#and then the Feeling fades but they stayed friends

[leejenowrld]

after all this time?

word count — 8.2k

genre — smut, fluff 

synopsis — you run into jeno, your ex, at a college party. despite a tough breakup, the spark between you never faded. after a night of reconnecting and reigniting, you realize some feelings are too deep to ever truly go away.

warnings — explicit sexual content, explicit language and swearing, sexual themes, intense emotional scenes, reconciliations and reunions, don’t expect unnecessary and forced angst, this is a story of two emotionally mature and intelligent lovers, communication communication!!,  oral sex, unprotected sex (stay safe!!), intense smut scenes with themes of dominance and submission, scenes depicting emotional vulnerability and deep angst, themes of unhealed emotional wounds and confrontations, mentions of past relationship trauma and heartbreak, hea!! 

“After all this time, you still love me?” you whisper, your gaze intently searching his for confirmation.

He nods, his response quick and unwavering, infused with a depth of sincerity that leaves no room for doubt. “After all this time,” he affirms softly.

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The muffled thump of music grew louder as you and Yeji approached the house, the bass reverberating through the cool night air. It was your first night on campus, and the idea of starting over had already filled you with enough nervous energy to last a lifetime. Transferring halfway through your academic course wasn’t something you’d planned, but circumstances had changed, and now, so had you. 

Your arms were interlocked with Yeji’s, her presence steady and reassuring. You shot her a thankful smile, feeling a rush of gratitude wash over you. You hadn’t expected to make friends so quickly, especially on your first day, but Yeji had greeted you with a warmth that immediately put you at ease. Her bright, welcoming smile and easygoing attitude made the transition less daunting, and now, with her by your side, you felt like maybe—just maybe—things would be okay.

As you glanced around, the neighborhood was bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, the shadows of swaying trees flickering against the sidewalks. The crispness of the autumn night lingered in the air, a reminder that you were stepping into a new chapter of your life. A party wasn’t exactly how you’d imagined spending your first night, but Yeji had insisted. 

“You’ll get to know people this way,” she’d said, her voice light and encouraging. And now, despite your doubts, here you were, standing outside a house that seemed to pulse with life from within.

The house itself was large, the kind of place that screamed "party central" the moment you laid eyes on it. Soft, colorful lights spilled from the windows, casting a warm, inviting glow across the front yard. You could see silhouettes moving behind the windows, the faint murmur of laughter and conversation blending with the steady beat of the music. It looked like one of those classic college parties you’d only seen in movies—people standing in clusters, drinks in hand, and a general air of excitement buzzing through the night.

You adjusted the strap of your dress nervously, feeling the weight of the newness pressing down on your shoulders. A party had never really been your scene, especially not on the first night in an unfamiliar place, but something about this moment felt different. You weren’t the same person who avoided stepping out of her comfort zone. You were here now, and you wanted to make the most of it.

“Ready?” Yeji’s voice broke through your thoughts, her eyes shining with anticipation as she glanced over at you. Her energy was infectious, and you found yourself nodding, despite the tight knot of anxiety still sitting in your chest.

You took a deep breath, letting the sounds of the night fill your senses—the distant hum of cars passing, the rustle of leaves in the wind, the faint echo of laughter from the house. It was all part of this new world you were stepping into, and for the first time in a long time, you felt the stirrings of excitement mingling with your nerves.

“Let’s do this,” you said, your voice more confident than you felt.

As the two of you made your way toward the front door, you could feel the energy of the party radiating outward. The door opened, and a wave of warmth hit you, both from the inside heat and the buzz of life within. The soft glow of string lights hanging from the ceiling gave the place a laid-back, cozy atmosphere, contrasting with the thrumming music that vibrated through the walls.

Inside, the house was packed. People filled every available space—some lounging on couches, drinks in hand, others gathered in small groups, laughing and talking. The smell of something sweet and a little smoky hung in the air, and the chatter mixed with the pulse of the music, creating a kind of chaotic harmony. You scanned the room, taking it all in—the casual, carefree smiles of people you didn’t know yet, the flash of colorful cups clinking together, and the low, heady buzz of excitement that seemed to swirl through the crowd.

Yeji led you through the throng, her hand still hooked around your arm as she navigated the party with the ease of someone who’d done this a hundred times before. She moved with confidence, offering smiles and waves to people she knew as she guided you through the maze of bodies, all the while keeping a reassuring presence by your side.

You couldn’t help but feel a little out of place, like you were watching everything unfold from the outside. The laughter, the easy conversations, the way people moved around each other like they belonged—it all felt like a world you hadn’t quite stepped into yet. But being here, surrounded by this energy, made you want to dive in, to be part of it.

“This is it,” Yeji said, smiling as she pulled you to a stop near the kitchen, where a makeshift bar had been set up. Bottles of every kind of alcohol lined the counters, and a few people were mixing drinks with practiced ease. “What do you think?”

You glanced around, feeling the pulse of the party in your bones, the music reverberating through the floor beneath your feet. “It’s… a lot,” you admitted with a laugh, feeling the tension in your chest start to loosen just a little. “But it’s good.”

Yeji grinned, squeezing your arm. “That’s the spirit. Let’s grab a drink and have some fun.”

You nodded, taking another deep breath as you let yourself be pulled into the flow of the night. The unfamiliar faces, the hum of excitement, the newness of it all—it didn’t feel quite as overwhelming anymore. You were here, in this moment, and maybe, just maybe, it was exactly where you were meant to be.

“Who’s house party is this?” you ask, glancing around. The question lingers in the air for a moment as Yeji opens her mouth to answer, but before she can, you bump headfirst into someone’s chest, your momentum nearly knocking his drink out of his hand.

You stumble slightly, your hands flying up in reflex to steady yourself. His chest is firm—hard, even—and your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you take a step back, wide-eyed. You open your mouth to apologize, but the words get stuck in your throat when you look up.

At first, his expression is one of annoyance, his brow furrowed as he glances down at you. But then his eyes meet yours, and everything shifts. His features soften, and time seems to slow down, the noise of the party fading into the background as the two of you stare at each other, frozen in place. His gaze flickers over your face, taking in every detail, and you can see the moment recognition dawns in his eyes.

“Jeno,” you breathe, the name slipping from your lips effortlessly, almost as if your body had been waiting for this moment. You blink, half-convinced that this is some sort of dream—because how could it be real? How could he be here, after all this time?

Yeji starts to speak again, her voice cutting through the haze of disbelief. “Yeah, it’s his party—” She trails off when she notices the way you and Jeno are looking at each other, the sexual energy that seems to hang in the air between you two. It’s like the entire room has disappeared, and suddenly, it’s just the two of you standing there, unmoving, locked in a silent conversation only you can understand.

People around you begin to grumble, nudging and pushing past as you both stand still, blocking the hallway. Someone mutters something about moving, but you can’t bring yourself to care. All that matters is the person standing in front of you, the one you hadn’t expected to see, let alone here, in this place.

“Y/N.” His voice is deeper now, more grounded, and the sound of your name on his lips sends a shiver down your spine. It’s familiar, yet distant—like hearing a song you used to love, but haven’t listened to in years.

You swallow hard, taking him in, trying to make sense of how much he’s changed. The teenage boy you once knew has grown into a man, his features sharper, more mature. His jawline is strong and defined, the once soft angles of his face now chiseled. His hair, slightly tousled in a way that looks effortlessly perfect, falls into his eyes, which are darker and more intense than you remember. There’s a confidence in the way he holds himself now, his broad shoulders filling out the leather jacket that clings to him like a second skin. He’s beautiful, in the way that takes your breath away, but there’s something different about him too—something distant.

You can’t help but smile at him, though your heart hammers in your chest, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. Joy, disbelief, and something deeper—something painful. But that smile falters when you see the way he returns it: tight-lipped, almost forced. The smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and the realization stings, sending a pang of guilt through your chest.

You frown, the weight of your last interaction with him crashing down on you. All those years ago—the tears, the screaming, the painful goodbye. You can still feel the heartbreak in your bones, the ache that never fully went away. It’s all rushing back to you now, as if no time has passed at all.

He looks at you, and for a moment, it’s like he can see straight through you. Every memory, every feeling, every regret. You gulp, your heart heavy with the confusion of seeing him here, after all these years, in a place where you’d least expect to run into him.

You’re overthinking—your mind spiraling through everything that went wrong, how things ended between you two. The guilt gnaws at you, but at the same time, there’s a flicker of something else. A warmth, a quiet happiness in your chest that he’s here. Out of all the people, out of all the chances, it’s him. It’s confusing, overwhelming, and it makes your head spin.

Love was never simple. And seeing Jeno again, after all this time, only reminds you of how complicated it can really be.

“Come here,” Jeno says softly, his voice a gentle command that cuts through the haze of noise around you. His eyes search yours with an intensity that sends a warmth rushing through your chest, and when he notices the flicker of uncertainty in your expression, his gaze softens. He always did think your smile was the prettiest, and now he just wants to see it again.

You hesitate for only a second before moving toward him, a sigh of relief escaping your lips as you step into his embrace. Your heart races, your body thrumming with nervous energy, but being in his arms feels like a release—like slipping into something warm and familiar. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you close, his grip firm but gentle, as though he’s afraid to let go. The feel of him against you is intoxicating—solid, warm, his body radiating a heat that makes your skin tingle. The scent of him, that blend of fresh soap and something uniquely Jeno, envelops you, making you feel safe, grounded.

Your arms slide up around his shoulders, pulling him closer, your fingertips grazing the back of his neck. His skin is warm beneath your touch, and the sensation sends a shiver down your spine. You bury your face in his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the soft thrum of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. It’s as if time has slowed down, and for a moment, everything else fades away—the party, the noise, the crowd. It’s just you and him, wrapped in this moment, in each other.

But all too soon, he pulls back, and the loss of his warmth hits you like a cold wind. You blink up at him, confused, your heart still pounding in your chest. And that’s when you notice it—the stares, the whispers. People around you are watching, their eyes filled with curiosity, judgment, and something darker that makes your skin crawl. It’s only now, without Jeno shielding you, that you feel exposed, vulnerable, as if the entire room is dissecting the moment you just shared.

You gulp, trying to shake off the unease, but it lingers, gnawing at the edges of your mind. Why were they all staring? Why were there whispers? What had you done to deserve those mean eyes?

Before you can spiral further, Jeno’s hand reaches for your face, his fingers gently tilting your chin upward until your eyes meet his. The world seems to still again under the weight of his gaze. His eyes are soft, filled with understanding, and without a word, he tells you everything you need to know—focus on me, not them.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice low, sultry, yet threaded with that same kindness and softness you remember so well. His arms find their way back around your waist, pulling you close once more. The feel of him pressed against you again sends a wave of calm through your body, making you forget about all the eyes still watching.

You clear your throat, trying to gather your thoughts. “Oh, I made a new friend, and she brought me to this party. She kinda dragged me along, she’s over there—” you ramble, gesturing vaguely in Yeji’s direction.

“I meant… what are you doing here? In Seoul?” he cuts you off, his gaze steady as he searches your face for the real answer.

“Oh—” you stammer, blinking in surprise. “I transferred to this campus today.”

Jeno’s lips quirk into a small smile. “I’m a student here too.”

You nod, the realization slowly sinking in. “Did you end up doing engineering?” you ask, your voice soft, almost tentative. You fight the urge to reach up and run your fingers through his hair—it was always so soft, so tempting.

He nods, holding back a grin. “Yeah. And you?”

“Journalism,” you reply, your words barely above a whisper, your gaze never leaving his.

“I knew it,” he says, his smile widening as if he’s always known that was your path.

The air between you hums with something unspoken, something simmering just beneath the surface. You suddenly become aware that his arms are still around your waist, holding you close, and the weight of his touch makes your pulse quicken. His body is pressed against yours, so close that you can feel the heat of him radiating through your clothes. Without hesitation, you slide your arms up around his shoulders, pulling him even closer.

Jeno hums softly, the sound vibrating through his chest as he looks down at you. His eyes are darker now, filled with something you can’t quite place. His hands move slowly, trailing up and down your spine, the light touch sending shivers across your skin. He never lets his hands go lower, even though part of you wishes he would.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his voice low and intimate, his gaze never wavering from yours. The words hang in the air between you, thick with meaning, and you can feel your heart stutter in response.

You don’t trust your voice to respond, so you just smile up at him, the warmth of his words seeping into your skin, making you feel seen, understood, and undeniably desired.

You swallow, the heat between you nearly overwhelming, and before you can stop yourself, the words slip from your lips. “Do you wanna go somewhere more private?” Your voice is a little shaky, but the meaning is clear. “We have a lot to catch up on, and this party is kinda dead, anyway.”

Jeno’s eyes widen slightly, and then he chuckles, a deep, throaty sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “This is my party,” he reminds you, his lips quirking into a teasing smile.

“Oh,” you mumble, feeling a little sheepish. “Right…”

You feel your cheeks warm under his gaze, and you mumble, “Well, you haven’t been partying.”

He shakes his head with a soft laugh, then leans down, his voice barely a whisper. “Come with me.”

He pulls back just enough to slip his hand into yours, the warmth of his touch grounding you. The second his arms leave your waist, you feel the absence of his presence, but then his hand squeezes yours, and he gently pulls you through the crowd, guiding you with purpose. The whispers and stares fade into the background as you follow him, your heart pounding in anticipation.

Jeno leads you down a hallway, away from the thrum of the party, and finally into his room. It’s a simple space, neat but lived-in. A TV is mounted  against the wall next to a desk cluttered with papers and books, and his bed is neatly made, the navy blue sheets crisp against the low lighting. The room smells faintly of him—clean, comforting, with a hint of something warm and masculine. He lets you step in first, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

As soon as the door clicks shut, you’re on him, and he’s on you—there’s no hesitation, no space left between you. Your lips collide with his in a heated, desperate kiss, as if neither of you can wait a second longer. His hands are all over you, gripping your waist with a hunger that makes your knees weak, pulling you so close you can barely breathe, not that you care.

You can feel his need, the urgency in the way his fingers dig into your skin, in the way his lips devour yours like he’s been starving for this moment. Your hands are tangled in his shirt, yanking him closer, matching his intensity. Tongues meet in a fevered rhythm, gasps escaping between kisses, the room thick with the heat building between you.

Without thinking, you jump into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist as he steadies you with a low grunt, his strength evident in the way he holds you so effortlessly. He fumbles for the light switch, turning it off, and the room is instantly bathed in the soft, flickering glow of candles—ones he had lit earlier. The dim light casts shadows across the room, making the moment feel even more intimate, more romantic.

With one hand, he locks the door behind you then with a gentleness that contrasts with the fire burning between you, he carries you over to the bed, lowering you carefully onto the soft sheets. His gaze never leaves yours, full of so much longing and adoration it makes your breath catch. For a moment, he just stares down at you, as though memorizing every detail, every inch of you.

Then he’s on you again, pulling you into his lap, his hands roaming your back as your lips crash together once more. This time it’s even more desperate, the tension between you palpable as soft moans escape both your lips, mingling in the heated air. His hands move up your spine, gently tugging at your clothes, and you respond in kind, your fingers working to undo his shirt, your skin buzzing with anticipation.

You grind down against him, feeling how hard he already is beneath you, and he groans, his grip tightening on your waist. The heat between you is overwhelming, the connection almost too much to bear, but in the back of your mind, something lingers—something you need to say.

You pull back, your lips parting from his with a soft gasp, and he groans again, clearly frustrated by the sudden distance. His brow furrows as his chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, his desire for you unmistakable. “We can have sex after…” you whisper, your voice soft but insistent as you press a gentle kiss to his forehead, hoping he understands. “I just want to talk to you now.”

He exhales, the tension in his body easing slightly as he nods, offering you a patient, if slightly strained, smile. He hums softly, his hand still resting gently on your waist, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he nods, silently encouraging you to go ahead and speak.

“I’m sorry,” you begin, the words barely above a whisper, but the heaviness of them palpable in the quiet room.

He watches you closely, his eyes never leaving yours, his expression soft but serious. The warmth of his body next to yours is comforting, yet the guilt gnaws at you from the inside out.

