thought of it all.

Of Felix going and seeking out your ex just so he could beat him to a pulp so much, he landed the fucker in the hospital.

Because no, not your Lee Felix.

Not the boy who was known throughout elementary middle and high school as the sweetest human in the entire world.

Not the boy who couldn’t hurt a fly.

Not your sweet, pretty… Felix.

Shaking his head slowly, Felix’s eyes met yours through the reflection in the mirror. “He won’t press charges, trust me. I made sure to fuck him up enough that he wouldn’t. Chris is too much of a coward to ever show his face around these parts again.” He flashed you an easy grin, squeezing your hand faintly in reassurance.

And you actually believed him.

Because if it had been bad enough to land Chris in the hospital, and leave such nasty wounds and scars across Felix’s entire hands, you were pretty sure your ex would never face either of you again.

“But… why? I don’t understand why you’d do something like that?” You began, getting choked up again. Chest heaving slightly, you leaned into his side, breath hitching in the pit of your throat at just the thought of Felix being taken away from your side because of a stupid fight and breakup. “Why would you do it when you know the risks? I can’t fucking lose you, Felix, I- not again. Please.”

At that, Felix was turning completely. So that he was facing you. And then he was pulling you towards him, wrapping his arms around your waist as you buried your face in his bare chest. His warm skin against your lips lit a fire in the pit of your stomach, but at that moment, you couldn’t see or think about anything past your tears. That were steadily flowing down your face.

“I’m not leaving you, Y/N. I’ve done that once, I promised you I wouldn’t do it again.” He said in a soft voice, as he carded a few fingers through your hair in a soothing gesture.

“Why? Why did you do it?” You cried out softly, nestling your face into his naked skin. Your body was seeking out any kind the warmth, from the way that the fright was wrapping around all of your senses in that moment.

For a few beats, everything was silent. The only sound in the entire bedroom was your quiet sniffles. And Felix’s breathing. Then, he spoke in that deep voice of his. “Because I care, angel. A little too much, it would seem. I care way too much to sit idly by and let a man like that walk this earth without having any consequences.”

“Us breaking up was a punishment enough.”

You could sense Felix shaking his head above you, as he held you close to his half-clothed form. “No. He never deserved you, from the very beginning. That’s why I got so angry- on graduation night. Because you couldn’t see what I saw in him… which was absolutely nothing.” As he spoke, you could feel him tensing against you. And only then, did you realize that the tears had stopped. And instead of listening to your sobs, you were listening to what he was telling you. “I couldn’t stand the thought of seeing you with him when I knew he was a horrible fucking person. I couldn’t stand the thought of hearing you talk about him on our calls once I went to Korea. I couldn’t stand the thought of any of it. That’s why I cut everything off.”

Moving away from his chest just slightly, you stared up at him and met his gaze. “You could’ve told me all of this, you know. And I would’ve understood.”

Raising a noncommittal eyebrow down at you, he scoffed lowly. “Really, Y/N? Because your actions from the past say something very differently.”

And without even thinking about it, you were raising your hands, brushing a few strands of his loose blonde hair behind his ears. “Yes, really. Because I love you and I value your opinion so fucking much.”

“No, don’t say that.”

Felix’s words came out deathly quiet, making your heart stop beating in the pit of your chest for a few seconds. Frowning in confusion, you pressed your lips together in a displeased line. “What do you-”

“Don’t say you love me, because we both know that if you did- you never would’ve been with him in the first place,” Felix said slowly, in a breathless kind of way. But despite his words, he was already moving slowly. Hands reaching up, his slender fingers tracing the line of your jaw. Eyes watching the way you breathed out in a shuttering kind of way at the movement.

“So tell me that you don’t. Tell me that you don’t love me.” He continued, even as his hand was slipping behind your neck and his other hand was finding its way onto your hip. He yanked you a little closer to his form.

Swallowing down a mixture of a moan and scream, you met his gaze. And there, you found a myriad of emotions. His eyes were hooded and searching, as they wandered across your face, picking up on every one of your emotions. There, you found love and… desire, too.

“I love you, Lee Felix.”

“That’s not what I told you to say. That’s the opposite, actually.” He said in a gravelly voice, the sound of it rumbling out of his chest and cascading down your entire body.

Shrugging just a tiny bit, you offered him a sly kind of smirk. “Guess it’s opposite day then- because I-”

Instead of words, his mouth was the thing that cut you off next.

