#a smidge of angst if you pause to think about it

[his-angell]

"You'll get used to it, sweetheart." (c.bc)

plot; A trip with her boyfriend to his hometown sounded like a dream. She was so glad to be able to spend more time with him. But.. Maybe less time with the bugs.. paring; Christopher Bahng x fem!reader genre; crack, fluff, smidge of angst if you squint word count; 1k warnings; bugs, cursing, pet names, 3rd pov request?; yes! request found here

A trip to Chan's hometown was a dream. Finally being able to spend time with him and see where he grew up? That's literal heaven. Plus, she's always wanted to travel to Australia.. It seemed beautiful. So hey, it was a win win for her. Or so she thought. She didn't really believe that the bugs there were that horrible. She always saw online that they were bad, but she didn't really think it could be that horrible. They were only some silly bugs! Shes pretty much gotten used to most of the bugs where she lived. So, these can't be much worse, right? Getting used to the bugs didn't mean she was completely fear free of them though.. She still hated them with a passion.

After a relaxing dinner with Chan's family, they had decided to go take a walk, just the two of them. It was fall, so it wasn't too hot, or too cold. It was perfect. (y/n) listened happily to her boyfriend talk about how he missed his mom and dad so much. He was talking about fond memories he had walking down the trail they were on.

"I love listening to you talk," (y/n) butted in, squeezing his hand lightly. A light blush took over Chan's cheeks. He laughed nervously and waved his free hand. "Yeah, whatever." He huffed. "I ramble. Besides, my voice is not that-" He was cut off by the shorter woman slapping his arm. "Yah! Don't even start on that. Your voice is literally my favorite thing in the world." She huffed and rolled her eyes. He knew how much she hated when he talked bad about himself.

Chan chuckled and shook his head softly. They decided to take a seat down on a bench. They were sitting in a comfortable silence, gazing over at the clouds that passed over. The sun was setting, and it basked the sky in beautiful oranges and pinks. (y/n) looked down when she felt something tickle her thigh. She felt a hot rush over her body as she stared at the fat beetle on her thigh. She whined and quickly swiped it away.

Chan frowned and looked at her. "You alright?" He chuckled softly. "Why are the bugs so- Ugly-" (y/n) grumbled and shuttered slightly. God- She hated bugs.. There was something about them that freaked her out so bad. She huffed and ran a hand through her hair. Chan only laughed softly at her and patted her head. "You'll get used to it, sweetheart." He hummed. Would she thoughh? Definitely not was the correct answer..

That was just one time that the bugs bothered her. Over the trip, they were outside a lot. Whether it be walks, or eating outside at a fancy restaurant. There was no getting away from them. While she tried really hard to just ignore them, she wasn't able to. Whether it be a bug on the ground, or the table. Hell, even when she saw it on some strangers arm, she would scoot or step away. She couldn't stand it. They were big and ugly.

Chan was talking to his mother, and (y/n) was sparking conversations with his sister. They were sitting out on a patio. They had gone out to this lounge spot. It was really pretty. Hannah paused mid sentence to point at (y/n)'s shoulder. "Okay, don't freak out, but there's a huge spider on your arm." She laughed nervously. (y/n) tensed up and clenched her eyes shut. She couldn't even look at it, more less move to swat it away. "Chris-" She whined quietly.

Chan hummed and looked over. His smile faltered at the sight of his girlfriend tensed up with her eyes clamped shut. He glanced at Hannah, who pointed at the spider again. Chan looked and blinked at it. Yikes. He hated bugs as much as the next person, but he kinda got used to them. He knew how bad (y/n) hated bugs. "Why aren't you doing anything?!" (y/n) spat through gritted teeth, opening her eyes to look at him.

Hannah pursed her lips to stop herself from laughing. She wasn't aware of (y/n)'s fear of the insects. She cleared her throat and moved to go sit by their mother. Chan gently took a deep breath and grabbed a napkin. He reached over and grabbed the spider, crushing it inside the napkin. He got up, throwing it away. He sat back down and gently wiped her shoulder. "All gone, jagi." He kissed her head. (y/n) slowly nodded and shuttered. "Ick.. Ick!" She whined and wiped herself off.

Chan chuckled softly and patted her head. "Not used to it then?" He snickered. (y/n) glared at him. "I don't understand how I ever could get used to it. They're actually disgusting." She laughed quietly. She sighed softly and patted his cheek. "Good thing I have my big strong boyfriend to get them for me," She clicked her tongue and huffed. Chan rolled his eyes softly and shook his head softly. "Ah, I see what I am now. I'm only here to save you from the bugs." He grabbed his drink and took a sip from it. She nodded slowly and raised her eyebrows. "Wasn't that obvious?" She hummed. Chan scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I cannot with you." He tutted. "You love me." She kissed his cheek. "That I do, sweetheart," He kissed her head gently.

That's pretty much how the rest of the trip went. It was perfect, all because she had her lovely boyfriend to protect her from all the bugs. Anytime one flew by her, she would move to the other side of Chan and he would laugh and swat it away. He would tease her endlessly throughout the trip and even when they got home. All out of love of course. He never knew someone could be that worried about a little tiny thing. Truth was, those things are not tiny.. He's just oddly used to it..

...

thank you, annon for the requestt!! i hope it lived up to your wishess! muah muah! stay safee! <3

[drysdalesworld]

PHASE ONE — always trust the match maker (jamie’s version)

part two

pairing(s): jamie drysdale x fem!reader, platonic!trevor zegras x fem!reader (besties), fem!oc (georgie) x fem!reader (roommates)

genre: a smidge of angst (like talks of breakup/dates gone wrong + reader feeling like she’s not good enough for love), tons of fluff (jamie is a lovesick fool let’s be real), & comfort (in regards to hugs, etc.)

word count: 5.1k+

warning(s): trev thinking he’s cupid, bickering, trevor recruiting readers roommate into his “master plan”, mentions of familial teasing & making reader feel bad about her dating life, drinking + mentions of drinking, mentions of a party, cursing, lowkey moon!reader & sun!jamie, this is literally mostly filler lol

note(s): please remember that this is a work of fiction & nothing the characters in this work say or do is a reflection of them or what they do. i always try to make the reader as racially ambiguous as possible so please let me know if i did not achieve that in this work! :) reader’s job is also mentioned as a journalist. please ignore the numerous amount of times i say painted 😭

It was an ongoing joke between your loved ones that you had bad taste in romantic partners. It somehow always being brought up during family gatherings, giggles gracing their lips as they recalled your past failed relationships and the kinds of people you had brought home throughout the years. You knew that they never truly meant to hurt you with their words but you couldn’t help but feel your stomach drop and frown at their teasing everytime it happened. This was something that followed you from your hometown to your new place of residence in Anaheim, California, even during your near four years of living there. Especially when your good friend of those four years, Trevor Zegras, noticed the pattern one night and the world of your shitty past relationships were revealed to him.

( Trevor glanced at your approaching figure from the corner of his eye as you walked into his and Jamie’s small apartment, having just come back from somewhere as you paused by the doorway to take off your shoes. The man was in the kitchen making himself a bowl of cereal when he had heard the lock and door knob turn.

“What’s up?” He’d asked.

A sigh was the only thing he heard as a response, the sound of your shoes hitting the floor barely a thud on the rugged portion of the entrance, something you had insisted on getting Trevor and Jamie as you had wanted to give their dull and barely decorated apartment some life.

“Alright, I know that sigh. What’s wrong?”.

It creeped you out at first at how well Trevor knew you when you first became friends. He was able to read you like a book, as clear as day. You never met someone like that before. Who took their time in memorizing your little habits and quirks, being able to immediately clock them and check in on you if needed. You had eventually found comfort in that. It was something that you had appreciated about your friend.

“Just a bad date s’all,” you replied, eyes still downturned towards the floor as you make your way to the kitchen, laying your warm and sweaty face onto the cool granite of the counter.

Trevor had turned his body towards you the minute you sighed, concerned laced in his facial features. His eyebrows furrowed as he watched you lay against the cold surface.

“A bad date? I didn’t know you went on a date tonight. What happened?” He softly asked.

Another thing you were grateful for was that Trevor wouldn’t immediately start teasing you about something if he saw you in a state like this, upset and flustered. It was something you had addressed to him very early on in your friendship and he respected that.

You briefly contemplated lying to the boy. But you told the truth anyway, deciding that this was something you needed to get off your chest.

“He was just such a…dick, to put it nicely. He was late by nearly an hour and talked about his ex the entire time. He even expected me to get the bill, which I wouldn’t have minded doing but he practically insulted me about my job saying how the only thing journalists do is gossip and shove rumors down everyone's throat. I literally couldn’t wait to leave and get back here”.

Trevor had a frown painted on his lips once you finished explaining. He didn’t know much of your dating history. Only that most of the people you dated were exes for a reason. Hearing about someone treating you like that made him sad and think how you most definitely deserved better.

The brunet didn’t respond to your explanation, only handing you his bowl of cereal and going to pour himself a new one as he lead you to the couch afterwards, eager to take your mind off of the lackluster night. )

You are forever grateful to have someone like Trevor within your life. He treated you like family and never failed to make you feel welcomed within his presence. Something that you very rarely felt with anyone.

And just as you felt a smile spread across your face at the memory of Trevor giving you his last bit of favorite cereal from that night in an effort to make you feel better, your roommate, Georgie, had pulled you out of your thoughts with the wave of her hand passing over your eyes.

“Hello? Earth to (Y/N)”.

You hummed out in acknowledgment, eyes shifting from their glazed over position to the figure of your roommate. She huffed in response.

“Where were you just now, babe? Wait – no. Don’t tell me. I know exactly who you were thinking of,” she smiled, bright teeth on full display as a teasing look spread across her face. “Was it a certain roommate of the Anaheim Ducks player number 11? Or a darked haired man that absolutely cannot play guitar for the life of him?”.

Her words caused you to groan out and roll your eyes, “No. I was not thinking of Jamie, for your information”.

Georgie didn’t seem to believe you, eyes narrowing as she tried to decipher whether or not you were lying to her.

The woman across from you knew of the ‘crush’ you had on the dark haired man. It seemed to be quite obvious to everyone but the man in question. Georgie had commented one too many times on the kind of look you give him when he walks into the room or the kind of smile that subconsciously spreads across your lips when he makes conversation with you, something that Jamie rarely ever does to other people. You always insisted that he must’ve felt comfortable with you to engage in talk with you, but your roommate never failed to point out that he never talks to people first and he always approached you first to talk.

( “Babe, he practically gets excited when he sees you. I mean, dude, he has the biggest smile ever and willingly makes conversation with you first. I don’t see him do that to Trevor every time he sees him”. )

But regardless of the confirmations and signs that Jamie Drysdale may like you the way you like him, you always denied it. He felt too real. Too soft to be tainted and touched by your scarred heart. Too loving to have to put up with you. With the kind of dating history you had, it was hard to believe that you weren’t a problem or a burden to others when in a relationship. Many of your exes had stupid excuses to leave you, all which left you heartbroken. It was hard to not believe the kinds of things they said after every relationship you had ended in a disaster one way or another. You completely believed that it was something you did that made them all leave and you did not want that for Jamie. You didn’t think you’d be able to do that to him nor would you be able to recover from the inevitable heartbreak that awaits you on the other side. It was better to admire him from afar you had decided.

( You did not deserve someone so soft, so loving, and so kind. He looked at the world through rose tinted glasses and you forever had cracked lenses that were barely hanging on the frame of your face. It would never work out. )

Georgie licked her lips as she saw you begin to spiral back into your own head, sighing as she let out a breathy fine and left it at that. She returned to the topic she was discussing with you before she noticed you weren’t even paying attention to the words she was speaking. She wasn’t even entirely sure you were currently listening to her as your eyes began to glaze over once again.

Maybe I should take up Z on his offer, she thought to herself, fingers beginning to twirl around a strand of hair as she continued. Getting J and (Y/N) together is something that definitely needs to happen.

————

“Ah! There she is! The girl of the hour!”.

You wanted to crawl in on yourself and never come out when Trevor’s loud voice reached your ears upon entering his full and cramped apartment. You rolled your eyes and shook your head, raising the box of beers you had picked up at the last minute above your head. More cheers erupted upon your gesture.

Trevor had informed you of his ‘little’ get together approximately an hour before it was planned to start. It was nearing the beginning of the hockey season and he wanted to party and celebrate before his days were filled with hockey and nothing but hockey. He practically pleaded with you to come over when you had declined his offer, comfortably in bed with your comfort movie playing as you got ready to have an early night in. You only caved when Georgie bursted through the door and dragged you out of bed, demanding you accompany her to Trevor’s party. And that’s how you ended up nearly two hours late to his party with beer in hand as an apology with Georgie trailing behind you.

“God bless you sweets,” Trevor mumbled as he engulfed you in a hug, brushing his lips against your hairline, snatching the box of beers from your hands and setting it on the table upon pulling away.

You muttered a yeah yeah before making a beeline for the kitchen fridge, dead set on getting your usual drink. You weren’t a big drinker nor were you able to handle hard alcohol so Trevor always made sure to get you more flavored drinks so you wouldn’t feel left out on the ‘buzz’ of the party.

The cool air of the fridge felt nice on your face compared to the warm heat that began to cling onto your skin from the amount of bodies around you. But as your eyes scanned the fridge and its compartments, you realized Trevor must’ve forgotten to stock up as you couldn’t find a single drink of yours in sight. A frown quickly made its way onto your lips as you realized, already defeated.

“Some people were taking them so I hid them in my room. They might be a little warm if you still want them,” a soft and familiar voice spoke from the right of you, behind the shelter of the silver fridge door.

You slightly stilled upon hearing his voice. But that didn’t stop a smile from making its way onto your face.

“Hey, Jamie,” you spoke, gently closing the door of the fridge, fingers still lightly wrapped around the handle. “That’s nice of you to do. You didn’t have to do that y’know”.

He flashed you his infamous smile, making that warm and fuzzy feeling crawl up your stomach and settle in your chest. “I know. I wanted to. Plus, I know you would’ve given Trevor shit for it and he seems too occupied right now to make a trip to the store for more”.

A giggle left your mouth in response to the man's observation. He wasn’t wrong though. You would've definitely given Trevor shit for not putting the drinks in a safer place, making him feel bad to the point that he would be grabbing his keys and muttering a I’ll be back before exiting through the front door.

“It’s the least I could do for the amount of shit he’s put me through,” you joked, leisurely following Jamie as he led you to his room, weaving through the numerous bodies littered throughout the apartment.

You faintly heard the man chuckle, his head shaking as the fluffy ends of his hair followed the motion of his head. You found yourself smiling harder at the fact that you made Jamie Drysdale laugh, even if it was for a brief moment.

“Well, he definitely deserves it,” he responded, slightly turning towards you as he twisted the door knob of his bedroom door and opened it, revealing his half haphazardly clean room and the brightly colored alcoholic canned beverages on his night stand. “That’s all of what was left. I tried to get more but nobody would budge”.

He rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke, eyes trained on the cans. He truly did try to convince those who had the same cans in their hands if they would be willing to trade it for another kind of drink. But they all just looked at him weirdly and declined, practically chugging the liquid in front of him to put more emphasis on their decision. Jamie knew they were one of the only alcoholic drinks that you would consume on nights like these and he didn’t want you to miss out on the fun, if there was even any to start with, just because Trevor wasn’t diligent enough to hide them somewhere else.

Your heart began to swell at the sweet gesture from the boy next to you. It was probably one of the sweetest things someone has done for you in a very long time. It made the warm feeling in your chest grow and spread up into your cheeks.

“Thank you so much, Jimmy. I really appreciate it. This is more than enough, trust me,” you spoke, a gentle smile on your lips as you did so.

Jamie only nodded in reply to your words, copying your smile as he turned his head towards you and away from the condensating cans. The tips of his pale ears tinted pink.

He watched you as you made your way to his night stand and grab a can, promptly opening it before taking a sip. His blue eyes stayed on your figure as you tipped your head back to drink the beverage, lukewarm liquid filling your mouth before sliding down your throat as you swallowed. Jamie found himself copying you subconsciously, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed too. Everything about you seemed to enchant him, never able to take his eyes off of you as you did whatever or talked about whatever. There was just something about you that pulled him in. And he began to find himself addicted to it at times. Always itching for a new fix.

“You want one?” you asked, nodding your head towards the cool cans, effectively pulling Jamie out of his stupor.

“Oh, uh, no. It’s okay. I already had, like, three beers anyway. I think I’m done for the night,” he responded.

He was lying. He only had one. He was too nervous to drink. Trevor had informed him that you were going to be attending the party and he suddenly couldn’t stomach anymore alcohol. It’s not that you made him nervous in a bad way necessarily. The kinds of nerves he experienced around you was hard to put into words but the only thing he could describe it as was something akin to having an elementary school crush. Those excited nerves to see the new kid in school that you found cute. The kind that made him want to pull the flowers from the elderly lady’s garden in his neighborhood and gift them to you as a token of his love. The kind that made him see you everywhere, even in the littlest things.

You narrowed your bright eyes at him, not being able to accurately tell if he was lying. A simple nod of your head was your only response as you took another sip of your drink and sat down on his neatly made bed covers.

You stared at the pictures tapped to his wall. Pictures of his family to his idols scattered the plain white walls of his room. It made you smile that he displayed those he adored and loved on his bedroom walls. You began to wonder what it would look like if he had you on there amongst the pictures of his loved ones. But as quickly as the thought popped into your head, it went away just as fast.

“I must’ve been like, six or something in that picture,” he spoke, gently making his way towards you, pointer finger brushing up against the printed picture of him as a child surrounded by both of his parents and brother, Pre-K graduation certificate tightly grasped in both hands as he brightly and widely smiled at the camera, his freckles danced across the bridge of his nose and apples of his cheeks. “Had just graduated Pre-K. My parents made such a big deal out of it. I thought it was the best day of my life back then”.

The softness of voice managed to catch you off guard a little, seeing a side of him you never really got the chance to see.

“You look extremely proud of yourself, Drysdale. Very cute too. Your parents look proud too,” you said, tone matched in the same gentleness as his.

A grin made its way onto his face as he angled his head towards yours, eyes gleaming in something you weren’t able to recognize as he sat next to you.

“Oh, I know. Had all the older moms fawning over me and my adorably cute looks,” he joked, chuckling to himself.

You couldn’t help but let out a giggle as well, gently pushing the thigh pressed against yours, shaking your head to yourself. “Of course. I wouldn’t’ve expected anything less, Jamie. Bet you had all the Pre-K girls chasing after you on the blacktop too, huh?”.

“Nah, they had cooties. I couldn’t catch that!” he exclaimed in response, a hearty laugh escaping his soft lips as he gently pushed you with his shoulder, causing you to tip over a bit onto his pillow.

You had only gotten a small whiff of the smell but that was enough to make your insides twist and warmth in your body to completely engulf you. His pillow carried a small smell of his normal scent, something that made your mind entirely short circuit and mouth slightly water. You knew Jamie took well care of himself and smelled good. But getting more than just a quick sniff of it as he leaned in to listen to what you had to say while in a busy, buzzing bar or brushed past you made you slightly freeze in your tracks and just want to drown yourself in whatever he used as cologne.

Geez, get yourself together girl, the voice in your head scolded, shaking its head at your behavior and thoughts.

Jamie had opened his mouth to say something else when the door swung open, bouncing off the wall it had made contact with. A couple had stumbled into the room shortly after, lips and arms entangled with each other as they obviously wanted to find a vacant room for some privacy.

Your jaw dropped open in shock at the sight in front of you, a creeping smile beginning to spread on your lips as you tried not to laugh out loud. A couple just barged into Jamie’s room to try to have a fun time without realizing they were occupying the room.

“Uh,” Jamie coughed, springing up from his seated position to stand up, silence and awkwardness filling the air of the room as the couple halted their movements and quickly pulled away from each other.

Apologizes began spewing from their lips, blushes evident on both of their skins as they back up and out of the room, leaving the door wide open as they left in a hurry.

The laugh you were keeping in finally escaped your mouth as you doubled over, clutching your stomach as you found the entire situation hilarious.

Jamie only looked at you like a wounded puppy, frowning as he whined about the couple trying to hook up in his room and how gross that was especially since the two of you were currently in the room. But he eventually gave in and joined in on your laughing fit, just happy to have had spent some time with you before the both of you were so rudely interrupted.

( “What do you mean some couple barged into his room? Did they think it was empty?” Trevor exclaimed, the tone of it whiny. “Does that mean they didn’t do it?”.

Georgie rolled her eyes at the six foot something man. She shouldn’t’ve even agreed to this stupid plan in the first place. Getting you there was a hassle within itself and then to have Trevor’s ‘spectacular’ idea fall to shit not even an hour and a half into the two of you being there was evidence enough that Trevor Zegras was indeed not a match maker.

“I don’t know, Trev! They just came out of his room like two minutes ago. I was watching the door when I saw the couple approach it. I don’t think (Y/N) and Jamie were able to do anything. Your plan sucked, dude. Major time”.

Trevor only groaned in defeat. The first phase of his plan failed. Big time. And now he had to come up with something else to try to get his roommate and best friend together. And God knows that Trevor Zegras will do anything in his power to make it happen. )

————

You didn’t know why you kept doing this to yourself. Kept going on dates with people who just simply didn’t care for you or cared for what you had to say and just wanted a quick succession for the week. It truly boggled your mind on how you managed to attract these kinds of people and had you wondering if you did anything to deserve this kind of treatment.

As you walked in the pouring rain from another horrible date, you found yourself walking the familiar path to Trevor and Jamie’s apartment. Something you always found yourself doing after a particularly hard day, or awful date in this case. It was like your legs had a mind of their own as you appeared in front of the wood door, knuckles rapping at the hard surface before you could think twice about it.