“I’m sorry for leaving the way I did... leaving us the way I did,” you continue, your voice catching. “I’m so fucking sorry, Jeno. I know it’s too many years too late, but please believe me when I say I wish I could go back. I wish I could’ve stayed with you all these years. I’d go back, and I’d choose you—every single time.”

You try to hold it together, but when you see a single tear escape from his eye, your own walls crumble. The tears spill over, unbidden and uncontrollable. Your hands tremble as you reach up to cup his face, your thumb gently brushing away the tear that trails down his cheek.

“I love you so much,” you choke out. “I always have, and I always will. I’ve never stopped loving you, Jeno. The biggest mistake of my life was leaving you, and that will always haunt me. I’ll always regret it. I’ll always hate myself for what I did to us, to you.”

His lips part slightly, as if he wants to say something, but you continue, needing to let it all out, needing him to understand.

“I didn’t want to leave you. It was the hardest decision of my life and one I wish I never made. Japan wasn’t worth it... I hated every second. I missed you every single day. I didn’t even realize how much I missed you, how much I needed you, until today.”

The vulnerability of your words hangs in the air between you, raw and exposed. The years of separation suddenly feel like nothing as you bare your soul to him. Jeno had always been the one you could unravel yourself for, the one who knew every emotion, every thought, even when you tried to hide it. It was strange to realize that after all this time—after all the changes life had thrown at you—your feelings for him were unchanged, as deep and intense as ever.

He sends you a tight-lipped smile, one of understanding, and gently wipes away your tears with the pad of his thumb before leaning in and kissing your forehead softly, the tenderness of the gesture almost breaking you all over again.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, his voice low and calm. “You don’t need to apologize to me. At the time, I was hurt, but I knew you had your reasons. We were so young. I never held anything against you all these years. I’ve always been proud of you. No one deserved that opportunity in Japan more than you. I’m sorry it didn’t turn out the way you wanted. But Y/N, it’s been so long, I don’t feel the same pain as I did when you left. I accept your apology though.”

A sigh of relief escapes your lips, a heavy weight lifting from your chest, though the tears still threaten to spill over. “You were always so understanding and supportive,” you murmur, your voice thick with emotion.

He smiles, that familiar, kind smile that always made you feel safe. “It’s not hard to be when it’s you.”

You exhale shakily, still reeling from the intensity of the moment. “I’ve been imagining this for years, you know. Finding my way back to you, having this conversation, figuring out what I’d say to make things right. I’ve never forgotten you, Jeno. Not once. I didn’t think I’d see you tonight... but it feels good, it feels like nothing changed, even though I know everything has.”

His eyes soften as he listens, his hand still resting on your cheek, grounding you in the moment. But there’s a question hanging in the air, one that you know he has to ask.

“Why didn’t you contact me again?” he finally says, his voice gentle, not accusatory, but filled with genuine curiosity. “You had me blocked on everything. I tried to reach out, but I couldn’t.”

You lower your gaze, shame creeping up on you, and you bite your lip. “I didn’t have you blocked at first,” you admit quietly. “But after how I left things, after that massive fight we had... I didn’t think I deserved to be in your life anymore. I felt so guilty, Jeno. I didn’t think I deserved you, so I blocked you to stop myself from calling, from telling you how much I regretted it.”

He nods slowly, processing your words. “So why now? Why did you change your mind?”

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “Time has gone on, and a lot has changed. I’ve grown up, and I’m not losing you again.”

A slow grin spreads across his face, softening the lines of tension that had been there moments before. “So you always imagined coming back to me?” he repeats, echoing your earlier words with a teasing glint in his eyes.

You smile through the tears that still linger in your eyes. “I always knew I’d find my way back to you.”

Jeno's grin widens, and without warning his lips capture yours again, but this time there’s a deliberate, slower intensity behind the kiss. His hands glide up to cradle your face, fingers strong yet gentle, as he guides you back onto the bed. His weight presses softly against you, but his touch remains light, controlled, like he’s savoring every second.

He leans down, his lips tracing a path over your skin, brushing across your forehead, your cheekbones, down to your jaw. Each kiss is unhurried, but there’s a quiet hunger in the way his lips linger, in the way his breath comes hot against your skin. He knows how to take his time, but there’s an underlying sense of control, a restraint that makes every touch more electric.

His hands move lower, fingertips grazing over your hips, sending shivers through you. His lips follow, trailing from your neck, down over your collarbone. His touch is confident, exploring your body with a slow, deliberate pace, like he’s memorizing every inch. There’s a heat between you, building with each press of his lips, each pass of his hand, as he continues his slow descent.

He gazes at you with a hunger that sends a shiver down your spine, his eyes dark and filled with desire. Gently, he guides you onto the soft sheets, his hands never leaving your body. As he kneels between your thighs, his fingertips trail lightly along your skin, igniting sparks wherever he touches. The anticipation builds as he lowers himself, his warm breath ghosting over your most sensitive areas.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he murmurs, his voice husky. He places tender kisses along your inner thighs, each one drawing a soft gasp from your lips. His eyes flick up to meet yours, a mischievous glint dancing within them before he continues his journey.

When his mouth finally reaches your core, he starts with a gentle, lingering kiss, his lips soft against you. A sigh escapes you, and your fingers instinctively weave into his hair, the silky strands slipping between your fingers as you hold him close. He smiles against you, clearly enjoying the way you respond to his touch.

He begins to explore with his tongue, starting with slow, deliberate strokes that make your breath hitch. He licks a teasing line from bottom to top, savoring every moment. The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body. He nips lightly, his teeth grazing just enough to add an edge to the softness, then soothes the spot with his tongue.

“Jeno,” you moan softly, your voice trembling. He responds by gripping your hips firmly, pulling you closer to his eager mouth. His movements become more passionate, his tongue circling and flicking in a rhythm that matches the pounding of your heart. The heat between you intensifies, every nerve ending alive under his attentive care.

He sucks gently at first, creating a delicious pressure that builds with each passing second. Then he increases the intensity, drawing you deeper into a haze of sensation. The wet warmth of his mouth contrasts with the cool air of the room, heightening your awareness of every movement.

Your back arches off the bed as you feel yourself losing control. You tug at his hair, a silent plea for more, and he groans appreciatively, the sound vibrating against you and adding another layer of pleasure. His name falls from your lips like a mantra, each syllable filled with need.

He adjusts his approach based on the shifts in your breathing, the tilts of your hips guiding him. One hand remains firmly on your lower abdomen, pressing just enough to enhance the sensations rippling through you while he releases his other hand from your hip to entwine his fingers with yours, his grip is reassuring yet possessive. Holding your gaze, he spits softly, the unexpected act intensifying the slickness and sending a thrill through you. “You taste so good,” he whispers against you before diving back in with renewed fervor.

His tongue moves expertly, finding the perfect rhythm and pressure to push you toward the edge. The combination of his mouth and the subtle squeeze of his hand around yours creates a connection that feels both electric and intimate. The sounds filling the room—the soft slurping, his occasional groans, your escalating moans—blend into a symphony of raw desire.

The tension within you coils tighter, a wave of heat building low in your belly. “Please… don’t stop,” you whisper, barely able to form the words. He answers by doubling his efforts, his tongue moving faster, more deliberately. He nips and sucks with just the right amount of pressure, his movements confident and unrelenting.

Your thighs tremble around him, and your grip on his hair tightens. The world narrows to the point where only this moment exists—the feel of his mouth, the warmth of his breath, the intense gaze that holds you captive.

With one final, perfectly placed stroke, the wave crests. Pleasure crashes over you in powerful surges, your body shuddering as you cry out his name. He doesn’t let up, guiding you through the climax with gentle licks and kisses, prolonging the bliss until you’re left utterly spent.

As you sink back into the softness of the pillows, your breathing is heavy, your body still trembling from the waves of pleasure. Jeno doesn’t pause; he continues his gentle ministrations, planting soft, deliberate kisses up your inner thigh. Each kiss sends a shiver up your spine, a lingering promise of more to come. When he finally meets your lips, the kiss is deep and deliberate, letting you taste your own arousal on him, mingling it with his desire.

A soft whine escapes you as you feel the hard press of his erection against you. It’s not just the contact but the intent behind it that makes your heart race—a palpable reminder of your shared hunger. You reach down, your fingers encircling his length, and the contact pulls a guttural moan from deep within you. He’s slick with anticipation, his size as formidable as ever. As your hand glides along him, you’re reminded of the first times—those initial encounters where his size was an exhilarating challenge. The memory of how he filled you completely, stretching you deliciously, flashes through your mind. Even the way he felt in your mouth, substantial and overwhelming, rushes back, tinting your cheeks with desire.

Jeno’s eyes darken with desire, locked onto your movements. His breath hitches as you explore, recalling the precise ways to stoke his arousal. As your hand moves, he suddenly grips it gently, stopping your motions. “Don’t baby, I won’t last,” he murmurs with a strained moan, his voice thick with lust. This interruption, laden with urgent need, sends a thrill through you, underscoring the intensity of the moment and the deep, carnal connection that continues to draw you irresistibly together.

He groans softly, his breath warm against your ear. “Do you have a condom?” Jeno asks, his voice tinged with a mix of urgency and desire.

You shake your head, feeling a flutter of nerves and longing swirling in your stomach. The dim light casts a soft glow over his familiar features, highlighting the depth in his eyes. “Jeno… I’m literally a virgin,” you whisper, your cheeks flushing slightly.

His brows raise, a playful disbelief dancing across his face. “No, you’re not. I took your virginity. Are you saying I never used fuck you good enough?”

You smile softly, running your fingers through his tousled hair, the silky strands slipping between your fingers. The familiar gesture brings a rush of memories—stolen glances, shared laughter, the way his touch used to set your skin on fire. “No, I’m saying you were the last person I had sex with,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s been a long time for me, so I don’t just carry around condoms.”

He blinks, surprise and a flicker of emotion crossing his gaze. “The last time we had sex was five years ago,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your hip. “I know we used to have a lot of sex but that’s a long time.” He whispers. 

“It’s been six years,” you correct him softly. “I’ve not even wanted to fuck anyone else, I was never able to get over you even if I tried to move on.” 

He leans back slightly, eyes widening as realization dawns. “Wait, seriously?” His gaze softens, a mixture of surprise and something deeper reflecting in his eyes. “It’s only ever been me?”

You nod, a hint of vulnerability beneath your steady gaze. “Yes,” you admit quietly. “It’s always been you.” 

A slow, affectionate smile spreads across his face. “Well, that’s good to know,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your cheek. “Because I don’t want anyone else.”

He gazes deeply into your eyes, his breath warm against your lips. “Are you on the pill?” he asks softly, his voice tinged with a mix of desire and concern.

You shake your head slowly, feeling a potent mix of frustration and longing swirling within you. The heat between your bodies is almost unbearable, every inch of your skin alive with anticipation. “I want you,” you whisper, your voice barely more than a breath. “I want you to come inside me. Just fuck me, please.”

His eyes widen slightly, a storm of emotions flickering across his face—desire, hesitation, and something deeper. “Y/N… are you sure?” he asks, his tone serious as he cups your face gently in his hands. His thumbs brush lightly over your cheeks, his gaze searching yours for any sign of doubt.

“Yes,” you affirm, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure he can hear it. “I need you. I’ll take the morning-after pill.”

He exhales slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing as a slow smile spreads across his lips. “Alright,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “I need you too.”

As he enters you, it's as if the world narrows to just the two of you, every sensation amplified. The initial stretch is intense—a blend of sharp pleasure and a fleeting ache that steals your breath. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you adjust to him, the fullness both overwhelming and profoundly intimate. Tears well up in your eyes, not from pain, but from the cascade of emotions flooding through you. You never anticipated that this night would lead you here, wrapped in the arms of the man you've always loved. It feels right, destined—as if every moment in your lives had been guiding you back to this point.

"You're so tight," he whispers, his voice strained with a mix of restraint and desire. He moves slowly, each deliberate thrust gentle, allowing you time to acclimate to the depth of connection between you. His eyes never leave yours, filled with concern and an affection that makes your heart swell.

You blink up at him through blurred vision, feeling both vulnerable and cherished under his gaze. "So you forgive me? Do you still love me?" you ask softly, your voice tinged with hope and uncertainty.

His lips brush tenderly across your cheeks, kissing away the tears that have escaped. Each touch ignites a warm spark beneath your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "I never stopped loving you," he murmurs, his words a soothing balm that eases the lingering doubts in your heart. The sincerity in his eyes reflects the depth of his feelings, making the moment all the more poignant.

As his movements begin to find a steady rhythm, the heat between you intensifies. The slow, sensual glide of his body against yours builds a mounting tension, each motion drawing you deeper into a shared world where only the two of you exist. Your fingers intertwine above your head, his grip firm yet gentle, as if he's anchoring himself to you. The intimacy of the gesture sends a flutter through your chest, solidifying the unspoken promises hanging in the air.

"Wait," you breathe out between soft gasps, “Can we go to mine? The bed isn't as big but I want to show you some things.” 

He lets out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating pleasantly against your skin. "Baby... I'm literally inside of you right now," he teases, disbelief and amusement mingling in his expression.

A laugh bubbles up from your lips, mingling with the quiet moans filling the room. "I know you are! I just meant after." you exclaim, a smile spreading across your face as a blush warms your cheeks.

“Wowww, I haven’t even finished fucking you in my bed and you’re already wanting me to fuck you in yours? So impatient, baby…” he tuts playfully, a teasing smirk dancing on his lips.

You pout, a playful glint in your eyes. “I just want to show you my room and the cute dresses and skirts I got.”

He coos softly, leaning in to press his lips against yours, the kiss warm and tender. He promises you that he’ll go to your place tonight and that you can show him everything you want, and that you’ll do whatever you have in mind.

His affectionate shake of the head softens his expression, a mix of amusement and adoration shining through. “You haven’t changed… still the yapper you always were.”

“Hey!” you protest lightly, squeezing his hand with a mock glare, though the laughter bubbling between you both erases any tension. The moment feels light, full of shared history and comfort, wrapping you in a warmth that feels both familiar and cherished.

His lips move to yours once again as he begins to move with purpose inside of you, each thrust deliberate and steady, sending waves of pleasure rippling through you. The sensation of him filling you completely is both overwhelming and exquisite. Your bodies fit together seamlessly, as if molded for each other. His cock feels thick and warm inside you, the veins pulsing against your inner walls with every movement. The slickness between you eases his glide, intensifying the friction that draws soft moans from your parted lips.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper. The angle shifts slightly, and he hits a spot that makes you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders. "God, you feel incredible," he groans, his voice strained with restraint. A sheen of sweat forms on his brow, and his dark hair falls messily over his eyes. You reach up to brush it aside, your fingers trembling as they trace the contours of his face.

"Jeno," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of skin meeting skin—the rhythmic slap that echoes in the room, punctuated by your shared breaths and quiet whimpers. The scent of desire hangs heavy in the air, a heady mix that makes your head spin.

He gazes down at you, eyes filled with a mix of lust and tenderness. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, leaning in to press kisses along your jawline, down the curve of your neck. His lips are warm and soft, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You arch your back, pressing your chest against his. The friction of your bodies sends sparks of electricity coursing through you. Your hands roam over his toned back, feeling the muscles tense and flex beneath your touch. Each thrust drives him deeper, the intensity building with every passing second.

The pleasure mounts, a coil tightening low in your belly. His pace quickens, hips snapping with a newfound urgency. The sounds of your passion grow louder—his low grunts mingling with your breathy moans. "I can't get enough of you," he growls, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your shoulder.

"Don't stop," you plead, your head thrown back as he hits that perfect spot again and again. The world blurs at the edges, your focus narrowing to the exquisite sensations he's drawing from you. You moan softly, your head tilting back as he kisses along the sensitive curve of your neck. “Right there,” you breathe, your voice barely more than a sigh.

“Like this?” he asks, his lips brushing against your ear. His tone carries a hint of teasing, but his eyes are filled with tenderness.

“Yes,” you reply, your fingers digging gently into his back as you encourage him to maintain the rhythm.

His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining as he brings them above your head. The gesture is both protective and possessive, anchoring you to him. The intimacy of it sends a warm rush through your body.

“Look at me,” he whispers. You meet his gaze, losing yourself in the depths of his eyes. The connection between you transcends the physical; it’s as if your souls are touching.