The kiss was so abrupt and sudden, that your brain had hardly any time to process it. Then, all of a sudden, you were melting into the feeling of it all. Of his lips pressed against yours, fervently seeking you out. You nearly fell into his arms, if it wasn’t for the fact that he was holding onto your waist with one hand, and the other was wrapped in your locks at the nape of your neck.

“F-Felix-” You moaned out softly in the split second that he pulled away to allow you time to breathe. Then his mouth was back on yours with a searing vengeance, as his tongue prodded at the line of your lips.

And just like that, you let him in. His warm tongue slipped between your teeth and soon you were exploring each other’s tastes in a heated, frenzied kind of way. Almost like, without the two of you even realizing it, your mouths had been craving each other from day one.

Felix pulled on your hair a little bit harder after that, tilting your head back just enough as his lips parted from yours. And when you were about to protest from the lack of his mouth, he trailed his head downward, making a path of gentle kisses down the side of your cheek, across the line of your jaw, and towards the column of your neck.

When he stopped just above your breastbone, where the top of your ruffled tank top started, he stared up at you with wide, imploring eyes. “Too much?” He asked in the gentlest of voices you had ever heard come from a man.

But already, you found yourself shaking your head vehemently. “No- never.” So you let him take control. You let him move you two backward until he was sitting down on the edge of the bed and you were cradling his hips with either of your legs, sitting atop his lap.

“I’ve wanted you like this for so fucking long, I don’t even know what to do with all of the thoughts I have right now…” He whispered, hands coming up to your shoulders and massaging the skin there.

You dipped into his presence, pressing a few feverish kisses against his lips. “It’s okay- I can tell you what to do,” you mumbled in between kisses, tasting him and catching his scent of body wash and salt water. “Take off my top, Lixie.”

And surprisingly, he did what he was told. Soon, he was helping you shed your white tank until you were down to your light purple bralette. Sitting there, on his lap, you watched all the emotions dance across his brilliant face. “You’re so fucking beautiful- I have no words anymore-” He mumbled, eyes roving across your half-exposed chest and catching on the way that your hands stretched behind your back.

Soon, you were unclasping your bralette and throwing it off to the side. You stared back at Felix, your gazes locking. Almost like, he couldn’t bear to move his focus anymore downwards. Like if he did, the moment between you would break and he’d wake up and realize all of it was but a mere dream on the horizon.

“Kiss me, Felix,” you whispered, but the deep, cloying tenderness of your voice suggested to both of you that you weren’t talking about your lips. And just like that, he was leaning forward, beginning to pepper featherlight kisses down the column of your neck and onwards.

Carding your hands through his damp, shaggy blonde hair, you pushed his face a little closer to your skin, guiding his mouth until his lips were hovering over your chest. Then he was looking up at you again, eyes gaping wide open almost like he was asking for permission yet again. If he didn’t get the all-clear from you for the millionth time that night, the entire thing would be ruined.

“Open up, baby,” is all you said in a soft voice. The whispery sound of it floated out into the darkness of the room, wrapping around the two of you just as Felix did what he was told. Like a good boy.

Unhinging his jaw just the tiniest of bits, he easily fit his lips around one of your pebbled nipples. And like magic, like some devilish sex faerie took ahold of his mind, he was sucking on your skin within the next breath. Sucking so good, soon you were throwing your head back in pure ecstasy. Fingers wrapping around his blonde locks a little more, you pushed his face closer to your form.

His teeth grazed your goose-flesh skin, licking every part of you that he could get his mouth on. And when he came up for air, the sound of saliva popping off of your cool tit, Felix was smiling a devious kind of smirk. “Your skin tastes so fucking good…” Then he was eyeing your other nipple, that had been left untouched as of yet.

Peering down at him with a slightly raised brow, you moved across his hips. The single shift in position made him groan out loud in pure agony, a tinge of crimson bursting across his cheeks as you ground down against the hardness between his legs. “Then why the hell did you stop, Lexie?”

And just like before, he was heeding your words. His mouth came around your other pert bud, sucking and licking and kissing. Meanwhile, his hands were busy roaming across your entire body… tweaking your other nipple, grasping onto your hip before skirting up the length of your spine. The entire time, you slowly moved your waist against his, feeling the tent growing just beneath the thin fabric of his black sweatpants.

Each time you danced a little bit closer to where you needed him most, he let out a string of filthy groans against your skin. Your movements prompted him to suck even harder, to drawl out as many heavy sighs as he could from deep inside your chest. His bare chest heaved with breath, as he rarely came up for hair. Muscled pecks and abdomen flexed, constricting every time you edged him a little bit closer to the edge.

