#but that was all he was looking for. just a hint of a smile from me before he gives me another squeeze.

[alwaysshallow]

johnny x reader, except you’re his prize.

let’s state the facts: your partner has a gambling problem. you first thought of it as innocent, but when your jewelry started to disappear piece by piece, when your laptop went missing, you started asking questions. it's your boyfriend after all, someone you trust so much, so he has to have a good explanation for all of this, right?

well, you wish you didn't ask him. you wish you wouldn't dig into it because it got to a point that you learned about his massive losing streak, debt. he promises you he won't do it anymore, and for some reason, you want to believe him.

you know you shouldn't, but you do. 

this trust breaks completely when he says that you have to move out to your parents again because he lost your shared apartment.

you're furious, calling him names until he says there’s actually a way to win it all back. 

you want to laugh when he says he can put you instead of the money. actually, you do laugh, but you stop the second you see he’s not joking. he says something about a “creepy, weird guy” that he’s playing with, and how he always encourages him to do so. because it will be “fun”. because there’s lot of adrenaline in that and you want to scream, when he really seems to think of it.

“i’m not gonna lose against him. i’m teaming up with a guy-” 

something tells you that you shouldn’t do it, but when your boyfriend brings the money a few times in a row in the next week, you gain hope. you visit the casino with him to see him play and to see the weird guy.

“the weird guy” doesn’t look weird at all; there’s a dangerous charm about him, about this mohawk that he has, broad shoulders and a jawline that could cut you.

his eyes are on you multiple times during the play. he acts like he owns the place when he doesn’t even look at the cards but at you, flashing you a smile. you see the hint of teeth in that smile, and you know that’s not good.

there’s nothing kind in it. it’s more predatory than anything.

and you know you’re right, when your boyfriend looks with shock at you, and the other men look defeated.

“this has to be a joke, right?” you ask, taking steps back when you see that the man is standing up. “something like this can’t be allowed, it’s just wrong, it’s—”

“wrong is also stealing,” the man says, tipping your chin up. “and you shouldn’t steal, bonnie. tha’s real bad, ye know? especially from me.”

there’s no pole for discussion when he throws you over his shoulder, when you’re about to throw a tantrum. he just laughs and tells you his name.

because apparently, you’re supposed to know it from now on.

[uzurakis]

hii again!! I’m here to request a Drabble/headcannon (doesn’t matter to me :3) where the reader gets approached by two strangers n one of them goes ‘hi my friend thinks you’re cute’ and motions to their friend next to them even though the jjk men (yuta and Megumi but feel free to add anyone else!) is literally RIGHT next to them (this happened during lunch a week ago n all my friends laughed at me 😭😭😭)

WHEN A STRANGER CALLS YOU CUTE IN PUBLIC!

featuring: gojo satoru. fushiguro megumi. yuuta okkotsu. itadori yuuji.

n. hi baby! i supposed you’re the same nonnie that requested the stalker one? thank you for trusting me with your requests cause yours are always enjoyable to write and your ideas are *french kiss*. i hope ya like this one and please if you have any ideas you wanna share, hmu! ill always write yours bby. mwaah xoxo

hey, excuse me! my friend thinks you’re cute . .

ITADORI YUUJI. you exchanged a surprised glance with itadori, who cracked a smile sheepishly. "oh yeah? thanks," he replied, clearly missing the implication. the stranger nudged their friend, urging them to speak up. "uh, yeah," offering a nervous smile. "you're really cute."

your boyfriend only chuckled, oblivious to their intentions. "right? my girlfriend is the cutest!” he said proudly, pinching your cheeks infront of them. “yuu, we’re in public..”

the strangers shared a bewildered look, realizing that their attempt to strike up a conversation with you had been unintentionally thwarted. "uh, yeah, you’re really lucky," the stranger managed to mumble before they awkwardly excuse themselves and slipped back into the crowd.

you and itadori watched them go, bemused expressions on your faces. "did you catch what they were trying to do?" you asked, stifling a laugh. itadori shook his head, still clueless. "nah, but it doesn't matter. i already know who the cutest one here is," he said, planting a kiss on your cheek, causing you to giggle at his oblivion.

GOJO SATORU. before you could respond, gojo stepped forward, subtly clearing his throat. you shot him a puzzled look, wondering what he was up to. “yeah? well, she's taken," declaring at once, voice laced with amusement as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

the strangers kept eyeing you curiously, seemingly undisturbed by the statement he made. "oh really? too awful," one of them remarked, maintaining a smile.

gojo raised an eyebrow, exchanging a knowing glance with you. it was clear they weren't getting the hint. with a sigh, he cleared his throat again, this time louder, as he firmly took your hand and started to lead you away. “sorry, folks, but we're kinda busy," your boyfriend said with a charming smile, gently steering you in the opposite direction.

as you both walked away, gojo grinned down at you. "just making sure they know who you belong to, darling,” he said, pulling you closer as you continued your walk through the path.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI. you immediately glanced nervously at megumi beside you. however, your boyfriend remained silent, his expression unreadable as he gazed at the strangers.

unsure of how to reply, you gave the stranger a hesitant smile. megumi didn't express his jealousy, but it was obvious that he was still very much in the dark about it. the stress was literally radiating off of him. "um, thank you," you managed to murmur, feeling awkward under megumi's scrutiny.

the strangers seemed unfazed by megumi's silence, continuing to chat amicably with you. they asked questions, trying to engage you both in conversation, but megumi remained aloof, his attention solely focused on you. you glanced at him, catching the tightness in his jaw and the furrow in his brow. he was clearly uncomfortable, but he didn't make a move to pull you away from the strangers. rather, he only stood there, sulkily contemplating.

sensing his unease, you subtly shifted closer to him, hoping to offer some reassurance. megumi glanced down at you, his gaze softening ever so slightly before returning to the strangers, "hey, you done talking?" he shot at the strangers with thinly veiled irritation.

he then sighed, a hint frustration crossing his features. without another word, he gently took your hand and pulled you away from the conversation, his grip firm but not forceful. as you walked, you stole a glance at megumi, finding his expression softened slightly, his jealousy dissipating now that you were out of the strangers' reach. “i didn’t feel it like has to be said, but,” a tint of red swelled on his face, his eyes denying your gaze. “yeah, you’re always pretty. and if you need someone to say it, just,”

“just ask me, okay?”

YUTA OKKOTSU. you responded with a timid smile, sensing yuuta's comforting presence beside you. he let out a soft chuckle, his laughter soothed the situation as you thanked the compliment. "i appreciate it.”

yuuta's casual reaction didn’t appear to dismiss the strangers, as they continue to strike up a discussion as though you’ve been friends for years. while yuuta stays a silent yet watchful presence, they kept the questions going.

after a while, yuuta's smile widened, his eyes crinkling with amusement as he glanced at his watch. "it was fun talking to you guys," he said, his tone gentle but firm. "but me and my girlfriend need to be somewhere else."

you blinked in surprise at his sudden intervention, but the strangers took it in stride and finally offering their farewells. after they walked away, you turned to yuuta, curiosity piqued by his unexpected assertiveness.

"you’re not going to say anything about it?” you commented, impressed by his ability to not get jealous or anything else in between. yuuta brushed your hair, his gaze warm with affection. "cause they weren’t wrong though. you are the cutest.”

@uzurakis — reqs are open! <3

[shuagirl]

MIDNIGHT INK | JJK

pairings. soft dom!jungkook x fem!reader genres. smut [s] fluff [f]

summary. a faded tattoo marks your heartbreak. desperate for a fresh start, you visit Jungkook, a trusted tattoo artist and secret confidant you secretly love.

warnings. past relationships, heartbreak, and emotional healing, swearing, unprotected sex, lots of kissing, oral sex, missionary position, and implied consensual rough sex.

( marvy ) hellooooo, first post & writting on here. enjoy, lemme know your thoughts :) ... be nice !