He captures your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure. His tongue dances with yours, the taste of him intoxicating. Your lungs burn for air, but you don't dare pull away, not wanting to break the connection.

Your bodies move in perfect harmony. The bed creaks beneath you, the sheets tangled around your entwined limbs. A thin layer of sweat slicks your skin, making every touch slippery and electrifying.

"I'm close," you gasp against his lips, your nails digging crescents into his back. The tension inside you winds tighter, threatening to snap.

"Me too," he groans, his rhythm becoming erratic. His hand finds yours, fingers interlacing as he pins it gently above your head. The gesture is possessive yet tender, grounding you in the moment.

You whine softly, tears welling in your eyes as you instinctively cover your face, overwhelmed by the pleasure. Each moan that escapes your lips is a testament to the intensity building within you. “Look at me,” he urges again, his gaze searching yours with a dark intensity that sends a fresh wave of heat coursing through your body. When you don’t move your hands, he gently pries them away, his voice low and sultry as he warns, “If you cover your face again, I’ll get handcuffs.” The threat hangs in the air, electrifying the moment and deepening the tension between you.

Your eyes meet his, locking in a gaze so profound it feels as though he’s seeing into your very soul. The stern edge in his expression softens abruptly, replaced by a tenderness that takes your breath away. His movements slow, each thrust becoming deliberate and filled with meaning.

“I love you so much,” he breathes, his voice rough with passion yet laced with vulnerability.

Your heart swells, the raw emotion in his eyes mirroring your own feelings. “I love you more,” you manage to reply, the words tumbling out amidst your mounting ecstasy.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a deep, soulful kiss. The world around you fades as you melt into him, every sensation intensified—the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the rhythmic pulse of his heartbeat, the way his breath mingles with yours.

With a final, deep thrust, the coil inside you releases. Pleasure crashes over you in waves, your vision white-hot as you cry out his name. Your inner walls flutter and clench around him, pulling him deeper.

Feeling you come undone pushes him over the edge. He groans loudly, his grip on your hand tightening as he spills into you. The warmth of his release fills you, a intimate claim that leaves you both trembling.

He collapses gently onto you, careful not to crush you under his weight. His face nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his breaths hot and ragged against your skin. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart matching your own.

For a few moments, neither of you moves, both riding out the lingering pulses of pleasure. The room is filled with the sounds of your slowing breaths, the air heavy with the scent of sex and something deeper—reconnection.

He lifts his head to meet your gaze, a soft smile curving his swollen lips. His eyes shine with a mix of satisfaction and tenderness. Gently, he brushes a damp strand of hair away from your face.

He moves inside you with a relentless rhythm, drawing out until only the tip remains, then thrusting back in deeply. As he pulls out, the slick sound of your combined arousal fills the air, and the visual of his glistening arousal intensifies the raw, erotic nature of the moment. Your eyes flutter, heavy with the afterglow and impending exhaustion, but he’s quick to gently catch your attention.

“Don’t sleep now, remember you have to show me your apartment,” he says, his voice a tender nudge against the lure of sleep. You nod, half-heartedly, your body sinking deeper into the comfort of his bed and his arms, your eyes remaining firmly shut.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Sex always did use to knock you out,” he observes with a warm laugh. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” he whispers, his hands coaxing you gently off the bed despite your protesting groan. He leads you into the bathroom where he runs a nice, warm bath. The steam fills the room as he carefully helps you into the tub, his care and attention washing over you as soothingly as the water itself.

That night, as effortlessly as slipping into a warm bath, he became your boyfriend again. It didn’t feel rushed or unnatural; rather, it was the most natural progression in the world. It was as if fate had steered you back to this exact moment, unwilling to let you waste more precious time apart. Despite the years, the foundation of your relationship remained unshaken; tonight, you simply continued building upon it, marveling at how natural it felt to be together, how much you both had grown.

Later, nestled against him, the vulnerability of your conversation mirrors the intimacy you’ve shared physically. “I still don’t understand why you forgave me so easily though,” you murmur, half-dazed by sleep and contentment.

Jeno’s response is tinged with the wisdom gained from years of reflection, “I was mad at first but then I calmed down. Being angry wouldn’t help either of us. Besides,” his voice softens, “there’s a reason you’re back here with me now. No point in wasting any more time.”

Your mind spins briefly with the image of him with someone else, but his next words reassure you, “You’ve been the only one for me. I never stopped loving you.”

You laugh, a soft, disbelieving snort, “And to think you’ve been the only man I’ve ever been with.”

He grins, the sound of his laughter mixing with yours in the quiet of the night. “And the only guy you’ve had sex with… I still can’t believe it.”

Your voice is playful, yet curious, “So how many girls have you been with other than me?”

Jeno's response is nonchalant, a casual shrug catching the dim light of the room, “Honestly, I don’t keep count.” His tone is dismissive of the past, focusing only on the present moment with you.

“Hey,” you interject gently, shifting the conversation as your eyes soften and your voice drops to a more vulnerable tone, which he immediately responds to with a comforting hum and an encouraging smile.

“After all this time, you still love me?” you whisper, your gaze intently searching his for confirmation. Despite the clear affection and warmth in his eyes—a testament to his feelings—doubt whispers through your mind, pushing you to seek reassurance.

He nods, his response quick and unwavering, infused with a depth of sincerity that leaves no room for doubt. “After all this time,” he affirms softly, his voice a steady anchor in the sea of your insecurities. His simple affirmation, laden with years of unspoken emotion and a steadfast commitment, resonates deeply, offering you a profound sense of peace and belonging. His eyes hold yours, reinforcing his words, a silent vow that despite everything, his heart has remained irrevocably yours.

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authors note — i know i’ve been really inactive, this work doubles as a sorry and a thank you for an amazing follower milestone i’ve just reached <3 mwah mwah enjoy. make sure you leave an interaction if you enjoyed it xx

[verstappenverse]

What We Never Said

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: Max Verstappen, your best friend, has always been a constant in your life. But when jealousy surfaces over a recent date, it stirs emotions he hadn’t quite confronted. Is there more between you two than just friendship?

1.9k words / Masterlist

Max had always been good at keeping his cool. On the track where everything is measured in tenths of a second and a moment’s hesitation can cost everything, keeping a level head was what set him apart from the others. But lately away from the track something had been gnawing at him, disrupting his usually unshakeable focus.

It wasn’t new this feeling it had been there for a long time, simmering quietly beneath the surface. Max knew that. He was painfully aware of it in every shared glance, every late-night conversation, and in the way your laugh could instantly pull him out of his darkest moods. For years you’d both kept things easy, uncomplicated, two best friends never crossing the invisible line that tethered you close but never too close.

At least that’s how it was supposed to be.

It wasn’t until a few nights ago when he overheard a casual comment at a party that Max realised how fragile that balance really was.

“I didn’t know you’d gone on a date,” your friend had said her voice light and teasing.

Max wasn’t eavesdropping intentionally he had been halfway through a conversation with another driver when the words hit him like a punch to the gut. He barely registered what was being said to him after that. His attention had been locked on you, watching the subtle shift in your posture as you casually replied.

“Yeah,” you said, like it was nothing. “We went for dinner and drinks, it was really nice...he was nice.”

Max’s hand had tightened around his drink. Nice. The word grated against Max’s nerves. The conversation around him faded into white noise as his mind fixated on what you hadn’t said, on what you’d kept from him. A date? You’d gone on a date? Since when did you go on dates without mentioning it to him? It felt like the ground beneath him had shifted, like something fundamental had changed, though he couldn’t quite explain why.

For the rest of the evening Max stayed quiet his usual easy-going demeanour replaced by something darker, something more brooding. You didn’t seem to notice or if you did, you didn’t bring it up. But every time he looked at you all he could think about was someone else sitting across from you, someone else making you laugh, someone else getting to know the parts of you that Max had always believed were his to cherish.

-------------------

He thought about it more than he should have over the following days, a slow burn of frustration and confusion twisting in his chest. It wasn’t that he had a claim over you but there had always been something unspoken between the two of you, and hearing about you with someone else, someone who wasn’t him, made it feel like everything was slipping through his fingers.

Max found himself at your door days later, heart racing in a way that had nothing to do with the adrenaline of racing. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say only that the unresolved tension between you needed addressing.

The door opened and there you were, smiling like always, the kind that usually made his stomach flip, but today it only made him more tense. “Hey you,” you greeted stepping aside to let him in.

He walked in without hesitation, but his usual ease was nowhere to be found. He hadn’t been able to shake the image of you with someone else. Max had tried to push it down, to convince himself that it was none of his business. You were your own person, free to do whatever – or whomever – you wanted. But the truth was, it did bother him. A lot more than he cared to admit.

He dropped onto your couch more tense than he’d been in weeks. You sat down next to him, your brow furrowing as you picked up on his mood. Max was many things, but unreadable was not one of them. He wore his emotions on his sleeve and right now you could sense the storm brewing behind his usually calm exterior. His jaw was clenched, and you could see the tension radiating off of him in waves.

“What’s up with you?” you asked, tone light but probing. “You seem… off.”

He wanted to shrug it off, say it was nothing, but the words wouldn’t come. He couldn’t pretend anymore, not with you.

Instead he turned toward you, his blue eyes sharp “Why didn’t you tell me you went on a date?”

Your expression shifted subtly, surprise, then confusion trying to place his tone, “I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

A beat of silence passed, Max could hear the faint hum of the city outside your apartment window, but inside, the air felt thick weighted with something unsaid.

“I overheard you the other night,” he continued, his voice rougher than he intended.

You blinked, processing his words. “You overheard?”

Max nodded, watching you closely waiting for some kind of explanation that would ease the knot in his chest. But you just sat there, not defensive, not guilty, just calm.

You hadn’t kept it from him on purpose. In fact you didn’t even think it was that big of a deal. The date had been fine, nice, but nothing extraordinary, certainly not enough to warrant telling Max about it right away.

“It wasn’t anything serious,” you said after a long pause. “Just dinner. I didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”

Max exhaled sharply running a hand through his hair. “And if it had been serious?”

Now you were even more confused. Your eyes met his then, a flicker of something passed between you. “Why does it matter?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? Why did it matter? He wasn’t your boyfriend. Hell, he wasn’t even sure what he was anymore, except confused. Maybe a little scared. The kind of fear that sinks deep, the kind that makes you realise you’ve been taking something for granted.

“Because it does,” he muttered quietly, his voice tight.

You leaned back slightly, studying him. There was something different about the way you looked at him now, more attuned to whatever was hanging between you. You’d always known that Max was protective of you, but this? This was something else entirely.

“You’ve never cared before,” you said, your voice quieter now, like you were piecing together a puzzle neither of you had fully acknowledged.

Max hesitated then sighed. “Maybe I should’ve.”

The words were out before he could stop them, and they hung in the air, heavier than anything he’d ever admitted to you before.

You didn’t respond right away. The silence stretched, uncomfortable in a way that it never had been between the two of you. And then, after what felt like an eternity you leaned forward resting your elbows on your knees hands clasped in front of you.

“Is that what this is all about? Me going on a date and not telling you?” You paused, your eyes searching his face,“Or is it something else?”

He didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. Because of course it was something else. It had always been something else. He just hadn’t let himself admit it not until now, not until the idea of you with someone else had thrown everything into sharp, painful focus, and maybe that wasn't fair but he didn't know how he could go back now.

Max stood, pacing the length of your living room his mind racing. “I don’t know,” he finally muttered, though it was a lie. He did know. He just wasn’t sure how to say it, cross the line you’d both been skirting around, to take years of friendship and lay it bare without ruining everything.

“Max,” you said softly, your voice pulling him out of his thoughts. “Look at me.” You needed to hear him say it. You needed to know if what you felt for him was mutual or if you were reading too much into this.

He stopped pacing but didn’t turn around right away. His fists clenched at his sides, and for the first time in a long time, Max felt completely out of control. It wasn’t like driving where every move was calculated, where he could read the car, the track, the competition with precision. This was messier, rawer, and there was no strategy for it.

Finally, he turned to face you his blue eyes meeting yours. There was no running from it anymore, no pretending that what he felt for you was anything less than what it really was.

“I didn’t like it,” he said quietly, the admission catching in his throat. “Hearing you talk about him… I hated it.”

You didn’t look away but your eyes softened, your expression still guarded.

“Why?” you asked, though your tone told him you already knew the answer.

Max let out a shaky breath. “Because… I’ve always wanted it to be me.”

The confession hung in the air, and for the first time with you Max felt truly exposed, vulnerable. The invisible line between you two, the one he’d always danced around, was gone.

All the emotions you’d been burying for so long, all the feelings you’d tried to convince yourself weren’t there, came rushing to the surface.

You walked toward him slowly, and for a moment, Max wasn’t sure what you were going to say, but when you reached him you didn’t say anything. Instead you just looked at him, really looked at him, like you were seeing him in a way you hadn’t before.

“I’ve always wanted it to be you, too,” you whispered, the words so soft he almost missed them.

“I didn’t want to ruin things between us,” Max continued, “I didn’t want to lose you. But hearing about you with someone else… it made me realise that maybe I’ve already lost you and I didn’t even know it.”

You took a step closer to him your heart pounding in your chest. “You haven’t lost me."

His heart clenched, and before he could stop himself, he reached out, gently cupping your face with his hand. Your skin was warm beneath his palm and for the first time in days the tension in his chest eased slightly.

You didn’t pull away, you stepped closer eyes never leaving his. It was as if all the years of unspoken tension between you had finally come to a head, and neither of you could ignore it anymore.

He leaned in, slowly, cautiously, giving you every chance to pull away. But you didn’t. And when his lips finally met yours it was like everything he hadn’t been able to say, everything he’d been holding back for years, poured into that kiss.

It wasn’t hurried or desperate. It was slow, deliberate, a moment stretched out between two people who had spent too long pretending they didn’t want this. Max’s arms wrapped around you as the kiss deepened, but still, there was a softness to it a tenderness that spoke of the years of friendship, of trust.

When the kiss broke, you both stood there inches apart breathing in the moment. Max's hand lingered on your cheek his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

“You know,” you whispered, smiling against his lips teasing, “this is probably something you should’ve told me ages ago.”

Max let out a soft laugh, his forehead resting against yours. “Yeah, well” he said, his voice low and teasing back, “I guess this means I can stop pretending I’m okay with you dating other people now," you laughed softly as he smirked "but I wasn’t too worried, everything’s about timing isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you murmured, your lips brushing his. “I guess you got it right.”

"Finally," he whispered with a grin, before pulling you into another kiss.

[akaakeis]

us without me — hinata s.

synopsis :: it's been 4 months since you and shoyo broke up. of course, being the kind person that he is, you ended up still being friends. it just doesn't feel right, having this kind of relationship with him now. his new significant other? that should be you.

wc :: 1.5k

hinata shoyo x gn!reader(?) (2nd person)

cw//notes :: yeah idk if this counts as x reader cause spoiler yall do NOT get together... anyway,, this is my first solid angst fic be kind please and thank u,, angst angst angst,, crying,, occasional cursing,, based off of us without me by grentperez

"hey..." the voice fades out, "... good?" the voice tunes its way in and out of your hearing.

"...hey, you're zoning out, are you okay?"

tears are welled up in your eyes as you snap your head upwards to see two concerned faces looking back at you. shoyo's bright eyes are narrowed as his brows furrow at you. he's worried. the face next to his mirrors his own, looking at you with concern.

"you look out of it. do you wanna use the restroom?" they ask, looking at you tentatively. your eyes drift downwards to their hand, which rests intertwined with shoyo's on the table. right. they're with him now. you offer a hesitant nod, pushing your chair away from the dining table and standing up.

shoyo watches as you and his partner walk off to the restroom. he doesn't know what's going on, and frankly, he's not sure he would fully get it if it was explained to him. in his mind, it had already been 4 months; surely that meant you were completely over him. he doesn't have anything but kindness and platonic love for you— it just wasn't working out, the japan and brazil thing. it was hard to make the time difference work. and the distance.

meanwhile, in the restroom, you start crying. shoyo's partner— hell, you can't even remember their name— panics as you start to cry, frantically trying to comfort you. in frustration, you let out a huff.