A barely audible coming! and shuffling came from the other side of the door, it swinging open once the owner of the voice finally managed to get to the wooden door.

“Hey! – Oh. What happened? Why are you soaked?”.

Jamie had stood before you, hair slightly disheveled as he probably was gaming or getting ready for a nap before you had interrupted it with your presence. A frown also made its way onto his lips, the corners of his mouth drooping. He looked legitimately concerned as to why you had shown up at his apartment at seven-thirty at night soaked to the bone with your heels in hand.

You must really look like a mess right now, you whispered to yourself in your head, mentally scolding yourself for disturbing whatever he was doing before you had shown up.

“Are you okay?” He softly asked, ushering you inside the warm apartment with the same amount of gentleness his voice carried. God, that made you want to cry on the spot.

Your wet and cold hand quickly slipped out of his warm calloused ones as you pulled it back, stepping back into the hallway, shaking your head as you went to open your mouth. “It’s not that big of a deal anyway. I don’t know why I stopped by. I’m sorry for disturbing your night”.

Your words seemed to have an effect on Jamie as his frown deepened and hand went out to grasp yours back into his own. Eyes filled with concern as he tried to decipher why you would say that.

It must’ve been a big enough deal for her to end up here, Jamie thought to himself as he knew that his and Trevor’s apartment was often a safe place for you. More like the people renting the space we’re the comfort than the home itself.

“Please,” he pleaded, “Come inside. You don’t have to tell me what happened but at least wait until the rain stops to go back home”.

When you had looked up, Jamie’s blue eyes held such concern that you wanted to comfort him, ignoring your own hurt to make him feel better. Maybe that’s why your relationships always ended badly. You put others needs and feelings before your own, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care with Jamie.

You simply nodded your head to his request, allowing him to gently drag you into the warmer apartment as he took your discarded heels from your hands and dropped them onto the floor, other hand still in your own.

“I can get some of Trevor clothes for you to wear if you’d like. He’s out with Mason and the boys tonight, but he’ll be back soon,” he whispered as if he was scared you’d crack and crumble to the ground in a thousand pieces if he spoke any louder.

“Please,” you muttered, now shaking from the rain you endured only minutes prior. Droplets of water still dropped from the soaked end of your dress and hair.

Jamie mumbled a quick okay before urging you to follow him, your soft hand still grasped in his rough one before he gently dropped it to retrieve some clothes for you.

Upon entering the apartment, its warmth settled itself into your skin, causing a shiver to run through your body, dress still dripping from your walk in the rain. Wrapping your arms around your shaking torso, you shook your head at yourself and began to mumble about how stupid it was to go to Trevor and Jamie’s instead of yours. You didn’t want him seeing you like this. You felt pathetic enough already and didn’t need him judging you for your lackluster of a dating life.

“I couldn’t find anything of Trevor’s that was clean, or that didn’t look suspiciously dirty. So I hope you don’t mind wearing some of mine,” Jamie spoke up, a large sweatshirt and some gray sweatpants in hand. An awkward smile painted his lips as he nervously held out the pieces of clothing for you, heart beating rapidly in his chest as you grabbed the clothes from his grasp.

“Thank you,” you shuttered, lips a paler color as your teeth knocked themselves together.

Your eyes avoided Jamie’s as you made your way to the guest bathroom, stripping yourself of your sopping clothes and quickly changing into the dry ones of Jamie’s. Albeit him not being a very tall man, the ends of his sweater sleeves still managed to cover the entirety of your hands and engulf you in a comforting way.

The feeling of wearing Jamie’s clothes was very different from wearing Trevor’s. You never felt warm or giddy wearing Trevor’s stuff. It was always something normal between the two of you that neither of you thought twice about. But with Jamie, it felt different. A good different. Like there was more to it than just wearing his clothes. It comforted you in a way that Trevor’s wasn’t able to.

A soft knock came from the other side of the door as you wiped the remnants of your makeup away, “Do you want some hot chocolate? I could make some for you if you’d like. Warm you up a bit”.

A pang of guilt erupted within your chest, feeling bad for having Jamie do all of this for you when he didn’t even know why you had showed up at his front door upset and wet from the rain. He shouldn’t have to deal with this. With you.

Your hesitation and lack of an answer allowed Jamie to believe that you weren’t in the mood for one. But he’d make you a cup anyway. Just in case.

Minutes had passed before you exited the bathroom, hair thrown up in a towel to dry and body now warm and skin back to its original hue. Jamie was propped up against the counter, elbows on the cool surface as he hurriedly typed away on his phone, thick eyebrows drawn slightly together as he focused on the screen in front of him. You assumed he was texting Trevor and updating him on your presence in their apartment. Another pang of guilt struck.

“If you need, I can leave. Don’t want to be too much trouble,” you spoke up, nervously picking at the nail beds of your fingers from where you stood.

The dark haired man slightly jumped, surprised to have not heard you exit the bathroom. He turned to face you, placing his phone onto the counter as it continued to buzz. “No,” he spoke, “You don’t need to. I want to help you and it is not any trouble at all. You were in need and I want to be there for you”.

The words he spoke to you made you want to cry all over again. No one’s ever made it a point to you that they genuinely wanted to help you. Jamie seemed honest enough in what he said and the concern painted on his face was enough to convince you that this was alright. That it was alright for him to help you and be there for you, even if you didn’t believe it yourself.

You gently smiled, “Is the hot chocolate still an offer?”.

“When is it not,” he smiled back, reaching for the tucked away microwave in the corner, opening it to reveal a still steaming cup of hot cocoa.

————

“Hey! So sorry for not getting here fast enough. Traffic was literally the worst. And Mason! Don’t get me started on – Oh”.

Trevor stopped in his tracks, jaw open in shock as he began to properly process the scene in front of him. The poor boy had to rush from the bar he was at with Mason and the others once he was sober enough to drive back. But the LA traffic had gotten the best of him and caused him to come back home more than an hour later than intended. He was utterly disheveled once he managed to unlock the door of his apartment and squeeze through the opening, apologizing for being late. When Jamie had texted him about you showing up at their door soaked and barefoot and that he probably should come back to the apartment, he nearly choked on the beer that was making its way down his throat. He read and responded to the text at seven-forty-five but had now just gotten back home, which was at nine o’clock.

“Looks like she didn’t need much of my comforting after all,” he whispered to himself as his eyes danced from you and Jamie’s intertwined bodies.

Trevor could only assume that Jamie had offered to watch your favorite comfort movie in an attempt to cheer you up, the end credits of Coraline on pause as the screen displayed the director and producer of the movie. Another thing he could most definitely assume was that halfway through the movie, you fell asleep on Jamie, which caused him to try to shift you into a more comfortable position only for you to cling onto him for his warmth, forcing yourself closer to his body heat as he gave up and just settled into the position he was currently in.

The brunet only snorted and shook his head at the two peacefully sleeping. There’s absolutely no way he was going to allow either of them to forget this moment. Even when the both of you would deny and deny the fact. Perhaps his plan was working, slowly but surely.

Now, he thought, onto phase two.

—

—

—

—

[themultifanshipper]

“You utter cunt!”

“Fuck you!”

That was how karting usually ended when you two were involved. No matter where either of you started on the grid, you and Liam always found a way to crash into each other.

I blacked out, and an hour later this monstrosity was born! Hope you enjoy

Also I used alpha tauri bc i refuse to put Visa Cash Card Paypal App Racing Redbulls in my goddamm fics.

Warnings: gn!reader, rough sex, lots of swearing, rivals to lovers, daddy kink, corruption kink, smidge of angst, like 2 seconds of fluff before it descends into madness

“That was my line!”

“You call that a line? Ha! My blind grandmother can see that’s a shit line!”

And you were only thirteen then. Now you were both in formula 1. But unfortunately, the insults hadn’t matured, and neither had you.

“You absolute wankstain! What the fuck was that?!”

“That was me having to crash into my teammate! Because my teammate is a shit driver who doesn’t leave me any room, you fucking prick!”

“Oh, dear! Looks like the alpha tauri duo are having a trackside screaming match... again.”

Crofty sighed. At this point it was almost a weekly occurrence. You and Liam were bitter rivals on track and had been since you started karting all those years ago. It always ended in a screaming match that usually lasted well into the evening, and sometimes all the way up the corridors of your hotel rooms, and one time, it ended with Liam shoving you into your room and fucking you right there on the carpet.

That was one time. And you and Liam had never talked about it. The next day you’d bickered on the private jet, as per usual, and just like that it was forgotten.

Except it wasn’t, not really.

The problem was that Liam had unknowingly taken your virginity that night. And it was, by default, the best sex you had ever had. But your relationship stayed the same and the two of you never even acknowledged what happened. You weren’t obsessed with the concept of virginity either of course, it was what it was, and he was you first, whatever. But it would be nice if he stopped being such a huge prick, you know?

Then came the end of season celebrations in Abu Dhabi. You’d been drinking heavily to forget this nightmare of a season and the fact that you (just you, not Liam) had essentially been threatened to stop fighting next season or you would be out of a seat faster than you could say ‘hypocrisy’.

You tried your best to avoid him all evening. But he kept appearing in your line of sight, on the dancefloor, getting drinks at the bar, shuffling off to the toilets every now and then. You kept drinking so that your vision would hopefully go so blurry you wouldn’t be able to see him at all, but of course with those drinks came the need to pee.

So, there you were in one of the stalls thinking about the face of the man you were trying hard not to think about. Then, said man walked in, crossed the room and the sound of him undoing his zipper was heard.

You knew it was him from his stupid shoes that you recognised very well, as he had once thrown them at your head. That was an incident worthy of getting fired....

Anyway, for some obscure reason (about 7 tequila cocktails) you thought it was a great idea to voice that thought out loud.

“I never told you, but those are the ugliest shoes on the fucking planet”.

There was a pause as he zipped his fly back up.

“Jesus, are you stalking me now? The fuck are you doing in there?”

“Pissing, obviously”

Another pause.

“Right” he said “anything else you want to tell me? Or can I get back to having fun now?”

You rolled your eyes “Yeah actually, you need to stop crashing into me, dickwad”.

He snorted. “And why the fuck would I do that”.

“Because I’m out of the seat next time we crash, and because you fucking owe me, so please just cool it with the- !”

“Wait, why the fuck do I owe you anything? It’s not my fault you can’t drive!”

“Because you fucking took my virginity Liam!”

Okay maybe you weren’t completely over it.

You could’ve heard a pin drop. You desperately hoped there wasn’t anyone else in the stalls.

“What?!”

You were so embarrassed you tried to get out of answering by flushing the toilet and waiting for him to leave.

Obviously, that didn’t work.

“Unlock the door, please” He sounded almost winded, which confused you so much you actually opened the door. He was leaning against the wall and as his eyes snapped to yours, you could see there were tears in them.

Your bewilderment must have been visible because he immediately wrapped his arms around you in a tight bear hug.

“I’m so sorry you’re first time was like that... I’m so, so sorry...”

You pushed him off enough to be able to breathe again “The sex was great Liam, what the fuck are you sorry for?”

He stroked your hair as he spoke, refusing to meet your eyes. “Because... I thought you hated me so I... Your first time shouldn’t be, you know, hate-sex. I thought that was the only way I would get to do it with you so I-   I didn’t know you’d never done it before- it was a spur of the moment thing”.

You were even more confused. “The only way you’d get to do it?  What the fuck does that mean?”

He finally looked at you and he seemed so weirdly vulnerable, so heartbroken that your brain started to catch up, and your breath caught in your throat.

“Do you...” your heart was beating fast as you scanned his face for a reaction “like me?”

He had a pained look on his face and just looked down at the floor. He didn’t like you. It went deeper than that.

“Liam look at me” He did. You didn’t know what to say so you just stared at him.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about that night, you know” he said softly. 

“Neither have I” you whispered, and your eyes met as he looked at you in shock.

You both moved at the same time, crashing your lips and bodies together as the years of tension finally washed away and you were on the same wavelength for the first time.

As you both caught your breath a minute later, he chuckled. “Come on, let’s get back to the hotel. I owe you a do-over”.

And do-over he did.

As in, he did you, over every surface.

It started out sweet enough. He carried you to the bed, undressed you slowly and took his time fucking you slowly, almost maddeningly so. But you both quickly realised that he’d already corrupted you the first time, and now you liked it rough. So he gave it to you. First he flipped you over on the bed, grabbed your hair and pushed you face down into the sheets as he pounded into you mercilessly from behind, occasionally leaving hand prints on your ass, then he took you standing up against the glass windows, one hand around your throat, the other sneaking down to touch you where you were making a mess of yourself.

“Fuck, you like it like this don’t you? You’re basically dripping onto the carpet”.

Then he flipped you and lifted you up, your legs hooking over his arms as he entered you again, the position giving you no choice but to just take it.

“Yes, take it baby, fuck- so tight around me, take my fucking cock” he growled and bit into your shoulder, making you moan. “You’d take anything I give you right? Such a fucking slut for it my god”

His hips stuttered as he had a thought.

“It’s my fault, isn’t it? My fault that you take it like you were made for it, fuck”  his thrusts became even harder as you both felt your highs quickly approaching, your hands were scrambling for purchase on his sweaty shoulders, settling in his hair to give it a sharp tug, his answer was a deep thrust that knocked the breath out of you.

“Fucking made for me. Only I get to see you like this now, don’t I? My little cockslut, all for me. Isn’t that right?”

You nodded quickly, but he made a noise of discontent.

“Words baby, I need words or I won’t let you come. Who do you belong to?”

“You Daddy, please I’m gonna come” you couldn’t help it, the name slipping out as his hips stuttered and he made a punched-out noise.

“Shit- say that again baby, that sounded good”.

You huffed out a whine, now was not the time to be embarrassed “Daddy please, please I need to come so bad”.

He groaned “Okay baby go ahead, come on daddy’s cock, now.”

You came so hard. All over yourself, and it ran down onto his thighs and the feeling of you dripping everywhere sent him over the edge, thrusting a couple more times before stilling, deep inside you as you felt him fill you up.

He carried you like that into the bathroom, setting you down gently in the shower, legs and hips sore from the position and you both spent an eternity in there, soaping each other up and kissing tenderly, trying to make up for lost time.

As you got into bed with him, you checked your phone and saw two things: the alarm for your flight was in 2 hours, and a text that read “does this mean you two will be cooperating from now on?”  from your performance engineer.

Your cheeks burned red, she had the room right next door.

[eyesthatroll]

needy | jack hughes

pairing; jh86 x fem!reader

warning(s); fluff, established relationship, idk what else, smidge of angst (?), lowercase intended, not rlly edited.

word count; 1.1k

summary; jack comes home from a five game road trip

"can you please come to bed?" jack whines from across the hall, interrupting your concentration.

pausing the outline you were currently writing, you let out a deep sigh. "just a few more minutes, j."

you hear stumbling across the floor, and in moments jack is leaning against the doorframe, wrapped in a burrito blanket you got for your birthday last year.

his hair has gotten longer since that last time you’ve seen him, messily resting past his ears and down his neck.

"you said that ten minutes ago."

you look up, and meet jacks pleading gaze. "you look tired, love. why don't you try and get some sleep?"

it was a little after one am, you were growing tired, and you knew he was too.

he rolls his eyes at you. "i miss you. didn't you miss me, when i was gone?"

removing your glasses, you rubbed at your eyes with your palms, trying to rid the looming tiredness.

of course you missed him, you always did, but you had inventory at work on monday and an important deadline coming up, you couldn't just drop everything because he was home. you had a life without him, too.

"of course i missed you, jack. i just need a little bit more time to work without you bothering me every five minutes, please." you knew the moment you said it, that you shouldn't have.

jack's eyes widen momentarily, as if he can't believe the words that just came out of your mouth.

jack is normally needy, roadie's aside. that was actually one of the first things that made you fall in love with him, his constant need to show you how much he valued and cared about you.

your family is emotionally distant, you've only hugged your dad maybe five times in your life, and you don't think you've ever heard him say i love you to your mom.

jack said it everyday, multiple times a day. leaving to go to practice, "i love you". ending every phone call "i love you". you made him dinner, "i love you"

you had yet to say it back to him.

there was a time you wanted to, but then it passed, and now every time you think about saying it, it just feels forced.

jack hasn’t taken offense that you haven’t said it yet, he knows how you are with this sort of thing.

‘whenever your ready’ he says.

"sure, yeah. sorry for bothering you." jack turns on his heels, not giving you a chance to respond.

the door closes quietly, echoing throughout the quiet apartment.

you sit in silence, your brain not quite processing what had just happened.

you figured you might as well finish your work, then call it a night. you plugged your headphones in and chose a random spotify playlist to work to.

it's about two hours later when you finally give in and close your macbook with a curse under your breath.

shutting the lamp off, you make your way to your bedroom, opening to door quietly as you're unsure if jack is awake or not. part of you hopes he is awake, so you can form some sort of apology.

hockey plays quietly on the tv, while jack is laying down, his body turned towards the window, light snores escaping him.

you go to the bathroom and brush your teeth, too tired to bother with your skincare routine tonight.

stripping out of your day clothes, you throw on one of jacks t-shirts that he's left, and join him in bed. you spared one last look at your boyfriend, before turning the tv off.

turning so your back is facing his, you shut your eyes, and try and force yourself to sleep.

after hours of tossing and turning, you glance at the clock to see that only about 45 minutes has passed since you last checked the time.

turning back to jack, you shook his shoulder. "jack.. jack wake up."

groaning, he pushes your hand off him, turning to face you. "what time is it?"

"a little after three."

"oh.. did something happen? are you okay?" he gives you a concerned look, his face illuminated by the small nightlight in the corner.

"no, nothing happened."

his lips part in confusion. "i don't understand."

"fuck i just-i don't want you to be mad at me, okay?!"

jack jumps slightly at your outburst.

"i'm sorry." you add quickly, before he has a chance to speak.

jack avoids your gaze, seemingly unsure of what to say. "it's not-i should've just left you to your work."

you reach out, brushing stray fallen hair out of his eye line. "you know me, you know i'm not good with.. feelings. but im trying, for you. of course i miss you when your gone, maybe too much. that's why i'm always working, i guess. to distract when your not here."

jack watches you intently. the two of you have moved closer now, his hand palming small circles on your thigh.

"it makes it easier, to not have days off when all i can do is think about you."

"you can always facetime me, or text me when im on the road." he says.

"i know, i just-i don't wanna annoy you. and please don't say 'you could never annoy me' because i know that's not true." you tell him.

"i would love to hear more from you when i’m on the road. even if it's a text here and there, it'll be nice to know you're thinking about me."

you nod.

"and if, you start to annoy me, i'll let you know." he finishes.

you crack a smile. "okay."

jack pulls you into his side. "though, you could never annoy me, because i love you."

"me too." you say, out of habit, but you continue. "i love you, too.”

"you love me?" jack asks, his face, a mixture of adoration and awe.

"stop it." you mumble against his chest.

"i knew it." he's teasing.

"only cause' i just told you."

"luke told me."

you whip you head up to look at him. "when?!"

he laughs at your response. "not sure, maybe a few months ago."

your face contorts in confusion, then realization. "i’m never telling luke anything again."

you lay back down, wrapping your arms around him.

"you loooooove me."

"you're gonna sleep outside."

"you can't make someone you love sleep outside!"

—

mari speaks! emptying my drafts i guess. if this sucks—sorry, i just started seriously writing a few months ago, so any constructive criticism is always appreciated, thanks! 🙂

[allgoodnamesrgoneee]

Mbappe x reader where haaland tries hitting on reader and mbappe gets jelly ?? Fluffy and sweet 😇😇😇

Jealousy, Jealousy

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — The one where Kylian gets jealous.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Kylian Mbappé x you

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 1.5k

Warnings! Fluffity FLUFF, tiny bit of angst (just a smidge), Swearing (barely), Love bomb.

Kylian doesn't get jealous.

At least that's what he's telling himself as he stands by the snack table watching Erling Haaland flirt with you.

He knew he had no right to be. After all, it wasn't your fault that he wasn't man enough to ask you out. But that didn't stop the green-eyed monster from possessing him.

It should be him.

Him making you laugh, whispering in your ear, holding your hand. If only he had the courage to talk to you. But how could he? You were so out of his league.

You look beautiful, wearing a green dress, the silk hugging your curves in all the right places. Your skin glows radiantly under the soft glow of the chandelier, accentuating your beauty. The emerald shade of the dress compliments your eyes, making them shine even brighter, even from all the way he's standing.

You're beautiful.

His grip tightens around his wine glass as he watches you tip your head back in laughter at something he says. His eye nearly twitches when he sees Haaland place his palm on your shoulder, almost caressing you. It should be him.

And it will be.

Taking one last swing of his champagne, he clears his throat and marches over.

"So, what are you doing after this."He overhears Haaland ask once he's close enough.

"Um..."

"Y/N." His breath hitches as you turn around, your usual smile lighting up your face, melting his heart. He swears he almost faints when you reply to him in that soft, sweet voice of yours, the sound sending shivers down his spine.

"Hey, Kylian."

He has to take a moment to compose himself, subtly wiping his moist palms on the pants of his suit. "Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?" From the corner of his eye, he sees Haaland stiffen at him being here, clearly threatened by his presence. And the thought brings a small satisfying smirk to his face.

"Yeah, sure. Um, Erl, can you excuse me for a second." He hates the way you have a nickname for him. But his heart flutters at how polite you are.

You were by far the kindest most gentle person he had ever met in his life. Even on your worst day, you still managed to show kindness and compassion towards people. The good and the bad. It's why he fell and continues to fall in love with you every day.

Now, if only he could say that out loud.

I will. He thinks to himself, determined.

"So, what did you want to talk to me about." You ask once you guys are away from the crowd, tucked in a little corner beside the chocolate truffles. He watches with amusement as you grab one and stuff it into your mouth. Completely unapologetic.