Sitting on your bed, you watched your reflection in the mirror, your fingers tracing the outline of the faded tattoo on your lower back. Once a symbol of love, it had become a haunting reminder of heartbreak. You needed to rid yourself of it, something to signify a fresh start.

Finally, you picked up your phone from the desk and called the one person you trusted implicitly.

"Hello?"

"Hey, before you leave, can I get a quick one done on my lower back?" you asked hesitantly. "Trying to get a cover-up."

"Yeah, sure, be here by eleven-thirty, okay?"

"Alright, cool, thanks." You stayed silent for a minute, hoping he'd say more, but the call ended abruptly.

Glancing at the clock, your eyes widened. It was 11:20. With a groan, you grabbed your keys and rushed out. The tattoo shop was only five minutes from your home, but October's chill and early darkness made the journey feel longer.

Despite the recent breakup with your boyfriend, you always found yourself returning to him—Jungkook. He was the man you confided in, sharing all your problems, including tales of your toxic relationship. Though he listened, sometimes distant, you sensed he disliked hearing about your ex. Yet, he was always there when you needed a shoulder to cry on; truth be told, he was the reason you frequented the tattoo shop.

Upon arrival, the sign's lights flickered at the entrance. Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open. Jungkook looked up from his station, his sleeves rolled up, revealing his tattoo-covered arms. His dark, intense gaze swept over you, making your heart flutter.

"Hey," he greeted, a slow smile spreading. "Ready?"

You nodded, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach. "Yeah, thanks for staying late."

"No problem," he replied, his voice low and soothing. He gestured to the tattoo chair. "Take a seat. Let's see what we're working with."

As you settled into the chair, a mix of nerves and excitement coursed through you. Jungkook moved with practised ease, gathering his tools and preparing the area.

"Alright, let's take a look," he said calmly, lifting the back of your hoodie. His fingers brushed against your skin, lingering longer than necessary, sending a shiver down your spine.

Jungkook's gaze flickered to yours, a hint of desire in his eyes before he focused back on your skin. "15th of... December... 2023," he murmured, staring at your tattoo.

Embarrassed, you leaned your head against the seat. "Yeah, that's when we started dating."

He hummed in response, studying the faded tattoo. "This will be a great cover-up. Do you have a design in mind, or want me to freestyle something?"

"I trust you," you whispered. "Just something that represents a new beginning."

Jungkook nodded, his expression serious and thoughtful. "Got it. I'll sketch something out quickly."

You watched as he worked, his hands moving swiftly and confidently. The room was filled with the soft hum of the neon sign outside and the quiet scratch of his pencil on paper. After a few minutes, he held up the sketch for you to see.

"How about this?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for approval.

The design was beautiful—delicate yet bold, perfectly capturing what you wanted. "It's perfect," you grinned.

"Glad you like it. Let's get started," he smiled.

He carefully transferred the design onto your skin, his touch sending another shiver through you. "Ready?" he asked, his voice a low murmur that sent heat pooling in your stomach.

You nodded, unable to find your voice. The first touch of the needle was sharp but bearable. The pain quickly faded into the background, overshadowed by the sensation of Jungkook's hands on your skin. Each touch, each brush of his fingers, felt amplified in the intimate quiet of the shop.

Jungkook worked with steady precision, his eyes never leaving your skin. "You're doing great," he murmured, his breath warm against your back. "Just a little longer."

You tried to focus on the rhythm of his work, but your mind kept drifting to the closeness of his body and his hands' warmth. The tension between you was palpable, each minute passing in a haze of anticipation and desire. His fingers occasionally brushed against your skin in a way that felt more intentional than accidental, sending waves of heat coursing through you.

As the tattoo session continued, you found yourself mesmerized by the sensation of his touch. The combination of the late hour, the dim lighting, and the intimate nature of the session made every moment feel charged with electricity. You could feel the heat of his body close to yours, the soft brush of his breath on your skin.

"How does it feel?" he asked softly, his voice a soothing balm with a dark, underlying current.

"It's... it's good," you managed to reply, your voice shaking slightly. "Thank you, Jungkook."

He smiled, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "Almost done. Just hang in there."

The final strokes of the tattoo machine were almost a relief, though you couldn't deny the pang of disappointment at the thought of his touch ending. When he finally finished, Jungkook leaned back to admire his work, his expression of satisfaction mixed with something deeper.

"All done," he said softly. "Take a look."

You stood up and walked to the mirror, turning to see the new tattoo on your lower back. It was beautiful, a perfect cover-up that transformed an old regret into something new and meaningful.

"Wow," you said, your voice filled with genuine awe. "I love it."

He stepped closer, his gaze intense and dark with unspoken desire. "I'm glad you like it," he said.

For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, standing in the quiet, dimly lit shop, the air thick with unspoken feelings and charged with undeniable tension.

"Thank you," you whispered, your eyes locking with his.

Jungkook's hand brushed against your cheek, and your heart skipped a beat. His touch was gentle yet firm, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your breath catch. "You're welcome," he murmured, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine. "Anytime."

As you stared into each other's eyes, the air between you seemed to crackle with electricity, the line between professional and personal blurring beyond recognition. The tension was almost unbearable, and you found yourself leaning into his touch, craving more.

Jungkook's fingers trailed down your cheek to your neck, his touch igniting a fire within you. "You know," he said softly, his lips just inches from yours, "I've always been here for you. And I always will be."

His hand lingered on your neck, his thumb gently brushing your jawline as he stared into your eyes. The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine, and the air between you crackled with unspoken desire. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, each beat echoing the growing tension in the room.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," he whispered, his voice husky and filled with longing.

Your breath hitched, and you leaned in closer without thinking, your lips just a breath away from his. The anticipation was almost unbearable, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body, drawing you in.

Unable to resist any longer, you closed the distance, pressing your lips to his in a tentative kiss. Jungkook responded immediately, his lips soft yet insistent against yours. The kiss deepened slowly, fueled by the weeks of suppressed desire and the intimate setting of the tattoo shop. His hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss further. The sensation was electric, sending waves of heat coursing through your body.

Your hands found their way to his chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt. The sensation of his heartbeat under your palm matched the frantic pace of your own. Every touch, every movement was charged, making your skin tingle with anticipation.

Jungkook broke the kiss, his breath ragged as he trailed kisses down your neck. "God, I've wanted this for so long," he murmured against your skin, his hands roaming over your back, tracing the newly inked tattoo.

You let out a soft moan, arching into his touch. "Me too," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I've wanted you for so long."

He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark and filled with desire as he looked at you. "Then let's not waste any more time," he said, his voice a low growl.

With a swift movement, he lifted you onto the tattoo chair, positioning himself between your legs. The cool leather against your skin was a stark contrast to the heat building between you. Jungkook's hands slid under your hoodie, pushing it up to reveal more of your skin. He kissed a trail down your collarbone, his fingers deftly undoing the clasp of your bra.

Your breath hitched as he pulled the bra away, his lips capturing one of your nipples in a hot, wet kiss. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as he lavished attention on your breasts, his hands kneading the soft flesh.

"Jungkook," you moaned, the sound of his name a desperate plea on your lips.

He responded by kissing his way back up to your mouth, his tongue parting your lips as he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss. The kiss was deep and fervent, leaving a string of saliva connecting your lips when they parted. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve and dip, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You could feel his arousal pressing against your thigh, and the sensation only heightened your own desire. With a trembling hand, you reached down, palming him through his jeans. He let out a low groan, the sound vibrating through you and making you even wetter.

"Need you," you gasped against his lips, your voice breathless with need.

Jungkook pulled back just enough to tug off his shirt, revealing the expanse of tattoos that decorated his chest and arms. You couldn't help but run your hands over his skin, tracing the lines of ink with your fingers.

He made quick work of your clothes, stripping you bare before him. The cool air against your heated skin made you shiver, but the look in Jungkook's eyes sent a new wave of warmth through you. He kissed you again, his hands exploring your body with a fervent intensity.