"look, i'm fine. you don't need to hang around me and comfort me right now, thanks," you choke out. you gesture to the door of the restroom. maybe you're being mean, but honestly, you can't be bothered to consider that right now. what you would give to be them. for your relationship with shoyo to have never changed. the amount is insurmountable.

they nod slightly, gently patting your shoulder. "sorry, i hope you feel better." with those last words muttered, they exit the restroom, leaving you alone. all the memories have come rushing back to you. 

2 years ago.

"i'm home!" his voice echoes through the apartment. he looks past the entryway, seeing you laying on the couch and watching tv. he kicks off his shoes and joins you on the couch.

1 year ago.

"good morning," he says, his voice still raspy from sleep. his arms find their way around your waist as you stand in front of the stove, making pancakes.

"morning," you reply, smiling at how evident his contentment is in his tone of voice. "you slept late."

he hums. "...yeah, but i'm up now." he laughs softly, lightly squeezing your waist as he hugs you tighter. "let's eat!"

you agree, turning around and handing him a plate of pancakes. "yep, let's go!"

...and then after that,

4 months ago.

"brazil?" you echo him.

he nods excitedly.

"but what about us..?" you ask, looking at him in confusion.

he freezes for a moment, his smile faltering.

"well..." he starts, "i don't know if we would work out if we tried to stay together."

did he really think that your love for him was that shallow? you would go to the ends of the earth for shoyo. you loved him deeply. distance and time zones wouldn't stop you from doing so.

"...you don't even want to try?" your voice breaks, tears welling up in your eyes. "we can make it through this, sho, i know we can," you continue, your voice shaky as you sniffle.

he frowns, taking a step towards you and wiping the tears off of your face with the sleeve of his hoodie. "hey. i just don't want you to feel neglected. we can still be friends... you know i love you, right?"

you pull away from him, quietly nodding. it hurts, knowing that he's doing this because he loves you. what could you even say in response to all of that? you'll always love him, he's your best friend and boyfriend. 

"yeah," you clear your throat, "let's stay friends. when you're in brazil, make sure you call me and tell me what it's like, okay?" you say, forcing a smile onto your face. "i'll help you pack for the flight."

fuck. 

why did you have to remember all of this now? when you're visiting brazil to see shoyo? you're out to dinner with him and his partner— now you remember, their name is eden. even their name is pretty. you can understand why shoyo would like them. they have the aura of the sun— attractive, pretty, kind. what was left to be desired? they looked so good together. they complimented one another perfectly.

was that what you guys looked like?

with a look in the mirror and a quick wiping of your face, you head out of the bathroom. you make your way back to the table, feeling two pairs of eyes on you as you sit back down. you place down a couple bills to pay for your food and then gather your things, getting back up. you put your bag over your shoulder and step to the side of the table.

"sorry, i'm not feeling well. i hope you guys enjoy the rest of dinner. i'm gonna head back to my hotel, if that's okay," you mumble, waving as you walk off to your car.

"wait, wait, are you okay?" shoyo asks, looking at you and frowning.

you smile slightly. "yeah, i'm fine, sho. don't worry. i'm okay."

with that, you leave the restaurant, speeding back to your hotel. the music in your car blares as you whiz past the traffic going in the other direction. you want to go back home, but you're stuck here for two more days.

two more days of this. shit.

you enter the hotel, go up to your floor via the elevator, and go straight to your room. the keycard makes the scanner on your door beep, and the room unlocks. entering the room, you toss your bag onto the small desk by your bed and fall face first onto the mattress. a loud groan can be heard as you lay motionless on top of the comforter. 

the room feels much too quiet without shoyo there. there's no casual chatter of his day, no laughter, no humming. it's dead silent. maybe you made the wrong decision, going back to the hotel to be alone.

the silence is broken by the buzz of your phone: a message from shoyo. it reads hey, are you feeling better now? you left so suddenly :( eden and i are worried about you

you don't bother opening the message, tossing your phone across the room and burying your face back into the bed. oh, to be eden. 

shoyo fell hard and fast for them. you would know, since you were the first person he told. their aura was captivating. they were sweet to everyone they met. and they were so, so pretty. it felt unfair, having to see them and shoyo be so happy together while you were still stuck in the past.

you didn't get it. why would he say you could still be friends? he didn't need you, and this is only keeping you from moving on. you love him, but god was this hard.

as you spiral into these thoughts, tears flow. why did you go to brazil? 

even though you wanted to be in eden's position, it was next to impossible to imagine it. they looked so good with him.

your phone, laying on the other side of the hotel room, rings. sliding off the bed and grabbing it, you lay on the floor and answer the phone, only to hear shoyo's voice come over the line.

"hey, you weren't replying to my messages. i just wanted to make sure you're okay. are you sick?" he asks quickly, his voice laced with concern for you.

you probably should've checked who was calling before picking up, damn it. you let out a soft sigh and reply, "yeah, sorry, sho. i'm fine, thanks for checking on me. i think i may fly home early, though."

"wait what? why?" you can practically feel him frowning through the phone.

"cause... i don't know. i'm feeling homesick," you lie.

"oh," he remarks, his tone sad, "well i hope you have a safe trip back then." he follows this sentence with an old nickname he had for you, making you pause. the memories rush back again, making your eyes brim with tears.

"...thanks, sho. i'll see you some other time."

with that, you end the phone call and buy tickets back home. within 30 minutes, you're all packed and ready to leave for the airport. you drive yourself there, letting the music blast through your car on the way. 

getting through security is shockingly quick, and none of your bags get flagged for inspection. your gate was an easy walk, the terminal being right next to security. you were of the first group to get called onto the plane, too. this was a nice change of pace.

as you sit on the plane, you look out the window at the ground below. you haven't taken off yet. coming to brazil definitely wasn't a good idea, but it was an experience for you... which is good, you guess. maybe one day, you'll be content with only having a friendship with shoyo. for now, though, you needed distance to get over your feelings for him. at least the romantic ones, anyway.

notes ::

⟡ if you're reading this, you are so gorgeous!! don't compare yourself to other people like i wrote for the purpose of this work

⟡ i actually enjoyed writing this it was pretty relaxing for me :)

⟡ tried my best but idk if im the best at writing angst...

⟡ if you wanna read more of my work, check out my masterlist <3

🏷️ :: @chososcamgirl ,, @anqelfries ,, @cheriisae ,, @bakery-anon + @bokukos <3

© akaakeis 2024 all rights reserved. please do not repost, edit, or translate my works on any platform.

[stormyelliotwritez]

fic where ftm reader is logan’s gay (re)awakening when he sees r in his 2000 pickup truck blasting old rock in his flannel and jeans and logan just heart eyes and needs to be with this man Immediately.

(i say reawakening bc lets be real hes like 200 he mightve already realized hes a 🚬 before but needed like. a reminder)

AAAAAAHHHHHH literally my fav trope ever - i did a similar one to this btw called logan and his hot guy friend - also i made reader a handyman type guy coz funsies

He may be a bit ooc but i ain’t sure

i need to get more photos coz i keep reusing them

Old rock and a 2000’s pickup truck? 😍

It had been a long long day and Logan was walking home from the job he’d gotten after all that multiverse shit when a 2000’s pickup truck parked at the lights. He walked up next to it and raised an eyebrow as he heard the music. It was old rock or dad rock as Wade would say. He walked past the window and saw you. You were wearing a red flannel and faded blue jeans. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to like a guy.

He wandered home in a daze, only thinking about you in that pick up truck. Wade asked him if something was wrong and he couldn’t even answer. He just mumbled a no and then grabbed a beer. You looked so good in that flannel. He only saw you for a moment but you were his type alright.

A few days later, he took the same route home, hoping he’d see you and he did. You were parked this time with tools in the backseat. Against his better judgement, he walked up to your window and tapped on it. And against your better judgement, you rolled the window down and smiled at him.

“Your truck is a beauty,” he said with a smile.

“Thanks, I fixed her up myself,” you said back before patting the dashboard lovingly.

Logan took a glance at the tools in the back of your truck and chuckled to himself. “You a handyman?”

You nodded. “Guilty as charged. You needing something fixed?”

He chuckled. “Well now that I think of it, we’ve had a dodgy tap recently, my roommate and I.”

You chuckled and nodded. “I could drop by and see if it’s an easy fix?”

“Yeah, that’d be great, bub. We just live in the top apartment at the building with the blue door just over there so feel free to drop by whenever.”

You nodded and smiled again. “Well I gotta be off. I’ll drop by tomorrow.”

Logan smiled and waved as you drove off. He pumped his fist in the air, mimicking Wade, and grinned. Hell yeah, he was gonna get to see you again.

He walked back to the apartment and this time, he grabbed a beer and joined Wade on the couch. “You gotta skedaddle tomorrow so go work or something,” was all he said to Wade before the soccer game started.

The next day, Logan stayed home and made sure Wade was out the door by 8. The clock struck 10 and you knocked on the door like well… clockwork. He quickly opened the door and let you in.

“Hey, you’re here,” he smiled, “wasn’t sure if you’d turn up.”

You smiled and held up your bag. “Well I like getting paid.”

“And I like getting my tap fixed.”

You got to work and soon enough, you’d found the problem. You fixed it and when you stood up, Logan was standing in the doorway. He had a grin on his face and a beer in each hand. You hadn’t noticed how hot he was before but now he was standing there, wearing a white singlet and a brown flannel and looking super duper hot.

“That for me?”

He nodded and handed it over. “For a job well done, bub. And I’ll pay you as well of course.”

The two of you sat down and both had a beer. A bit after Logan finished his, he grabbed the money and handed it over. You stood up and contemplated leaving before turning back to him and chuckling awkwardly.

“You seeing anyone?”

Logan smiled and shook his head. “Thought you’d never ask, bub.”

You sat back down and leaned towards him, a smile on your lips. “Would you want to be seeing someone?”

“Is that someone you because I would love to be seeing you,” he said with a smirk as he leaned towards you.

When you leaned backwards and stretched, your shirt rode up and he saw your binder. He nodded to himself and leaned in a bit closer. “Haven’t dated a guy in a while so you wanna break me in again? We could listen to some rock?”

You chuckled and licked your lips before standing up and pulling your chair to next to him. You sat back down and shamelessly grabbed ahold of his hand and ran your fingers over it. “Absolutely, handsome.”

[giggly-squiggily]

Hi, is Lou. 😊

I saw that requests are open and I didn't really know what to send in, but then I saw that Dabi is one of your favorite lees, so may I ask for lee!Dabi with ler!Shigaraki please? Maybe Dabi has been annoying Tomura all day; not listening, disobeying orders, maybe even sneaking a few pokes here and there himself, so his boss decides to kick him down a notch?

Only if you want to of course! 😅🥰

{REQUESTS ARE CLOSED! This is an older ask!}

Lou! :D Hello friend! I hope you're doing alright :3 God I can't even begin to describe how much I love Lee!Dabi- he is just so fun to WRECK! >:D I gotcha covered, friend!

CW: Swearing, very very light restraints

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@myreygn @thatbigbisexual29 @duckymcdoorknob @wolfyeatstacos @baby-tickles2022 @cupcake-spice13 @sarahmaystock5578 @rachi-roo @mochigiggle @chibisstuff @imjusthere07 @sevenincubistolemyheart @riisada @sp1racle @teddyswriting

Shigaraki was on his last nerve.

Dabi was also on his last nerve, doing a little tap dance and thinning it further.

“Gah! Would you cut that OUT?” The pale haired villain snapped when he felt fingers in his ribs, sending shivers up his spine and his phone flying. “Dabi!”

The older man snickered and ran, flying around the corner and out of sight. Things have been rather slow as of late for the League; no new commands came in- forcing the league to “lay low” for a while. 

Shigaraki hated it at first; he never liked having time on his hands. Eventually though, he learned to enjoy it; taking the time to indulge in his small but mighty mobile game collection. Things were..rather nice.

And then Dabi decided peace was never an option for Shigaraki and made him hate time off once more.

“Why that son of a-” His curse filled grumbles faded some as he reached beneath the bar, grabbing his phone. “I’d kill him if I could!”

“Oo, fun! I’ll hide the body.” A new voice startled him so bad he dropped his phone again. Shigaraki twisted to glare daggers as the smirking birdman before him. “It’ll be the perfect crime!”

“What do you want, outsider?”

“Ouch. And after all this time being here with the league.” Hawks put on a pout, rubbing at his chest. His eyes were dancing with laughter though- indicating his true feelings. “I really thought we were becoming a family.”

Shigaraki decided not to entertain that thought. He reached down to get his phone again, but ruby red feathers beat him to it, bringing it up and into his gloved palms. “Dabi really threw you off your game, didn’t he? I’ve never seen you so jumpy?”

“Shut your mouth. I’m not off my game- he’s just an annoying glitch.”

“One you can’t live without?”

“Says the man who’s getting fu-”

“You wanna get him back?” Hawks cut in quickly, leaning in like hermes to Odysseus. Too close- Shigaraki found himself leaning back some in his stool. “He’s been rather annoying to you lately, no? I’m sure your thinking: “What can I do to make him submit to me?”; lucky for you- I know exactly what to do!”

Suspicious, yet intriguing. Shigaraki narrowed his eyes at him in thought. “Why are you telling me this?”

Hawks shrugged, his playful smile never dropping. “I’m feeling generous today. Can’t a guy rat out his boyfriend’s quirks every once and awhile?” He gestured Shigaraki over some, cupping his ear as he whispered.

Shigaraki went from bored to surprised to intrigued. He looked at Hawks when the other pulled back, blinking. “You're kidding.”

Hawks only smiled like the sun as he sashayed off. Before he left completely, he looked back one last time. “By the way- my information doesn’t come free. I’m sure you understand.”