Another thing he loved about you. You're never afraid to be yourself, but not in a weird way. In a way that makes people comfortable around you.

He remembers the day he first met you. At this children's charity football match that you were helping organize. His manager had asked him to surprise the kids after many of them expressed their wish to meet him. And he had agreed.

Little did he know.

He was dribbling the ball, showing off a bit for the kids, when he spotted you across the field. You were there, cheering like crazy, smile shining brighter than any stadium light he had ever seen. You were a sweaty mess, hair tangled and sticking to your forehead, surrounded by kids. But you didn't seem to care.

And for a moment he felt like the universe paused.

It's been two years since then, but his heart still skips a beat every time he sees you, thinks about you. You're like a drug that he can't get enough of. Getting high every time he takes a hit.

Now you guys are friends, have been since that day. But he wants more. More of you.

He knows that risking the friendship you have built is risky, but he can't ignore this anymore. No matter what happens, he's glad he's had you in his life.

Besides, the worst you can say is no. Right?

With a deep breath, he musters all the strength in his body, feeling like his knees are about to give out from under him. "Y/N," He starts his voice shaking slightly, "I've been thinking..." The rest of the sentence dies in his throat as he looks into your eyes.

Fuck.

Just say it, Kylian.

Your curiosity grows as you wait for him to continue. The bright light of the chandeliers above seems to dim around you, leaving just the two of you in a cocoon of his vulnerability.

You furrow your brow when you notice his hands visibly shaking, now a bit concerned by his serious tone and nervous behavior. "Kylian, what's going on? You're starting to worry me."

The way you're looking at him takes his breath away, so much warmth in your eyes and something else, and he can't stop himself from blurting it out.

"I love you."

Time stops. You blink, processing his words, as the words hang heavy. Kylian's heart pounds in his chest as he waits for your response, palms clammy with fear. The silence stretches on, leaving him feeling insecure and exposed.

The vulnerability in his eyes tugs at your heartstrings. And you put him out of his misery.

Without saying a word, you lean in and kiss him. It's slow and passionate, a culmination of all the emotions that have been building between you. You taste of chocolate and champagne , a sweet intoxicating combination that leaves him craving for more.

So he takes. Deepening the kiss, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer. The world around you fades away as you both lose yourself in the moment, savoring every sensation.

The kiss speaks volumes, confirming what words alone cannot express—your love for him too.

It lasts for a minute but feels like an eternity, as if time has stopped just for the two of you. When you finally pull away, you both are left breathless, your hearts pounding in sync.

The intensity of it all lingers in the air, crushing you under the weight of your newfound bond.

It's a feeling neither of you want to forget.

"I love you too." You whisper softly, your voice barely audible amidst the background chatter

Kylian is speechless as he looks into your eyes, his crinkling with how wide he's smiling. Then he's kissing you again, this time with more fervor. And you lose yourself in him, the taste of him, the feel of him.

Him.

Your back hits the wall and you snap back to reality, realizing where you are. The last thing you wanted was for this private moment between you to become front-page news tomorrow.

You're hidden by the large curtains that surround the secluded corner of the room, but you don't want to risk someone seeing you.

"Kylian," you mumble breathlessly, breaking away from the kiss. But he won't let you, going back for more. You almost melt into it but the sound of footsteps approaching causes a surge of panic to rush through your veins. And you push him away.

Kylian looks at you with confusion and concern, a bit hurt, but when Erling Haaland rounds the corner, he quickly understands.

"Y/N! Y/N. There you are. Where did Kylian g-?" Erling's voice trails off as he takes in the scene before him. Your lipstick is smudged and your hair is disheveled, and Kylian stands a few steps away from you with red-stained lips.

Kylian steps forward, a smug expression on his face as he stares at Erling. Erling's eyes flicker between the two of you, his confusion turning into a smirk. "Well, well, well," he says teasingly. "Looks like you've finally done it."

Kylian's slight smirk turns into a frown and he crosses his arms defensively. "Done what?" he asks, his tone defensive. Erling chuckles and nods towards you. "Ms, girl over there has been crushing on you forever," he replies, a playful glint in his eyes as his eyes fall on your cowering form. "Erling, I love him but I don't know how to tell him." He does an exaggerated high-pitched imitation of your voice and your face flushes with embarrassment as you avoid making eye contact with Kylian.

"Stop." You reach over and playfully swat Erling's arm, trying to hide your embarrassment with a smile. Kylian watches the whole interaction with a smile. Kylian's smile widens, and he takes a step closer to you. "You love me." He singsongs, placing a soft peck on your lips.

Erling gags beside you causing you both to giggle.

Kylian shouldn't get jealous. Because you were his all along.

-Bianca🌻

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Playing Pretend (Part 2)

Drinks before dinner get uncomfortable- and exciting- quickly.

Roy Kent x Reader

2.1k words

Warnings: Language, alcohol, a smidge of angst because that's what happens when your sister marries your ex

Series Masterlist

“I thought the big fancy dinner was tomorrow,” Roy mumbled as he pulled a dress shirt out of his suitcase and held it up to check for wrinkles.

After settling into the room you’d be sharing for the weekend, the two of you had spent about an hour laying on the bed next to each other and reading the books you’d each brought before you informed him that it was time to get ready for dinner.

“Oh, it is,” you agreed, pulling out a dress from your own luggage. “Tonight’s just family. My parents and sisters, Jim’s parents.” You paused, looking up at Roy. “You, apparently.”

Roy rolled his eyes and tugged off the Richmond sweater he’d worn on the drive. You blushed, averting your eyes from his wooly chest to focus on the dress in your hands. “Fucking rich people,” he muttered.

A scoff escaped your lips. “Roy, you’re rich,” you reminded him. “You drive a car that costs more than I make in a year.”

“Hey, you told me you like that car.” He buttoned up his shirt and posed. “How do I look?”

You couldn’t help but melt a little as you looked at him in his black dress shirt and equally black jeans. “Perfect.” Realizing you’d been staring for a moment too long, you tightened your grip on your dress. “Be right back.” You stepped into the bathroom attached to the room you’d be sharing with Roy- something you tried not to think too hard about- and changed into the dress. Frustration crossed your mind when you realized you couldn’t quite reach the zipper. “Roy!” you called.

“What?” came his gruff voice.

You poked your head back into the bedroom. “Can you help me with the zipper?”

An expression you couldn’t quite read crossed his face. “Can’t you, I dunno, go ask your mum or your sister to help you?”

“Come on, Roy.” You rolled your eyes. “You’re supposed to be my boyfriend. This is a boyfriend job. How would it look if I go ask my mum to help me with my dress when you’re right there?”

“Fine, fine.” He crossed the room and spun you around, so your back was to him. You were sure you were imagining the shaky breath he let out and the trembling you felt as he slowly zipped up your dress. Roy had no reason to be nervous; you were just the silly kid who used to beg him to play Barbies with you and his sister.

But still, the domesticity of the moment made your heart sing a little.

“Thank you,” you hummed. You slipped on your shoes and gave a little spin. “Now, how do I look?”

His face went all soft, your favorite look in the world. “Perfect.” He held out his hand. “Ready?”

With a deep breath, you took his hand, not sure if you were more anxious about the first event of the weekend or the simple act of holding Roy Kent’s hand. Maybe a bit of both.

The walk to the drawing room felt weirdly familiar; you’d been here many times with Jim, for weddings and anniversaries and birthdays and holidays and just-for-fun. A sad part of you wondered how many times Lauren had been here. An even sadder part of you realized that she was probably sleeping in the same room you used to sleep in.

As if he could feel the sudden pang in your heart, Roy gave your hand a squeeze.

“I’m probably going to repeat myself all fucking weekend,” he whispered, “but I’m right here. I’ve got you. Don’t you fucking forget that.”

Some of the sharp pain in your chest evaporated as you squeezed back. “I know, Roy.”  

“Roy! Darling!”

As soon as you stepped into the drawing room, you mother made a beeline for the two of you, throwing her arms around Roy. Your dad followed behind, eyebrows slightly raised as he gave you a small hug and planted a kiss on your cheek.

“Hello,” Roy said, genuine cheer in his voice as your mother released him. He shook your dad’s hand warmly. “Hope I’m not intruding on the weekend.”

Your mum shook her head “Absolutely not. You’re always welcome with us, you know that, dear. Especially-” She shot you a look. “-if what we hear about you and our little duckling is true?”

Roy wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close to himself. “Guilty, I’m afraid.”

“Well, that’s grand,” you dad assured him. “Always had a good feeling about the two of you.” He gestured towards the room. “Come on in, we’re doing the whole cocktails before dinner thing.” Your dad wrinkled his nose at you; even when you dated Jim, he was always uncomfortable with how posh Jim’s family was. However, he never said no to the chance to drink good alcohol, as evidenced by the glass in his hand.

Roy guided you to one of the elegant couches, tenderly placing a hand on your knee once you were seated beside him. Despite your agony surrounding this weekend, part of you hoped it would never end, if only so you could always have all this attention and affection from Roy.

As if determined to ruin any bit of happiness you got this dreadful weekend, your sister and Jim appeared, drinks in hand. Lauren had that plastic smile you knew she’d be wearing for the next three days.

“You two get that alone time?” she teased, shooting you a mocking wink.

You just smiled and leaned closer to Roy, treating him like the lifesaver he was. He planted a soft kiss in your hair that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Gentlemen don’t kiss and tell, Lauren,” he hummed, raising those thick eyebrows that you loved.

“Fathers prefer no kissing,” your dad chimed in with a dry chuckle. “But I can make an exception for Roy.”

Roy’s smile widened. “Appreciate it,” he laughed. He loved the way your dad treated him; even when you dated Jim, your dad treated Roy like a son. His sister had even confided in him that it was a point of contention in your relationship, what with your dad never being as warm with Jim.

Gripping his drink rather tightly, Jim gestured between the two of you. “Alright, so I got interrupted earlier. How’d this happen?”

Shit. You’d forgotten to get your story straight with Roy. The two of you had spent the whole drive up chatting about childhood memories, movies you wanted to show each other, stories from work, and even one enthusiastic duet of You Belong With Me when it came on the road trip playlist you’d had blasting from your phone. It hadn’t occurred to you to make sure the two of you knew what to say when everyone inevitably wanted to know about your “relationship”.

You prayed only Roy could see the panic in your eyes as you looked up at him. “D’you want to tell the story?” you offered.

He didn’t skip a beat. “Well, about what, two months ago, babe?” He looked down at you, and you quickly nodded in agreement. “We were hanging out, and my sister had canceled so it was just us. I took over kebabs, and we were watching His Girl Friday, this one’s favorite.”

Everything he’d said so far was true; the three of you were supposed to hang out, but Roy’s sister had backed out at the last second, so Roy came over anyway. And he’d claimed not to care what movie you watched, so you put on an old Cary Grant movie that you’d seen a million times (and Roy had been forced to watch about half a million times). It had been a perfect night, sitting next to Roy while Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell danced around their feelings before finally coming together.

Roy continued, “And I looked over and saw just how absolutely beautiful she looked, with the light from the television glowing on her face and that dreamy expression she gets when she watches old movies.” He looked down, all bashfulness, before turning his gaze to you. You were amazed by his acting. “And I just fucking asked if I could kiss her, and she said yes. So, I leaned over and…”

It was the kiss you’d waited your whole life for. His hand came up to tenderly lift your chin, tilting your face to his. His barely parted lips were soft, gentle, his beard just barely tickling your skin. Every daydream you’d ever had about Roy Kent was nothing compared to the tiny kiss that ended far too soon.

Bashfulness reappeared on Roy’s face as he cleared his throat, remembering all the eyes on the two of you. “Sorry about that,” he chuckled. “We’re still in that lovey-dovey phase where we can’t keep our hands off each other and make everyone around us want to get violently ill.” His eyes focused icily on Jim. “You remember that, don’t you Jim?

Jim nearly choked on his drink.

“With Lauren,” Roy clarified, nodding towards your sister, whose face was twisted in annoyance. “How’d you two kids meet anyway?”

“Why don’t I get you a drink, Roy?” Jim offered quickly, his face void of all color. “Beer?”

Roy’s hand was back on your knee, gripping it a bit tighter now. “Whiskey. Neat.” He turned to you, his face softening. “And you?”

Jim shook his head. “I remember,” he assured you, shoving his own drink into Lauren’s hand and heading to the small bar off to one side of the room, the bar you remembered experimenting behind with Jim and his cousins once the older folks had gone to bed. You could still taste the disgusting combinations Jim had concocted for you to try. You could still hear the laughter that had filled the room as everyone took shots. You could still feel the sloppy kisses that tasted of expensive alcohol.

Sensing the tension oozing off of you, your parents excused themselves to go talk to Jim’s parents; they didn’t exactly need introductions, considering how many times they’d met while you were dating Jim.

Always perfect in her timing, your older sister, Jen, strolled into the room, shaking you out of your wistful reminiscing. She lit up when she saw the two of you and made a beeline for you, her husband, Paul, in tow.

“Well, well, well, what have we here? And there? And every-fucking-where?” she teased.

Roy laughed and stood, wrapping his arms around your older sister. “Hello, Jenny.” He turned his attention to your brother-in-law. “Paul, how the hell are you man?”

Paul shook Roy’s hand enthusiastically, the way he always did. “Great. Clearly you’re doing quite well yourself.” He leaned over and kissed your cheek. “I owe your dad forty quid. I had figured the two of you’d be dancing around this thing for the rest of your lives.”

“Paul!” you gasped, smacking your brother-in-law’s arm playfully. Behind closed doors, he loved to tease you about your painfully obvious attraction to Roy.

“I knew you two’d get together eventually,” Jen bragged, giving you a squeeze before you resumed your seats. “I mean, come on, we all could see the way you look at each other. Someone was bound to crack eventually.”

You let out a weak chuckle and leaned close to Roy, whose arm rested casually around your shoulders. Lauren watched you, eyes narrowed, as Jim returned. His hand shook slightly as he handed you your usual drink, the one he’d heard you order a million times. He handed Roy his whiskey and returned obediently to Lauren’s side, taking his own glass from her hand and planting a kiss on her cheek.

“We better go make sure things are ready for dinner,” Lauren hummed, grabbing Jim’s hand and pulling him out of the drawing room. You couldn’t help but notice Jim’s gaze lingering on you; neither could Roy, whose arm tightened around you.

Paul let out a low whistle. “This is going to be a tense weekend,” he muttered, raising his eyebrows at the two of you. He turned to Jen. “We should start taking bets about when this one and Jim come to blows, eh?”

Roy let out a dry chuckle and sipped his drink, relaxing slightly. “We wouldn’t want me making Lauren a widow before she’s even married, would we?”

“Play nice,” you warned him playfully, poking his nose. Fake-dating Roy felt deliciously natural. At least, when Jim and Lauren weren’t around.

“Yes, dear.” Roy’s voice was light and teasing. He leaned forward and kissed your lips again, a smidge deeper this time. The taste of his whiskey sent your head spinning. “Whatever you say.”

[hey-august]

Close your eyes, just settle, settle

Word count: ~1.4k Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, buggy x GN!reader, no use of Y/N, partaking in the devil's lettuce 🍃, masturbation while fantasizing about sex, assumed unrequired infatuation, smidge of edging/delayed orgasm, lil bit of angst and shame at the end. Apparently I have a thing for lonely perv buggy whoops

Title from "A Decade Under the Influence" by Taking Back Sunday

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Moonbeams seep into the room. Slow and lazy, easily caught in the swirling heady smoke. A lighter clicks. A deep inhale followed by a slow exhale, nearly a sigh, adds to the drifting currents. Buggy sinks into his pillows, the softness tricking his body into thinking it might fall straight through. 

While the pirate prefers copious amounts of alcohol as his main vice, some nights he’ll indulge in a different session. A sticky feeling on his fingertips, the taste of fire and ash, a deeply earthy smell that’s pleasantly unpleasant. It doesn’t take long for the smoke to blur the edges of his mind and stretch it out like loose cotton. The fiber seems to extend throughout his body, replacing muscle with fluff, and wicking away moisture in his mouth. 

His body moves to meet the craving while the thoughts are still traversing the maze in his head. He pauses for a moment, holding the glass of water, and waits for the next step to reveal itself. Drink. Of course. He gulps down the refreshing liquid. Quickly, greedily.

Coolness rushes in his body, a tide of crisp hydration. Rivulets escape the corners of his mouth, coursing down his chin and neck, before stopping among the blue curls on his chest. Buggy sets down the glass and returns to the nest of pillows, feeling at home with the cushioning.

The water on his body is cold. Then warm. It feels good. His body reacts with goosebumps. His nipples harden. Now that’s all he can think about - two points of tension sending electricity through his soft, fluid body. Buggy closes his eyes and follows the trail, visiting the body parts as they light up. His biceps and shoulders. Fingertips. Ribcage and stomach. Skin held under the tight waistband of his underwear. Thighs under the fabric. Everything that’s encased in the only clothing he has on. 

The signal concentrates in one spot and Buggy’s not sure if he willed that to happen. But it does. He feels the swelling. Movement. Growth. Pulses that flash thoughts in his head. Thoughts of you. It always happens - there’s a connection that Buggy can’t break. The bobbing of his dick easily catches the teasing images swimming through his imagination.

Buggy’s body is heavy. He tries to ignore himself, despite his cock crying for attention. Precum is already seeping into his underwear and smears with each throb. Fuck, it feels good. He still tries to ignore it, though. The fabric dances against the underside of his sensitive head. Buggy bites his lip and indulges for a moment, letting the tension move his erection. Feeling it fight against the fabric before falling with a sticky sound on his pelvis. A sound that he desperately wants to recreate with you. Rubbing and hitting his dripping tip against your flushed cheeks. Across your kiss-bruised lips. On your thighs. 

Body moving faster than his mind once again, Buggy slips a hand - just a hand - under the waistband and drags it along his swollen cock. It’s hot and needy beneath his touch. Moving his hand lower, the pirate cups his heavy balls. Still soft and pliable, they fill his grasp and flow with a gentle massage.

His mind was too focused on touch and forgot to remind the pirate to breathe. Really breathe. A lungful of oxygen reignites the herby air in his body, somehow adding to the haze in his head, rather than clearing it out. Feeling his control fraying, Buggy releases the anchor and floats in the body high. He pulls off his underwear and lets his body meld into the soft sheets and pillows, becoming a part of the environment.

Buggy closes his eyes and looks for you. He’s seen your face flushed from exertion, so it’s easy to reframe the scene and imagine you looking down at him like that. Your sparkling eyes glazing over with lust, redness spreading from your cheeks to your ears, tongue darting out to lick your delicious lips. He thumbs the tip of his cock, swirling the viscous precum around his head in anticipation of the vision of you lowering yourself down.

Frowning in concentration, he thinks about how you’d gasp feeling his flared head enter your body. The way you’d sink down slowly, giving your body time to adjust and to memorize the feel of his member. Buggy drags a loose grasp along his cock, imagining it dragging along your insides. Releasing a shaky breath, he tightens his grip. It’s nothing like how your heat would feel, but it helps him fantasize.

He squeezes down to the base, wanting to be fully sheathed in your body. His cock twitches within the imposed prison, a sensation that would probably have you whine in response. Seeking more, you’d rock your hips and grind. Buggy can’t replicate that, so he adds to the scene instead. Your hands on his chest, holding yourself up. His touch would run up your thighs and to your rolling hips, before reaching around to your ass. He’d grope and squeeze, pulling your asscheeks apart so he feels deeper. So you feel fuller. So full that you have to let out the moans and whimpers you had been holding in.

Buggy fists himself faster. His balls start to tighten and he feels the thread in his body grow taut. You’re amazing. Lovely. You’d feel so good. His foggy head can only focus on directing the manifestation, not on an accompanying script. The words he’d want to say simply come out. Not for him to hear, but to taste. To feel in his mouth, just as he feels you riding him.

“F-fuck, you’re taking it so well. You’re taking me so well.” “You make me feel good, baby.” “I can feel you twitching on m-my cock.” “Tell me how full you feel.” “Fuck, harder p-please.” “Yeah, just like that. Keep going, gonna cum.” “N-no, stop teasing. P-put it back in. Please, please…”

Despite his looming climax, Buggy pulls back and whimpers between gasping breaths. He maintains a hold at the head of his distressed cock. How sinful you’d look like that, with just the tip of his dick stretching you out. Bucking against his hold, Buggy can see how you’d tremble from thrusts that don’t bottom, from a teasing touch that would break you when you give in. And you would. You’d fall to his sweet words and promises.

“I’ll make you feel so good. Don’t you want to cum on my cock?” “Please, I w-want to feel you. I need to feel you squeeze me.” “S’like my dick was made for you.” “Fuck, l-let me put it in, please. Wanna be deep in you.”

He’d wait until you let him. His toes would curl. His breath would hitch. He’d bite his lips. He’d beg. And when you do let him fully thrust into you, you’d fall apart. 

Buggy fucks his fist without abandon, through the climax that would have you shaking on top of his body, crying out for the pleasure overwhelming you. Imaginary pleasure that snaps his own thread, the tension exploding from his cock and all over his hand and stomach. There’s a lot. You’d feel it fill your insides and some would escape with each thrust. Buggy groans as he milks every drop, imagining the pearls that would escape when you pull yourself off of him. As much as he wants you to stay, the vision drifts away until it’s lost in the empty swirling air.

The hot ecstasy in his body also starts to dissipate, leaving behind an uncomfortable emptiness. Buggy uses his discarded underwear to clean up. The still-warm jizz leaves a chill slick as the fabric struggles to soak the sticky liquid. Swallowing his disgust, Buggy scrapes the cloth against himself hard, scrubbing the unwelcome remnants. It’s still not the best cleaning job. He still feels dirty. Scummy, both inside and out.