His fingers found their way between your legs, sliding through your wetness with practiced ease. You gasped, bucking into his hand as he teased your entrance.

"You're so wet for me," he murmured against your ear, his breath hot and tantalizing. "I want to taste you."

Before you could respond, he knelt between your thighs, his tongue darting out to taste you. The sensation was overwhelming, and you cried out, your hands gripping the edges of the tattoo chair as he licked and sucked at your most sensitive spots.

Jungkook's tongue moved with expert precision, driving you closer and closer to the edge. Just as you felt the first tremors of your orgasm, he pulled back, his lips glistening with your arousal.

"I want you to come with me inside you," he said, his voice rough with desire.

You nodded, too breathless to speak, and he quickly shed the rest of his clothes. The sight of him, fully naked and aroused, made your mouth water. He positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes locking with yours as he slowly pushed inside.

The sensation of him filling you was indescribable, a perfect mix of pleasure and pressure. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper as he began to move. Each thrust was deliberate and powerful, driving you closer to the edge with each stroke.

Jungkook's hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he moved faster, his breath hot against your neck. "You're mine," he growled, his voice filled with possessive desire.

"Yes," you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders. "I'm yours."

The words seemed to spur him on, and he increased his pace, driving into you with an almost desperate intensity. Your orgasm built rapidly, a tight coil of pleasure that finally snapped, sending you over the edge with a cry of his name.

Jungkook followed you over the edge, his own release shuddering through him as he buried himself deep inside you. He collapsed against you, both of you breathing heavily as the aftershocks of your orgasms coursed through you.

For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, tangled together in the quiet, dimly lit shop, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat.

"That was..." you began, but trailed off, unable to find the words.

"Amazing," Jungkook finished for you, his lips curling into a satisfied smile.

You nodded, a matching smile spreading across your face. "Yeah. Amazing."

Jungkook pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace. "I told you," he murmured, his voice soft and tender. "I'll always be here for you."

You nestled closer to him, savouring the warmth of his body against yours. "And I'll always be here for you," you whispered back, feeling a profound sense of connection and contentment.

Jungkook pulled back slightly, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "We should get cleaned up," he said, but made no move to let you go. Instead, he brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle and affectionate.

You smiled, leaning into his touch. "Yeah, but maybe we can stay like this for just a little longer," you suggested, not ready to break the intimate cocoon that had enveloped you both.

He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I like the sound of that."

The two of you lay there for a while, wrapped up in each other's arms, the quiet of the tattoo shop providing a serene backdrop to your tender moment. The reality of the outside world seemed distant and unimportant compared to the warmth and closeness you shared.

Eventually, Jungkook sighed and pulled away, albeit reluctantly. "As much as I'd love to stay here with you forever, we should clean up and get you home."

You nodded, understanding the practicality of his words even though you wished the moment could last longer. "Okay."

Jungkook helped you off the tattoo chair, both of you moving slowly, savoring the lingering touches and stolen kisses as you gathered your clothes. He was gentle as he helped you dress, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that made you want to pull him back into your embrace.

Once you were both dressed, Jungkook guided you to the small bathroom at the back of the shop. He wet a cloth and began to gently clean the areas of your body that still tingled from his touch. The intimacy of the moment, even in such a simple act, made your heart swell with affection.

"Thank you," you said softly, your voice filled with sincerity. "For everything."

He smiled, his eyes locking with yours in a way that made you feel cherished. "Anytime, Y/N."

With a final, lingering kiss, Jungkook finished cleaning up and walked you to the door. The cool night air was a stark contrast to the warmth you felt inside, but you didn't mind. You knew that the bond you had forged tonight was something special, something that would stay with you long after you left the shop.

As you stepped outside, Jungkook held your hand, his grip firm and reassuring. "Call me when you get home, okay? I want to make sure you're safe."

You nodded, squeezing his hand in return. "I will."

He watched as you walked away, his figure a comforting presence behind you. As you made your way home, you felt a sense of peace and fulfilment that you hadn't felt in a long time. The night had been more than just a tattoo session—it had been a new beginning, a step towards a future filled with promise and love.

Later that night, as you settled into bed, your mind was filled with thoughts of Jungkook, completely forgetting he was waiting for your call.

The intimacy you shared, the way he looked at you, the feeling of his hands on your skin—it all replayed in your mind like a beautiful dream. Just as you were about to drift off to sleep, your phone rang, breaking the silence of the room. The screen displayed Jungkook's name, and your heart skipped a beat.

You answered the call, trying to keep your voice steady. "Hey,"

"Hey," he replied, his voice warm and soothing. "I just wanted to make sure you got home safely."

"I did," you said, feeling a rush of warmth at his concern. "Thank you for checking."

There was a brief silence, filled with the unspoken feelings hanging between you. Finally, Jungkook broke the silence. "I can't stop thinking about tonight, about you, Y/N."

"Me too," you admitted, your voice soft. "Thanks for the special treatment."

"It was special," Jungkook agreed. "I've wanted to tell you how I feel for so long, but I didn't know if you felt the same way."

"I do," you whispered, your heart pounding. "I feel the same way, Jungkook."

He let out a relieved sigh, and you could hear the smile in his voice. "I'm glad to hear that. How about we make this official? Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow night?"

Your face broke into a wide smile, your excitement bubbling over. "I'd love that."

"Great," Jungkook said, his voice filled with warmth. "I'll pick you up at seven. Sweet dreams, Y/N."

"Sweet dreams, Jungkook," you replied, ending the call with a smile.

The next day was a blur of anticipation and excitement. As the evening approached, you found yourself carefully selecting an outfit, wanting everything to be perfect. When the clock struck seven, a knock on your door made your heart race.

Jungkook stood on the other side, looking effortlessly handsome. He greeted you with a bouquet and a shy, endearing smile. "You look beautiful," he said, his eyes filled with admiration.

"Thank you," you replied, feeling your cheeks flush with warmth. "You look great too."

The dinner was perfect. The two of you shared stories, laughter, and tender glances across the table. Every moment felt charged with electricity, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing second. After dinner, Jungkook took you for a walk in a nearby park. The night was clear, the stars twinkling above as you strolled hand in hand.

As you reached a quiet spot, Jungkook turned to face you, his expression serious yet tender. "Y/N, I meant what I said last night. I'll always be here for you. I want to be with you if you'll have me."

Your heart swelled with emotion, and you nodded, tears of happiness brimming in your eyes. "I want to be with you too, Jungkook. More than anything."

He pulled you into a gentle embrace, his lips finding yours in a soft, tender kiss. The world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you in your perfect moment.

The weeks that followed were filled with joy and discovery. Jungkook became not only your lover but your confidant and best friend. Each moment spent together strengthened your bond, and your love grew stronger with each passing day.

You found yourself spending more and more time at Jungkook's apartment, where he would cook for you, and you would talk for hours about everything and nothing. The walls that once seemed to contain just his life now felt like a shared space where your love blossomed.

One evening, as you lay in bed together, Jungkook traced patterns on your skin, his touch sending shivers through you. "I've been thinking about something," he said, hesitating.

"What is it?" you asked, turning to face him.

"I want us to move in together," he confessed, his eyes searching yours. "I want you to be a part of my everyday life, not just the special moments. What do you think?"

Your heart swelled with joy, and you couldn't stop the smile on your face. "I think I'd love that. More than anything."

Moving in together felt like the most natural step in your relationship. You merged your lives seamlessly, finding comfort and joy in the little things—cooking together, late-night talks, and lazy Sunday mornings.

One evening, while unpacking the last of your things, you came across an old photo album. Sitting on the couch, you and Jungkook flipped through the pages, laughing at childhood photos and sharing stories from your pasts. It felt intimate and suitable, a testament to how deeply you trusted each other.

Jungkook pulled you close, his eyes filled with love and promise. "We've come a long way, haven't we?"

"We have," you agreed, resting your head on his shoulder. "And I wouldn't change a thing."