There it was. Shigaraki kept his expression neutral as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a few yen. Feathers gathered it up and brought it to Hawks, the birdman pleased. “This stays between us.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

~~~

Sitting on the couch now, Shigaraki tapped away at his phone in wait. The trap was set- the plan was perfect. It all came down to timing. He knew his target would be passing through here soon.

Sure enough, he heard the familiar steps of Dabi’s boots as they entered the room, the smell of firewood mixed with smoke touching his nose. He didn’t react- pretending to be completely absorbed in his game. He just had to hang in there.

“Shigaraki~” Dabi called out in a hushed voice, his footsteps getting closer and closer. He waited until those scarred up hands were inches from his waist before he attacked.

“SHIT!” Dabi yelped as he got dragged down over the couch, thrown into an unexpected wrestling match. Thankfully, Shigaraki was wearing his artist gloves, the risk of accidental dusting gone from their minds. Still- that didn’t mean Shigaraki didn’t have the upper hand.

“You son of a-hold still!” Dabi growled as he battled for the top, sputtering when the little bastard threw one of his disembodied hands at him. “Not cool- you can’t just go and throw your dirty mitts at me-”

“Gotcha!” Shigaraki cried as he pinned him, taking advantage of his momentary disgust. “Dirty, huh? I’ll have you know they’re clean and preserved!” He picked up the one he threw, bringing it to Dabi’s pinned wrists. With an unexpected click, he had bound both of the brunette’s wrists together. “Not to mention modified.”

Dabi blinked, flabbergasted. Did this guy really make them restraints? He gave an experimental tug, finding them rather weak. If he wanted to, he could easily break it. Burn it even.

But that would end in all kinds of problems Dabi had zero interest in dealing with. Not to mention Shigaraki looked so proud of his little trap. He might as well sit back and see where this would go. “Oh yeah- you got me good, Shigs. Though if you wanted me tied up, you could have just asked.” He wagged his brows, laughing at the scrunched up expression Shigaraki made in response.

“Gross. I almost regret wasting these on you.” Sitting back on Dabi’s hips, the dust-quirked villain scanned his torso, deciding on where to even start. “Say, Dabi- are you ticklish?”

Dabi’s grin froze, eyes widening some. The parts of his face that were still healthy tinted a rare shade of pink. Shigaraki grinned at this.

Oh damn.

“Shigs, I don’t know who you talked to-” Dabi began, sucking in a breath when Shigaraki’s fingers poked beneath his shirt, right along healthy skin. “Fuck that- I know exactly who you talked to and I’m telling you now, he’s a lying son of a bitch!”

“You’re shaking like a leaf, Dabi. I think he’s telling the truth.” The duster snickered as he curled his fingers, eager to see what would happen. Dabi flinched hard, arms tensing at the hand bounding his wrists as he gritted his teeth.

“Shi-hihigs..”

“Was that a laugh I just heard?”

Dabi tried. He gritted his teeth so hard he was sure he’d bite his tongue. He turned his head away at the devious touches against his skin, flinching and squirming at each ticklish trace. He squeezed his eyes shut in hopes that the feeling would fade and he’d be immune.

Alas- he was cursed with stupidly sensitive Todoroki genetics that always seemed to come alive with tickling.

“Fuhuhuhuhuck!” Dabi yelled out as Shigaraki began to scratch, focusing all his efforts onto the patch of skin around his stomach that always made him scream as a child. “Shihihihihihihit! Fuhuhuhuck you, yohoohohohu dhahahahmn, duhuhuhust buhuhuhunny! Ahehahahahahahhaha gahahhahhahd!”

“Dust bunny? Please- like you’ve got any room to talk, matches.” Shigaraki laughed with him, the sound snickery and stupid and full of joy that was unfairly contagious. He carried on scratching at his belly while his other hand pushed up Dabi’s shirt, eager to find more spots to tickle. “Say, are you only ticklish here? What about here?”

“Gheahaha, dhohohon’t you dahahAHAHHARE!” Dabi all but arched when his ribs were attacked, Shigaraki working along healthy skin and tracing where it met the scar tissue. “DOOHOOHN’T FUUUHUHUCKING DOHOHOHO THAHHAHT!”

“Does it tickle that bad?” Shigaraki asked, delighting in the high pitched squeals Dabi let out. He never heard his voice get that high before- it was always so mellow; even when he was mad. “Wow. It’s a good thing you’re not easy to capture- they just have to tickle you and you’d be snitching.”

“LIHIHIKE I’D EHEHHEHEVER DO THAHAHHT! AHEHAHAHHA COOHOHME ON, DUUHUHUHUHSTY MOOHOOHHOVE!” Dabi cackled out, kicking at the couch when Shigaraki began drawing patterns into the strip of skin leading from his upper ribs to his good shoulder. “STHAHAHAP IT’S THEHEHHEHRRIBLE!”

“Boo- and here I was planning out my route for the next big egg hunt.” Shigaraki tsked as he brought his hands back to Dabi’s hips, pressing his thumbs in and making him shoot up. “I can’t let that Abigail woman beat me again. That sunhat belongs to me!”

“Ahehahahahahah! Gheahhahahaha, whhhahahahat ahahhahare you eehheheven- Hiihihihihineahhahhaha, nehehehvermind, quihihihiht ihihihihit!” Dabi swatted at him with his bound wrists, hoping that lightly beating them against Shigaraki would loosen their hold. 

It did not.

“Oh, what's this?” Shigaraki grabbed them and pinned them with ease, shoving Dabi back against the couch while his other hand carried on tickling. “Trying to knock me out with my own hand-trap? Please- I expected more from you, matches.” He gave the other man a pause, watching Dabi’s chest heave as he gasped for air. “I’ll release you, but first you have to promise me you’ll stop being so annoying.”

“Whahahaat? Nohohoho way…heheheeeeh..I’m so bohohohored.” Dabi grinned, digging his grave deeper. “Yoohohu’re funny to mehehess with. You screheham like a schoolgirl when I tickle you.”

Shigaraki fumed, inhaling through his nose dramatically. He stared down a smug Dabi as he reached into his pocket, pulling out his ultimate weapon. Dabi seemed to falter beneath its ruby gleam.

“Shigs, wait- Wait hold on! I didn’t mean it! I didn’t mean it-EHHEHEHEHEHEHAHHAHAHA!” Dabi all but shrieked at the touch. It was just a single red feather, one from Hawk’s wings to be exact. Such a tool would be useless against him normally.

Shove it in his good armpit after he’s already been tickled however and you’ve basically won.

“Are you gonna behave?” Shigaraki growled as Dabi thrashed and guffawed, straining in Shigaraki’s hold. “Are you gonna leave me alone?”

“FIHIIHHINE FIHIHIHINE! SHIHIIHIT SHIHIHIGS STHAHAHAHP!”

“Promise me!”

“I PROHOHOHOMISE!”

“Louder!”

“I PROHOHOMISE! I PROHOHOHOMISE PLEHAHAHAHSE!”

“Hmm…” Shigaraki hummed, giving Dabi one last tickle beneath the arms before pulling his tool back. Dabi gasped for air, wheezing through residue giggles as he melted into the couch. The hand bounding his wrists was removed, and he tucked them beneath his own arms tightly to prevent any more ambushes. “I guess I’ve got you good enough. You can have this back, outsider.”

Whether Hawks was nearby or not, Dabi didn’t know. He watched through blurry eyes as the feather floated in the air, swirling around Shigaraki’s neck before whooshing out of the room. The duster winced and ducked down, rubbing at the skin with a small curse. “Bastard.”

“Pfft- gotcha too, huhuhuh?” Dabi laughed at that, his nerves finally easing as he got comfortable against the cushions. “That’s what you get.”

“Shush.” Shigaraki flicked his nose before sitting back, moving from Dabi’s hips to an actual cushion as he watched the brunette groan. “Why are you being so annoying anyway? Aren’t you the type to disappear when there’s nothing to do?”

His tone was defensive, but the question was genuine. Dabi considered his words as he stretched. “Yeah- usually. I guess I just didn’t feel like it this time.”

“So your solution was to annoy me?” Shigaraki glared. Dabi shrugged, unfazed.

“Yeah, you could say that. You seemed stressed lately. I figured you’d feel better having someone here.” The words made the leader freeze, eyes wide. “What? Can’t a guy care about his buddy from time to time?”

Coming from Dabi, yeah. Shigaraki almost said so but withheld. “Why though?”

The brunette tsked, sitting up and folding his arms across his chest, feet up against the coffee table. “Why does there have to be a reason? When I joined the league, I became your teammate. After some time, I guess I started seeing you as a friend..” His cheeks pinked again as he looked away, suddenly unsure. “I know it’s stupid- we’re all wanted criminals that can die at any given moment. Getting close and all that bullshit is a terrible idea. I just…don’t like seeing you upset.” He looked away completely, his back to Shigaraki as he scratched at his neck. “This is ridiculous. I’ve been hanging around that damn bird too much- he’s making me feel things.”

Shigaraki couldn’t speak- he didn’t have the words. He just stared at him, a nostalgic feeling he couldn’t quite place creeping up his gut and spreading through his chest. He looked at his hands, finding them trembling. He squeezed them shut tightly.

“You’ve got no reason to worry about me like that. I’m your team lead.” He forced the words out, cold and direct. Dabi seemed to relax at them, the usual way Shigaraki spoke. “If I’m upset or stressed, that’s my issue to deal with.”

“Of course.”

“You’re not my personal therapist. I don’t need you to manage my emotions.”

“Got it.”

“But…” Shigaraki paused, not looking at him but rather at the empty space before them. “I don’t mind you considering me a friend. It’s…nice, to know the feeling is mutual.”

Dabi stared, but he didn’t look back. He got up and quickly left the room, pulling out his cracked phone and pulling up his game. It was only when he got far enough away that he let himself smile.

So he had friends here after all.

Thanks for reading!

[eyelessfaces]

ashes to ashes

firefighter!poe dameron x reader

it's been so long since I first announced this fic, I know. loosely inspired by this post. thank you to @ofstarsandvibranium for allowing me to write something based on the concept <3

summary: crawling as you witnessed the fire claiming half of your apartment, the only thing you could think about was how cinematic the whole scene was; half of your life burning down in the night, the blurry sight of pairs of chunky boots walking around your apartment and through the flames, the painful feeling of emptiness in your lungs as you rolled onto your back and fought to catch your breath.

just as you began to feel yourself go, an arm wrapped behind your head, holding it up gently.

warnings: depiction of a fire, post-trauma, brief mentions of ptsd, mentions of homelessness, questioning your whole goddamn life, angst, reader has hair

tags: f!reader, obvious firefighter au, slowburn... lol... burn. get it? because of the fire. anyways. mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, fluff, domestic fluff, kissing

word count: 8.3k

moodboard!

heat me up masterlist

masterlist | taglist | ao3

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

Chicago had the infamous reputation of having harshingly cold winters; that was the promise you had had when you moved there, and as soon as summer faded into fall and instead began to feel like winter, you quickly understood what it was all about, where the myth came from.

And it was okay, in your small apartment at least. 

It was okay whenever the main heating system of the building was working, because it wasn’t always. Surely a small detail your landlord had forgotten to tell you about when you signed the lease. 

Piling up blankets was fine, but that wasn’t the easiest way to stay warm and certainly not your idea of a good winter period.

It was okay again once you made the bright decision of buying a space heater to put in your living room, then it was not okay the night you woke up to the harsh and very distinct smell of smoke because your carpet had caught on fire.

Not exactly the kind of warmth you were expecting.

And it must have been the chemicals, because while down on the floor, crawling as you witnessed the fire claiming half of your apartment, the only thing you could think about was how cinematic the whole scene was; half of your life burning down in the night, the blurry sight of pairs of chunky boots walking around your apartment and through the flames, the painful feeling of emptiness in your lungs as you rolled onto your back and fought to catch your breath.

And just as you began to feel yourself go, an arm wrapped behind your head, holding it up gently.

“Hey, hey. What's your name?” the man shouted loud enough to cover the default slight muffle of his mask and the menacing creaking of flames claiming your space.

You replied in a drowsy, dazed mumble, and it felt like you were on autopilot mode, like your body was acting on his own, your mind not following – you're barely sure of the veracity of what you're saying, and your answer is punctuated by a painful cough.

“Alright, I’m Poe.” he affirmed with a nod before observing and evaluating the behavior of the flames in your apartment. He looked back down at you, his grip on you tightening. “I’m gonna get you out of here okay? Stay with me.” he demanded, cradling the back of your head as you struggled to get air back in your lungs.

You nodded hastily, shutting your eyes tight as he lifted you up, hoping it would make it all better; the reflection of flames in his mask was too painful to see, and you knew seeing all the debris across your apartment would make you faint if you didn’t because of the smoke.

You could only hear the crackling of flames and the distant wail of sirens filling the air as the firefighter stumbled out of there, his grip on you firm yet gentle. You fought to cling to consciousness, trying to focus on the rhythm of his steps as he guided you to safety out of the building.

Your coughs were painful, and the contrast of the fresh cold night air as you got carried outside hit you all at once.

“It's okay, you're out of here, you did amazing” you heard the firefighter say, his voice barely audible to you as you felt yourself go.

The last thing you remember from there is him calling for the medics as a black veil covers your eyes.

—

It takes no time for you to readjust your position in your hospital bed when one of the firefighters pushes the door to your room open.

“Can I?” he asks with a small smile, to which you approve. “How are you feeling?” the man asks as he steps in, carefully closing the door behind him.

“Could be better” you scoff, a coughing fit quickly interrupting you. You try to take a deep breath once you’re done, as the doctor advised you.

“Are you the one that got me out of my apartment?” you manage to ask quietly once you catch your breath, your voice rough.

“Yes” he declares as he approaches, and you squint and read what's written behind his turnout coat as he pulls a chair to sit beside your bed. “You got lucky the fire started in your living room” he continues as he sits down, his lips curling into a small, empathetic smile. He has a handsome face, you can tell now that you can truly and clearly look at the man that saved you. There’s a faint, small scar over his cheek, probably one he got on the field, you guess. His brown eyes are gentle as he looks at you, his gaze somehow consoling, reassuring in some kind of way.

You have no idea what time it is or how long you’ve been there, but he still has some dirt over his face and his dark curls are unkempt, so you figure it might not be that long after it all happened.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Dameron” you croak out, your voice gravelly from coughing so much, and you weakly smile, reaching for the glass of water at your bedside.

“It’s only my duty” he chuckles, revealing an objectively charming smile as he helps and hands you your glass. “The fire started from an electrical problem in your space heater that caused it to short circuit.”

You take a sip of water, taking the information into account. 

“Guess my idea of staying warm backfired,” you joke, with a demoralized smile.

He leans back in his chair, a weak, compassionate smile over his face. "It happens more often than you'd think. People underestimate the risks sometimes. Good thing you made it out okay."

You nod, putting the glass back where it was. “Yeah… I can’t believe half my place is gone.”

“It's tough, but, you know…” he sighs, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Things can be replaced. Lives can't.” His expression is serious but compassionate, and you appreciate his attempt at reassurance, even though the reality of losing most of your belongings and your place is still slowly, painfully sinking in. The room falls into a momentary deafening silence before he breaks it. “We managed to contain the fire, but your apartment took a hit. You'll get through this eventually, it’ll take some time but it's fixable” he declares in a tone both firm and comforting as he runs a hand over the light stubble on his cheeks.

You pinch your lips, your mouth abnormally dry though you just drank water. You shake your head, the knot tightening in your throat.

“Fuck, I have nowhere to go. I have no family here, I won’t get my apartment back before a while, hell, I don’t even know if I want it back” you sigh, reality suddenly hitting you right in the face. A chill runs down your spine as you say it, as if wording it out loud makes it become true.

The Lieutenant shifts in his chair again to lean closer, his hand coming to rest over your wrist.

“We can help you. I will help you.” he nods, searching your gaze. “You can stay in a hotel room while you get it all figured out,” he suggests, trying to cheer you up a bit, showing you the possibilities. “I know a nice hotel downtown, not too expensive, and I’m childhood friends with the manager’s son so you can say you’re coming from me” he smiles, trying to draw one out from you, though he knows damn well that his charming smile can’t do miracles in this job. “We have rehabilitation programs, people usually make it out okay, I don’t see why you wouldn’t. It takes some time, and you’ve gone through a trauma so it’s not easy at first, but I promise you it gets easier.”

You nod, pinching your lips in a small smile as you feel him slightly tighten his grip over your wrist. 

“It’s gonna be okay. I’ve seen people take this as a sign to begin again, an opportunity to start over” he nods again as you look up at him, his brown eyes glistening with a sense of hope that you want to believe in.

“I’ll probably do that. Thank you” you acquiesce, still not fully convinced, though his kindness and sympathy makes it all seem easier somehow. As you look at him, you can't help but wonder about the man behind the firefighter's gear, who he is beyond the guy that rescued you. He smiles gently, getting up from his seat. “And thank you for… You know, saving my life” you smile gratefully. “Really. I don't know how to repay you,” you say genuinely.

“Sure.” he waves off your gratitude. “No need. Just take care of yourself. And maybe consider a safer way to stay warm next time.” he jokes with a grin, but you know it’s lighthearted.

You manage a weak laugh, appreciating the lightness he brings to the whole situation. The gravity of it all is still there in the room and inside you, but the Lieutenant's presence and empathy makes it a bit more bearable.

“Alright, I better get going. If you ever need anything please don’t hesitate to stop by the fire station.” As he stands to leave, he glances back with a warm smile. “And take some rest. You'll be back on your feet soon.”

You nod, a polite and grateful smile over your face.

“Hey,” you call as he reaches for the door handle. He turns back to you, a wondering expression over his face. “What did you say your name was again, Lieutenant Dameron?” 

He smiles warmly, “Poe.” 

—

Poe’s eyes look up from the newspaper as his last name is called by one of his colleagues, followed by a quick gasped “someone for you” with a thumb directed towards the apparatus bay before said colleague leaves.