Buggy drops the soiled clothing onto the floor and reaches towards the side table so he can burn the guilt into ash. Smoke fills his lungs, but not the aching void in his chest. Falling back with a sigh, Buggy tries to replace the hole with promises that are just as empty. Plans to talk to you. To tell you how he feels. To face fear, rather than drown in remorse. Anything to chase away the loneliness he’s surrounded himself with.

Ignoring the sting pricking the corners of his dry eyes, Buggy lets his mind follow the hope until it flies too high and he falls back to sleep.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

A/N: Gonna keep sharing the lines that I particularly like. This time it's "The words he’d want to say simply come out. Not for him to hear, but to taste. To feel in his mouth, just as he feels you riding him."

[uselesssomebody]

Hi! I saw your post asking abt Miguel fanfics, and id love to read a fanfic abt spider-man 2099! Could you write a fanfic (can be as much fluff, angst, or smut as you want) where F!reader is SpiderWoman, and goes to catch an anomaly with Miguel; her partner that’s slowly becoming fond of reader, yet doesn’t want to admit it. During their mission, reader gets hurt and Miguel confesses while treating her wounds, thinking she’s unconscious and he’s scared to lose her- even to see her hurt. If not that’s totally fine Ill read anything you publish!

𝕞𝕚 𝕔𝕚𝕖𝕝𝕠 - miguel o'hara x spider!reader

complete masterlist | miguel o'hara masterlist

words || 𝟛.𝟜𝕜

summary || in which miguel makes a confession when he thinks reader can't hear him

a/n || grumpy x sunshine trope but plot twist, he's a total simp (reader is too tbf)

➵ thanks for the request anon! very cute love this trope a lot, and hope you enjoy. also your last sentence is literally such a massive compliment for me you're so sweet i love you <3

➵ my tiktok is disrespectfully feral (like him) about this man what the fuck

➵ a bit of spanish in this one, all thanks to a lovely user on here! for non-spanish speakers, translations are below the warnings.

➵ send me requests if you have ‘em. enjoy!

warnings || fluff/smidge of angst

translations

➵ mierda - shit

➵ mi cielo, por favor no puedo perderte - my darling, please, i can't lose you

➵ también eres mi cielo - you're also my darling

miguel o'hara was a man of few words.

miles could attest to it, alongside gwen, pav, hobie, and peter b.

the lot of them liked - nay, loved - to talk, so his stark silence always seemed out of place, and his long pauses in between words owed to a lot of shifty stares between the group, or awkward silences. thus, the only person who really got along with him was mayday, who could happily spend every moment of her day babbling nonsensically at him as he desperately tried to keep her from crawling all over him.

that was one of the few things he was very bad at.

so, it was a complete shock to gwen when she could hear animated talking from miguel's... uh - lair? platform? she wasn't sure what exactly it was yet. in her intrigue, she grabs miles - the poor guy trying to grab a bagel from the cafeteria - and tells him to follow her. his brows also furrow at the noises, and they decide to wait a moment before alerting miguel to their presence.

"that's ridiculous!" his voice is loud, incredulous, and it causes the other person - a decidedly feminine voice - to ring out in a laugh.

"you're so unimaginative. think big, o'hara! sure, it's complicated, but it's the perfect plan." her tone makes it obvious there's a smile on her face, but what surprises them in that miguel sounds like he also has one on his face. gwen looks shocked. she didn't know he could smile.

they both suddenly feel a palm on their shoulders, and they yelp in surprise. pav's excitable voice greets them, asking what they were doing. miles desperately tries to get him to lower his voice, but it's too late, as the door is already sliding open.

miguel looks at the three of them, a little unimpressed, and she waves at the lot of them from behind him. the platform begins lowering at a snail's pace, and miguel waits stoically for it to reach ground level. impatient, and having already been subject to the move several times, she rolls her eyes, shooting a web out from her wrist to reach the tall ceiling and gracefully lowering down to them. miles found it very poppins-esque.

"hey guys!" she mumbles cheerfully. though pav's face is covered by his mask, she smiles at his obvious beam behind it, ruffling his hair as she comes to stand next to them, looking up to see miguel still being lowered down, "any day now," she jokes to the three teens, and miles snorts at the sarcastic comment.

"can i... help you?" miguel raises an eyebrow as his platform finally reaches ground level. he eyes the younger spiders inquisitively. miles and pav look between each other, not really sure now why they were here, and gwen speaks up.

"it's earth-587 - they had an alchemax breach, and the home spider needs help stopping the burglar." she speaks quickly, having been tasked by jessica to alert miguel of the news. she'd been steadfast in the communication, of course, until she'd been distracted by the sounds of laughter - she still couldn't believe it - that she heard.

miguel looks at her sternly.

"we're not mall cops, a burglary is hardly an issue." he drawls, still unimpressed. she stands up a bit straighter.

"the villain is some rich megalomaniac who wants to hop dimensions in order to accumulate more wealth." she deadpans, and miguel looks at her, slightly more interested.

"alright, yeah. drew told you to tell me? let her know i'll handle it." gwen nods, before turning to leave with miles and pav. as they do, so too does the woman he was talking to, waving animatedly.

"that sounds fun, o'hara. bye!" before she can take more than a few steps alongside the teens, they all hear the spongy sound of a web being shot out, and she stops in her tracks, before being dragged back. miles yelps in shock, not realizing what was happening, before coughing to give off an impression of nonchalance, making gwen chuckle behind her hand. pav laughs at the woman's decidedly deadpan expression as miguel pulls her back towards him with the web.

"not so fast. who do you think i'm sending out to catch him?" he mutters, as the teens finally step out. she rolls her eyes.

"i feel like i do all your work for you." she mumbles sarcastically. he releases her, turning around and not acknowledging the comment.

"sure you do." he responds, matching her tone with ease.

as the teens step out, pav is grinning behind his mask. miles looks at him quizzically, and gwen begins walking forward, already knowing what he's gonna say.

"so, how long are we saying?" he asks animatedly, "one month? two months?"

"what?" miles asks, honestly befuddled.

"he's guessing how long o'hara and that girl have been together," gwen answers, already knowing a lot about pav's tendency to see romance where she wouldn't or couldn't. what surprised her, though, was miles' immediately agreement.

"thank god i wasn't the only one!" he exclaims, immediately beginning to chatter away with pav in solidarity.

"alright, boss," she salutes, stepping onto his platform, "what's the plan?" for a moment, miguel doesn't respond, simply looking at her, before she snaps her fingers in front of his face, "hey! you fall asleep, o'hara?" miguel shakes his head, sighing in exasperation, as she laughs to herself. though he shows his annoyance while looking at her, as he turns to pull up the fact file of that universe, a small smile graces his lips, appreciating the sound of her laugh and the way it looks on her face.

she leans over his shoulder - or, she tries to, before seceding to his tall frame and instead peeking past his arm - as she raps her fingers in an anticipating manner over his bicep. usually, he didn't love people touching him - having to deal with an overly ecstatic peter b. on occasion - but he didn't mind anything about her, in all honesty.

realizing this, he sighs harshly, hoping she doesn't comment on it, as he scolds himself for getting distracted. he had one of, if not the most important jobs in the multiverse, and he couldn't allow himself to feel so vulnerable around - a coworker, essentially. but, goddamn, did she make him smile. she was the only one who did, he was sure. he tries to ignore it, though it becomes increasingly difficult as her pretty side profile moves past him, reading the file intently. pretty? fuck. he was gone.

she looks over at him expectantly, and he blinks, hoping his staring wasn't too noticeable, "so... he's created a gizmo." she knew it poked him when she called it that, as he now found the name a little cringy. she disagreed. she thought it was cute.

she thought he was cute.

well, maybe cute wasn't the right word - it's hard to call a 6'7" guy who's built like that cute - but somehow, he was.

when she first met him, he was damn stoic and quiet - only focused on his job. and she understood - of course, the fate of universes could lie in his decisions. she, at first, was just glad to have been allowed into this elite society, so she kept her nose in her work, not straying far from it. soon, though, as she established herself as not only highly skilled, but also highly successful in her assigned missions, she took the opportunity to be herself around the others, knowing her nonchalant and jokey attitude wouldn't be enough for her to get reprimanded anymore. more importantly than that, she started seeing miguel a lot more, as he went from her boss - some guy a huge distance from her - to someone much more equal to her.

that led to the relationship - uh, working relationship, anything else she simply wished for - that they had: handling the big bads of the multiverse together. as partners. she was ecstatic at the idea, happy that her skill was being appreciated, and excited to know her work would be more valuable.

but then she met him. the - well, more - real him.

she was shocked to learn the man could laugh, the first time he let her signature spiderman humor - that she technically shared with most other versions of her - penetrate his cold and determined exterior. it wasn't exactly a laugh - more of a chuckle/snort - but it was more than enough for her to double take, and then smile.

as they set out on more missions together, she obviously appreciated his determination, strength and wit, but she really enjoyed those moments of softness, or when he'd react to her sarcastic humor.

and, of course, that time he had to hold her on their way back from that mission where she twisted her ankle was painful but very - uh, memorable.

she snaps out of her thoughts as he enlarges the information about both the villain's suit and universe-travelling machine.

"something like that," he starts, examining it further, before turning to the information about his suit, "his suit is built to withstand and reduce the effects of multiversal travel, and his defense and weapons seem to be modified military gear. so bullets and vests that just handle or deliver more damage." he mutters, and she nods.

"so - nothing too crazy." her confidence makes him smile, and he nods.

"yeah, sure." he looks over the information again, before shrugging, "a attack from the front and the back should be enough - front distracts while back webs. right?" he decides, nonchalantly. she grimaces.

"don't talk to me about your back webs," she jokes causing him to roll his eyes.

"understood?" he reiterates. she nods, saluting.

"yes, sir. should be home for dinner - heard they're serving empanadas!"

they were not back in time for dinner, much less in time for empanadas.

she'd decided it'd be easier for her to bait out the villain, knowing that most wouldn't take so kindly - nor give a moment of hesitation - to someone of miguel's build and stature. and it'd been fine, until miguel's overconfidence had led to only one of his hands being properly webbed up, allowing him to reach for his modified gun with its modified bullets. he had pointed it as miguel had his back turned, smiling down at her as he called over 587's spiderman to pick him up. she'd noticed before he could, pushing him out of the way before he could react. usually, she wouldn't be able to, but his shock left his position malleable, and his eyes widened - time slowing - as he could see the bullet puncture the side of her stomach.

he shouts out her name, reflexes working to catch her before she fell, and the sharp cry of pain she let out caused his heart to drop. he was pretty sure he had growled, shooting a web precisely at the villain's arm, and wrenching the gun from his grasp, only a hair away from doing something he'd regret. when a small "wait-" tumbles between her labored gasps, he places his anger to the side, immediately letting her squeeze his hand to power through the agony. he looks at her in confusion, wondering how the hell a bullet was causing her so much pain - especially with her spider-healing - but then remembered the modifications listed in the file - including increased damage. he breathes raggedly, completely unsure of what to do, as spider-587 swings past him, a little too excited for his liking.

before he can snap at the kid - he sounded like a college student, honestly - 587 notices her weakened health, coming to kneel beside the both of them. seeing the situation, he swallows harshly.

"uh - take her back to my place while i bring this guy in." he quickly mutters his address, and miguel nods gratefully, immediately picking her up, desperate to ensure that she can get patched up. he swings through the familiar-but-not streets of manhattan, clutching her tightly to him, as she does the same, worried about falling, but confident he wouldn't let her. his heart-rate quickens as he feels her tight hold on him weaken, a sign of her diminishing strength.

the window of the small apartment kitchen is open, and miguel slips inside, less careful than usual to be quiet, focused wholeheartedly on getting her situated. he slips into the bathroom, setting her down on the cold, tiled floor. she winces at the uncomfortable angle he has to have her in as she slumps against the wall, trying to take quick, deep breaths, but wincing whenever her chest rose. miguel desperately searched through the small bathroom's tiny cupboards, finding a first-aid kit. her eyes blink up at the stark green of the casing, a sigh of relief ghosting past her lips.

"you're okay - you're alright, just relax, okay?" he mumbles, tone uncharacteristically emotive. she hums a response, and the breath of her shaky exhale falls over his face as he bends down to examine the wound.

it's not great. far from it, in fact, as he can hardly see the bullet, wedged deep in her bleeding flesh. he lets out a ragged gasp, before forcing his mouth shut when he hears her whimper.

"is - is it bad?" she breathes out into the small space between them. he's not sure what to say. it objectively is, but he doesn't want her more upset in her current situation.

"i'll fix it," is the response he settles on, as he gets to work. in this job, he'd seen quite a few injuries - though not many were like this, and none that had happened to her. he works meticulously to extract the bullet and care for the wound, hyper-aware of how close they were. he could feel her soft breaths on the top of his head, her fingers would curl over his thigh as she tried to firm the uncomfortable sensations, and her chest would brush against his temple when she squirmed at the painful procedure. he tried to keep his mind focused, though it felt inclined to panic every time he heard her whimpers or gasps at a sting or ache.

what really made him panic, though, was when he stopped hearing them. having heard nothing but even breaths for the past minute or two, he looks up in confusion and sees her eyes closed, shoulders completely slumped.

"hey? you there?" he asks softly, waving a hand in front of her face, before decidedly getting more upset, his face scrunching in worry as he gently taps her face, careful not to move it too much, "hello? are you - mierda, mierda..." he trails off, voice becoming shaky. he looks over her face and, seeing the peace of it, he feels a strange mix of relief, that she seemed less in pain, and fear - as he'd seen that peace on many a dead man as well.

working more delicately, he continues the process, his eyes unable to leave her for more than a few seconds. he was trying to convince himself it was just to make sure she was still alright, but the more base part of him kept reminding him of just how much he cared about her, and how he truly hated the morbid thoughts that were encroaching his stressed mind.

"please, please don't give up on me," he mumbles, letting himself talk to keep sane, even though he knew she couldn't hear him, "fuck, stay strong for me. you're so strong, y'know that? and you're smart, and so skilled. i - i do really like working with you. even though - y'know, i'm kind of an asshole around you sometimes. you should see me around the others, though, that's just me. damn, that is just me," it'd transitioned to a ramble, "why - fuck, why do you even work with me? i'm so different from you, and you must feel weird in my company, but you're nice, and you always make me laugh - fuck. i do really like you. not just working with you. you - you mean so much more to me than you think and - well, i wish i could tell you that more often, dammit. i'm just..." he sighs deeply, his fingers brushing over her newly furrowed brows. he's worried that he'd hurt her, and he stops for a moment to let her unconscious self recover, before dropping his voice to a whisper, "i can't lose you, mi cielo, por favor no puedo perderte. i - i really need you to stay strong - stay alive for me." he looks at her relaxing brows, and turns away, beginning to work, as he curses himself internally for being stupid enough to not have said anything until the poor woman literally couldn't hear him.

except, she could. she was incredibly weak - too weak to move, or hold any tension in her muscles, or even open her eyes, but she was just slumped down - not unconscious. she had felt horrible when she couldn't open her mouth to tell him she was fine - well, at least, better than he thought she was - after she'd heard his worry, but she'd become truly upset she couldn't move when she heard his rushed and mumbled confession.

she wanted to reach up and tuck back that bit of hair that always fell over his face when he was working or stressed, and let her hands travel down behind his neck before she'd pull him in for a kiss, like she'd wanted to do for so long. she was over the moon at his words, her lips just barely parting in an effort to say something, but nothing came out. as she could hear him shift away, finally finished, she did fall asleep, still on the brink of returning his feelings.

it'd taken a night of sleep, but after the bullet had been taken out, her body had begun naturally healing, and by morning, she was nearly good to go. she still winced if she turned around too quickly, and miguel was absolutely insistent on half-carrying her to the on-deck infirmary at the spider society. it had led to a few confused glances in their direction, and hobie's admitted annoyance at seeing them together, so close. hobie didn't love miguel - as was known by most - but he found her much more interesting, and seeing that the both were definitely together - as confirmed by pav and miles' exclamations of the fact - he had resigned himself to a signature curl of his lips, before - after only a few short minutes - finding something else around him to critique.

as miguel set her down, she looked up at him expectantly, searching for that softness from yesterday. it didn't come in the form of his soft words, but rather in the look in his eyes, and the wordless moment he spent squeezing her hand, before mentioning something about having to go back to work, eyes averted from hers. she knew he must have felt awkward looking at her, not realizing she knew what he'd said, so she doesn't mind.

when she's discharged, she makes her way to his office, a box of empanadas from the cafeteria - saved, per her request - in her hand, and knocked on his door. he lets her in, lowering his platform in a heartbeat. she realizes it's going faster than usual, and laughs to herself, realizing he truly did do that slow drop for dramatic effect. he tries to refuse the food, suggesting she eat them and rebuild her strength, but she brushes him off.

"where would i be if you weren't playing doctor, miguel?" his eyes widen at her use of his first name - decidedly uncommon in their interactions.

"is - are you okay? didn't hurt you too bad, did i?" he mumbles softly, looking at her with a worried gaze. she shakes her head, smiling.

"not at all. i did want to mention something to you, though." he looks at her, inquisitive.

"yeah?"

"también eres mi cielo."

[seokmthw]

after midnight | sung hanbin

⇢ pairing: hanbin x afab reader

⇢ warnings: best friends to lovers, fluff, a smidge of angst if you squint, first time smut, marking, oral (female receiving), explicit language, overall extremely soft

⇢ word count: 2.5k

⇢ synopsis: late night confessions with your best friend lead to things getting heated before he leaves for a few months.

⇢ note: ohhh i absolutely love how this turned out :( it's something i had partially written way back when, but never finished, and i figured that since i've been so inspired to write lately, i would! i hope you all enjoy, this is definitely one of my favorites! friendly reminder that i only write smut with afab readers because it's what i'm most comfortable with!

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never in your life did you think you would find yourself in this position. 

to be fair, this kind of situation itself wasn’t uncommon; you were laying in your best friend’s bed with blankets strewn about and your heads propped up by millions of pillows. but something was slightly different this time in that it would be the last you’d see of hanbin for months.

zb1 had announced a world tour shortly after their debut, which would require them to travel to many different countries, and could take a bit of time if there were setbacks or possible reschedules of shows. to say you didn’t take the news of the tour well was an understatement, even if you were happy the group was proving to be successful enough to be able to travel to a plethora of different countries just after debut. 

you didn’t think you’d have to be away from him for so long, especially so soon, but now the two of you were stuck spending the last night together watching a drama in silence, the only light in the room coming from the tv and a small lamp that was on hanbin’s desk. you’d spent your entire lives in the company of one another and now to break that record for what felt like an eternity filled you to the brim with dread. 

sighing, you mumbled, “hanbin?”

he hummed questioningly in response, his body shifting onto his side so he could face you while you talked. 

“this fucking sucks.”

hanbin scoffed, placing his hand onto his chest in mock offense, “i think the show is quite funny, myself.”

you offered him the faintest of smiles you could muster, closing your eyes and sucking in a long, deep breath to prevent your voice from trembling as you spoke, “you know what i’m talking about.”

his facade dropped quickly, his eyes filling up with a deep sadness as he threw his arm over your shoulder comfortingly, “i know it does. but just think; i’ll be back in no time and you’ll have to deal with me everyday again for the rest of your life. besides, you know i’ll facetime you whenever i can.”

“i know but,” you paused, not knowing what to say next. you’d had a constant battle within yourself over whether or not you should just admit your feelings for him, but you always chickened out at the last minute. you shook your head, “nevermind. you’re right, i think i’m just being too selfish with you.”

“too selfish? i don’t really think there’s such a thing when it comes to you and i. you saw me, i was equally a mess when i had to break the news to you. hysterics, really,” he imitated himself sobbing and you silently cursed him for always being able to make you laugh. 

“well, yes,” you agreed, finally turning to face him, though instantly regretting your actions the moment you opened your mouth again, “but it’s something more than that and i’m not sure how to feel.”

he cocked his head to the side in confusion, “i don’t think i’m understanding what you’re trying to get at.”

“me either,” you replied, your voice quiet, “and that’s the scary part.”

what’s worse is that most times you felt as though you could read hanbin like an open book, but tonight you really couldn't tell what was going on behind his eyes. maybe it was the reflection of the tv off of them that put your mind into overdrive. without any thought, your hand found its way to his face, gently cupping his cheek as your thumb traces various different little shapes on his skin.

"can you please just say it already? before i have to?" hanbin spoke freely, viciously tearing you from your thoughts.

“what?”

his eyes fluttered shut in response to your gentle touch, “you’re never like this. just tell me what’s on your mind. you know i will never, ever judge you.”

“hanbin, i-“ you didn’t realize how close he’d gotten to you, which only made you panic even more, “i don't know why i didn't tell you sooner. i mean god, it's been years of deciding when the right time would be to do it, if the time were to ever come at all, and now i feel like a dumbass because tomorrow i won't even have you anymore. i’ve just realized that among all the chaos and fans throwing themselves in your direction, i realized that everything i have ever wanted  could have been you this whole time, and i hate that you leaving is what has led to this.”

you paused for a moment before starting back in with your monologue, “it’s to the point i can’t imagine my life without you, even if it’s just for the few months you’ll be away for tour. i mean, not even 5 hours go by and you’re getting a facetime call from me an-”

your erratic breathing was causing your words to run together into a giant mess of mumbling and not knowing where you were going next, but it was all cut off in an instant when hanbin leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours gently. it was beyond quick, and if you blinked you’re sure you would have missed it, but it’s all you ever needed.

“i get it,” he said after a moment of silence.