As the evening wore on, you found yourselves on the balcony, watching the sunset. Jungkook wrapped his arms around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. "I can't wait to see what the future holds for us," he murmured.

"Me too," you replied, your heart full of love and excitement. "With you by my side, I know it will be amazing."

As you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, you felt a deep sense of fulfilment and contentment. The journey began with a simple tattoo, which had transformed into a beautiful love story that would continue to unfold with each passing day.

Your past no longer held any power over you; you could embrace a future filled with love, promise, and endless possibilities. Together, you and Jungkook would face whatever came your way, knowing that your love was strong enough to withstand anything.

As you closed your eyes and leaned into his embrace, you knew this was just the beginning of your happily ever after.

(sorry omg i love this pic sm rn 😭😭😭)

SHUAGIRL © 2024. please do not copy, translate, or modify any of my work. all of my works are not permitted to be posted on any other sites.

[rxmye]

" 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐎𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 "

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄!𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 — pristine and perfect, filled with grace and elegance, yet tainted with greed . . greed for you . .

gender neutral reader / yandere oc x reader / slight religious themes?, I suppose it's a fictional religion, I'm still world-building / pathetic and submissive yandere / suggestive content? / he paints the reader as a source of comfort / stalking, which is conveniently described as 'adorable' and 'innocent' behavior /

masterlist | requesting rules | character info . . . a/n: ok so the person mentioned is supposed to be the God of this world, their introduction will also be out soon enough . . currently dropping hints here because world-building fun!!

Takamoto was an Arch-angel, one of the highest ranked angels in heaven—he was pure and truly the definition of elegance, he was never greedy, and he was almost always seen smiling or happy. For he, was truly contempt with his life, and position.

Takamoto was always someone who had truly been satisfied with all that he was given, he never craved more—he always thought and frankly believed, that he had received all that he deserved and that he should be contempt with what he has. He never really had any passion or desire for anything more—he was grateful with everything—he believed all his hardships had reasoning behind it, and that it will all eventually be solved. In fact a part of him believed he deserved any hardship he came by.

Many would believe he was naive for that sort of mindset, and many angels did truly believe him to be just that, yet against all odds he rose up the ranks fairly quickly for this sort of mindset, and of course his loyalty to his beliefs. Takamoto was sweet, he'd help everyone out, and would introduce new souls, and angels throughout the lands of heaven on his free time, he'd help guide souls and his fellow angels everywhere he could . . yet things slowly changed when he first met you . .

Takamoto was visiting, what could only be described as the countryside of heaven, with vast green fields, cozy homes, acres of farmland, etc . . He was checking in for this years harvest, as per high courts orders . . when he saw you, you were so graceful, your wings sparkled in the light, you were radiant, you're eyes glimmered as both of your eyes met for a brief moment . . he felt his heart skip a beat. . his face was heating up slightly, his face dusted with shades of bright pink.

His mouth hung slightly open, as his gaze lingered on you figure, taking in the sight—your wings were lovely, much smaller than his . . were you a new soul? Perhaps you were a lower ranked angel and hence why you both never quite met . . He wanted to know more about you—he need to know more about you—where were you going? . . . and before he knew it, he found himself following you, trailing behind you silently.

He found himself frequenting areas he last saw you, it was all so innocent at first, many of his fellow coworkers described him as a young schoolboy in love, teasing him for his oh so adorable behavior . .

Takamoto didn't notice how much you were invading his life, he hadn't even been able to hold a proper sentence with you yet . . . but even then his thoughts consumed of you, whenever he did paperwork, he'd doodle your face, his room was filled with various portraits of you . .

He found himself overtime growing desperate, impure thoughts flooding his mind, greed sinking its claws into his sensitive and naive hurt—he was the utter picture of perfection, just look at him, he was everything an angel . . a human, anyone should be!?!? Why aren't you looking his way!— . . he took deep breaths, his own fingers digging into his skin, as he tried calming himself.

Gold drips from his arm, the bruise left from his fingers still fresh—golden blood stained his pretty pale fingers—pupils dilating as he took deep breaths, a ruined portrait of your face on the aisle, paint splatters surrounded him, tainting his legs, as a mirror lay broken on the floor.

"Fuck", he cussed softly, tears threatening to spill, his usually well-kept hair was a mess . . "why can't I draw them . . ?", he asked, his voice hoarse, as he tried his best to contain the anger he felt at that moment, "why can't I fucking draw them??", his nails dig into the floor, as the door creaked open.

You need to love him, you need to see him. He had never craved someone's validation, he deserved this, he deserved you! He could offer you everything, he was perfect! Everyone he knows, envied that about him . . surely you'd notice, you have too . .

He turned to face the person at the door, tears now dripping down his cheek, he mumbled something under his breath, before he started begging, "Please, please, help me . . my lord"

@ rxmye , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

[jymwahuwu]

Interactive Story:

If you transformed into a bird and were discovered by Sunday

cw: birdcage description, yandere not mentioned in this chapter but possible in the future. please read with caution.

reader setting: You and Sunday have always been political enemies and rivals. You argue with each other in The Family meetings.

previous part

→ "try to become human again"

Like a rising thermometer, anger, anger, anger- the red liquid inside you is boiling, occupying, desperately searching for clues and ways to become human again, but finding none. As soon as you open your eyes, you turn into a little bird, after all. The world becomes wider in the bird's eyes. Perhaps awareness is the point? You are preoccupied with the idea of ​​"becoming human"…

But in Sunday's eyes, you are just a motionless bird, as if you are concentrating on something. There is an inexplicable cuteness. "Aren't you going to resist?" The leader of the Oak family wrapped his fingers around your wings, avoiding your wounds, and rubbed your round belly through the wings. If a bird's cheeks could heat up with shyness, you'd be hot right now. What a bastard! He can even harass a small bird! You pecked his fingers in retaliation, but your legs were off the ground the next second.

Sunday held you in his hands as he walked, observing you. You struggled to flap your wings all the way and chirped like he was committing a crime robbing birds. You'd think people would stop Sunday's "criminal" behavior, but other members of The Family were just watching quietly, smiling mysteriously, whispering to each other.

What a moral decline!

You huffed and fell silent. As if the young leader understood the meaning of your actions, a burst of laughter rose from his throat, and he rubbed your little head again. He… is he laughing at you? Lord Xipe, do you see this? He is truly insufferable!

This is not the first time you have entered Sunday's office, but every time before you ran in and quarreled with him before running out. This is the first time you notice the layout of his office. The smell of juniper berries. The cabinets are filled with heavy, thick books. And the light from the sun shining through the colored windows. He opened one of the lockers. You stared at him with your little eyes like a hawk, and you were relieved to find that the bottle of strange blue liquid was a potion.

"Be good, don't move."

Sunday skillfully stopped the bleeding on your wound and then applied the medicine. You bit your mouth, the wings of your wings swaying. Chirping in anguish. He took a new potion and sprayed it on the injured area to finish.

"…There, there. It's okay now…"

You hummed softly inwardly and looked away.

Knock- knock.

"Come in." Sunday responded with his usual elegant smile. You absentmindedly looked to see who it was, but you were so frightened that your pupils trembled.

That's your subordinate, your assistant.

"Mr. Sunday." He gasped with some embarrassment and anxiety. "They- they're missing. It's been over 20 system hours without any trace."

"No response even to private contacts?" The representative of The Family raised his eyelids at this moment, with a hint of disappointment and gloom in his tone. "I thought you were the person they trusted most."

"No - no, Mr. Sunday, you know that my allegiance is always only to you." He put his hand on his chest and bent towards him. It’s like the world has turned into an obscure suspense novel. You are stunned.

He glanced at him twice more, with unknown emotions rolling in his eyes, before giving the order. "Go search immediately and inform the Bloodhound Family that a senior member of the family is missing. We cannot let them encounter any danger."

"Yes." Silence returned to the room. You were still in shock at being betrayed by your subordinates, and you didn't even notice that Sunday had opened the cage.