He tosses the newspaper onto the table his feet are propped onto before he gets up and beelines to the area he’s expected at, looking around for whoever is supposedly here for him until his gaze lays on you, a surprised smile growing over his face.

“Hey!” he exclaims, his voice echoing across the wide room. “How are you doing?” he asks as he walks over to you.

“Better than last time you saw me,” you start, smiling. “Still trying to figure everything out, it’s a bit exhausting but it has to be done, so” you shrug.

“Mhm,” he nods. “Well, as I said, if you need anything I’ll be happy to help” he suggests, a bright smile over his handsome face framed by neat, wavy dark curls. Now that his face is clean, you truly realize how pretty he looks, and his closely shaven face makes him look a bit younger, a bit more innocent than he did the last time you saw him.

“Thank you Lieutenant” you smile back.

“Oh– Please, call me Poe” he scoffs, waving you off. “You know that’s my name” he teases.

“Alright, Poe.” you oblige. “So, yeah, actually I came here to thank you again, and I brought this” you declare sheepishly, handing him a box wrapped in gift paper.

“Oh” his expression immediately turns into an apologetic one when he looks at what you have in hands. “That’s very kind of you but I can’t accept it,” he shakes his head with a skeptic smile. “Against policy.”

You sigh. “Yeah, I figured” you scoff, looking back at the box in your hands. “I wanted to try just in case” you shrug, defeated.

“Yeah sorry, legally and ethically we can’t accept those kinds of gifts.” he explains. “Someone once tried to write us a generous check, and as appealing as it seemed, we had to turn it down” he chuckles, hands coming to rest over his hips. 

“Wow.” you laugh. “Some people are really grateful huh?”

“I guess” he smiles. “And he’d still insist after I told him I could get fired for accepting the check.” 

“Fired?” you ask. 

“Yeah, money’s nice but I could get fired if they find out” Poe nods.

“Fired?” you repeat, raising an eyebrow as a treacherous small smile unwillingly grows over your face.

“Yeah– Oh,” he huffs out a small laugh, before he eventually bursts out into chuckles. “Okay, alright, I get it” he nods, a playful, silly smile over his face. “Yeah, fired, unfortunate for a firefighter, right?” he scoffs, the corner of his eyes softly crinkling as he laughs.

“You get it” you laugh, unable to repress it when he wipes a hand over his face. “Sorry, this is lame.” 

“No, no, I actually never heard this one before–” 

The loud alarm sound cuts him off and resonates through the large room, announcing the units needed for an intervention. “Hah, I’m sorry, I gotta go” he says as you witness his squad rushing to the apparatus bay. “I’ll catch you later maybe, alright?”

“Sure, go do your thing” you pinch a smile, and he gives you back a bright one that makes your stomach flutter and a quick wave before jogging to the truck to quickly change into his intervention clothes.

—

The next time you come back to the station, you make sure it’s with a gift you’re certain he can accept. His face lights up when he sees you coming in, a warm smile plastered over his face.

You see the genuine appreciation in his eyes; even though you had made a good batch, your plate of cookies doesn’t survive for long, Poe’s squad and himself making a feast off of it.

“These are really good.” one of his colleagues babbles, mouth still full of his latest victim. A few poor crumbs are all that’s left off your plate. You smile.

“I’ll take your word for it” you chuckle, reaching to retrieve your empty plate.

“Come on guys, you didn’t even leave her one” Poe reproaches as he watches over you putting back the plastic film to cover the plate.

“You ate most of these Dameron,” another guy of the squad throws accusingly, making the Lieutenant scoff and hold his hands up in surrender. “Okay, alright, sorry” he nods. “They are really good.” he says pointing at you. “Were,” he corrects himself, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Sorry”

“That’s alright, those were for you” you immediately retort with a dismissive wave of your hand. Poe shoots you a sweet smile that you mirror before your gaze shifts to the clock on the wall to overlook the heat rising to your cheeks. “Well, you're good company but I gotta go” you announce as you stand from your seat, giving him a small smile.

“Thank you for the cookies” one of the firefighters calls out.

“Yeah. You really didn’t have to, thank you again” Poe nods as he follows you, a hand over your shoulder. You nod, a small, sheepish smile over your face at the physical contact. “Really, they’re the best cookies I’ve ever eaten, that's why I gobbled them like a glutton. Sorry again for not letting you have one. Is that your job? Are you like a pastry chef?” he asks with genuine curiosity, facing you as you both stop in your steps.

“Nah, just a hobby,” you affirm with a shake of your head and a wide smile that you can’t seem to repress. “But I’ll take the compliment. And you know, I had to go and borrow my friends’ kitchen to make those cookies, so it was basically teamwork”

“Well, gotta thank those friends too then” he grins. “No but really, they were so good. I’d pay for that” he admits as he tilts his head towards you, an admirative glint in his eyes. 

“Well good, because I need money to get my shit together” you joke. Poe smiles at your joke though it shifts into a genuine empathetic grin that you find adorable. You glance back at the clock when you start to feel the blush creep up your cheeks. “Yeah, time to make money, I’m gonna be late to work” you sigh softly.

“Good luck”

“I’m not the one with a high risk job” you scoff. 

He grins and leads you back outside. “You know, we sometimes host charity events here. You could bring some cookies, I guarantee you you could raise a hell lot of money from that. Think about it. We’d let you use the oven here” he grins.

You nod, appreciating the idea. Plus, it’s a reason and occasion to see him again. 

“I will.”

Poe leans against the wall of the firehouse front wall, glancing at you until you're out of sight. He sighs softly when he goes back inside and notices your jacket on the chair.

—

It’s been seven hours; you’re not coming back for it.

His fingers mindlessly run back and forth over the seams of your jacket, his gaze planted towards the pile of paperwork over his desk, waiting to be filled and sent to his superiors.

A couple knocks at his doorframe tear him out of his reverie, eyes darting to Rey standing at the threshold of his office. He greets her with a faint smile as his chair turns to face her, and she frowns as she crosses her arms and leans her side against the doorframe.

“Been watching you, what's wrong?” she asks throwing her chin towards him, and he reacts with a huff from his nose and a shrug. The downside of having a glass windowed office with broken blinds.

“What do you mean what’s wrong” he nonchalantly asks, his voice low, putting your jacket down over his desk.

“You’re leaving this pile of paperwork to rot” she points out, looking at the sheets messily laid out over his desk.

He scoffs, like what she’s saying is complete nonsense. “You know I hate paperwork.”

He does, she knows that, but he hates it so much that he usually does it as soon as he gets it to be over with it, and to avoid procrastinating the daunting task. “I know you do but you usually sit and do it. Here you sat and didn’t do anything” she declares as she watches him slightly turn back and forth in his desk chair. “That’s not like you. You usually can’t stop working one way or another, can’t rest for five minutes.”

“Yeah,” he sighs softly, adjusting his position in his chair.

“This is not me scolding you for taking a breath for once. This is me being worried” she makes clear. Poe doesn’t say anything in return, the blank expression over his face attesting of his lack of concentration. Rey bites down onto her bottom lip, pondering what she could do or say to help her friend out. It’s not like Poe to act so closed off, so quiet, like an empty shell. 

“Is that a new jacket?” she asks, hoping to lift the tension.

“No, not mine” he says as he reaches over to the desk to have the piece of clothing in hands again. “It’s from…” he pauses. “The cookies feast this morning, she left and forgot it”

“Oh”

“I gotta find a way to give it back to her.” he declares mechanically before muttering, “But I don’t know where to find her”

“Well,” Rey lightly clears her throat. “With some luck she will notice soon enough and she’ll come back for it” she shrugs.

“It’s been seven hours”

“People that just lost their place are busy trying to sort things out Poe” she shrugs. “It’s winter and she probably doesn’t have much clothing left. She’ll come back for it”

“It might happen when I’m off shift” Poe mumbles absent-mindedly. 

“So what? Just leave it somewhere everyone can find it, another team will give it to her” Poe closes his eyes and shakes his head, sighing in defeat, and Rey scoffs at the obviousness of it all. Poe is smarter than that, he’s a lieutenant for a reason; something’s not right.

“Oh Poe” Rey scoffs, a scoff of disbelief. She stares at him as he rubs a hand over his eyes, then runs it through his hair. “This is what it's all about isn’t it?” she asks rhetorically, as she already knows it is. “My god… You’re into her” she mutters like she doesn’t believe it.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, admitting it like he’s guilty of something shameful or immoral; but it almost is, in this job. This kind of thing is not supposed to happen, you’re not supposed to fall for a victim. It’s supposed to be a come and go without looking back.

“Look, I’m not opposed to you shooting your shot but–” she halts mid-sentence; she tries to find the right words to say the right thing. “Be careful. You know it’s a touchy subject in our jobs” she pinches her lips in a small, slightly skeptic smile. “Overstepping and everything.” she adds.

“I know” Poe blinks, looking down at your jacket. “I’ll sort this out.”

— 

To be fair, he feels stupid for not thinking about the hotel sooner when he was the one to suggest this place for you to stay at. 

The end of a shift has never felt so long; when he usually finds stuff to do to remain occupied when there’s no intervention, today his mind couldn’t stay off of you. A shift with no major intervention was awfully long already, but it seemed to be so much slower as he looked forward to seeing you.

His knuckles hit the surface of your assigned room in a couple knocks, and your confused expression turns to a bright smile when your door opens to him. His face and ears are slightly flushed from the cold, his dark curls coming out of his beanie, nicely framing his face. “I usually go home and catch up on the sleep I didn't get during my shift but it's cold out there and I figured you wouldn't have brought back a lot of clothes here with you, so I think you'd make good use of this” he smiles, presenting to you your own jacket. 

“Oh” you reply, trying to ignore the way your heart speeds up in your chest, staring at your jacket neatly folded in his hands as he hands it to you. “Thank you,” you sigh, feeling stupid that you managed to forget it at the firehouse.

He smiles. “Of course.” There’s a brief pause as you stand there, and you look back inside your room, at the mess of cardboard boxes filled with the life you’re actively trying to piece back together. You want to tell him to get inside, but you also need to work on that mess of belongings. You hesitate, wondering what to say when he speaks first. “You need help with that?” he asks, nodding towards the room.

“Uh, yeah,” you admit, huffing out a breath you didn't even realize you were holding. “I took your advice and decided to start over by sorting out and giving away or selling stuff I don’t need anymore but there’s a lot. I never realized how much stuff I had in my possession until now” you chuckle. “But I’ll manage. You don’t have to worry. You’ve had a long shift, you should catch up on your sleep” you grin.

He waves a hand dismissively, smirking. “Oh, I’m fine. We take turns sleeping during the shift. You know, as long as you wake up when the alarm goes off…”

The daunting task seems to get so much quicker and easier now that Poe is here to help. Surprisingly enough, it even gets pleasant as you talk and laugh about anything and everything, as he intently listens to you as you reveal stories about the trinkets you discover again. Poe has this natural ability to make you feel like whatever you’re talking about is the most interesting thing in the world.

After a good hour and a half of reorganizing and labeling boxes of what you’re keeping and what you’re getting rid of, you’re finally done and it’s time for him to go. You can’t ignore the slight feeling of disappointment as you watch him put his jacket back on.

“Hey uh,” he trails off, grabbing his beanie resting on the bed. “Technically I’m off work and you’re not a victim anymore so,” he rubs the back of his neck, his dark curls falling slightly into his eyes as he looks at you with a grin. “Would you like to go for a drink or something sometime that week?” Poe intently awaits your response; maybe he’s making a mistake, maybe he’s overstepping. 

You can’t repress the smile that grows over your face, the feeling of delight that fills you at the prospect of seeing him again. “Sure,” you nod. “I’d love to”

Your heart leaps inside your chest as your hands brush when you hand him your phone so he can put his number in, and he feels just the same when he pushes his apartment door to a text from you that reads, 

“thank you for today. I look forward to seeing you again :)”

He can’t help the foolish smile beaming over his face.

—

There’s not much left of your belongings after you give them out to charity and after hours spent throughout multiple days waiting for strangers to pick up the different things they bought from you. 

Some part of you assumes that giving up on your life in Chicago would be easier, that moving states and going back to your family would be more reasonable, until you get back onto your feet at least. 

But you hate it, hate the thought of giving it all up just because your stupid space heater short circuited. 

And maybe it's also because something is holding you back.

You’re at work when a text appears onto your phone screen, forcing you to drop everything you’re doing when you see it’s from Poe. Your heart races inside your chest when you open the conversation and read the message. “hey! still on board to hang out?”

Your fingers hover over the keyboard, not sure about which way you should say yes. You settle on “absolutely” and press send.

You try to go back to work while you wait for his response, but the task is compromised because even though you have your ringtone on, you can’t help but check your phone every twenty seconds.

Your phone rings again after what feels like an eternity though in reality, it’s only been two minutes.

“great. I was thinking about going to a bar downtown” 

Another message pops up.

“is it okay if I pick you up at the hotel at 7?”

You take a glance at the time displayed on your computer screen and sigh softly before you reply. “I’m doing extra hours so I get out at 7 :( and I need time to get ready and look somewhat presentable“

Poe’s text comes almost instantly. “hey, no pressure. I’m sure you look just fine”

A foolish smile grows onto your face, and you’re glad he’s not here to see it. 

Another message pops onto the screen.

“I can pick you up at 8 or later if you prefer. or I can pick you up straight out of work at 7 if it makes it easier for you”

You sit and think about it for a moment. It would make it easier for you. You could avoid an extra ride to the hotel.

“I think it does”

You text him the address to your workplace, and the next time you use the office bathroom, you take a moment to make sure you look okay.

The bar is dimly lit by fairy lights strewn all across the ceiling and walls. It casts a soft light over Poe’s face that allows you to admire the faint, dark stubble that is back onto his face again, and you can’t help but look at his teeth when he talks to you; you remember the way they look when he laughs, and the thought makes your stomach flutter and makes you feel like a creep at the same time.

“So, extra hours?” he asks, tearing you out of your reverie before he takes a sip of his half full glass of pina colada. You wince softly. 

“I'm quickly starting to run out of money. You know how insurances are” he raises his eyebrows and tilts his head to the side in agreement. “And I mean, I’m trying to save up because I don’t think I want to go back to my apartment” you explain, an uneasy feeling running through you the moment you start to picture your apartment again, the way it was the last time you had seen it. 

“Yeah, it’s understandable. It’s something we often see.” Poe nods.

“Most people prefer moving out instead of trying to rebuild their home. Too much trauma attached to the place” he affirms, pinching his lips in an empathetic smile.

“Yeah,” you trail off, nervously fiddling with your glass. “And I can’t stay in that hotel room forever. Some friends offered me to stay over at theirs so I’m gonna crash wherever I can until I get back on my feet” 

Poe nods, intently watching you as he swallows another sip of his cocktail before speaking. “Well, you can stay at my place too if you need somewhere to go.” he offers in earnest.

You shake your head, a soft chuckle escaping you. “Poe it’s– you don’t have to” 

“No, no, it’s alright” he insists. “Plus, my apartment is empty for twenty four hours when I’m on shift, so you can take advantage of that”

“This is very kind of you but–” you pause, not certain what you want to say. “We met what, three weeks ago, and you’re willing to let me stay at your place?”

He shrugs, an amused smile over his face. “You made me cookies. You’re trustworthy”

You laugh wholeheartedly, and the sight brings a wide smile to his face. 

“Okay, well, thank you” you huff out, and he grins before taking a sip of his drink. “I won’t bother you much, I’m working extra hours anyways.” 

“Oh and also, you’ll have to let me cook for you when you’re there” 

He raises his hands in fake surrender, a content expression over his face. “If you insist”

—

You’ve established some kind of routine based on a rotation; half a week at someone’s place, the other half at someone else’s. That way, weeks seem to go by quite fast.

Being at work is the only sense of normalcy you can find since those past few months; it’s pretty depressing when you think about it, but it might also be a good thing considering how much time you have to spend at the office doing extra hours just to gather enough money to try find that sense of normalcy back in your life.

You sigh softly as you knock at Poe’s door and set down your suitcase of necessities while you wait for him to answer; you’re endlessly thankful for your friends allowing you to leave your boxes of belongings in their home office instead of having to haul them around or pay for storage. 

“Hey you” Poe greets when he opens the door, a dishcloth in hand as he wipes them clean. You smile at the sight of him wearing an olive green apron, and you walk in when he makes way for you to. You look around the wide place that actually resembles a loft, the place dimly lit and filled with the smell of food cooking, and just that scent is enough for you to be striked with a stomach rumble. 

“Smells good” you affirm, forcing a small smile through your tiredness. “I was the one supposed to cook though, remember?”

“It’s your first time at my place, I have to be a good host” he huffs out, hands placed at his hips. “And I wanted to try this new recipe” he declares, motioning for you to follow him.

You follow his steps, acknowledging the space around you. “Actually it's perfect cause I'm exhausted” you admit in a small sigh.

“Good thing I planned on pampering you tonight then” he grins. 

He was in no way lying about that. 

Poe pulls your chair for you like a gentleman and makes you sit down, absolutely refusing you help him set the table or help him in any other way. 