“you didn’t even let me get to my point,” you sheepishly laughed, pink taking over the expanse of your cheeks.

he smiled softly, taking this time to speak, “don’t worry, you got your point across. i’ve known for a while now, actually, but i’ve had my own doubts, just like you. i didn’t want to hurt our friendship either so i just tried my best to ignore it. figured i would rather have you as my dearest friend than not in my life at all in the event that i was reading our whole situation completely wrong.”

he paused for a moment, gauging your reaction before he began to talk again, “when you said it could have been me this whole time, that’s when i understood. you have no idea how many times i’ve thought the exact same thing.”

another silence fell between you after that, but you were both thinking the same thing. it was comfortable, as it always was beside him, but you couldn't help but feel like you were under a microscope with how hanbin’s eyes were scanning your face. a sad smile spread on your face as you closed your eyes for the nth time that night, not bearing to look at him. 

"what’s the matter?" he asked, reaching his hand out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, his gaze softening the moment you leaned into his touch.

“saying goodbye is gonna be a lot harder now.”

“it could always be a ‘see you later until i get back’ kind of thing, if that’s what you want” hanbin offered, a smile now blooming beautifully across his face.

"of course that's what i want," you joked, "but i’m going to have to come to terms with this. you gotta get out there and show everyone what sung hanbin is made of."

"i love you," he answered. your brain wasn't given enough time to process those words before he continued nonchalantly, "i’ll be able to call you whenever the time zones allow. it’ll be like we were never apart."

“i-i really hope so,” you could feel your brain malfunctioning, “and i love you, too.”

"really?" he asked, being suddenly energized by your words. he sat up a little, supporting himself on his forearms, now leaning over you a bit with a cheeky grin, "say it again."

you couldn't help but laugh looking up at him, his eyes shining brighter than the stars with that eager expression on his face, "yes, really. i love you, hanbin. i always have."

when he kissed you this time, it wasn't like the first, or the second or the third. this time, it felt like everything you had waited for all those years was finally to its end and you had both done enough waiting. your arms reached up and found their way behind his neck, bringing him closer to you. his moved from their relaxed position beside you to your hips and the delicate touch of his fingers on your skin felt like fire, sending a wave of sparks all through your body.

he began to pepper kisses all along your jaw and neck, his fingers toying with the hem of your t-shirt, “can i…?”

“yeah,” you stuttered, shifting upwards momentarily to help him remove the fabric from your body. once your top was discarded somewhere in the mess of covers surrounding you, there was a short silence.

"you’re stunning," hanbin said, voice barely above a whisper as his eyes took in all of you.

you swatted at his chest, “oh, stop!”

you could feel your face grow warm at the next thing you managed to squeak out, “hey, i’ve never… done anything like this before.”

“i know.”

“should i be insulted?”

hanbin laughed before leaning down and hushing your babbling with his lips once again. "you know that's not what i meant. besides, would i not have been the first person you told?"

“you got me there,” you giggled, though you got a little more serious as you asked, “what about you?”

“never, you’re my first as well.”

you didn’t know why you had thought differently about him, even if his previous point was accurate to your friendship. while you were always each other’s number one, he was definitely the more social of the two of you since he was an idol and interacted with fans and his labelmates a lot, so you had just assumed he had gotten around a couple of times. but now, realizing you both were in the same boat, it made you feel a lot more comfortable. 

you took your turn grabbing the bottom of his shirt and lifting it over his head, a soft, giddy smile adorning your lips as you discarded it onto the floor beside his bed. he pecked your lips gently, slowly moving down your jaw and neck to just behind your ear, gently sucking to leave a mark only he was able to see. your back arched a bit, a quiet gasp falling from your mouth.

his hands worked to unbutton your jeans, mouth now settling on one of your nipples and sucking lightly, eliciting a moan from your lungs as he did so. you shimmied out of your pants, allowing hanbin to toss those into the pile of your clothes already on the floor with a soft thud. hanbin peppered kisses along the expanse of your chest and slowly down to the waistband of your underwear, eyes peering up at you through his lashes, “are you sure this okay?”

you nodded, brushing some of his hair out of his eyes, “positive.”

upon hearing your words of approval, he hooked his finger beneath them, gently pulling them off of your legs and exposing everything to him, a faint smile on his lips as he began to press kisses along the insides of your thighs, completely avoiding where you desperately wanted him. he hummed softly, littering a few bruises across your delicate skin before he inched closer and closer to your core, finally licking an experimental stripe up your slit. 

a gasp slipped past your lips as he did, a shudder racing down your spine at the feeling. his tongue slowly began to work on your clit, causing your eyes to flutter shut and back to arch ever so slightly off of the bed, fingers threading through his hair and tugging gently on the roots each time he sent a wave of pleasure coursing through your body. 

he hummed softly against you, the vibration beginning to make your legs shake, and you were so close to reaching your high you could almost taste it, but hanbin ripped himself away from you, chin glistening with your arousal as he did. you almost felt embarrassed at the whine you let out at the absence of his touch, but he quickly reassured you that you’d have all of him in just  few minutes.

you blushed, stuttering as you asked, “do you…”

“no, no, we can save that for another time, yeah? i want to make tonight about making you feel good,” his gentle smile was enough to reassure you that he was okay with you not returning the favor, but it certainly gave you something to look forward to once he returned back from tour. 

hanbin made quick work of discarding his sweatpants and boxers, his cock springing free and very obviously hard from the previous events. you couldn’t help but stare, worried about what was to come, and whether or not you would be in a severe amount of pain. he noticed as he rolled a condom down his shaft, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “we can stop here, if you want. i don’t want to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

“it’s okay, i want to, really,” you replied, hoping the honesty lacing your words was enough. he nodded, positioning himself over you, one arm bearing all of his weigh and the other one lining himself up with you, tip teasing your core. 

he pressed his forehead to yours, glittering brown eyes staring deep into your own, “if it’s too much, please don’t be afraid to tell me stop.”

they say your first time should be saved for someone very special. you had never really thought about it before, the concept of it all just not ever being at the front of your mind, but being there with hanbin, you understood why it was that people believed such things.

you weren't sure if it was the way hanbin touched you as if you were made of glass, or the way he kissed your pain away as he slipped inside of you for the first time, or if it was the way he couldn't go more than a minute without reminding you that he loved you; but it made you feel that in all the time you had spent with him, nothing had ever felt as right as this. every experience, every beautiful moment you had shared together, everything felt like it was building up to this. the reciprocated love that you were sharing couldn't be compared to anything you had ever felt before.

when all was said and done, hanbin grabbed a blanket to cover your bodies instead of searching in the dim light of the tv for your clothes. his chest was warm and you loved the idea of laying against it, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

part of you expected things to feel different, and in a way they did, but this was the path that the two of you had chosen together. you believed that as long as he was beside you, you were on the right one. you believed in hanbin, and he believed in you, too.

[kiiwiigii]

The Red-Eyed Boy pt. iii

Pt. One | Two | Outtake

Alec x Swan!Fem!Reader

Summary: Alec returns and shows you how sorry he is. *wink, wink*

Warnings:

Smidge of angst

Smidge of bondage

Straight up smut

Word Count: 3,130

A/N: Today I learned that suck at writing smut, but please enjoy anyways. As with all my Alec fics, he is aged up. Also, I am fucking obsessed with this gif.

Tags: @rosedpetal, @lack-lust-3r, @badass-daisy-22

Alice and Bella eyed me warily from their spot on the kitchen table as I padded around the kitchen. It was my turn for dinner tonight and I was working on a new recipe.  

"Please stop looking at me like that. I'm not about to keel over dead and I'm definitely not about to poison Bella right before she gets married." 

I grinned when Bella scrunched up her nose in annoyance. 

"You're not gonna die because you're tied to Edward through a piece of paper, Bells." 

"Says you." She grumbled. 

"Have you heard from him?" Alice asked softly. 

"No." I pursed my lips. 

It had been nearly two weeks, and I hadn't heard a damn thing from Alec. I had called and texted only to be ignored and left on read. I knew he'd be mad, but for the love of God, he was taking this too far. I just wanted to strangle him. I had spent the first week moping before trying to shake myself out of it. I refused to let myself fall into the state that Bella had after Edward left. 

Although it was really hard not to. I still had my moments, usually in the evenings when I was alone. 

I paused in the middle of chopping an onion, looking over my shoulder at Alice. Her visions were the only thing I could really count on right now, unless I had a vision of my own. Unfortunately, sleep had been avoiding me, and when I did sleep nothing came to me. 

She shook her head sadly, indicating that she hadn't seen anything. Yet. However, she also hadn't seen anything different from her previous visions, so nothing had really changed, and that gave me hope. 

"So, Y/N, we have your first dress fitting tomorrow." Alice, thankfully, changed the subject.  

"Ooh yay! Do I get to see Bella's dress?" 

Bella groaned before plonking her head onto the table. She was so easy to tease. 

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you didn't want to marry me." Edward entered the kitchen, shrugging off his jacket. 

I smiled watching them all together, happy to watch the little scene from afar. Eventually I had to turn back around, doing my best to hum a tune in my head, both to distract myself from the situation with Alec and so Edward wouldn't pick up on my depressing thoughts. This should be a happy time. 

Somehow, I don't think I was fooling anyone. 

It was official. I hated weddings and anything to do with them. I was almost positive that had I not been in a house full of vampires, Rosalie would have stuck a few pins in me on purpose.  

It was dark by the time I finally arrived home, and all I really wanted to do was shower and pass out on my bed. Keeping up a relatively happy façade almost 24/7 was exhausting. 

The house was dark, and I suddenly remembered that dad was out on one of his camping trips with a friend. Well, at least I would have the house to myself, and I could be as depressed as I wanted. 

I went straight to my room to gather some pajamas and a towel. I almost felt too tired to even shower, but I'll be damned if I'm not going to make sure I do some basic self-care. Throwing my bag onto the bed, I began to strip. 

"You should keep your window locked." 

I jumped and let out a scream, quickly covering myself, dress already hanging half off. 

It was Alec, propped up on my bed, another book in hand. How had I not seen him?? I even threw my bag in his direction. 

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" I wheezed at him, trying my best to get my racing heart back under control. 

"Not particularly." His eyes roamed over me, from head to toe, his eyes lingering on my neck, where my pomegranate seed necklace hung. And then the dangling straps of my dress. "You look beautiful, tesoro." 

I blinked rapidly, trying my best to figure out what the hell was happening. I hadn't heard from Alec in nearly a month and here he was, just sitting here. In my room. On my bed. As if nothing had ever happened.  

"Where have you been? Why have you been ignoring me?"  

He simply eyed me before closing the book with a thump.  

"I was extremely… angry. There was a while where I did not really have control of myself. I even scared Jane." He admitted. "I didn't want to take it out on you. Or for you to see that side of me." 

I glared at him. 

"So, you just disappear without a word? Didn't bother telling me that you were okay and that you just needed space? You're aware that I've had visions of you since I was like, six years old, right? I've seen you angry." 

"Not like this, you haven't." He said quietly. 

"Do you know what I thought? I thought you had left me. Despite whatever Alice's visions tell her, I know that they can change at the drop of a hat. I was just sitting here waiting, praying that you wouldn't change your mind." 

Fuck, here come the tears. 

He was next to me in a heartbeat, hands cupping my face. I tried to back away, but he kept his grip firm. 

"I would never leave you, Y/N." He said softly, wiping the tears away. "Ever. I have never been good at relationships. I have always kept myself at arm's length, but you, you are different. And when I saw you on that field, after the battle, I had never been so scared and angry in my life." 

He paused for a minute, searching. "Had I lost you, I would have burned the world down." 

My breath hitched in surprise, and I could feel my heart skip a beat. He kissed me then, and I allowed it, wrapping my arms around his neck as he reached for my waist. His kiss was soft and controlled, while mine was bordering on desperation. 

"Don't you ever do that to me again." He whispered against my lips, a warning. 

Why did that turn me on and piss me off at the same time? 

"I'm sorry, what was that? Because it sure didn't sound like an apology, Alec." 

He pulled me flush against him, nipping at my collarbone in reproach. I hissed in pain, but he quickly soothed it over with his tongue. 

"Then let me show you how sorry I am." He whispered. 

He pulled me in for a heated kiss and I couldn't help but gasp. Alec took the opportunity to dip his tongue into my mouth again, and the moan that worked its way up my throat had him growling possessively. 

I could already feel my nipples tightening and the wet heat between my legs. 

I grabbed him by the collar to pull him closer. He gladly obliged and before long, he had me pressed into the bed, right underneath him, his lips giving slow languid kisses anywhere he could reach. 

"Alec." My voice was caught in my throat. 

Goddammit. He hadn't even gotten me out of my clothes before he had me begging. Hell, he had barely even touched me.  

And I was supposed to be mad at him, dammit! 

He paused, lips at the swell of my breast. Finally, he lifted himself up so he could look me in the eye, searching my face. 

"Do you trust me?" 

I nodded my head furiously. 

"I need to hear you say it, Y/N." 

"I trust you." 

I was practically panting. 

Alec produced a long strip of gauzy fabric and slowly tied my hands together, gauging my reaction, before putting them above my head. 

"Did you come prepared with that?" I gaped at him. 

"No. I took it from your bag." He smirked. 

My bag? Since when did he have the time to go through my bag? I looked at my tied wrists again, trying to wrack my brain as to why I had a long ass strip of- 

'Oh my god.' 

It was the sash to my bridesmaid's dress. I know I hadn't put it in there. The last time I had seen it- Alice. She fucking knew. She had to. She had a vision and didn't even tell me. Granted, if this was a part of her vision, I would be highly embarrassed to hear her explain exactly what she saw. 

"Now." Alec put my hands above my head again, and then trailed his own hands down my arms to my collarbone, thumbing over the mark he had placed on it earlier. "Your hands stay put above your head until I say otherwise. If they do not, I stop. No matter what I am in the middle of." He warned, pausing to make sure that I understood. "Are you okay with this? If not, we can stop." 

I shook my head back and forth frantically. 

"Y/N, I need you need to say it out loud." 

"Yes." I breathed. 

"Good. If you become uncomfortable at any point you are to tell me." 

"Yes sir." It was out of my mouth before I even realized it and I blushed furiously. 

"Are you sure you're a virgin?" He teased. 

"Why don't you find out for yourself?" I teased back, a little breathless. 

Alec's brows raised before he smirked, leaning in closer, mouth right next to my cheek. 

"I think I am going to enjoy this very much." His hands began to make their way past my collar bone to cup my breasts through the fabric of my dress, his thumbs flicking slowly back and forth over my nipples.  

My back arched in a gasp, and he let out a hum, pleased with my reaction. Soon I felt more and more skin being exposed to the cool night air, his cold lips and tongue following right behind it, licking and nipping his way until, aside from my bra, I was fully exposed from the waist up. I blushed as he sat back, admiring the view. 

"You are truly beautiful, mio cara." He breathed.  

His cold hands caressed every inch of exposed skin, purposely avoiding the spots that I wanted him to touch the most. I pouted up at him and he swiped a thumb across my lip. 

"I must admit Y/N, I like seeing you like this. And I think you like it too." 

Slowly, I gave his thumb a long lick before sucking it into mouth. His eyes darkened even further, and I could practically feel the rumble of possessiveness in his chest. 

"Careful, amore." His voice was now husky and strained. 

I released his thumb, edging my teeth along the sides and cocked an eyebrow at him. "I thought you were supposed to be apologizing." 

His eyes were now pitch black. 

"I think you forget who's in control here." 

I let out a squeak as he moved aside and ripped my dress the rest of the way down, leaving me in just my bra and panties. He settled himself between my legs, to nip and kiss his way along the inside of my thighs. 

I sucked in a sharp breath when he placed a kiss right over my covered mound, and then nuzzled into it. My hands jerked and he looked up at me, remaining still. 

"Hands, amore." He chided. 

I immediately put them back in place, wriggling my hips in anticipation. Finally, he slid my panties down, revealing my inner most self, glistening and wet just for him. 

"Perfect." 

It was the only thing I heard before his mouth was on me and my back arched off the bed yet again.  

Keeping perfect eye contact with me, he gave me long slow licks, delving into me with his tongue. And then he found my clit. I couldn't help it, I cried out, my hands immediately coming down to lace themselves through his hair. 

This wasn't an apology; this was fucking torture.  

He paused with a growl. 

"Hands, amore." 

"But- but-" 

He lifted himself up slightly, a warning look in his dark eyes. "Hands." 

"Alec." I whined, wriggling my hips again and trying push him back down. "Please." 

"You know the rules, principessa." 

"Did you just call me princess?" 

He just smirked. "You're learning. Now, hands. If I have to tell you again, I will tie you to the bed." 

'You just may have to do that.' I thought. 

He watched me for a moment more before slowly lowering himself back down, wrapping his arms around my thighs to keep my hips level. He began his slow assault on me yet again and I did my absolute best to keep my arms above my head. It was working so far... barely. 

Before long I could feel a warm heat beginning to build low in my stomach.  

"Oh god, please don't stop." I chanted. "Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't stop." 

I wasn't entirely sure what was happening, all I knew what that it felt good, and he absolutely had to keep going. Otherwise, I was sure I was going to die right then and there. 

And then the bastard stopped. 

"Alec." I let out a low whine. 

He crawled back up to me, placing a kiss on my lips and I groaned at the taste of my arousal on him.  

"No cumming just yet, amore." He swept his tongue along my lips. "The only cumming you will be doing is on my cock." 

I almost choked. "Have- have you always been this dirty?" 

"You have no idea." He bit my earlobe and I squirmed at his words. “And this is only just the beginning.” 

"Well, it looks like won't be doing much of anything, since you're still dressed." 

"That can easily be remedied." 

My eyes widened as he slipped off his shirt. I had always known he was muscular but there was a big difference between feeling it and seeing it. Next came his pants and underwear, and I’m pretty sure my brain stopped working. 

How was that going to fit?? 

"Like what you see?” 

I simply nodded my head, my mind still trying to process the situation I was in... and the fact that his cock was rather... large. 

He leaned over and began untying my hands. I raised a brow at him. 

"I want you clinging to me when you cum." 

Oh fuck. 

My hands immediately went to explore his naked chest when he caught my hand and kissed my fingertips. 

"Are you still okay?"  

"Alec, I swear to God if you don't fuck me-" 

He cut me off, crushing his lips to mine and I suddenly felt him nudging at my entrance. He sat back briefly, rubbing himself in my juices, preparing. 

"Eyes on me, amore." 

I swiftly looked back up at him. I don't think I could have taken my eyes off him in that moment. 

Finally, finally, I felt him enter me ever so slowly. I let out a hiss of pain, my hands clutching desperately at the sheets, and he stopped, letting me adjust for a minute, all the while never breaking eye contact. This, this was something else. I had never felt so full.  

"Fuck, you're tight." 

I let out a whimper. 

"It's okay, mio cara." He kissed away the tears from my face, I hadn't even realized that I was crying. "I'm going to move now." 

And boy did he move. It took a few thrusts before the pain subsided and then I felt as if I was flying. He kept his thrusts steady and deep, his hands roaming my sides before cupping my breasts and placing gently kisses along the edges. And then proceeded to close his mouth on one of my nipples through the lace.  

"Alec." 

He didn't reply, deciding to suck harder and scrape against the sensitive buds with his teeth instead. If he kept this up, I wasn't going to last long, and I think he knew it. He sat up again, but this time he angled my hips up and I was suddenly seeing stars. He was hitting my sweet spot now and I couldn't contain my moans any longer. I could feel it building, and building, and building.  

"Don't you dare stop." I panted. 

"Eyes on me, darling." He ordered, grabbing my face, and making me look him in the eyes. "I want to see the look in your eyes when I make you come on my cock." 

Oh, God. He was speaking to me in Italian, and I didn't have the slightest clue as to what he was saying, but it was hot. 

"Alec, please. Make me cum. I want to come." 

"Fuck, so tight for me." He thrust harder and I could feel the walls of my pussy starting to tighten up. "I want to see you come undone around me." 

"A-Alec!" 

He forced me to look up at him again as I came hard, legs wrapping around his waist as he nearly collapsed on top of me. If I was seeing stars before, now I was suddenly seeing a whole fucking galaxy. 

"Fuck." He kissed me deeply as I felt him spasming inside me, cool liquid coating the walls of my pussy. 

He hovered like that for a long moment, his kisses turning into soft, languid ones, his hands roaming in even softer caresses. Finally, he pulled out of me, and let his eyes wonder over me. I'm sure I looked a mess, but he seemed to like what he saw, judging by the smirk on his face. 

"Come, amore. Let's get you cleaned up." 

"I don't think I can walk." I closed my eyes, doing my best to breathe and not die from great sex. 

"I can definitely help you there." 

I nearly yelped as he lifted me from the bed bridal style. 

"Is this your way of saying you want shower sex?" I wriggled my eyebrows at him. 

"I had not really thought of it, but if you insist." 

I laughed and snuggled into his chest. 

He paused a moment, really looking me over now. "I am truly sorry, Y/N. For everything." 

I placed a hand on his cheek. "Apology accepted." 

NEXT - (Outtake)

{Masterlist}

Translation (Done via Google): Tesoro: Darling/Treasure  Mio Cara: My darling.  Principessa: Princess 

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[bookshelf-dust]

the hurt is good

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi

billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 4,252

warnings: swearing, anxiety, loneliness, a smidge of angst, karen wheeler and her goons as well as mentions of the way they treat billy, hurt, comfort

a/n: hi!!! alas, behold!! i’ve been working on this very slowly for like the past week. but i think i’m pretty proud of this part. thanks for sticking around to read each of these and for encouraging me to try something new. i really hope you enjoy this part. love you bunches!! <333

before you read, listen to: angeleyes by ABBA and/or tiny dancer by elton john

————

The bedsheets are cold everywhere that your body isn’t. Each time you that you rub your feet together you feel the chilly fabric and scramble back to the warm spot you’ve created.