You are locked up, in a birdcage.

He observes you from outside the cage. He asked. It's like asking for your opinion-

"You stay here now, okay?"

[mokulule]

Dead on MAYn day 2 - untitled so far

Prompt: Jason and Danny abducted by the same cult. No warnings apply.

This was a bad day, was Jason’s first thought as he became aware.

“Oh you’re awake, how are you feeling? That’s a nasty gash on your head,” a voice told him worried.

Jason slowly blinked his eyes into focus. He had the worst headache and when he grimaced he felt something stiff and crusty pull at his skin - dried blood. His arms were tied to a metal pole of sorts behind him which is what had kept him in a kneeling position while unconscious.

A young man slowly came into focus in the dim light. He had dark hair and light eyes, but actual color wasn’t possible to really tell. He was wearing just a simple light t-shirt and shorts, sitting similarly tied to Jason. If he’d been there for any length of time he had to be chilled from the concrete. Jason at least wore sturdy pants which added a bit of insulation.

What had happened?

Jason had been… shopping? Yeah that sounded about right. And then- nothing.

“Hey, please tell me they didn’t knock you entirely senseless?”

Jason focused back on the other… hostage? “What do you know?”

There was a flash of white as he grinned. “I know they came back with you sporting bloodied noses and mr stick up his ass probably have a broken wrist.”

“Who are they?” Jason spoke lowly, looking around, but the room they were in was a basement room only way in was a heavy metal door. Only the barest of light shone through the cracks of an otherwise barred window. There was no one but the two of them.

“Some weirdo cultists.”

Jason must have shown his surprise on his face, because he continued.

“Didn’t expect that, huh?”

“I thought it was just a normal kidnapping.”

“You get kidnapped enough for there to be normal kidnappings?” The man asked eyebrows raising up past his messy bangs.

“Not as such, but my adoptive father is something of a big deal in Gotham so there’s a risk.”

The other thought that over for a moment with a worried frown, before speaking, “I’m sorry you got caught up in this weirdness.”

“And what about you?” Jason asked.

“Me?” He tilted his head.

“You seem remarkably calm about this?”

That earned Jason a chuckle.

“Yeah well you could say it’s not my first rodeo either. I get involved in a shocking amount of weirdness for someone who’s just trying to get a degree.”

He had the sort of smile that invited Jason to share in the joke. Jason gave him a smirk of his own.

“Actually with a degree in Gotham chances are high of becoming a supervillain.”His smile fell as he stared at Jason in shock.

“You’re shitting me.”

Jason shook his head and leaned back against his metal pole, unfolding his legs to get a modicum of comfort.

“Shockingly high amount of PhD’s amongst the rogues,” Jason explained.

That startled a laugh out of the man. He had a nice laugh. “Should have picked another city then I guess.”

“And miss meeting me in some cult’s basement?” The words escaped Jason before he’d even had a chance to consider them, it was just too tempting to banter with this man. Only the sudden silence made him realize he was flirting.

The man tilted his head slightly and gave Jason a thoughtful look. Jason found himself tensing, holding his breath, but then a smile spread slowly over the man’s lips, and Jason could breathe again.

“You know what, you’re right. I’m Danny.”

“Jason.”

“Nice to meet you, Jason.” It was said so honestly, with no hint of joking, words soft like a caress, that Jason’s breath hitched. He scrambled to get his thoughts in order. He didn’t know how to respond.

Thankfully Danny, didn’t seem to need a response.

“Urgh, you know what? Let’s get out of here. I usually stick around to see what nonsense they’re trying to do, but I’m not feeling charitable today.” With that Danny pulled his hands in front of him and pushed himself to his feet - as if nobody had bothered tying him up at all.

The action thankfully pushed Jason back into an analytical mindset. He either had training or- “Powers?”

“A few.” Danny winked at him and to his embarrassment he felt his cheeks heating - so much for the analytical mindset. Danny moved over to start to untie Jason. His hands were cold and Jason’s earlier assumption that he was chilled from the floor seemed proved. He needed to keep his mind on track and not think of the way cool fingers brushed against the insides of his wrists. Without using his powers, as he’d clearly done to get himself free, Danny was not fast.

“You shouldn’t show them off, Gotham has a real problem with traffickers.”

“Not to mention death-cults, which somehow nobody warns you about.” Danny shot right back with a put-upon sigh.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I,” Danny ducked back in front of Jason, “if I had known the amount of supernatural shit going on- well,” Danny shrugged, “I would have probably still taken that scholarship, because beggars can’t be choosers, but I would have had warning.”

Danny went back to untying with a cursed, “idiots really mad at you fighting them, what’s up with all these fucking knots! This might feel weird.”

There was a strange liquid sensation in his wrists and forearms and then he was free. He brought his arms back to his front to inspect the damage. His fingers tingled and throbbed as he flexed them, and he had a bad case of rope burn running from wrists up his forearms. They really hadn’t liked him fighting them indeed. He’d been no where near loosing his hands or fingers, but it had been a risk if he’d been tied up too long.

Not that he’d have let it get that far, he’d have slipped out way beforehand.

Cool hands laid themselves on top of his wrists and gripped him gently. A soothing sort of cool energy seemed to seep into his skin chasing away the pain and numbness and Jason was forced to reevaluate his “chilled” theory. The cold might have to do with his powers.

Jason looked up and Danny’s face was very close. The tips of their noses were inches apart. Danny’s eyes were very blue, the light had to hit them just right right now, it was almost like the glowed.

“You really shouldn’t use your powers so obviously,” he cautioned absently, as his eyes traced the thin barely visible white scars on the left side of Danny’s face; they grew over his skin, organic like vines on a trellis - or like lightning. As if the thought had summoned it, he could suddenly smell ozone, wild, like power rippling under the surface barely held back.

“Are you going to traffic me, Jason?”

For a moment the words didn’t register. He was too busy watching Danny’s lips move. Too caught up in that power he felt. What had Danny said? This wasn’t the first time a cult went for him? A death cult? He didn’t want to stick around to be charitable today? He’d never really been a captive.

What was he?

Danny let go of him as if burned and stepped back. The sense of power disappeared just as suddenly, leaving Jason reeling with the sudden emptiness. He felt as if he’d been dropped into a desert with emptiness stretching for miles in every direction.

“I’m sorry,” Danny said, “I didn’t mean to scare you. Most people don’t-“ He cut himself off.

Jason swallowed, realizing he had been scared, and pushed himself to his feet. He felt wobbly and disoriented, disconnected.

“Most people what?” He demanded, when he finally felt stable on his feet.

Danny looked at him with a worried frown. “Most people don’t feel my power at all. You’re either magic…”

There was an “or” clearly missing. Jason didn’t know why, but he knew he had to know. “Or?”

“This is really not the best place for this,” Danny hedged looking around them with a grimace.

Jason stepped forward and grabbed his arms. The power was back, though more muted than before, like it was hiding behind layers of fabric.

“Or?” He demanded.

Danny looked up at him a strange expression on his face. “Or, you have more than a passing familiarity with death.”

It felt like the ground dropped out from under Jason’s feet, that first rush of air of a fall. Yet, somehow he was still standing. Danny’s hands gripping his arms hard in return was the reason. He gave Jason a small shake and when Jason sorta focused on him, he said, “This is not an empty stomach sort of conversation. Least I know why they grabbed you too. Come on.”

And with those words suddenly they were flying up through the ceiling and the next ceiling and the next, it became a blur until suddenly they were outside in fresh air high above the city. Jason moved his legs in a startled motion, but nothing happened. He was weightless, Danny’s hold on him was light. That cool energy was flowing through him again, but this time it was his whole body.

The view of Gotham stretched out below them, behind them was the harbor, they’d been in one of the many more or less abandoned buildings that dotted the area between harbor and city proper. Too many gun fights broke out in the area over shipments of various illegal items for any legal businesses to want to rent those buildings for any substantial amount of time, which explained how a (death?) cult had set up shop.