He finally sits down in front of you after serving your plates and pouring you something to drink, wishing you bon appetit before you both start to eat. 

You listen attentively as he tells you about the interventions of his past few shifts, taking your sweet time to savor his dish from how good it is; you wouldn’t have suspected him to be that good of a cook.

Then suddenly, Poe trails off, his face dropping when he sees you're crying. “Hey,” he calls softly, getting up from his seat to join you. “What’s wrong?” he kneels down in front of you, his gaze raking over your face painted in tears.

“This is simultaneously the best and worst I've felt in months” you chuckle through quiet sobs, nervously fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “And I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing, I have no idea what I should do” you shake your head. Poe watches you intently while you try to avoid looking at him, afraid of what he could think. You’re just the poor girl he saved that lost everything, after all. “Sorry, I don’t know why it’s all coming out now. I’m not even drunk” you apologize, drying your tears with the back of your hand. “And I know some people you rescue have it so much harder than me, but even this, somehow… It feels insurmountable” 

“Hey,” he takes your hand in both of his, stopping you from tearing at the loose seams of your shirt. You feel stupid for breaking down like this in front of him, feel stupid for feeling so lost. “Just because people go through worse doesn’t mean your struggles are not legitimate” he affirms, one of his hands coming to rest over your arm. His other hand soothingly rubs the back of yours, and your tears-filled eyes finally meet his.

“Having to rebuild a life from scratch is a pretty tough thing, but I promise you it eventually gets better” he nods. “And you’re doing great so far. You’re motivated. It's a good thing. There isn't much you can do but wait until it gets better”

His eyes are gentle, his touch soft, and something inside you slowly starts to ease. 

You want to believe it, you want to believe it’s going to get easier, but right now, you can’t seem to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

“I know. But– I’ve been thinking about leaving Chicago.” you admit in a mutter. It hurts to say it, hurts to picture it, but deep down you know it’s probably the solution and the right decision.

“Oh– okay,” he mumbles softly, his voice dropping slightly. You look him in the eyes, before looking down at your lap again, a weak, saddened smile tugging at your lips.

“What you said about starting over… Maybe this is it. Maybe that’s what I need. There’s not much left here for me” you say, swallowing a sob. 

The urge to burst in tears gets violent again, and just like he can sense it, Poe squeezes your hand and gets you onto your feet so you can crash into him and break into sobs while he wraps his arms around you.

— 

You shift in your sleep and your mind screams at you to wake up; something feels off. The bed is too unfamiliar, too big, too comfortable. 

Because you’ve never been there before. 

It somehow simultaneously takes you ages and no time for you to realize you’re in Poe’s bed. 

You sit up, rubbing the sleep off your eyes, pushing the blanket away. You don’t remember coming to bed.

The last thing you remember is talking and watching a few The Office episodes with Poe on his couch, wrapped in one of his blankets. 

You hear the faint clinking of dishes in the kitchen, and you push yourself out of bed to go there. The wide space is filled with the smell of coffee and Poe is standing by the stove, flipping pancakes, dressed in the same clothes as last night, just like you are. He turns when he hears your footsteps, and gives you that easy smile that makes your stomach flutter.

“Morning,” he greets you, his voice warm. “Got your beauty sleep?”

You chuckle, rubbing your face. “Yeah, about that, you didn’t have to leave me your bedroom.”

Poe shrugs, turning to flip another pancake. “C’mon, it’s fine. It was part of my plan already anyway.”

You scoff and join him, leaning against the counter beside him. “I was already on the couch, I bet it would have been easier to leave me here than to drag me to your bed”

“You deserved a better night's sleep after the day you had.” he turns the stove off and looks at you. “I carried you out of a building in fire, remember? This was nothing” he smiles softly, handing you the plate of pancakes. You take it, and he gently rests a hand over your shoulder as he walks past you to pour you both a cup of coffee and hand one to you. "Besides, you’ve been through enough. A comfy bed is the least I can do sweetheart”

You take a sip of your coffee, savoring its warmth, but his words cut deeper than they probably should. There’s something so natural about the way he’s taken you into his space, about the way he looks out for you. 

It’s comforting, and maybe that’s what scares you the most. 

You haven’t brought last night’s conversation up again, and neither has he, but you can feel it there between the two of you. 

The possibility of leaving Chicago feels more real every time you think about it, and yet, being here with Poe makes the idea of leaving seem that much harder.

—

Poe is seated at his desk, locked in onto a pile of paperwork when a soft knock sounds from the doorframe. 

He glances up and it's Snap leaning casually against the door with a mischievous grin. 

"Your girlfriend’s here," Snap mouths teasingly as he points behind him; Poe rolls his eyes but can't help the small smile that tugs at his lips.

Snap steps aside, making room for you to enter the room. You flash him a quick, grateful smile before he leaves and before you step inside the office. Poe rises from his seat to greet you with a warm hug, one that feels natural after how close you've grown those past few weeks. The installed routine of crashing at his place every other week has deepened your relationship, turning it into something that feels comfortable, familiar.

“How’s your day going?” you ask, leaning against the wall.

“Busy, but nothing I can’t handle,” Poe replies, shrugging with a grin. “How about you? What brings you here? Missed me?” he grins playfully, and it widens when you huff out a laugh.

“I actually came to tell you some good news.” you take a deep breath, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through you. “I got an update about my apartment.”

Poe’s eyebrows lift in curiosity as he steps a little closer. “Oh? What’s going on?”

You can’t help but smile. “Since it’s uninhabitable for now, and because I’m not responsible for the fire, I’m getting my deposit back– and insurance is going to cover a pretty decent amount.”

Poe’s face breaks into a wide grin. “See? I told you so!” he says, his voice full of genuine happiness, as his hand rests lightly over your arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. There’s relief in his tone too as things are finally looking up for you.

You pause for a moment  before adding, “So…” you grin, tentatively. “I’ve decided to stay in Chicago.” 

Poe’s eyes light up at the news. “Really?” he asks, his voice a little breathless, as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Yeah,” you huff out a small laugh, nodding. “Actually, I came here because I was in the neighborhood looking at an apartment. It’s a bit cramped, but it’s all I can afford right now. And, hey, it’s better than nothing.” you shrug. “And… it’s like a seven-minute walk to the firehouse,” you add with a grin.

Poe smirks, “So, you’re gonna bring me cookies every day?”

“Obviously,” you laugh.

“I’m gonna have to exercise at least twice as much because of you.” he grins, placing a quick affectionate kiss on your cheek. Without thinking, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Thank you, Poe,” you murmur softly, your voice filled with gratitude. “For everything you’ve done for me.”

He hugs you back and holds you tight for a moment longer, the embrace a silent acknowledgment of everything you’ve been through together, how far you've come since you met– this could have happened in a better context but somehow, some part of you is glad it had to be him you stumbled onto.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he says, pulling back just enough to look at you. “You’re strong. You’ve been handling this like a champ.” he nods with a proud smile.

You smile back, still holding onto him. "I couldn't have done it without you."

Poe chuckles softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His eyes rake over your face, from your eyes down to your mouth before he stops lingering and pulls away. "Come on," he says, stepping back and motioning for you to follow him. "I’m gonna introduce you to everyone."

The sound of chatter and laughter fills the room where the rest of the crew is gathered. Poe introduces you to his colleagues and friends, and as you chat with everyone, you feel a sense of belonging and acceptance like you’ve known them for ages.

—

The new year passes around and January takes place quicker than you realize; sleeping on your friends couches is starting to take a toll on your back, so you’re barely able to keep a facade and hide your excitement when you finally get the keys to your apartment and when Poe and your friend Jay haul your brand new sofa bed up the narrow stairwell of the building.

“Where is it going?” Jay asks, short of breath after struggling to angle the piece of furniture to fit your doorframe. 

“Right there,” you point, and your other friends quickly push the cardboard boxes aside to make way for Jay and Poe as they transport and set the sofa down.

It’s the first time in months that things feel real, that you feel like you’re moving forward again. The apartment is small – really small – but it's yours and that fact alone is enough to make you feel relieved.

Your cramped space is a mess of half-unpacked boxes, random piles of bubble wrap, and stacks of furniture pieces waiting to be assembled. 

Your friends each have their own tasks, helping in various ways; Olivia starts assembling your coffee table, grumbling under her breath about missing screws, while Poe puts together your dining table with a look of concentration.

You're tucked away in a corner, hunched over a cardboard box labeled kitchen, sorting through utensils and plates. Your friend Sam joins you, taking out mugs and setting them on the counter beside you. She looks over at Poe, who’s working on screwing a table leg into place with the help of Mike, then she leans in a little closer to you, her voice lowering in that teasing way she does when she’s trying to stir something up.

“Your firefighter boyfriend is cute,” she grins. Your grip instinctively tightens on the pile of plates you’re holding, afraid you’re going to drop it at any moment.

“He's not– we're friends” you scoff, trying to play off though you can’t deny your heart rate going up. 

Sam gives you a knowing look, raising her eyebrows dramatically. "Oh, come on. You can’t tell me there isn’t something there. I’ve seen the way you look at each other."

You feel your cheeks heat up instantly, a wave of nervousness rising in your chest even though you can’t really bring yourself to argue. Poe and you– there’s always been something there, you know that, it's painfully obvious. But putting it into words, admitting it out loud? 

"I don’t know," you finally say, your voice quieter now. "I mean, yeah, he’s amazing. I just… it’s complicated. I haven't really had the time to think about it that way” you shrug, taking a glance at him. 

"Look, I’m just saying, if you’re not interested, maybe I’ll ask him out." she shrugs nonchalantly though her grin attests of her playful tone.

"Very funny, Sam."

She chuckles as she pats your arm, obviously enjoying your flustered reaction. "Just think about it. You two have that vibe, you know?” she insists, putting away the cardboard box she’s unloading now that it’s empty. “Whenever you're ready to admit it, just know I'm rooting for you."

You roll your eyes, though the smile on your face betrays you. 

You hadn’t allowed yourself to think too deeply about it– about him. It had been much easier to push that aside and focus on practical things, like getting through each day, finding a place to live, and piecing your life back together.

—

Your apartment empties after getting filled and reaching a state that starts to make it feel like a home; your friends progressively leave until Jay and Sam are the last to, each giving you a hug at the door and congratulating you on the new place.

"You owe us dinner for all this labor," Sam jokes as she steps out, winking at you as she heads down the stairs. You roll your eyes with a smile, watching her go before closing the door behind them.

A small sigh leaves you when you turn back and look around the place that is significantly quieter now. Poe is still sitting on the floor, carefully tightening one last screw to your dining table to make sure it’s secured. “Okay,” he groans softly as he stands up, wiping his hands over his jeans. “Should be good”

“Thank you” you say softly, standing against the counter.

He gives you a modest shrug as he puts the screwdriver down on the table. “It’s nothing.” he smiles, stepping closer until he’s standing beside you, his shoulder brushing yours. 

You both proudly admire the place you have spent the last few hours furnishing – it’s small, but it’s just enough for you alone there, and at least now you won’t have to rely on a space heater to survive Chicago’s cold.

You feel Poe look at you, truly look at you, feel the warmth of his gaze lingering over you. You feel it so clearly that it makes you blatantly aware of how close you are, how intimate it feels to be here, in your apartment, alone with him.

You glance over at him and he smiles, his expression softening as his hand reaches out, brushing a stray strand of your hair away from your face; the touch is so tender that it sends a shiver through your spine. “I’m glad you decided to stay.” 

His confession makes your heart flutter, and a tired smile tugs at your lips. “I am too.” you admit, fully turning to him. “And thank you again. Not just for this. For everything”

He shrugs, his face twisting in a grimace. “You’d have managed just fine, even without me”

You tilt your head to the side in disagreement. “I would have been roasted chicken without you, if you remember. So thank you. I mean it” 

He breaks into a laugh, rich and warm, shaking his head. His laughter is so contagious you can’t help the wide smile that grows onto your face. “Okay, maybe I saved you once. But, anytime,” he nods, his voice softer now, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. "You know that, right?" 

You find yourself nodding, scarily aware of how fast your heart is pumping inside your ribcage. You swallow as his gentle eyes rake over your face, your own gaze flickering between his lips and his eyes. 

“I know,” you whisper, your breath cutting short like you’re out of air. Somehow, all nervousness escapes you when his fingers drift to gently grasp your chin, ever so slightly angling it towards him.

He hesitates for a second, like he’s giving you the option to pull away if you wanted to; you don’t, there’s nothing you’ve been wanting more since you met him.

You lean in, meeting him halfway as his lips press softly against yours, tentatively. Your hands instinctively find their way to rest over his chest, and you sigh into the kiss when you feel the fast beating of his heart under your palm, the comforting warmth of him beneath your fingers. 

It’s not rushed or hurried – it’s like this action is a quiet, mutual acknowledgment of everything that has been left unsaid between the both of you for the past few weeks– hell, months.

The drunken smile over his lips as he pulls away has you going for another kiss; he pulls you even closer, his hands finding your hips, gently resting there. 

His forehead rests against yours when your lips grow apart, your arms wrapping around his neck when he nuzzles your cheek. “I should get going,” he whispers reluctantly, his hands still on your hips.

There’s a moment of silence– You swear you could almost hear the snow falling outside. “Really?” you finally ask, your voice teasing.

“Nah” he murmurs, and you both laugh softly as he pulls you closer, his arms fully wrapping around you.

—

please note that I'm planning on extending this universe just because I love it so much, I love them so much and I had so much fun writing this, so there will be more stuff linked to this one shot and you can request drabbles, headcanons or whatever you'd like about this AU!

people that wanted to be tagged in this (it was so long ago you probably forgot about this, sorry): @steven-grants-world @faretheeoscar @minigirl87 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @spectorslut

@lunar-ghoulie @ineffablewifes @whatthefishh @dameronshandholder @thatwonderouswoman

poe dameron taglist:

@lockleysgrl @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @anightshift @campingwiththecharmings

@mintgreen24 @spider-starry @jakecockley @cocodiem  @friedwings

@luxisluxurious @stvnnie @dowbastan @il0vebeingdelulu @hammerhead96

@unear7hly @pigeonmama

[rupturedtaleblog]

Hi everyone, Tile here, under more ideal circumstances, you would have gotten everything I wanted to do for the anniversary all at once, but due to my personal life becoming far more busy than I'd like, the content for this year is going to be spread out over the rest of the month.

The following is mostly going to be a few thoughts of mine, over the history of this project, and about a few personal anecdotes. If you don't care about that, feel free to just look at the art up there, it was made by VeggieUTDR.

I would like to start things off by thanking those of you who have decided to still follow this project. What started out as a stupid joke made to spite someone had transformed into a project that is incredibly personal to me. One that I, come hell or high water, will see through it to its completion, one way or another.

8 years feels like an incredible amount of time. A lot of things happened to me, and some things stayed relatively the same. It's part of why I've decided to never really cancel this. By the time Rupturedtale started, it was during the boom of Undertale AU Sprite Comics, it was a project among many of those, and one that would surely fade just like a good chunk of them.

That never really happened, though, as I'm currently talking to you. As corny as this may sound, there is a part of me inside of this thing. And it's a part of me I cannot bring myself to hurt. This whole story is about hurt, really, it'd be cruel to put it out of its misery when it can become something truly beautiful.

If you're wondering why it's taken so long, besides my life in general being busy, it's because I've spent a lot of time developing some personal projects with some good friends of mine. Ones that for the time being aren't really meant for the public eye. Creating those memories is important to me, and they will also shape how some of the things in this project are going to be.

You might get to catch a glimpse at one of them.

There isn't anything of major substance that I can show right now, the Date itself has things that will be better off being shown in their proper context. And its overall script needs to undergo revision before it can be put into game form. In the event of complete and utter catastrophic failure, you can expect it to come out in comic form instead.

In general, for the projects that are made by my hand (and the very lovely people who help said hand), I will be publishing a roadmap of what to expect in the future. There are a lot of things that I want to do, and I'm very eager to show them to you. I just need to get to them first.

Again, I'm incredibly grateful for your patience, there's not a lot of you out there, I'm aware, but for the ones that still are, I promise you're gonna get what you've been looking for.

If there is anything I've learned the past few years, is that my love for this game will never truly die, I will be thinking about it for the rest of my life.

Though, that doesn't mean I will only create under its own shadow.

You can't just play with the same toy over and over again, you know.