You flip onto your side, reaching for the phone on your nightstand. You punch in a number. A number you think you might remember for the rest of your life.

You wipe your cheek as you maneuver to your back, receiver pressed to your ear.

You stare up at the ceiling, feeling the warmth of tears at your hairline from the change in position. You can’t get them to stop.

The phone’s barely rung before he picks up, and you notice that it’s one in the morning.

“Hello?” Billy’s voice sounds like he hasn’t used it in awhile.

“Hey. It’s me,” you say.

“Figured. No other dumbass would call my number at fucking dark-thirty.”

You can’t find it in you to laugh, though you feel in your chest that you would’ve if you weren’t so stuck.

“Were you sleeping?” you ask, though you know he wasn’t. Not with the speed at which he answered the phone.

“No. What’s the matter?” he inquires.

You sniffle, and Billy sits straight up on the other side of the line.

“Y/N?”

You take a shaky breath, steeling yourself.

“I miss you.”

Billy has to take the phone away from his ear for a second. He runs a hand down his face and blinks. Hard.

No one has ever said that to him.

I miss you. I miss you.

Composing himself, he responds. “Oh yeah?”

“Billy.” Your tone is stern, though not quite pleading.

“You wanna know somethin’?”

“Sure.”

“I miss you more,” he tells you.

“Please don’t make this a competition, Hargrove.” Now you speak a touch more pleadingly.

Billy laughs, and it makes you smile.

You wish you could see him. See the way his eyes squint when he chuckles, or the way he tosses his head back and cackles.

“So you just miss me? That’s all?” He changes the subject.

You stop for a second. No. That’s not all.

“Yeah,” you say, though it’s not very convincing—to you or to Billy.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” You pause shortly before continuing. “I-I just wanted to hear your voice is all.”

Billy’s grin dissipates. Something’s wrong, and he can feel it. He goes to speak, but you beat him to it, perhaps sensing that he’d dig for more. You hadn’t meant to sound so sad.

“I’m gonna try and get some sleep, okay, Billy? Will you do the same for me, please?”

You ask because he’s told you he doesn’t sleep well a lot of time. And sometimes, when you look at him, you can see it.

The rings under his eyes. The way he holds himself.

Billy hates that you’re not telling him something. Something that’s made you call him in the middle of the night, something that he thinks has made you cry. He thinks that because he’s never heard that particular kind of sniffle before. You sound so tired.

He doesn’t want you to cry or to be upset. Billy Hargrove cares about you more than he’s ever cared about himself. He even finds that he wants to. For you.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll try. But only if you promise you’re really going to rest.”

“I promise, Billy,” you say.

“Okay. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Billy.”

When you set the phone down, your tears have stopped, though you remain awake, staring at the wall, your thoughts enveloping you.

You really hadn’t meant for him to catch that you’re upset. You hadn’t even meant to call him. You just needed him a reminder that he was there.

Earlier, you’d been straitening up your room when you found yourself going through old boxes filled with pictures or badges or cards. And you’d found a couple of photographs with you and your old friends. Some with your small group of middle school friends, but also some with Nancy.

Suddenly you’d found yourself very overwhelmed. You felt fear wash over you like when you’re at the beach and you try and jump the waves but miss.

You’d been afraid that Billy might leave you like everyone else.

You don’t want him to leave you. You want him to stay.

————

“You know you can invite Billy over whenever you want, right?”

Your mother sits on the living room floor. She’s decided to alphabetize your VHS tape collection. You have no idea why.

You’re spread out on the couch, watching her. “Is this a trick?”

She turns to face you and smacks a hand to her chest. “What? No!”

The smirk she’s sporting says otherwise, and you give her a look that makes her relent. “I just feel like you’ve been really quiet lately. I can tell you’re anxious. And I see the way Billy helps that.”

She shakes your copy of The Sound of Music for you to see. She knows how you feel about Mr. von Trapp. You grin sweetly.

“And I see the way he looks at you. The way you look at him,” she says.

“Mom.”

“Honeybee, I’m serious,” she tells you, voice soft as ever. “I can tell that you feel safe with him. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

“I know.”

You’re quiet for a minute. You wonder if Billy’s busy today. You would like to see him, though you always want to see him.

“I’m gonna go call him, okay? Maybe he could come over this afternoon and stay for dinner?”

Your mother gives you an enthusiastic thumbs up as you stand, and you watch her eye Gene Kelly for a minute too long before you head for the phone.

————

Billy doesn’t have any plans today, he tells you.

“I was thinking we could hang around for awhile and you could eat with us? My mom said she might even make cookies.”

Billy’s laugh is gravelly and sends a shiver straight down your spine. “Cookies, huh? Yeah, alright.”

“So it’s the cookies that do it for you then?” you ask, feigning offense at his agreeing only after you mentioned treats.

“Should there be something else that sweetens the deal?” He’s teasing you now.

“You tell me.”

“I was thinking maybe this girl I’m talking to would be a good addition.”

“Oh?” You twist the phone cord around your hand.

“Yeah. She’s a real pain in my ass, but I kind of like her, so I keep her around.”

“She sounds nice, I guess.” You’re so glad he can’t see you.

Billy hums. “You guess? I think she’s pretty damn sweet herself. I guess I don’t even really need the cookies. She’s more than enough for me.”

————

Billy opens the car door and grins at the sight of you—especially since you’ve decided to sit in the backseat with him, leaving the passenger seat empty.

Your mother realized that she not only had nothing to cook for dinner, but also no supplies for cookies, so she decided you could just scoop Billy up, take him along to get groceries, and then drag him back home.

Billy couldn’t really believe the gesture. But even if it was odd, this entire premise of being part of someone’s plans or being cared for, he found himself enjoying it.

Your mother turns the radio up a little, allowing a buffer for the both of you to talk to one another, that way she can’t really hear you.

Billy looks you over. He’s still worried about you after that phone call. He notices your knee bouncing and reaches over, slipping his hand over it and tucking his fingers snugly underneath it.

The bouncing ceases. You put your hand on top of his, run your fingers over the lines and creases in his skin, the engravings on his ring.

“Is it the store?” he asks tentatively. He figures going out is what’s got you a little nervous.

You look at him and nod. He lifts his other hand, dragging the pad of his thumb along the slope of your nose, which you wrinkle in response.

He smiles at you. Each and every smile that he gives you feels like it’s special. Feels like it’s meant just for you.

You grab his hand, freeing it from over your knee so that you can hold it properly. When you’re successfully doing so, he gives it a squeeze.

Your mother pulls into the parking lot and you’re looking for spots, not paying attention to Billy.

You feel him raise your clasped hands, and then you feel the warm press of his mouth. You turn to him, though he’s already looking at you. He lets his lips rest against the back of your hand for a second longer, and then he releases you down so he can unbuckle himself.

You’re practically burning on the way into the store, despite the fact that there’s a chilly wind blowing every which way that should be preventing that.

Your mother grabs a cart and then digs around in her bag for the list she made. She rips it in two and gives one half to Billy. “I’m trusting you not to let her sneak unnecessary things into the basket.”

“How do you know I’m not going to do that?” Billy counters, eyes dancing around the little scrap of paper.

“Well it’s fine if you do. I’ll make a little corner for you to keep snacks.”

“Are you kidding me?” you start. Your mother winks at you, and walks off, pushing her cart away with her.

You go the other direction, snatching up a basket. “I can’t believe this,” he hears you mumble.

Billy laughs behind you. “Keep it up, Hargrove. Keep it up.” That only makes him laugh harder, and then he plants his forehead between your shoulder blades, his hands going to your sides.

“You’re just mad she likes me more,” he says into your back before righting himself.

“I’m not even allowed to have a ‘corner of snacks.’ You’re such a dick.”

You move away from him, but not before snatching the list so you can see what you’re supposed to be retrieving.

He takes it right back from you. “I’ll share with you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

You grab hold of his bicep and he takes that as having earned your forgiveness, though it’s not for long, because you can’t actively reach for groceries whilst holding onto him.

He opens the fridge door while you grab milk, gets things from the top shelves that you can’t reach, picks out all the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies.

He doesn’t actually end up grabbing anything for himself; he can’t fathom letting your mother spend money on him like that.

You turn a corner, in search of your mom. You’re now holding the basket with both hands because it’s much too heavy, and you’d like empty it out into her cart.

She scoots into the other end of the aisle and you rush to her, relieving yourself of the groceries.

“She wouldn’t let me hold it,” Billy tells your mother.

“I have muscles,” you state, pretending like you’re not slightly out of breath.

You wander down a little ways in search of pretzels. Billy follows you a few seconds later, having paused to ask if your mom needed him to get anything else.

“Billy?” You hear him walk up behind you.

“Y/N?”

“Can you get those for me? The stick ones? Please?” You’re pointing upwards. Normally, you’d scale the shelf, but with him here that seems unnecessary.

“Sure.”

He stretches upwards, his shirt riding up, and you catch a small stretch of his stomach. You wonder what it feels like. Probably softer than his hands.

On the other end of the aisle, your mother looks back and forth between her list and the groceries in her cart, scratching things off as she goes. She’s nearly finished.

There’s a hubbub of voices from behind her, but she chooses to ignore it. It sounds like soccer moms. She’s never been one, and never wanted to be.

“Nicky!” A voice she recognizes snaps her out of her stupor, and she takes a deep breath, preparing herself.

Karen Wheeler. And from the sounds of it, a couple more moms from her group.

Nicky lost all claims to being in said group when you were in middle school. She couldn’t take the obsessive PTA meetings and activities that just made it look like these mothers actually cared about their children, when everyone knew they didn’t.

Nicky pushes her glasses up into her hair, caps her pen, and turns.

“Hi, Karen. Pamela. Tiff.” She makes eye contact with each of them in turn and offers a stiff smile.

“How are you? How’s Y/N?” Karen asks.

“I’m just fine.” Nicky’s head darts towards where you stand with Billy. She smiles at the two of you.

He’s got his fingers hooked in your belt loops, and you’re playing with the cuff of his sleeve, occasionally brushing your thumb against the skin of his wrist. You look happy.

“Y/N is doing just fine, too. Really well in school. I’m very proud of her.”

Nicky turns back to Karen, but her eyes are glued on you. More specifically, on Billy.

“Is that Billy Hargrove?” Karen seems to realize that sounds off, and covers. “His sister, Max, is friends with Mike.”

“Oh, I see,” Nicky says, appraising the looks on her and the other women’s faces. She doesn’t like the way they can’t seem to stop staring at Billy.

They’re looking him up and down, looking at him like he’s an object, like he’s this sex symbol.

Pamela turns to face Nicky. “Is he with her?”

“Would it matter if he was?” Nicky suddenly finds herself very angry and unwilling to put up with these women.

Pamela looks shocked, but it’s Tiff who pipes up. “I just thought that he’d be with someone more…mature. Y/N’s so quiet. So…anxious.”

Nicky tosses her pen in her bag. “What the hell is wrong with you? Billy is eighteen years old, and the three of you are looking at him like he’s good enough to eat. Last time I checked, you all had children the exact same age. If by mature you mean yourself, then shit! If you can’t see what’s wrong with that, then I don’t know what to tell you.”

Billy hears your mom raise her voice and holds onto your waist a little more firmly. You look up when he does.

“What gives you the right to assume you know what kind of relationship he wants to be in?” your mother continues. “He’s a fucking kid, Tiffany, and so is my daughter.”

“She might be quiet but there isn’t a damn thing wrong with that, and neither is there with being anxious. It’s clear to me that the three of you don’t know the first thing about what life is like for teenagers these days, even if you were one once. And I’m sorry that you’re so unhappy in your marriages that you think it’s okay to prey on Billy. Get a fucking divorce.”

Nicky grabs hold of her cart and pushes it towards the both of you, cocking her head to the side in a swift motion that tells you both to follow her.

“You two get everything?” she asks, continually walking.

“Yeah,” you tell her.

“Then let’s get the hell out of here.”

————

You notice, as you’re starting to help your mother make cookies, that Billy keeps pushing his hair out of his face. Having already secured yours away from any possible encounters with ingredients, you decide to help him.

“Come with me,” you say, wiggling your fingers in front of his. He grabs hold and let’s you lead him to your bathroom.

He thinks about the last time he was in here, about you cleaning him up.

You pull the cabinet open and get a scrunchie, stretching it over your fingers to show him. “This okay? I could tell it was buggin’ you.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Billy blushes a little at the idea of you having your hands in his hair, and you pretend not to notice.

You reach up, gathering all of his hair at the base of his neck. It’s softer than you expected, though you can feel the product in it, and the little bit of frizz that’s fought back.

Your nail grazes his neck, just slightly, and it makes him shiver. You tie his hair up into a bun. There are a couple shorter pieces hanging out at the front, and you make him face you so that you can push them behind his ears.

You twist one curl around your finger and then tuck it away. You look into his blue eyes, and he’s staring at you like…no. He couldn’t feel that way, could he?

Though maybe he does. Maybe he’s got the same ache for you that you’ve got for him.

Before he can think too much about it, Billy cups the back of your head and leans in, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Thank you,” he mumbles against your skin, and then he’s giving you another one.

His lips are warm and soft, and you feel the press of them long after he’s pulled back.

You can feel him rubbing his thumb against the back of your head, and you lean into his touch. “You’re welcome.” The smile you give him makes him feel like he might actually die.

When you’re back in the kitchen, your mother has already got a batch in the oven, but she’s set everything else out for the two of you to make one.

“I wanted there to be at least a couple edible ones,” she says.

You turn to Billy. “Are you hearing this? She doubts my skills.”

“I don’t blame her,” he says teasingly, looking at Nicky, who laughs sickly sweet.

“You know what? I’ve had enough of this.” You feign wiping tears from your face and go to stomp away, but Billy just grabs hold of you instead, gently pulling you towards the counter.

“Don’t go, I need you.”

Your mother takes that as her queue to give you two some time.

Nicky knows. She knows that Billy is falling in love with you, if he’s not already there.

She thinks you feel the same, but she also knows you.

————

Billy seems to have made himself quite comfortable where he sits cross legged against your headboard. He’s already eaten his share of cookies, but he’s glad to wait as you finish yours.

You’re sitting at the end of the bed, facing him. When you finish your cookies, you sit up and move towards him, reaching to set your napkin on your side table. When he sees you go to move back, he grabs hold of your hand.

“Sit up here with me.”

You comply, positioning yourself beside him, and when you’re sideways so that you can look at him, he pulls your legs into his lap, resting his hands on your calves.

He’s only quiet for a second before he speaks again. “Are we gonna talk about it?”

“About what?” You adjust the pillow behind your back.

“Y/N. You know what. You don’t just call me at one in the fucking morning, sounding like that, and then expect me to forget about it.”

“You could tell then I guess?”

“That you were crying? Yeah. You think I don’t pay attention to stuff like that?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, avoiding his eyes.

“Well I’ve been worried about you all day, and don’t say I didn’t need to be.”

Billy raises his voice just enough to be serious, though he’s not yelling. You can tell he’s a little frustrated with you though.

“Please talk to me. I opened up to you about my fucking dad, Y/N. You have to let me in.”

Your eyes well up, but you push those feelings down, pulling yourself away from Billy and sitting up on your knees. He looks upset at the loss of you splayed across him.

“I was having a rough night, and I freaked myself out,” you start.

“Billy, you’re the first friend I’ve had in a long time.” He nods, urging you on.

“I found all these old pictures, some with friends from middle school, but some with Nancy too.”

“Wheeler?”

“Wheeler,” you confirm. “When I was middle school, I had a couple of friends, and we would do everything together, you know? We’d plan out our futures, even if it was just talking about high school and dumb shit like that. But I always felt like the odd one out, you know? I was freaked out about high school. They weren’t. I was shy, I was wary. I didn’t want things to change.”

“But they did. And we got to high school, and I lost all of them. They all found their own groups, and I just didn’t. I did find Nancy, though. We were both in the library at the same time, and we just clicked? We got really close and I felt safe with her.”

“We knew everything about each other. I felt like her family was my family, that kind of thing. But then she met Barb, and then Steve,” here your voice breaks, and Billy fucking hates it.

“Nothing bad happened. We just started seeing each other less, and I’d call and she’d be busy. It got one-sided. Billy, it was like she forgot about me.”

He extends his hand, and you take it. Those tears you’d been fighting win, spilling over slowly and then all at once.

“And I’ve had a hard time getting over that, even if I tell my mom that I’m fine. Really, I’m not mad at Nancy. I just feel so…insignificant. It hurts, knowing I’m so easy to forget, Billy. And I saw all those pictures last night, and then I thought of you and I got so scared all of the sudden.”

“It’s like everyone I’ve ever let in has left me behind. And I’m scared you’re going to forget about me too. And I don’t think I’ll recover from that, Billy. Because I need you.”

You stop then, and a sob rips free from your throat, though Billy can tell you didn’t want it to. “I’m sorry.” You try to apologize for your state.

He sits up on his knees too, and pulls you into his arms. You bury your face in his neck and he lets you, because he knows exactly how you feel. He thinks about his mother for a second, but let’s that go.

Billy’s hands move steadily over your back, doing their best to soothe you. He carefully guides your face from his shoulder, ensuring you look at him.

“I’m not going to forget about you, Y/N. I fucking swear. I could never. You are not anywhere near insignificant, and you’re not anywhere damn near easy to forget.”

“I’m so sorry that all of happened to you, and I can’t explain any of it, because everyone’s got their own shit going on. But I can tell you that you didn’t deserve it. And I can tell you that I need you too. You make me want to stay in this shithole. You make me want to be better.”

“Yeah?” Your voice is quiet, and you look so young, so fragile. It’s killing him.

“Yeah.”

The both of you are quiet for awhile, sitting with each other, Billy waiting until your breathing has steadied, until he feels your hiccuping stop.

“Billy, if I ask my mom, and she says it’s okay, will you stay the night?” You grin as you ask.

He laughs at that, and you can feel the vibrations of it where your face is shoved into his chest. He remembers the joke he made about that one of the first times you hung out.

Shit, he thinks. He really needs to tell you.

“Yeah, I will.”

You hop up, rubbing your face dry, and then excitedly make for the door. You hold up your index finger. “I’ll be right back.”

He hears you patter to the living room, the mumbling of your and your mother’s voices.

When you return, you’re giddy.

“My mom said you can stay the night, Billy.”

He laughs so hard that he falls onto his back, the spring in your mattress making him bounce a little. He’s fucking cackling at you, and it only makes you do the same.

————

That night, after Billy has made sure Neil and Susan will be gone awhile, after he’s sat and waited for Hopper to pick up Max and take her back to theirs to be with El, and then packed an overnight bag, he’s back in your room.

In your bed. With you.

“My bed is much warmer with you in it, I must say.”

Billy smiles at you, and even let’s you play with the pendant around his neck. “I’m glad,” he says. “Guess that means I’ll have to spend more time in it then.”

You turn your face into your pillow, and he chuckles.

“Come here, baby. Let me hold you.”

Baby.

You scoot closer to him, and he scoops you up in his arms.

“I’m never going to forget about you.” He says it into your hair, his breath warm on your scalp.

“I believe you.” Billy kisses your forehead again, and you feel safe. He feels like he could be your forever home.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

[nym-wibbly]

"If I load a headcanon where they've already been lovers in the past,"

Please share the past lovers headcanon?Season/episodes?

I didn't have anything specific in mind when I wrote that. I remember getting to the early season 8 episodes before actually thinking, "Wait...did Dean and Cas fuck in Purgatory?"

Then I got overexcited about Naomi brainwashing Cas and the meta-storyline and all the lovely hurt/comfort/whump/angst, and my slash braincell wandered off for a bit.

Season 9 pinged my slash radar too, human-feels!Cas and distracted!Dean, but that season could've been intentionally written to keep the two of them physically separated. It's like a season-long chastity belt!! Nothing a determined slasher can't overcome with tenacity and a Jedi handwave, spinning time for them out of a pause for breath in the narrative (9x03 I'm No Angel and 9x06 Heaven Can't Wait being obvious choices with a smidge of offscreen unaccounted-for time), but I'm still at the stage of noodling over why the Supernatural creators made that choice for their story and characters. Cuz it plays like they just plain got spooked by the 'profound bond', there (!).

If you like a canon-compliant fanfic setting (which I usually do), most of Supernatural is thin gruel as a setting for any sustained 'shipping - for any pairing. I can think of a dozen good moments where I could shoehorn in a feels-raw PWP without difficulty, but anything lasting and exploratory between them... They're just so ridiculously occupied the whole time!

I bet there's a ton of 5x04 'Endverse' Cas/Dean fanfic, because it's one of the few opportunities to really get stuck in for any sustained smutty storyline - to give them days/weeks/years to play with. And because those two were so very obviously doing the deep rugged nasty anyway, obviously.

[lowkeychenle]

Enchanted [NJM] (1)

Description: As the crown princess, you shouldn't be entertaining any matches that couldn't benefit your kingdom. Love is not an option, not a choice, and unfortunately for you, your betrothed's royal guard seems to be catching your attention more than he ever could.

Genre: Eventual smut/fluff/angst (this is more of an introductory chapter y'all)

(this is also unedited so do with that what you will)

Word Count: 2,666

Warnings: Mature themes, mentions of death

Pairing: Na Jaemin x Reader x Mark Lee (Lee Minhyung) (mentions of Jisung, Haechan, and Chenle)

Enchanted Mini-Masterlist | Requests

“Your Highness.” Minhyung bows before you, eyes closed as his onyx-colored hair falls in front of his forehead. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

You sit in your throne, posture impossibly straight, staring down at the man before you. He’s everything they told you he’d be. Handsome, kind, and gentlemanly. You should be thrilled he was advertised correctly, but your face stays blank.