Jason was very carefully ignoring the fact that he was flying. It wasn’t the first time he’d flown with someone - those other times however he’d still been able to feel gravity, now he was weightless. The air might as well have been water, though it didn’t press on him.

The view of Gotham was breathtaking from up here. Evening was closing in on a rare day with few clouds for Gotham which meant blue actually peeked through in spots.

Danny sent him a grin and Jason’s stomach did a flip. When Danny moved so he only held Jason’s hand, Jason noticed they were both somewhat see-through.

“Are we invisible?” He asked.

“Sure are, don’t wanna catch unwanted attention.”

With those words Danny flew them through the city until they came to a flat topped roof in view of the Gotham U campus. He set Jason down and held his hand until he was steady on his feet as gravity reasserted itself on his body, like a heavy blanket.

“I know a good burger place nearby.” Danny had said he was a student, with Gotham U in view that supported the claim. Danny continued speaking, “I will return with food, but if you want to leave in the mean time-“ He nodded towards the roof access and gave a shrug- “otherwise I will explain things once we have eaten. Any allergies or dislikes?”

Jason numbly shook his head. Danny faded away like a mirage, leaving Jason with just the view of the old campus buildings.

Jason sat down to wait. Danny had given him an out, but there was no way Jason could let this go. Not just because of his training, but because he needed to know. If Danny knew anything of what had brought Jason back…

Of course it occurred to him that Danny might have just fled himself, it would have been the smart thing to do. He had no obligation to tell Jason anything, Jason was a stranger. But somehow Jason knew Danny wouldn’t have said he’d be coming back if he wasn’t.

Jason’s gut feeling was ratified when Danny returned about 20 minutes later, brandishing a large paper bag and two milkshakes as he turned visible. Somehow Jason had felt he was there just a moment before he turned into visibility, like a prickle on his skin - it was something to examine later.

Danny had brought them both cheeseburgers and fries. The burgers were juicy and the fries crisp and spiced. Jason felt more real, more himself with hot food in his belly. Danny had given him the choice between the cherry or the pistachio milkshake as he set down beside Jason. He had chosen the cherry - it was good. With those flavor options he had to wonder what more options they had.

When their impromptu rooftop picnic was done, aside from the last of their milkshakes. Jason’s eye were drawn to Danny’s calloused hands, where they fiddled nervously with the straw.

Something was building, there was a grim set to Danny mouth and Jason was suddenly uncertain if he really wanted an explanation at all. Danny had powers that Jason could feel because they were death related, so what? That was an explanation of a sort already.

“I died when I was fourteen.”

The statement was like a punch to the gut, and Jason felt just as breathless. He snapped his head to Danny, about to tell him that he really didn’t have to tell him that, but Danny held up a hand. He met Jason’s eyes squarely, somehow conveying that it was okay, that he wanted to share this.

“An interdimensional portal opened up right on top of me, killing me, but all that energy also revived me, killed me again and revived me over an over…” His eyes slid from Jason to the skyline haunted and empty. He clenched his fists and took a deep breath, then looked to Jason again. “It left me somewhere in the middle, both dead and alive and neither all at the same time.”

Jason didn’t know what to say. The weight of the trust Danny was showing him by telling him about his death, was heavy like an anchor rooting him to the spot.

“These days,” Danny continued in a lighter tone, “I consider myself something of a bridge between the spirit and the living world. I help where I can in between trying to live and I get to be kidnapped by death cults because of my energy.” Danny shrugged carelessly, but the pinched eyebrows gave away how anxious he was about Jason’s reaction.

It was honestly not the strangest story Jason had ever heard. The world was a strange place what was one more addition to the tapestry that was Jason’s life? A thought occured to him. He carefully looked out over the city - the sunset painted the sky red in between the skyscrapers - and steeled his voice neutral.

“A bridge huh? Between the physical and the spirit world…”

“Yeah.”

“Do you also master all four elements?”

“No, mostly just ice- wait a moment,” Danny’s head snapped to face him as he caught on to the Avatar joke and he promptly punched his shoulder.

Jason laughed.

“It is not funny!” Danny insisted, yet he had to cover his mouth to muffle the laughter that wanted to escape. For a moment his shoulders quaked in silence but then he gave in and laughed.

“Fuck you, Jason, I was trying to handle this conversation respectful of the heavy subject.” Then almost as afterthought he muttered, “Ancients, I never thought of it like that.”

He leaned all the way back until he was lying on the roof, looking up to the sky. Jason followed suit.

“I don’t want to talk about my death,” Jason admitted.

“That’s alright. It’s not the sort of thing you ask a spirit to share, it has to be freely given.”

Jason turned his head to look at Danny.

“Is that what I am? A spirit?”

“I’m not entirely sure, I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

Jason should probably ask him to elaborate, milk him for all the information he had. Danny was a being with still unknown powers in Gotham, Bruce would be unbearable if he learned. But Danny didn’t feel like a threat to him and Jason was tired of asking questions.

From next to him he heard a sigh.

“For a moment back there,” Danny started a wistful note in his voice, “I actually thought I might be getting lucky tonight.”

Jason snorted at the unexpected subject change. He hesitated for a moment, but then threw caution to the wind. “Who says you aren’t?”

Danny sat up so fast he jumped a foot off the ground - he didn’t even seem to notice the fact he was still hovering as he turned around in the air to face him hovering above him. “You gotta be yanking my tail! After all this?”

Jason shrugged, deliberately moving his arms a bit higher where they pillowed his head. He smirked, delighted at the way Danny’s eyes were drawn to the sliver of skin revealed as his shirt drew up.

“I, uh-“

Something occurred to Jason. “Do you have a tail to yank?”

This time it was Danny’s turn to smirk, his teeth were distinctly sharper than they had been a moment ago. Jason’s mouth went dry.

“Sometimes, when I want to.”

Jason had almost forgotten what question he had asked. When it sunk in he blushed at the implication he could change his shape. Trying to regain his composure, he teased, “So it’s a deliberate choice to be a skinny twink?”

Danny flicked his nose for that. “No, this is just me. My low energy state if you want.” He paused for a moment considering then added teasingly, “I can’t change my shape much in human form.”

“Human form?” Jason asked curiously.

Danny hummed, and reached out slowly, leaving plenty of time for Jason to move away. He didn’t. He did shudder though, when cold fingers brushed his cheek and trailed down his throat. He could feel the power held in check, a tsunami behind a dam. Holding Danny’s eyes he tilted his head back to give him more room.

Danny sucked in a breath. His eyes darkened and Jason felt the power ripple.

“Maybe I’ll show you,” Danny said slowly, “if you’re very good.”

Jason swallowed. Yeah, he could be good. He could be very good.

When Danny kissed him, Jason thought this hadn’t been too bad a day after all. Even despite the weirdness, Jason would take it. And the night? The night was shaping up to be all the better.

Bonus:

“What the Hell, Jason!”Jason startled awake at Dick’s outburst from behind him.

“You couldn’t have called us to say you were alright? I know you have more than the one phone!” Dick continued his tirade.

Danny was as awake as Jason and looked up at him with wide eyes from where he was conveniently hidden by Jason’s larger frame. Jason resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Wing,” he said tiredly as he worked to disentangle himself from Danny and turn around, but Dick didn’t even hear. He was pacing back and forth, very much not done with his rant.

“Nooooo, you get grabbed on open street and we get to find some weird cult, with a huge magic circle and strange bubbling liquids, and they have your wallet and phone - and your tracker. I can’t believe you didn’t bother to get it when you escaped!”

“Wing,” Jason tried again.

“Of all the-“

“Nightwing!” Jason said firmly with great emphasis on the call sign.

Dick spun to look at him finally. He did a double take when he saw Danny peeking over Jason’s shoulder with wide eyes.