When it finally became too much for him, he was pushing away from your wet, pebbled tits. “N-Need to be inside you, right fucking now.” He was practically whining, in that deep voice of him. It was really adorable if you were to be truly honest with yourself. “Please… need to… I need to…”

But the words didn’t make it out of his mouth in time. Instead, you were pressing up into his space, imprinting kiss after heated kiss to his swollen lips. And when you were done, you pulled away just slightly to tuck a lock of messy blonde hair behind his ear. “What do you need right now… baby? Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.”

“Need to fuck you,” he started, breathing heaving so deeply that his shoulders shuttered with it. Sparkly eyes peering up at you with a wide, deer-in-the-headlights kind of resemblance. “Need to breed you- fuck you raw, for Christ’s sake…”

He said the last of his words with a kind of venom you had never heard from him. Almost like…

“Felix… are you, jealous?”

Surprise dawned across his entire face then, as the crimson of his cheeks only deepened the freckles smattered across his skin. “W-What? No! Why would you even-”

“Lee. Felix. Are you mad that Chris got to fuck me raw?”

“Well now, how could I be when I don’t know if-”

A tiny smirk started to pull your lips upwards, as you said “Oh no, we definitely did. Most of the time, actually.”

Utter shock burst across his face at your confession. And for a few moments, you felt somewhat embarrassed. To admit such an intimate detail about your sex life with your longtime boyfriend. Especially to the best friend you had known since you were a little girl.

Flabbergasted for a few seconds, Felix raised a finger in the air in a snooty kind of way. “First of all, that is incredibly risky. Second-”

“And like you wanting to do it now isn’t incredibly risky and dangerous too?”

Your snarky comeback threw his argument right back into his court. And he glared your way, rolling his glittering eyes dramatically. “Okay, but this is fucking different. I’m not gonna-”

“Cheat on me with my best friend and then slap me across the face when I try to break up with you?”

“God- will you let me finish, woman?!”

You liked riling him up. It was fun and you had always taken great pleasure in it, ever since you were a young child. So you sat back a little bit, pushing away from his hips somewhat and folding your arms across your bare chest. “I mean yes- eventually, I am gonna let you finish tonight. But okay, make your argument.”

Running a frustrated hand through his silky, damp hair, Felix’s eyes searched the room for the words he wanted to say. “I don’t wanna fuck you because I think you’re easy and then I’m gonna be done with you after tonight. I wanna be with you because I fucking love you. I have, since day one. Since we were little kids, I had a raging crush that grew into an uncontrollable fire and then into a monster.” By then, he was staring right back at you again. Gazes locked, it was like he was searching into the depths of your very soul. You could see so many emotions written across his face then… love, anger, passion… “The only reason I wanna- wanna come inside is because I wanna make sure you know you’re mine and that I’m yours.”

For a few beats, everything was completely silent. Save for the heavy breathing on both of your ends.

Then, a sly kind of grin was flashing across your face as your hands hastily made their way down to your hips, ripping off your shorts at record speed. Way faster than your fingers had ever done in the entire time that you had been intimate with Chris.

And before you could even say anything, before any words were even spoken between the two of you after Felix’s passionate tyraid of love, you felt movement underneath you.

Between your legs, you could feel hands moving. Across your thighs, they danced- spreading, opening, caressing. Until they were pressed up to your very centre, drawling a loud moan from you as they played around your clit. In mere seconds, Felix was slipping two digits into you, opening you up gradually.

“Fuck, your pussy is stretching so nicely for me…” He grunted, leaning into you and pressing feverish kisses to your lips. He bit down on your bottom lip just slightly, and each time he hit his fingers up into that gooey spot inside of you, you swore you saw stars. “Gonna be fun to fuck this tight, pretty thing.”

You twirled your hips across his fingers, shivering in pure bliss each time his thumb caressed your enflamed bundle of nerves. “L-Lix… I… need…” But all semblance of forming words fled from your body entirely, as the heat of arousal overtook your entire form.

“You need me, hmm?” Felix mused in a deep voice, the one he knew drove you up the fucking wall in a subtle kind of way. “Okay then.” He said, and soon, his hands were yanking away from your cunt altogether, as he pushed his sweatpants down and off of his hips.

In mere seconds, he had his fingers gripping your bare ass, nails digging into the flesh there as he helped move you into position. Holding your breath after that, feeling it widen across the expanse of your ribcage, you slowly began to sink onto his cock, which was glistening with precum. The tip sunk in with ease, and when you finally sunk to the base, a deep wave of pleasure ran across the length of your spine.