“Your Majesty.” You nod in response.

While you’re the Crown Princess of your kingdom, Minhyung is King. You stand, heels gently clicking against the marble flooring as you approach him. His eyes flick upward, his face beautifully chiseled as he holds an arm out to you.

“Allow me to guide you.”

Guide me, you think, inwardly scoffing. As if I’d ever need anyone to guide me along my own kingdom.

The throne room is shrouded with gold, the otherwise white interior shining brightly through drawn curtains. Even though you hesitate, you take his arm and allow him to lead you away from the comfort of your superiority. In this room, you are more. Out there, you are nothing.

Three guards stand by the door, standing pin straight. The tallest of them is only that by a smidge, his face blank and staring forward. He catches your attention first. Not in the way guards usually do, as you analyze all of them to make sure you are never led astray by an impersonator. Something about him makes you pause. He feels familiar. At the sight of him, your heart stops. The armor covers most of him, but you don’t pretend not to notice his deep cedar gaze averting away from you every time you look up.

“Don’t let them worry you,” Minhyung mutters, the closeness of his proximity causing you to jump.

“Worried? Me?” You scoff, brushing your hair over your shoulder. “You have a lot to learn about me if you think this is worried.”

He smiles. “I do intend to learn, Your Grace.”

“You have three guards here,” you point out. “I wasn’t aware you’d need three in rotation for you.”

“You’re correct. I only need two. I brought along a third for your rotations. Not that I don’t trust your men, but I guarantee they are not like mine.” Minhyung gestures to the three of them. He starts with the one you already noticed. “Jaemin will be yours. As for Chenle and Haechan, they are with me.”

“I assure you, I do not need your protection.” Or Jaemin’s.

“I’m afraid I must insist,” Minhyung continues. “With our wedding mere weeks away, this is for the best.”

A small fire lights in the pit of your belly, your eyebrows furrowing as you nearly roll your eyes at his assumption. “King Minhyung,” you said. “Are you insinuating something?”

“I would never.” He gives a firm shake of his head. “Believe me when I say that. It would be wrong for me to come into your home and perpetuate lies. Jaemin will take good care of you, that I promise.”

The other two guards—Haechan and Chenle—share a quick glance. You pretend not to notice them, only to hone your attention on Jaemin. His hair is the color of coal, hanging like a curtain over his forehead. He wears no emotion, not even a single hint of being alive underneath the hard exterior. It makes you curious, no matter how much you know you shouldn’t think that way.

“Very well.” You give in begrudgingly, hoping this Jaemin will at least be good company.

“I’m glad we can agree.” Minhyung flashes a brilliant smile, hands clasped behind his back. “I have some business to attend to while I’m here, so I must be off. If I don’t see you again before the day’s end, it was a pleasure to meet you, Princess.”

“Enchanting,” you reply. “Truly.”

Despite the lack of feeling in your tone, the King before you flushes a slight pink. An odd thing for a king to do, in your opinion, but you’d let it slide. He’s going to be your husband. In a few short weeks, you’d be Queen of his kingdom and he’d be in line to be King of yours.

Minhyung leaves, Chenle and Haechan trailing after him. Jaemin stays put, rigid as a board, awaiting instruction. Whether from you or Minhyung, you couldn’t be sure.

“You may be at ease when it’s only me,” you say.

In the newfound emptiness in the room, your voice echoes along the brilliant dome encompassing you. Jaemin doesn’t move. You frown, taking a few slow steps toward him.

“It’s rude to ignore your Princess,” you mention.

His jaw tightens, but he continues to stare straight past you.

“Oh, so now you don’t want to look at me?” You let out a small hum of thought, a short laugh following. “Must you?”

“Yes, Your Highness.” He bows his head in respect.

“We’ll have to change that.” You brush off the skirt of your dress. “You know, you have to follow me everywhere.”

“I am aware.” Jaemin pauses, stealing a brief moment of eye contact.

“Has he instructed you to follow me into my bedroom?” You feign surprise, knowing Minhyung would never. “That’s a bit scandalous, isn’t it?”

“I’m to be stationed outside of your bedroom, Princess.”

“A shame, really.” You sigh.

His eyebrows furrow deeper, but that’s the only sign he heard what you said. Men are usually easier to crack than this, but Jaemin’s resolve is unwavering. As Princess, remaining pure is important. Purity, in your mind, is relative. How can someone be pure when they have awful thoughts?

Whether physical or mental, purity is a concept. Something created to bring you down while uplifting your male counterpart.

“I shouldn’t be speaking to you,” he mutters, averting his gaze once more. “Apologies, Princess.”

“You report to me, yes?”

No response.

“Ah, so you can only speak to Minhyung…” you trail off. “Hm.”

The longer you talk to Jaemin, the quicker you start to believe this is less of a marriage and more of a hostile takeover. How can Minhyung assign someone to watch you, but not allow them to speak to you?

Surely, you and Jaemin could be friends, right?

“As lovely as I’m sure you are,” Jaemin begins. “I’d prefer to keep my head attached to my shoulders.”

You almost audibly laugh. Minhyung seems harmless. When it comes to his guards, you’re sure the only thing they’d get is a slap on the wrist and a verbal reprimand. There are plenty of eligible women for Minhyung to marry, yet somehow, he ended up requesting your hand.

“If it makes you feel better, he’d at least need a few swings. He doesn’t seem all that strong.” You wait for the smile to form on his face, but it doesn’t.

“His strength is not relevant. You act as if he would be the one to behead me in the first place.”

“Well, if it’s Haechan or Chenle, they’ll need more strikes than Minhyung would.” You look down at your manicured nails, picking at the ends of them.

“He is your King.” Jaemin frowns.

Regardless of your conversation, he’s as still as a stone. He hasn’t moved a muscle since you began speaking to him.

“That’s where you’re wrong. Jaemin, was it?” You close the distance between you two, forcing him to look in your eyes as you finish your thought. “I don’t have a King. Nor do I need one, so you’d do well to remember he’s here because he needs me. Not the other way around.”

The angle of his jawline sharpens, and you know you’ve hit a nerve. These guards seem quite close to Minhyung. It makes you wonder if they’ve befriended their king, or if it’s just blind devotion.

At that moment, you decide you’re going to do your best to make his life hell incarnate. If he wants to take Minhyung’s side when he’s meant to be your guard, you wouldn’t make it easy for him. A game of cat and mouse, perhaps. Maybe you’ll make him chase you to the ends of the Earth, and you’ll be the most dangerous mouse in existence.

You reach up and trace a finger across his cheekbone. “You’re on my territory. Don’t think I won’t step on any snakes in my way.”

“Is that a threat?” he asks, wetting his lips with a quick brush of his tongue.

“Nothing of the sort.” You wave him off. “A lady doesn’t make threats. She makes promises.”

“And that’s what you consider yourself?” he quips. “A lady?”

You’re pleasantly surprised by his boldness. Not every man—especially not a guard, at that—would be able to go toe-to-toe with you and live to tell the tale.

“I do, in fact.”

“Does a lady attempt to seduce her betrothed’s guards?”

This has your head thrown back in laughter, hand clutching the necklace clasped around your throat. Seduction wasn’t exactly at the forefront of your mind, but if that’s what he wants, you’d certainly give it to him. The double standard of purity for women and straight up promiscuity for men would come to an end in your kingdom. You wouldn’t allow it.

“What’s your surname?” you ask, tilting your head after you calm down from your humor fit.

“Why?”

“Tell me your full name,” you command, ice shooting through your tone.

“Na Jaemin.”

“You’ll only hear me say this once, Na Jaemin, so listen closely.” You lean closer to him, watching him squirm beneath your weighted gaze. “Attempts are feeble. I attempt nothing. I succeed. Never underestimate me, for if I wanted you in bed, I’d have you there.”

Before he has the chance to respond, you whirl around and head toward the door. He lets out a deep exhale you’re sure he didn’t want you to notice, and he follows you as you make your way down the equally stunning hallways.

As night falls, Jaemin is still trudging behind you. It’s almost humorous, the way he follows you around like a lost puppy. Sure, it’s his job, his life’s duty, but it didn’t make it any less entertaining for you.

You had the freedom to choose certain aspects of your own life. Jaemin would never have that luxury. And if you continue to take him down the path you want, you’ll put him in more danger than you could possibly fathom.

If he were to ever lay a hand on you, even if he glanced in your direction for too long, he would die for your carelessness.

But chance is always a game you’re willing to play, especially when you’re not the one at stake.

You open your bedroom door, looking around the hallway to ensure no one else is around. He’s done fairly well at ignoring you thus far, but you weren’t done with him. Not yet.

“Goodnight,” he says, turning to face the opposite wall without another acknowledgement in your direction.

You smirk, walking into your grandiose room without closing the door behind you. The marble flooring is the same throughout the castle—white engrained with beautiful wisps of gold—but the walls in here were different. A faded pink, the same color it had been when you were a young girl. Without a nudge, there’s no way Jaemin would even sneak a peek at the interior. A king-sized bed took up the middle of the room, a canopy hanging off the edges of it.

You trace your fingers along the solid gold vanity, sighing rather loudly. “Jaemin.”

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“I require assistance.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m under strict orders not to enter your bedchamber.”

Strict orders. You’ve never wanted to roll your eyes harder.

“I will find a female to assist—”

“No.” It’s your turn to be firm. “You.”

“Then I guess whatever you need assistance with isn’t that important.” He clasps his hands together.

Truly, what you need isn’t dire. In fact, you don’t even need Jaemin at all. The game you want to play requires his attention, and you’ll do it in any way you possibly can.

“Do I need to disturb King Minhyung right now?” You test him, not waiting for a response before you continue. “It’d be a shame to interrupt whatever…important business he’s working on to tell him his guard is less than adequate.”

Before you know it, he’s standing in front of you, his dark eyes seeming to burn into your soul. He looks at you with an intensity you’ve had yet to experience. Something coils and turns in that deep gaze of his, but you can’t quite place it.

“How can I help, Princess?”

You turn around, dropping your hands to your sides. “Untie me.”

A small sound of shock escapes his lips. “I’m sorry?”

“Help me out of my dress.”

“This is hardly appropriate.”

“Well, I can’t do it myself, and there’s no one else around. I don’t want to wait. This thing is suffocating.” You stand impatiently, waiting for his will to crumble to dust.

“I really shouldn’t,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. “This isn’t—”

“Jaemin.”

“Right. Your…your hair is in the way.” He clears his throat.

“Surely, you’ve done this before,” you ridicule him. “You’re meant to move it.”

Something crackles in the air, and you can’t tell if it’s tangible or a figment of your imagination. You both know he’s closer than he should be, but neither of you say a word about it. Not again. The door is still ajar. Anyone could walk by and see—they could make assumptions about what’s going on in here, especially as his fingers reach up to brush your hair over your shoulder.

His fingertips skim across the back of your neck, and it feels like a jolt of electricity. Goosebumps fly across your skin, the tiniest tremor weaving through your spine.

“What would you do if I wasn’t here?” he whispers, the delicate, deep tone of his voice making the effects of his touch worse.

“Wouldn’t you love to know.” You chuckle, refusing to give in and admit you didn’t really need help in the first place.

“Do you make it a habit to have men undo your corsets?” He tugs the first tie, loosening it while you hold onto the front of your dress.

“No.”

“Don’t tell me I’m special.” He lets out something resembling a laugh.

“You’re simply the only one available to help.”

The looser your dress gets, the more you wish to just let it go. His movements are quick, and he does his best not to touch you any more than he already has. You weren’t usually like this. For some reason, you want to give chase. You want to do something risky, regardless of who’s affected by it.

“That was the last one, Princess.” He takes a step away from you, the cold replacing his warmth.

“I—”

“I think that’s quite enough,” Jaemin says. “Whatever else you need, I can no longer assist you. I’m here to protect you, not to be your servant.”

“You say that now, Na Jaemin.” You turn to face him, closing your distance and poking a finger straight into the middle of his chest. “But before you know it, you’ll be begging to serve me.”

He gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he struggles to keep eye contact.

“Serving and protecting me is a privilege,” you say. “You should act like you need to earn it.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I don’t serve you. I serve my King, and I doubt he’d like to find me in here with his future wife’s corset one swift move from being on the floor.” Jaemin crosses his arms over his chest and clenches his fist. “I hope you have a good night, Princess. I’ll be outside.”

Against your better judgment, you don’t correct him for his callus words. You allow him to walk away from you. As he makes it to the door, he glances once more over his shoulder before it shuts softly behind him.

[lylicapril17]

A Truth She'd Hidden

Synopsis: You’ve loved your long-time best friend Miles Morales for years, but in the months that pass in your Freshman year of college, you have come to know the pain of unrequited love as your best friend is dating someone else. That someone is Gwen Stacy. 

Word count: 1k+

Genre: Angst, Unrequited Love, Hurt no comfort, Could be a part 2 but I don’t know. 

Warnings: ASTV spoilers- to me, it’s the biggest spoiler. 

Pairings: College Freshman 1610 Miles Morales x black! fem! reader (unrequited on her part but could change.) College Freshman Earth 42 Miles G. Morales x black! fem! reader (like a smidge.)

A/N: I made the reader a black female because that’s what I feel I can best portray being one, but if others want to read this story that’s okay too since it’s not specified. (This is my first fanfiction on here so bear with me.)

When the sun emerges over the horizon and breaks through the night that had cast over the world in a sleep so deep you wish to stay in dreams, it signals those bittersweet dreams to end. 

Whether a nightmare or a fickle reality, one doesn’t know. 

Only you.

So when her eyes open, and she sits up from her bed to see those oranges and pinks that cascade over a lilac sky, she feels in that moment of in between, she is nobody. 

Not the girl who grieves.

Not the girl who loves.

Not the girl who has given it all away to love someone such as Spider-Man.

And certainly not the girl who was left in the corner of Miles Morales' brain to collect dust for his new toy named Gwen.

Her hands rub at her eyes that had been previously shut, and she sighs out as reality starts to ebb its way back into her consciousness. 

Clarity was never a welcome friend.

This was a routine that never failed to loop itself over and over into the recesses of her mind, and as she got up to do her familiar morning routine, she felt the cycle repeating.

She didn’t know how she had gotten here.

Her fingers drummed against the podium in a rhythmic sort of pattern she didn’t know. Those eyes of hers were glazed over as if there was a spotlight beaming down on her, and her heart began thrumming in a way it always did when the attention was solely on her.

A sick feeling curled in her stomach, and she bit back a sob as her shaky breaths tried to even themself. 

Her paper lay against the surface, angled in a way so she could glance down at it if she needed the assistance in remembering. 

“You have a talent, and I think that talent needs to be shared with the world.” Those words of her professor echo in her ears as she takes another wobbly inhale.

And as she looks out into the audience, she feels her heart sinking as Miles sits next to Gwen. Their hands interlocked as they whisper things to each other that she can’t hear, but can probably assume the sappy conversation. 

She feels like one of those country singers who harps the same song of heartbreak and infidelity. But she had never even been in that type of relationship with Miles, so could she even consider herself in that position?

Yet, it felt like cheating, in the way she had loved him first and she was sure he was warming up to that idea. 

Her breathing slows, and her eyes closed as she felt herself fighting back foolish tears that always ruined everything. 

She looks pained as her face crumples in a way that makes people whisper about what could possibly be wrong. But it’s like she's underwater as those words she had rehearsed over and over came back to her like a resounding truth.

The auditorium's air seems to chill, and she feels this will be her only chance to speak her truth- her feelings that had boiled over- that had been put away to simmer like she was always put on the back burner. 

In this moment, she mattered.

Her mouth opens, and the ugly truth seeps from her lips.

“Don't make me desire what I cannot have. 

Or I'll despise you even more. 

Don't show you're happy, 

because I'll resent you who I cannot have…”

A brief pause follows, as she’s taken away by her emotions and there's nothing but her in that moment.

“I think the first time I ever loved you, I knew the end would follow soon after. 

If emotion could melt upon skin, I would understand the unequivocal words in your eyes. 

Those moments I didn’t know any better, neither you nor me. I lost myself in the white noise that follows bliss in ignorance. 

Why didn’t we see it?

A hollow feeling that echoes- like a pyrrhic victory. 

Paint me over, and wash me away.

Can we go back?

To the moment-

You didn’t know me.

I didn’t know you. 

And we never longed for something we couldn’t have come to know. 

In the end, 

All that love we had shared..

Turned into resentment,

And then to nothing.

I saw you in a world…

that crumbled away.”

The auditorium is filled with silence, and as she opens her eyes, they’re hazy like she’s waking up from a dream turned into a nightmare that seemed to never end. Stunned faces and mouths parted in speechlessness seem to be common as the audience wears a collective face.

The words linger in the air, and the pain from her words makes ripples that turn into waves, washing over those who had simply come for extra credit. 

Her breathing is deep, and she lets her hands rub down her face in a heavy exhaustion. Like the world was on her shoulders in a way nobody could imagine.

“Thank you.” Her voice is empty, and her eyes are hollow as she steps down from the podium and leaves the visible stage. 

A boy with sunken eyes and French braids that sway as he finally sighs out, like an unknown heaviness has been placed on him after hearing such words. The way his body has been left tense and rigid sends shivers down his spine, and he begins to clap before anyone else.

Like the audience had been too taken aback to do anything, his clap brings them back, and the auditorium is then filled with roaring applause. 

The professor who had been sitting in the front row stood after a long while, and as the clapping was thunderous, went up to the podium where the girl had left her paper behind.

“Thank you, everyone! That piece was actually titled ‘Not my best work.’ So, I look forward to seeing what she does next.” The professor's voice is almost quiet compared to the murmurs and whispers of others who couldn’t believe how quickly their boring extra credit attendance had turned lively. 

Miles sat there, his hand still holding Gwen’s, but the mood had soured after hearing such a piece. The boy took his hand away, and as Gwen looked at him with worried eyes, he felt something gnaw away at him.

“Miles?” Gwen called his name as if to ask if he was okay. 

But his eyes had remained on his sneakers, downcast with an emotion he didn’t think he could ever feel in being with Gwen.

Guilt.

{Please do not copy, plagiarize, or post my stories or pieces onto any other sites or platforms! I mean that seriously.}

[Likes, comments, and reblogs are always welcome!]

- Please no hate comments, I’m not going to fight yall fr.

[davnittbraes]

The Fourth Step - Chapter Thirty-Five

Part of The World Is Light, Embodied.

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (not this chapter but series as a whole)

Word Count: 3500

Warnings, etc.: a smidge of angst, a sprinkling of banter, and a sickening amount of fluffy feels #sorrynotsorry

Notes: I don’t even know what to say. This can be considered the penultimate chapter of this fic, even though the story’s not quite done yet. But everything has been building to this step for our bbys, and I hope I’m doing them justice.

We’re definitely in AU territory with this chapter, since Mando S2, TBOBF and S3 wouldn’t have rolled out the way they did if Din had come to this point in his relationship with his creed. Again, I hope I’m doing right by his character, and giving him the arc he deserves.

Mando’a translations at the end of the chapter.

Please check out the Series Masterlist page for more info.

Soft.

Your muscles are loose and languid, heavy, pressing into the yielding surface under your body. 

Warm. 

Soothing heat radiates from beside you, frissons sweeping through your chest from the comforting weight on the middle of your back.

Safe. 

Familiar scents and sounds drift through your sleep-dulled senses, reinforcing that subconscious recognition of the steady presence at your side, one that will protect you and defend you from any and all harm. 

Din. 

Your heartbeat flutters as sleep slips away, smile automatically curving your lips against the edge of the blanket. 

One by one, those vague impressions that pulled you into the waking world form into physical sensations - the well-known noises and smells of the Razor Crest, the mattress under you as you lay on your stomach, the tall, broad body stretched out next to yours, the large hand resting flat on your back. 

The even and sure breath of the man beside you, quickened enough to tell you he’s already awake. 

You blink open your eyes to the dark night cycle of the hold, peer in his direction. “Din? Are you ok?”

His hand on your back flexes slightly, smoothing up over your nightshirt to rest between your shoulderblades. “I’m fine, cyar’ika.”

There’s some kind of emotion in his voice you can’t identify, and concern twinges behind your ribs. You shift closer, turning onto your side, reaching a hand out to him to find him facing you, spread your fingers over his chest. 

His heartbeat thuds under your palm, faster than usual, and that twinge grows tight around your own heart. “Can’t sleep?”

His chest moves with a heavy breath, not quite a sigh. “I’ve been thinking.”

“About what?” You stroke your thumb in small, soothing circles over his underlayer. 

“My Creed.”

The last dregs of sleep whisk away as an anxious tension stills your movements. Taking a steadying breath, you keep your voice light, unassuming. “Heavy thoughts for so late at night.”

This time he does sigh, his hand on your back pressing lightly as he shifts closer to you. “Almost morning. Day cycle starts in about an hour.”

He matches your tone, but it doesn’t stop the anxiety from finally bubbling up, looking to reassure him. “I meant what I said, Din. I love you, all of you. I respect your Creed, and the oath you swore.”

A pause, his heartbeat races against your palm. The tension thickens, your own chest grows tight, what is wrong -

His voice is so soft you can barely hear it over the rush of your pulse in your ears. 

“I broke my oath when I took my helmet off that first night on Nevarro.”

You’re staring at him, eyes wide, even though you can’t see him. “What?”

“The Creed doesn’t allow for darkness or blindfolds. If you remove your helmet or if it’s removed for you in the presence of others, you are considered no longer Mandalorian.”

Why had - 

No -

You can’t -

Guilt crashes into you with a force that almost punches a whimper from your throat, caught at the last second and trapped behind clenched teeth. 

It’s your fault. 

You came into his life and he betrayed his people -

His hand on your face brings you back to the moment, stalls your spiral. He cups your cheek, tilting your head up so he can press a kiss to your forehead, words falling over skin too warm with emotion. 