“Danny, meet my friend Nightwing, we go back a long time. Like I mentioned, my dad being who he is, kidnapping is a risk and you meet people this way.” Jason gave Dick a telling glare and his mouth clicked shut, message obviously delivered: Jason was not compromised but he sure would be if Dick kept blabbering.

“Wing, this is Danny, my co-would-be-sacrifice. He’s a regular Houdini with rope and locked doors, he got us out.”

“Hi,” Danny said hesitantly raising a hand in a little wave.

Dick rubbed his face. “You could have called.”

“I was busy.”

“I can see that! Just-” Dick threw up his hands and walked to the window he’d entered through, “call your dad before you get busy again, he’s worried.”

He left through the window and didn’t even bother to close it, dick. Jason turned to look at Danny, he was beet red.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, “I didn’t even consider they might have taken your things.”

“They didn’t take yours?” They mustn’t have, Danny had gotten them food.

“I- um,” Danny grimaced then admitted, “I store my phone and wallet in my thigh for the most part.”

For a moment Jason stared, then he burst out laughing. Danny slapped his chest.

“It’s not that funny!”

But really it was, especially because of the way Danny pouted. He leaned down to kiss the pout away but Danny stopped him with a hand over his mouth.

“No, you go call your dad so we don’t get more surprise visitors.”

- Hope you enjoyed! If I get the time I want to write a small sequel for one of the last days, but I haven't started yet so we'll see.

[her-favorite]

CLUELESS; M. STURNIOLO

DAD!MATT STURNIOLO X F!MOM!READER

warnings: (toxic)baby daddy!matt YUPPP (except with a happy ending bc i can’t help myself)

a/n: requested! i gave the daughter a random name bc typing “y/d/n” gets annoying lmao, i also kinda added more detail to it (and a happy ending bc angst makes me sad) but i hope you like it anon!! <3

wc: 2,570

SYNOPSIS: Matt made it clear that he wasn’t ready for a relationship with you, but how does he react once you tell him you’re going out for the night?

-

Matt broke it off with you, it was his decision entirely.

Since you have birth to Angelina, it was said that Matt wasn’t ready for an official relationship. At the time, you had been angry; you had a few month old baby in your arms as your boyfriend proclaimed that he wasn’t “ready for something so formal.” As months pass, you’ve grown used to the situation, handing your daughter back and forth with the father of your child as you minded your business and he minded his.

Today was Friday, and Matt had texted you a few days ago that he was going to come by to pick up Angelina so she could visit Nick and Chris. You complied, given it was also a perfect opportunity to get out for once. Usually, when Matt has his daughter at his place, you stay in and relax, something you’re not necessarily able to do with an almost two year old around.

Today you decided to go to the bar… information Matt was not expecting.

When you heard the annual three knocks on your door, you made your way towards it and opened it. “You have a key, Matt, you know how to get in.” You say as usual, walking back into the bathroom to finish putting in your earring. You were already dressed up, nothing too crazy, but still comfortable enough for you to wear out.

“Why are you all dressed up, mama?” Matt leans against the open doorframe, his blue eyes raking over your body before watching you in the mirror. His arms were crossed over his chest, accentuating his taut biceps in the tank top he was wearing, accommodating to the nice weather outside.

“I’m going to the bar.” You reply shortly, turning around without looking at him as you walk by. Before he could get any sound out his mouth, your daughter sprints out of your room (too busy playing with her box of fake fruits that Uncle Nick gifted her), looking for her father.

“Daddy!” Her sweet voice distracts Matt as his eyes drift down, meeting hers. She has a cute smile on her face as she extends her arms up towards him.

“Hi, babygirl.” Matt smiles wide as he leans down to pick her up, resting her on his hip, placing a stabilizing arm underneath her. Placing kisses around her face, sweet giggles fill the air, quickly placing a smile on your face just from the sound.

As Matt makes his way over to you, he watches you gather your things. Rocking her slightly on his hip, he speaks up, “What’re you doin’ at a bar?” He tried to sound as neutral as possible, but the edge in his tone was clear. Immediately picking it up, a sigh escapes your lips. You glance back at him, noticing how Angelina was too busy playing with her father’s horse necklace to pay attention to what her parents were saying.

“What do you usually do at a bar, Matt?” You reply sarcastically, giving him a look. With a clench of his jaw, he keeps his eyes on you, occasionally falling down your body to watch your legs sway by each other.

Licking his lips, he averts his gaze and looks back over at you. “Are you meeting someone there?” His voice became heavy, jealousy seeping through.

Matt’s always been possessive, not too an unhealthy extent, but enough that even a stare towards someone that had romantic feelings for you got the hint. You used to love it, it felt safe, like he was protecting you. But ever since he called it off (and with Angelina), he’s had no reason to be jealous because neither of you had any time or reason to be or hookup with someone else.

His sudden dose of questions doesn’t surprise you, but they did start to get on your nerves. He was the one who didn’t want to stay together.

“Does it matter?” You respond, grabbing your phone as you turned to face him. You notice the way he tries to hide his irritation, either for Angelina’s benefit or for yours. There was no use if the latter was the case, you knew him inside and out. “When are you coming back with her?” You decide to change the topic, your voice back to normal, trying not to let his curiosity get the better of you.

Exhaling softly, Matt licks his lips again as he answers, “Nick was actually wondering if you’d wanna come over Sunday; said he misses you.” He never stops his slight movements with his daughter on his side, soothing her into unconsciousness.

As the words leave his lips, it made you realize how long it’s been since you’ve seen Nick and Chris. You did miss them; they were your best friends. But being as busy as you were with a little girl, you barely have time for yourself, let alone to hangout with your friends. You’re hoping today will ease your anxiety of going out again.

Nodding your head, a soft smile curls at the end of your lips. “Yeah, that sounds good.” You accept the invitation, the thought of seeing the other two boy’s lifting your mood.

“Cool.” Matt’s answer was short as he watches your reaction. He’d be lying if he said seeing you happy didn’t make him happy. That’s all he’s ever wanted for you, he was just always scared he’d never be the one to give that to you. But, now, with you going out to the bar, potentially meeting someone else…

“It’s getting late so I’m gonna head out.” Your voice interrupts his thoughts as he blinks. Swallowing dryly, Matt nods and tightens his hold on his girl, grabbing the bag you pack for her every time Matt came by to pick her up.

“Yeah, I should probably get back, anyway.” He replies, trying his best to go along with your statement, despite the uproar of jealousy burning up his body. He slings the bag over his shoulder, taking steps towards your front door.

Before he leaves, Matt turns to let you talk to your daughter. “I’ll see you soon, Angel.” You kiss her cheek, smiling as she giggles softly. “I love you.” You whisper close to her ear, knowing how much it tickles her. More giggles fill the air as she playfully swats at you, her tiny fingers resting against your nose. Pressing a peck against her small palm, you let go of her as she immediately reaches for Matt’s necklace again.

“Say, “bye, mama.” Matt rocks her gently, looking down at her. Angelina’s bright eyes look over at you, waving her hand dramatically.

“Bye, mama.” She repeats, her words slurred slightly, clearly just a few seconds from sleep. You laugh softly at her attempt, waving back at her. As Matt turns to leave, he opens the door, but not without a last glance to you.

“Have fun tonight, Y/N.” He says, catching you off guard. Exhaling through your nose, your shoulders lose their tense position, watching Matt watch you. Your eyes swipe between his, trying to read him. For the first time, you couldn’t. It made you feel anxious, like you were doing something wrong. No, he’s doing this on purpose, he knows how to get under your skin.

“Thanks, Matt.” You reply shortly, keeping your face neutral as you spoke. With a curt nod from him, he turns and shuts the heavy door behind him. Sighing as you can’t help yourself, you walk over to the window, watching him walk away. You notice the way he entertains Angelina’s babbles as he buckles her into her carseat, exaggerating his reactions to make her laugh. As he rounds his car, he takes his seat in the driver’s side and turns it on. With a glance towards you, he notices you staring as he sends you another nod before putting the car in drive and pressing on the gas.