He was a lot bigger than you had originally thought, and you could feel the tip of him reaching into the very depths of you as he slowly helped guide you back up his length.

“Shit- you feel so goddamn amazing, princess…” Felix panted out loud in a thick tone, and with that, he was gripping your hips and helping you sink back down onto his cock with keen precision.

With each movement of your hips, he thrust up into you, nails digging into your ass cheeks while you leaned into him, grasping onto his chiseled pecks with the force of each long drawl you took. Nothing else needed to be said between you, as you focused in on the passion that was both thrumming through your veins.

Every hit of his cock up into your tightness made the blood in your body boil, and each breath that you took through your constricted lungs brought you a little closer to that blissful cliffside. You cracked your eyes open just a tiny bit to watch Felix’s gaze. The way it was serious and pointed towards the point where your bodies met.

The sounds of skin slapping against skin, of your wetness mixing with his girth, almost sent you over the edge countless times. And each time he sheathed himself back inside of you, you could feel his length growing tighter.

“I-I’m really close, Lix- fuck…” You cried out in a broken tone, throwing your head back as you danced ravenously across his lap. His tip reached up so far into you, that you could practically feel it in your tummy.

Felix shuttered in a deep, cloying breath. And when your eyes widened to focus on him again, he was smirking up at you. Pearly white teeth flashing against red lips, he made to kiss you through the wave of pent-up arousal that was flooding your entire system. “Let go for me, my perfect, pretty princess… it’s okay, you can cum around my cock. I don’t mind.” His words made your eyes cross a little bit in bliss.

And just like that, your body was moving on its own accord. Thigh trembling around his hips, a strangled kind of scream ripped free from the deepest parts of your soul. Within seconds, you were crashing down from your high, the orgasm lighting every part of your closed vision. Otherworldly visions and galaxies splashed across your mind, taking you to another place as you rode through your high.

The entire time, Felix soothed you with beautiful words of praise. And when it was finally time for him to cum, you were only pushed further over the edge of your orgasm. The feeling of him shooting himself deep inside of you made your eyes cross and made you bite your lip in pure ecstasy.

“Goddamn- your pussy feels so fucking good pulsing around my cock like that- milking me dry-” Felix was spewing half-nonsense as he rode out his own high, thrusting up into you and fucking the cum back between your walls. You were incredibly glad that you hadn’t used anything for protection because you knew that your first time with Felix wouldn’t have felt as special if there was plastic between the two of you.

When the two of you finally came down from your highs, it was only a matter of time before Felix was pulling out of you. Groaning at the absence of him, he positioned the two of you so that you were both lying down on his bed.

“Was that… too much?” He asked, turning onto his side to peer into your eyes.

Mimicking his posture, you traced a few fingers across his freckled cheeks which were still warm to the touch from arousal. “Baby, no. It was perfect because you’re perfect.”

He giggled like a little schoolboy at that, grabbing ahold of your waist and yanking you close to his form. He brought his face close to yours, whispering in the lightest of voices, “I’m so lucky to have you in my life again. From the moment we first time, I never wanted to be parted from you, Y/N.”

“You’re the best thing to ever happen to me, Felix.” You murmured, just as he leaned in to press fleeting kiss after kiss against your lips. Then you were pulling away from his affection, offering him a smirk. “Now help me clean myself up.”

“Why? You don’t wanna carry my baby?” He was pretending to be offended, furrowing his brow and frowning in a sardonic kind of way.

Punching his bare shoulder playfully, you rolled your eyes in only a slight bit of annoyance. “Not right now, stupid.”

“Okay, but that leaves the future up for interpretation…”

For a few seconds, you let the silence fade between you. And you could feel the tiny smile crack across the corners of your lips as the realization entered Felix’s mind. That quite possibly, one day, when the two of you were much older, you’d want to carry his babies.

Then, in the blink of an eye, he was grasping your hands and pulling you up from the bed. Leading you open to the bathroom with a bright grin flashing across his lips. “Let’s get you cleaned up, princess.”

And you let him take the lead.

You let him, knowing in the back of your mind that no matter what- he would always have your back.

No matter how much time you spent apart and how much shit happened between the interim.

He had always been the only person there for you, and we would continue to be for the rest of eternity.

Through thick and thin.

First, as a best friend.

And second, as a partner and the love of your life.

Fin.

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