“It’s not your fault. I made the choice. And I would do it again, with no hesitation.”

You squeeze your eyes tight, force the guilt back so his words can sink in, calming. 

A breath, another, and anxiety still laps at the edges of your awareness, but at bay for now. 

Swallowing against a dry throat, you gently pat his chest once, a wordless reassurance that you’re alright. 

He kisses your forehead again, pulling back a little so you can hear him clearly, speaking with resolute confidence, words obviously repeated and examined for any flaw, any hesitance or uncertainty, and determined to be only truth. 

“I gave my people everything I am. My name, my identity, my self - I stopped being Din Djarin when I swore the Creed. In their eyes, I became Mandalorian. Something of value.”

A sort of bitterness turns his voice down at the end, tingeing the soft words, bleeding into them. “But remove my helmet, take off the mask, and they no longer consider me one of them. They only see me as Mandalorian, or not.”

Your hand flexes on his chest instinctively, wanting to take away that bitterness and soothe the source of it, words on the tip of your tongue but you bite them back, let him continue, sensing he needs to finish what he wants to say. 

“I’ve thought about what it means to be a Mandalorian. And what it means to be a man.” A pause, his chest rises under your palm. “I think they are the same, in many ways. Both should care for the ones they love and try to protect them from harm. Support those who support them. Live with honour and respect for others.”

He sighs, a sound heavy and soft at the same time, weighted with regret. “But my people don’t believe that. They would have me be one or the other. Mandalorian or man.”

You can’t stop the whimper this time, tiny and hushed but slipping out all the same. The frustration - pain - that he has suffered, trying to be what his people want him to be, denying parts of himself in an effort to fit into the rigid mold they made for him…

He obviously hears your muffled sound, lips brushing your skin in reassurance. “I know now in my heart I am both. I am a Mandalorian. I am Din Djarin. And you see me, tionas. A Mandalorian, and a man.”

Another kind of emotion grips your heart tight, pushes you deeper into his embrace, fingers curling into the cloth of his underlayer as if you could pull him close enough to take him into you, take away his pain. “I see all of you, my love.”

His heartbeat throbs against your hand, breath catches in his chest. “Not all. Not yet.”

Then he’s moving, pulling away from you and there’s a rustle of motion beside the bed and you sit up in surprise, almost reaching out to stop him. 

What happened -

Why -

The lights flick on, blinding. 

Pfassk. 

You clap your hands over your eyes, panic surging hot up the back of your throat. “What - wait, I’ll see -“

The bed dips as he sits beside you. “I know. I want you to.”

Your pulse thuds loud in your ears, so hard it’s almost choking. “Din -“

“It’s alright. I need you to see me. All of me. Please.”

Long fingers curl around your wrists, not pulling but there, a reminder that he knows what he’s doing, he wants this, and everything that this means.

Your thoughts fly in a million different directions at once. 

What does this mean?

It’s -

There’s -

We -

Too much too many thoughts and you can’t -

Everything -

This means everything. 

A tremor runs through your body. 

Everything is different with you. 

Your mind quiets, centres. Focuses. On this moment. 

He wants this. To share a part of himself that he’s never shared with anyone else before. 

Your own words float through the chaos of your thoughts, words first spoken a lifetime ago. 

Whatever you can give me. I’ll take it. 

Your lungs pull tight.

I’ll take it. 

You relax your hands. 

Let him guide them away from your closed eyes. 

A calloused thumb brushes your cheekbone. 

His voice rasps gently. “Open your eyes, tionas.”

A pause. An eternity. 

You open your eyes.

The entire world shifts -

brightens -

blossoms  -

glows -

You blink -

The world is golden skin and tousled dark hair - 

Skin you’ve mapped with your hands, hair you’ve sifted through your fingers countless times -

The world is a graceful arch of a nose and a strong brow and plush lips -

Lips that have pressed to every inch of your body -

Your heart stops -

The world is brown eyes, warm and gentle, a gaze that holds everything you’ve ever looked for, everything you’ve ever wanted. 

You can’t breathe.

You can’t think. 

Moments pass and a tension grows thick in the air, buzzing along your skin, and you crack, instinct taking over, words falling from your lips without thought. 

“You could have warned me you look like the lead actor from one of those HoloNet dramas you love.”

That warm, brown gaze sparks, those plush lips quirk ever so slightly. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never seen one.”

Your own lips spread wide in a grin and then you’re kissing him and his strong hands curve around your waist to pull you close and the world condenses into just this, the two of you, right here. 

Time passes, somewhere, and you pull away, some undeniable urge bringing your gaze back to his, your fingertips tracing those laugh lines you’d felt for the first time so long ago - are they deeper now? - where they flare across his skin beautifully, frame those dark eyes that draw you in for another kiss. 

A soft sigh weaves it’s way up from your lungs as you pull back again, cup his jaw, smooth a thumb over the light scruff there, note the sweet little bare patches on either side of his chin, then meet that gaze with all the sincerity you feel. “Thank you, for giving this to me.”

His features shift, setting so seriously it takes you a moment to realize nothing is wrong, that’s just a typical expression for him. “I would give you everything.”

There’s a certain weight to the last word that makes you blink, look at him closer. 

A small furrow forms between his brows. “I want you - and others - to know this, beyond doubt and question. Because in my mind, there is none. I know I still follow The Way, and I follow it with you.”

You can’t help but lift a thumb to smooth that furrow, your heartbeat stuttering at the subsequent smile he gives you - bright, warm, beautiful. “I’m with you, Din. Step by step, together.”

His smile flutters, torn between growing and falling back into sombreness. That brown gaze flits away, and back again, as if he’s unsure of what he’s about to say. 

Leaning in, you kiss him gently, a silent reassurance, then pull back and wait patiently. 

He looks at you for a long moment, expression softening. A deep breath, then his words fall quietly between you. 

“There is a vow, among Mandalorians, that binds two people together.”

Your thoughts flash, quick. 

I would give you everything. 

You know what kind of vow he’s talking about. 

Funny, though. 

Your heart beats steadily, your muscles relaxed. No anxiety turns your stomach, tightens around your ribcage, squeezes your throat. 

There’s no panic. No worry. No nagging voices trying to pull you away, make you run, hide. No whispering thoughts churning out fear and doubt.

You’re ready take whatever he gives you. 

And give him everything in return. 

You listen calmly, watching the myriad of emotions dance across his expression as he continues. 

“The vow itself is simple. To raise any young ones in your care as Mandalorians, teach them to fight and to live with honour. To share everything that life brings, to celebrate or bear it together. And to always be of one heart, no matter what might try to come between you.”

His last words ring with familiarity, and you smile. “We are one when together, we are one when parted.”

Regret pinches the corners of his eyes. “Yes. I shouldn’t have… I should have told you what that meant - could mean. But there are more words to the vow that we haven’t spoken. You’re not sworn to anything.”

This man. 

This wonderful mass of contrasts and layers. 

Who so confidently guides your own fears away, keeps you rooted to the present, soothes the edges of your anxiety with ease. 

Here, before you, with nervousness pulling his brow, deepening the lines around his mouth. 

You soothe those lines away with a brush of your fingers. “I want to be.”

He falters. “Tionas, I need to be sure you understand what this vow means. It’s -“

“A marriage vow?” Your mouth curves up in a smile at the look of mild shock on his face. 

“Yes.”

“I know. I understand.”

A mixture of doubt and hope lift his brows. “And you still want…”

“Yes, I still want.” You huff a laugh, an overwhelming giddy lightness pulling the sound from your chest. 

“Are you -“

“Crikking hells, Din, I want to marry you.” Your words dissolve into giggles, hand leaving his face to push lightly on his chest. 

His features shift into a beautiful combination of joy and delight, smile curling his mouth. “Of course you would curse and then laugh at me when I’m proposing to you.”

It takes a deep breath but you finally get yourself under control. “You should know what you’re getting into.”

He sighs in mock exasperation. “I’m aware.”

Another push on his chest and a giggle slips past your lips. “Just tell me what to do.”

He takes your hand from his chest, and presses a kiss to your palm. “Repeat the Mando’a after me.”

You nod, squeezing his hand once. 

For a moment he just looks at you, something like reverence glowing in his gaze. When he speaks, his words are hushed and weighty. 

“We are one when together. Mhi solus tome.”

Your voice is steady and unwavering, sure. “Mhi solus tome.”

“We are one when parted. Mhi solus dar’tome.”

“Mhi solus dar’tome.” 

The tiniest sliver of anxiety breaks through your contentment at the last word, and you shy away from the thought of being parted from him. He takes your other hand and twines your fingers through his, lets them rest on the blankets between the two of you. 

He is here and you are here, right now, together. 

Your calm settles over you once again, and he continues. 

“We share all. Mhi me’dinui an.”

“Mhi me’dinui an.” Your tongue slips on the unfamiliar words, but you catch it, push through as images flit through the back of your mind. 

Soft voices under a starry sky on a quiet little planet -

A small box full of trinkets and the heavy weight of guilt unresolved -

Gentle fingertips smoothing over skin littered with scars -

Quiet laughter blending together in the dark of the hold -

His gaze is soft, voice weaving through the memories. “We will raise warriors. Mhi ba’juri verde.”

Big, amber eyes, tiny clawed hands that reach for you -

Soft coos and bright babbles and the curious flick of wide ears -

The barely-there weight of a little form curled into the crook of your arm -

Tears prick the corners of your eyes. “Mhi ba’juri verde.”

His hands release yours to cup your face as he kisses you firmly and the warm, bright thing in your chest bursts into a thousand lights that race across the universe. 

You’re dizzy, swaying, drunk on the rolling waves of emotion that cascade over you again and again. You break the kiss, gasping for air, lungs shaking with laughter, and he smiles at you and it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

Your fingers trace the curve of his lips, the sweep of his cheekbone, the arch of his nose. He closes his eyes, revelling in your touch, but that won’t do, you want to see those brown eyes that hold everything and you brush the pad of your thumb along the corner of his eye, echoing his words. 

“Open your eyes, Din.”

He blinks, creases sharpening as his smile deepens, but his gaze darts away again. “I wasn’t sure if… if you would…”

Realization makes you pause. 

He’s nervous. 

About his appearance. 

It makes sense, he’s never experienced any sort of reaction to his physical self - the one beneath the beskar. He can’t know what others might think of how he looks, because you’re the only one who has seen him. 

He doesn’t know how beautiful he is. 

You lean back, hold his chin up with the tip of your finger, peering closely as if considering his features. “I’m still right.”

Confusion, uncertainty flicker through that brown gaze. “About what?”

It takes effort to hold back the laughter, incredulous at the thought that he would doubt your attraction to him. “You’re very oglable.” 

Surprise - bashfulness - delight -

The golden skin along his cheekbones flushes pink and -

Kriff. He’s blushing. 

You can’t stop the laughter anymore, watching emotion scramble his expression. All those years spent under a helmet are obvious, he’s never had to school his features or been aware of what others might read on his face. 

It’s ridiculously endearing, seeing this seemingly somber and stoic Mandalorian fluster and blush. 

Then he’s moving, lightning fast, and pushing you down onto the mattress, pulling himself over you to press his lips to yours and steal your breath away. 

A soft sigh against your cheek, the gentle swipe of his tongue along your bottom lip and you open to him, wrap your arms around his shoulders and lose yourself in the slow, languid glide of his kiss, the feel of his broad frame over you, the warmth of his hands on your back, the beat of his heart pressed against yours. 

The sound of a muffled babble breaks into the moment, and the rest of the world seeps through. 

Din groans as he pulls back, glancing in the direction of the bunk. “Kid has the worst timing.”

“If we can figure out what makes him sleep late some days, we’ll be set.” You tilt your chin to press a kiss to one of the bare patches along his jaw. 

Another babble floats through the hold, this one ringing with insistence. 

And if history repeats itself, the next sound will be much louder, full of indignation, and followed by the thump of tiny fists on the door of the bunk. 

It pushes the two of you into reluctant action, Din moving to stand until you grasp his arm. “Let me get him. You stay here and think about how pretty you are.”

He huffs his laugh - your heart stutters, seeing the way his eyes light, the hint of that blush on his cheeks - and shifts aside to let you slip out of bed, fingers grazing your thigh as you stand. “Thank you.”

The seriousness in his voice makes you pause, look down at him. “For calling you pretty?”

“For saying yes.”

Your stomach dips at the curve of his brow, pulled up in earnestness. “As if I’d saying anything else.” Bending to kiss that brow, smooth a curl of his hair back into place, you hold his gaze firmly with yours. “I love you, Din.”

He rests his hands on your hips, brown gaze soft with love. “I love you, tionas.”

A sharp cry from the bunk snaps your attention. “Ok, ok, I’m coming.” 

One last kiss and you reluctantly step away from him, grab your clothes to pull them on as you make your way to rescue the grumpy little green dude who’s now banging on the bunk door with more force than should be possible for one his size. 

The memory of that brown gaze, mingled with the echo of those solemn words, hovers in the back of your mind for the rest of the day. Your entire body feels lighter and more solid somehow, floating and yet rooted in place. It’s disorienting and wonderful at the same time. 

Every tilt of the helmet, every modulated word seems so much more, now. Your mind overlays the image of his features, showing those lines around his eyes crinkle when he huffs his laugh at the kid’s antics, the warm brown of his gaze when the black visor turns toward you. 

You drift to each other at every opportunity, hands reaching out to touch and grasp and hold. Like you can’t resist being near the other and not feel them, needing them to be closer. 

Those solemn words are knotted around your hearts, inextricable, and it pulls tight whenever there’s distance between you. 

Even now, him seated in the pilot’s chair, you and the kid in the passengers’, watching the dwarf planet in the Pax system draw closer through the transparisteel. You can feel it, that pull, the desire to reach out and feel the one who shares your heart. 

Din’s gloved hands move confidently over the control console and the Razor Crest shifts into the landing sequence. The helmet turns, black visor glancing back at you, and you smile, seeing those eyes full of love behind it. 

The planet looms big and the transparisteel goes white as the ship enter’s the atmosphere, breaking through cloud cover. 

You watch it pass, fear and anxiety a barely-there presence in the back of your mind. 

Because you know, without doubt or question, no matter what awaits you on the surface, nothing can come between the two of you.

*****

Mando’a translations

Tionas - question 

Cyar’ika - sweetheart

*****

Previous Chapter

[whiskeysmulti]

((OOC: Alright, day 3 of ‘Angst Era Hours’ For the ‘My muse died, how is your muse reacting to the news’ meme thing. Haru Feat. Lambo for Gokudera. Long because we know Neo- can’t be controlled nor contained))

-

Haru is staring down at her phone as she walks through the front door of the Sawada household. There is a nervous tremor in her heart as she stares down at her phone. She didn’t want to believe that something was wrong. Maybe he’d forgotten to charge his phone? Surely, he was simply busy and neglecting his phone? Maybe it somehow broke? There was the chance that he was upset with her and was ignoring her messages on purpose…? That should be more likely than something bad happening to him, right?

“Stop lying! That’s not true!”

“Lambo, calm down.”

“No! Is it because I pranked you last week? This isn’t a funny prank! Bring him out! Stop lying!”

It only took the sound of Lambo’s voice being elevated for Haru to rush up the stairs, as was an ingrained habit of hers by now from years of her telling the others off for bullying Lambo. Usually, the culprit of Lambo bullying hours was Gokudera himself.

Hearing Lambo’s angry voice was convincing enough that today was no different from any other. Gokudera and Lambo were having a spat like they normally would, and he surely would have a good reason for not answering her messages.

Her hand pauses at the doorknob- “It’s not a joke Lambo, Gokudera was found dead this morning.”

Eyes look down at the phone in her hand, thumbing over the screen to check time stamps. When was the last she heard something from him? Her mind was racing with a million thoughts per hour and she couldn’t think straight. Didn’t she get a good morning message from him today? Was it yesterday?

He didn’t say anything about going on a mission, so it couldn’t possibly be the case that he’s dead. She pushes through the door, “say that again. Who died?”

Someone mutters ‘shit’ under their breath, and she shoots them a glare for cussing around Lambo.

“Look, Haru, how about you sit do-” “I. Asked. WHO. DIED?” With ease, she accepts Lambo clinging onto her like he always would when she came to stop the bullying. The person she’d been hoping to see wasn’t there and what she’d heard behind closed door was not inspiring any optimistic vibes for her. The guys all looked at each other, unsure of how to best handle this situation.

They had purposefully tried to keep Lambo out of the conversation initially since they didn’t think he’d be able to handle the new being broken to him. They needed to ease him into it, but Lambo had snuck around to listen in to their private conversation.

Lambo barged into the room when he overhead something about finding Gokudera dead that morning. He was inconsolably crying, and that’s when Haru entered the scene next. She was one of the other people they didn’t want to break the news to without formulating a method of delivery first.

The Vongola had lost a dear friend and comrade, but he was more than that to Haru. She’d been dating Gokudera for a few years now and it was no secret among the Vongola that the two were madly in love with each other. The three who they were dreading on breaking the news could be summarized thusly: Haru, Lambo, and Bianchi.

It was their rotten luck that Lambo and Haru both jumped them before they could think of a way to break the news to them gently. The young teen was crying into Haru’s shoulder. He was still just a smidge shorter than Haru, but it was only a matter of time before he sprouts like a tree and grows much taller than her. For now, the young teen could still be babied comfortably by Haru.

Softly, she’s patting his head as he cries into her shoulder. “Say it again. I must have heard wrong.”

Leave it to Hibari to be the one who would opt out of delaying the inevitable by being the first to remember how to use his voice. “Gokudera Hayato was found this morning, deceased. Investigation on the events of last night are currently ongoing.” Haru’s eyes pan to Hibari, arms holding Lambo tighter to her as she feels him clutching onto the hem of her shirt.

Looking down at the trembling teen in her arms, “This morning… so you knew about this for HOURS and didn’t think to TELL ME?” If not for her being worried for Lambo, she would’ve already flown off the handle in her anger. If she wasn’t busy trying to soothe him, she would have grabbed the closest person to her by the front of their shirt and start shaking.

In some ways, they were lucky that Lambo was there to keep her grounded, so her impulsiveness wouldn’t manifest into violence, but in other ways, this was so much worse. Haru couldn’t allow herself to express her emotions when she was trying her best to stay strong for Lambo. She’d always been the sort to prioritize others over herself, and she had to support Lambo.

Their favorite cow-print aficionado had always looked up to Gokudera, thought of him as an older brother. He was the one guardian that Lambo always sought approval from. Lambo would bug Gokudera all the time to get attention in any way he could.

When she noticed his knees were trembling, seconds away from buckling, Haru gently guides him to the floor. Her shoulder was absolutely soaked from his tears already, but she didn’t let that bother her. She continued to pat his head gently, her arms wrapped around him protectively.

One of the guys tries to say something about how they were deciding on a way to break the news to them and she snaps, “So this is why…” When she’d been messaging Gokudera for hours today with no response, she’d sent some messages to the others asking where he was. She either got no response, or was given some cryptic answer. “You let me be besides myself with worry for HOURS because you needed to figure a way to let me know gently?” They couldn’t face her gaze.

The betrayal she felt for being told so late. The anger of possibly being one of the last to know about her own boyfriend’s passing. The heart-wrenching pain of wanting so desperately to want to deny the reality of losing her other half.

Honestly, she thought she was doing well for herself right now. She hadn’t absolutely broken down into hysterics yet, and only because Lambo was doing that in her arms. There was something more painful about watching a person barely keeping themselves together because they’re trying to remain strong for a young kid.

“I’m sorry! I won’t play pranks anymore, so stop it! He promised to help me with my homework today!” Lambo can’t be reasoned with, and he’s rambling anything that came to his chaotic mind.

“Lambo-chan…” Haru hugs him tighter, shooting the nastiest of looks to the others in the room. “He’d been better about his recklessness recently, hasn’t he? Are you sure this isn’t some elaborate dummy they put in place to trick us? Things have been peaceful lately, surely this is a mistake?”

“Uri was found desperately trying to move him to somewhere safe, yowling at anything that got close. She kept struggling up until her flame supply ran out.” The feline had probably been next to the Storm Guardian in his final moments. Uri had to helplessly watch as the life left her owner’s eyes. She did everything she could to get him to a better place before she’d be forced to retreat back into the Vongola gear.

If the grouchy cat was trying her best to fend off anyone that got close to him, then they must’ve found the real Vongola Storm.

It was almost too hard to breathe from the realization that this wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t some nasty nightmare either. She’d been biting the inside of her mouth to keep her focused and from the stinging pain and metallic taste on her tongue, this wasn’t a dream. This was unfortunately, reality.

She remembers that she had a missed call that she didn’t pick up because she was sleeping, and she was a deep sleeper. “I missed his last call-” she whispers, pain dripping heavy with each word she says. If words could contain tears, hers would be swimming in it, even if she somehow managed to keep her own at bay. Burying her head into Lambo’s shoulder, she tries so desperately to not break down completely.

There wasn’t even a voicemail for her to listen to.

“You’re still investigating, right?” She asks Hibari. “We are.”

“Tell me any updates when you get them. You all owe me this. I deserve to know.”

“That can be done.” With that, Hibari leaves through the window, intending to get back to investigating what happened over night and into the early morning hours. It should be easier to find information the sooner he gets back to investigating.

She looks at the others still in the room, “Please… just… leave us alone for now.” A bit unfair, seeing as this is Tsuna’s home, but Haru is willfully kicking him out of the room anyways. The young woman continues to comfort and console the crying teen until he exhausted himself to sleep.

It was only then when Haru allowed silent tears to fall from her face as she stares at the one missed call logged on her phone. “I’m so sorry, Hayato.”

My muse is dead. Tell me how yours is dealing with it. -accepting!