You'd want something new.

Eventually.

[beneathsilverstars]

Siffrin+Loop system backstory/timeline for my modern AUs!

Age 4 - ▮ is in a major car crash with their family. Their eye is injured, and their parents and sibling die. They split; ▮ has most of the memories, and is inconsolable when they front. ▯ only vaguely remembers events from before the crash without much emotional attachment, and explains that ▮ died along with their family, and being a ghost hurts. They're adopted by their grandmother.

▮ fronts and has a meltdown whenever they hear their name, hear anything about their family, or are forced to drive in a car. Their grandmother gets their legal name changed (to something she knows was on their parents' potential-baby-names list) and moves to a city with great public transit. After going a while without encountering their triggers, ▮ fades out. ▯ mostly fronts at home and a different alter mostly fronts at school.

Age 11 - Their grandmother dies and they enter foster care. ▯ misses their grandma and has trouble adjusting, so they go dormant. The composition of the system changes to adapt to changing circumstances as they're moved between foster homes. Mal stays the most consistent through this time period; it doesn't front often, but its memory is the least spotty, so it tries to keep the rest of the system somewhat organized and consistent and careful. It's kinda annoyed by everyone else coming in and out and making a mess, but better them than it.

Age 16 - They get a shitty part time summer job, and Siffrin pops up to front for it. He's very disconnected from the rest of the system; he doesn't remember anything he wasn't fronting for, and he can't access the same headspace everyone else is in. He's good at quietly adapting to whatever situation he finds himself in, at least. Mal is the only one who can pop over to Siffrin's headspace and talk to him, and it pulls Siffrin away from the front for someone else to take over when it's time to go home. The job ends and he sleeps for a while, and then they get another job and he fronts for it again.

Age 18 - They leave the foster care system and move into an apartment with some college students. Without school or a foster home to return to, Siffrin stays at the front unless something triggers someone else out, which happens less often as Siffrin gets better at holding onto the front and avoiding triggers. They spend the next couple years moving between shitty apartments and shitty jobs.

Age 22 - Siffrin becomes almost-sorta-friends with two roommates, and they stick together for the next lease term. He lands a job with slightly better pay than normal and a decent shift lead, but a particularly cruel manager. One of the roommates starts dating someone who's kind of an asshole.

age 23 - The other roommate unexpectedly has to move out of town, leaving the remaining two with higher bills. After a couple months with no luck finding someone new to sublease or at least move in at the next lease term, the roommate's partner moves in. The roommate often gets into fights with their partner, who is turning increasingly abusive, and Siffrin can't do anything to help. Some headmates from the childhood subsystem start fronting more often again, which is stressful to Siffrin since they have no idea what happens during that time, on top of their own increased dissociation. Mal isn't being very talkative, either, and what it does say is pretty harsh.

age 24 - The decent shift lead at work quits and gets replaced by someone worse, but Siffrin can't afford to change jobs and make any less money, since the abusive partner isn't contributing to bills. After a particularly bad incident between the roommates and then a disastrous attempt to convince the nice one to leave, Siffrin splits into Loop and a new version of Siffrin.

Loop keeps the memories of ages 22-24 (and nearly nothing before that), and copes with them by thinking of all people outside of their system as empty things acting out their roles, rather than real people with feelings and the ability to change. Siffrin keeps the memories from before meeting the nice roommate (though they're a bit foggy by now), and his personality resets a bit accordingly to what he was like three years ago. Loop is fairly aware most of the time when Siffrin is fronting and can chat with him, but Siffrin still totally misses anything that happens when he's not at the front. Loop continues fronting at work, and at home when either roommate is home, and just pulls Siffrin to the front when it's safe. The childhood subsystem stops fronting entirely now that someone else is here to deal with everything.

Since Siffrin is now free from the work/home stress, they're able to find and work a second job, and then another which allows Loop to quit the first. Siffrin mostly fronts for these new jobs, but Loop steps in when Siffrin gets too anxious. When the lease at the current place is up, the two jobs together are enough for them to get a shitty studio apartment with no roommates to worry about.

Age 28 - Siffrin and Loop have found a decent balance. Loop's not fond of Mal, but Siffrin chats with it sometimes. Both Siffrin and Loop still refuse to go anywhere in a car; Loop knows it's some sort of major trigger but doesn't know why, while Siffrin just happens to always choose a different option no matter how inconvenient. They've switched jobs a couple times, and none of them are great, but it could be worse. They've stayed at the same studio apartment this whole time, which also isn't great, but it could be worse.

Mal can still choose to hang out in either the Sif+Loop headspace or the childhood subsystem's headspace. At some point, when they're feeling safer, headmates from the childhood subsystem (especially ▯) will start fronting a tiny bit now and then when triggered by reminders of important memories. Loop is just as cut off from them as Siffrin is, and the moments are so tiny that it's hard to differentiate them from just zoning out, but eventually they'll figure out that there must be at least one more headmate they don't know about.

Find more info on the "current" state of the system in my original headcanon post!

[violettwrites]

new kid — tp!daryl

a/n: hi besties !!! i hope you enjoy the little backstory on our fave duo 😌 if there’s anything you’d like me to write about these two, just let me know ! i’m also working on some tp!trio stuff including merle bcos those three are just chaotic.

if you enjoyed this, please like, reblog, and/or comment !

you can find my ask box here — which is open for requests !

summary: reader (11) moves into yet another place in another town, and isn’t exactly thrilled about it. that’s until they meet the quiet kid in the park.

warnings: allusions towards/mentions of abuse

word count: 1,166

resources: divider by @adornedwithlight

➸ tp!daryl masterlist

➸ regular masterlist

it was mid june when you first met daryl dixon.

your father had just pulled his old pickup into the trailer park, kicking up a cloud of dust that hung in the air long after the engine had shut off. you stared out the window, eyes scanning the rows of faded, sun-baked trailers, each one looking as old as the next. your dad, already in a foul mood, grumbled something about going inside and “not making a fuss.” you knew better than to argue with him.

you had just moved here. not that it was much different from the last place. same kind of peeling paint, sagging porches, and rusted cars that never seemed to run. but little did you know, this trailer park would have one difference.

you didn’t know him yet, but you saw him the moment you stepped out of the truck. he was sitting on the steps of the trailer not too far away from yours, his small frame slouched like he was trying to disappear into the wood behind him. his hair was dirty blonde, a little too long, falling into his eyes. and his clothes were dirt streaked and a couple sizes too big for him. he looked like he hadn’t had a good meal or heard a kind word in a long time.

your dad noticed him too, but all he did was grunt. “tha’s will’s kid,” he muttered, spitting on the ground and making you grimace at the action. “stay clear of him. ain’t no good come outta that family.” you frowned, because as far as you knew, your father and will were friends. he was the reason your dad knew about this place.

you didn’t say anything, turning on your heel to make your way into the trailer. your new home for however long your dad could keep a job, or not piss off the park owners and get kicked out. it had been like that your entire life. and you were just a burden on his back— someone he had to feed and provide a roof over their head.

it had always just been the two of you. you didn’t know much about your mother— sure you remembered her a little bit. she stuck around until you were about four, but then she had run off with someone else. someone who had more money. someone nicer.

according to your father, she had always been selfish like that.

later that afternoon, while your dad was off drinking with some of the other men that lived in the park, you wandered out. you kicked at a rock as you walked along the dirt road in the park, feeling the dry heat against your skin. the kind of heat that made everything feel like it was moving slower. you saw daryl again, this time sitting by the edge of the lot.

without thinking too much about it, you walked over. he didn’t say anything when you stopped just a few feet from him, he just stared at you through a tangle of hair.

“hey,” you said, trying to sound casual, though your anxiety caught the best of you and your voice wavered.

daryl didn’t say anything, his eyes darting away like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to look at you.

you kicked the dirt again, feeling a little awkward but not wanting to leave. you looked back up at him, a small frown on your lips. “i’m (y/n),” you said, hoping to get something out of him.

“daryl,” he replied, finally glancing up at you. his blue eyes were sharp, like they saw more than they let on.

you nodded, not sure what else to say. you knew that look. you saw it in the mirror sometimes — the kind of look kids get when they’re used to keeping their heads down, used to trying to stay out the way.

“i think your dad is friends with mine,” you stated, hands shoved into the back pockets of your shorts, rocking on your heels.

daryl flinched— just the slightest twitch of his shoulder, but you saw it. he didn’t say anything, but you didn’t need him to. you could tell what his life was like. his dad, will, and your dad — they were all the same. angry men with heavy fists and loud voices. men you had to learn to survive around.

after a long silence, daryl finally spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper. “yeah. he is.”

you didn’t push. you knew that was enough for now. instead, you sat down on the ground next to him, the dust covering the back of your legs. daryl didn’t move, but you could tell he wasn’t as tense as before. the two of you sat there in silence for what felt like hours, the sun slowly dipping behind the trees, casting long shadows across the trailer park.

as the sky started to turn orange, you finally broke the silence that enveloped the both of you. “you wanna hang out tomorrow?”

daryl glanced at you, his brow furrowed in confusion, wondering why you would want to hang out with him. “why?”

you shrugged, picking at the hem of your shirt. “i dunno. ain’t got nobody else to talk to.” you looked at him, meeting those sharp blue eyes again.

he didn’t answer right away, but eventually, he nodded. “yeah. okay.”

that’s how it started. you and daryl weren’t the kind of kids who needed a lot of words, but it seems like you needed each other. you spent a lot of your days wandering the woods behind the park, throwing rocks at tin cans, and sitting by the creek when you wanted to escape the heat. you talked about your families a lot, but not your fathers. it was obvious what fathers who drank to much did, who hurt too much, who left scars deeper than anyone could see.

he’d talk about his older brother, merle, a lot. and you’d grimace at a lot of the things merle seemed to do. you were yet to meet him, but you weren’t exactly sure if you wanted to.

as the years went by, daryl became more than just a friend. he was your escape, your reason to keep going. you knew he felt the same, even if he didn’t say it out loud for a long time. you had each other’s backs in a world that seemed determined to keep you down, and that was enough.

even on the worst days, when your father’s temper flared and you were too scared to go home, daryl would be there, waiting by the tree line, ready to disappear into the woods with you. and when his old man came around looking for trouble, you’d do the same for him.

and though merle constantly teased the both of you, calling you names like lovebirds, you felt a little sense of security with your newfound family. it wasn’t picture perfect, but it mattered to you.

[gilbertscurls]

Consume ➵ Matt Sturniolo

synopsis: you finds yourself at a crowded party, but your mind is fixated on matt, the steady presence in your life who's recently stirred unfamiliar feelings within you.

The music pulsed through the crowded room, the bass reverberating in your chest as you weaved your way through the party. Neon lights flickered above, casting everyone in a hazy glow of reds and blues. You spotted Matt leaning against the bar, his head tilted back slightly as he took a long sip of his drink. His dark hair fell messily across his forehead, and his signature cool, effortless demeanor was as present as ever.

You weren’t sure when it had started—this unshakable pull toward him. He was always a constant in her life, the steady friend, the one who never let emotions show too clearly. But recently, every time you were in the same room, it was like a magnetic force pulled you closer, making your stomach twist with a kind of nervous energy you weren’t used to.

And now, with the low lights casting shadows across his sharp features and his black jacket hugging his frame just right, that pull was undeniable. You couldn’t help it. You were drawn to him, maybe even consumed by him.

“Y/N!” a voice called out from behind you, snapping you from your daze. You turned to see Chris and Nick waving her over.

“Hey guys,” you greeted, though your eyes flickered back to Matt. Chris followed your gaze, smirking.

“Can’t stop staring at our boy, huh?” Chris teased, nudging your shoulder. “I see the way you look at him.”

You shot him a warning glance, your face growing hot. “Shut up.”

Nick raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He always knew when to stay out of things. But Chris? Not so much.

Before you could say anything else, Chris gave you a knowing grin and strolled toward the bar, Nick trailing behind him. That left you standing awkwardly a few feet away from Matt, your heart pounding harder than it should have been. You were about to walk over when, suddenly, he turned and met your gaze.

The air between you seemed to thicken instantly, the noise of the party fading to a distant hum. His dark eyes held yours, steady and unreadable, but something in his expression flickered. He motioned you over, and without thinking, you obeyed, your feet carrying you to him before your brain could catch up.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low, almost drowned out by the music. “You good?”

You nodded, though you didn’t feel good. You felt out of control, your body reacting to his presence in ways that made you feel dizzy. You caught the slight downturn of his lips, a look of concern flashing across his face.

“You seem… Off tonight.”

You wanted to laugh at that. Off? If only he knew. You were so far from “off,” you didn’t know how to describe it. Instead of explaining yourself, though, you shrugged, trying to play it cool. “I’m fine. Just tired, I guess.”

He nodded, his gaze never leaving yours, and you could feel the weight of his attention. It was suffocating but also addictive, like you couldn’t get enough. Before you realized what was happening, Matt set his drink down and leaned in close, his voice barely a whisper in your ear.

“Come outside with me.”

It wasn’t a question, more like a statement, and you didn’t hesitate to follow him as he made his way through the crowd. You both stepped out into the crisp night air, the streetlights casting long shadows across the sidewalk. The party still raged inside, but out here, it was just the two of you.

Matt turned to face you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you just stood there, the city lights glowing softly around you. You crossed your arms, suddenly feeling the chill, but it wasn’t the cold that made you shiver.

“Y/N…” His voice was soft now, almost hesitant. He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from your face, and the simple touch sent a shock through your system. “You don’t have to act like nothing’s going on. I see it.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “See what?”

He stepped closer, his hand lingering near your cheek. “This… Thing between us.”

You opened her mouth to respond, but the words got stuck in your throat. Of course, he’d noticed. How could he not? It had been building for months, this undeniable tension, this pull that had you thinking about him constantly.

“You can feel it too, right?” His voice was low, his eyes locked on yours, and the intensity in his gaze was overwhelming.

You nodded, unable to deny it anymore.

He closed the distance between them, his hand now cupping your cheek. “It’s been driving me crazy,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Every time I see you…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t have to. You knew exactly what he meant because you felt it too—the constant, maddening thoughts of him that had been consuming you for weeks.

Before you could respond, Matt’s lips brushed against yours, softly at first, almost like he was testing the waters. But when you didn’t pull away, the kiss deepened, his hands slipping around your waist and pulling you closer.

It was intoxicating, the way his touch sent sparks through you, the way the world seemed to fall away. You kissed him back with a kind of urgency that surprised you, like you’d been waiting for this moment for far too long.

But as much as you wanted this, as much as you craved him, there was a part of you that knew this was dangerous. There was something dark about it, something that felt like it would consume you if you let it.

You broke the kiss, stepping back slightly, your breathing ragged. “Matt…”

“I know,” he said, his voice rough, his eyes still filled with that same burning intensity. “I know this is complicated.”

“Complicated doesn’t even begin to cover it,” you whispered, your heart racing. “What if… What if we ruin everything?”

He stared at you for a long moment, his expression softening. “Maybe we will,” he admitted. “But maybe… Maybe it’s worth it.”

You hesitated, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. This was Matt—your steady, reliable Matt. But the way he was looking at you now, the way he had kissed you, it felt different. Dangerous. Like stepping off a cliff and not knowing where you would land.

But maybe, just maybe, you didn’t care.

You reached for him again, pulling him back into your arms. If this was going to consume you, you might as well fall headfirst into it.

And as his lips met yours again, all thoughts of caution melted away, leaving nothing but the raw, electric energy between you.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom

[shinayashipper]

I cannot stand KaiAte but AteKai is... well, just to relieve Tension it's Nice 👀 but specifically with Atem being Mean to Kaiba if you know what I mean... heh

[whaliiwatching]

okay okay bear with me here because I think I just had a brainwave: Hobie with a corset piercing

do u see my vision

hmmmm…….

not personally but i’m sure someone will!!

[protosstar]

.

[madame-mongoose]

i miss talking to my friends :(

[redrosecarnage]

i feel like i post this at least once a month but whatever i'll never know love

[parme-san]

it is so exausting trying to argue with people who genuinely believe in everlasting love or whatever