Maybe you shouldn’t go out tonight…

-

That same sentence repeats itself in your head as soon as you step foot into the busy bar.

It’s only been a couple minutes since you walked in and you already regret it. You couldn’t remember the last time you’ve been in this sort of setting and you’re far from getting used to it. You’d be lying if you said your mind wasn’t plagued with thoughts of Angelina and Matt. You know how good of a father Matt is, he’s just… complicated, it was something you just had to live with.

As you sat at the bar, you pondered whether you should get a drink or not, knowing you wouldn’t be able to drive home if you did. Getting lost in your thoughts was easy as the people around you entertained themselves.

“Hey.” A voice broke you out of your reverie, your head snapping in the direction beside you. A man seated himself on a chair next to you, a half-empty glass in his hand.

Swallowing dryly, you reply, “Hey.” You couldn’t remember the last time someone tried to flirt with you, given you’ve spent so much time with Angelina and Matt. Once your eyes met his, you almost gasped at his appearance. He had dark brown hair contradicting his blue eyes, bright skin a familiar shade. He looks like Matt…

Redirecting your gaze, a quiet sigh escapes your lips, thankfully being drowned out by the loud music. Silently waiting for his next words, your fingers tap anxiously against the top of the bar.

“I was just wondering what a pretty girl like you was doing sitting alone.” The stranger replies, a smirk forming on his face. Exhaling softly, you ignore him, contemplating your options. Matt would never start a conversation like that. A voice inside your head yells at you to stop comparing other people to Matt, knowing that a habit like that could get destructive.

You needed to go home.

-

Sunday morning comes around as you sleep in, taking the empty house for granted. When you had gotten home Friday night, it was easy to fall into a routine of making food and watching tv, deciding to take your free time to relax instead of go out. Maybe it just wasn’t for you.

A few hours later, your make your way over to the triplets’ house, putting the car in park as you unbuckle your seatbelt. It was a little past four as you knocked on their door, waiting patiently for someone to answer.

“Y/N!” Nick’s voice blared as soon as the door creaked open, enveloping you in his arms almost immediately. With a soft laugh from you, you wrap your arms around him, relaxing in his hold. “I missed you so much, I haven’t seen you in forever.” He says, his tone more dramatic than needed, making you chuckle.

“I missed you, too, Nick.” You smile, stepping into their house and up the stairs. Smiling once you see your daughter, she reciprocates and giggles loudly, alerting Chris. She rests on his lap as his legs bounce lightly, previously relaxing her.

“Y/N!” Chris smiles, looking over at you.

“Mommy!” Angelina exclaims, trying to get over to you. Chris picks her up and walks over to you, handing you your daughter before hugging you softly, making sure he doesn’t crush Angelina.

“How’ve you been, ma?” Chris asks, his voice soft. He grew into the habit of calling you that ever since he found out you were pregnant; you slowly got used to it.

Entertaining his small talk, you feel Angelina play with the neckline of your shirt, her tiny fingers just barely tugging on the fabric. Chris stands with his arms crossed, listening to your words, occasionally interrupting whenever a new thought popped into his head.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me you were here?” Matt walks out from his room once he hears his daughter giggle, not expecting for you to be here already. Nick had made his way back up next to you, joining your conversation, not without periodically getting annoyed at Chris.

“‘Cause you were too busy brooding in your room.” Chris replies, a smile that’s been on his face the entire time never leaving. With a scoff from the other brother, Matt gets closer to you, reaching out to tickle his daughter gently. With a cute giggle in response, his mood quickly switches as he watches her.

Once Nick announces that he needs to grab something from his room (to get away from the conversation he held with Chris), Chris immediately follows him, his words never stopping even when Nick groans in irritation. As they walk upstairs, it leaves you, your daughter and Matt together.

“So, how was the bar?” Matt breaks the silence as his arms cross, his jaw subconsciously tightening. He waits to hear your answer, his blue eyes raking over your reaction.

“It was fine.” With a vague answer, you knew it upset him, but you wanted to figure out why. You notice the way his tongue licks over his teeth, his short nails digging into the soft skin of his arm.

“Did you meet anyone?” His question lingers in the back of your mind as you walk a few feet to sit down on their couch, shortly after feeling the cushion beside you dip as Matt took his seat next to you.

Hesitating, you exhale softly trying to figure out how to reply. You could be unclear and not give him a definite answer, or you could be honest and finally tell him how you truly feel. You knew waiting any longer would just make things worse..

“No.” You reply, looking over at him. Matt tries to hide the look of shock on his face, but you noticed it before he fixed it. “Because I was too busy thinking about you.” You mutter, looking down at your daughter in your lap as she fidgets with your fingers.

Matt sat still, watching you. He’d be lying if he said he was expecting you to say that, too engrossed with the idea of you meeting someone else and forgetting about him. His chest moved faster than usual, your sudden confession taking him off guard. “You were thinking about me?” He asks, his voice coming out softer than intended.

With a nod in response, you keep your eyes on your girl, too nervous to look at him. Your eyes widen slightly when you suddenly feel his hand grasp your chin, making you look over at him, his tattooed arm holding you tightly.

“You were thinking about me?” Matt repeats, his blue eyes boring into yours. You knew this game he played; if he ever asked you something important and you didn’t verbally answer, he’d make sure you did either way.

“Yes.” You sigh, swallowing thickly as your nerves heighten. His tough façade slowly breaking as a small curl tugs at the ends of his lips. Rolling your eyes, a small smile overtakes your mouth as you try to look away from him.

“Look at me, baby.” His voice was raspy as he caught your attention, mindlessly following his words. “I know I’ve been difficult and these past two years have been a lot, but,” he takes a second to think, trying to find the right words. “I was an idiot for never treating you the way you deserve, mama. I promise I can do better this time.”

And who were you to say no?

[likedovesinthewindd]

room service; part 2 to sore loser

summary: you find the two boys at the party, but neither of them want the night to end there | content/warning: alcohol consumption, smoking (patrick), suggestive content | a/n: I kinda don't like the way this turned out

The cold condensation from the bottle of Sprite in your hand was beginning to numb your hand as you maneuvered your way through the crowded backyard, looking for a place to sit down. You didn't even know why you were here, anyway.

The party was in celebration of your earlier opponent signing a new brand deal, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't still little butt hurt by it all. But you didn't want to look bitter; you'd celebrate your peers' success just as much as they celebrated yours. Plus, you could never say no to a chance to get out your dorm room.

You finally found an open patio chair, plopping down with a soft groan before your eyes scanned over the crowd. You saw the girl of the hour, a wide grin sporting her face as she took pictures with her trophy in hand in front of a giant poster of herself, an impressive shot of her in action.

You couldn't help but smile at the sight of her giddiness, taking a sip of your bottle before your view was obstructed by the two bodies. Your gaze moved up until it met two familiar faces staring down at you, each with a small smile on their faces. Against your initial hesitance, a smile stretched across your lips from behind your bottle as you lowered it down to your lap.

"Hi boys," you greeted, laughing at the way they talked over each other in reply. "You look beautiful," Art spoke up first, complimented you with a coy, almost boyish smile. Your hand smoothed over the material of your dress, straightening out any crinkles. "Thank you," you answered, "you two clean up nicely as well." You almost laughed at the way both of their backs straightened at your words.

You extended your hand, Patrick moving quickly to help you from your seat before Art could even register what you were doing. Once you were standing, your hand was straightening the back of your dress, offering Patrick a grateful smile that he returned tenfold. You were a bit confused and dumbstruck by the boys' undivided attention on you, but you couldn't say you weren't enjoying it.

"Are you guys having fun?" you asked, getting a combined reply of an uncertain hum and a "not really." You hummed in agreement. "Do you smoke?" Patrick asked, his hand digging into his back pocket, most likely feeling for his cigarettes and lighter. You shook your head, placing your almost empty bottle of Sprite on the small patio table.

"There's a garden way back that side," Patrick said, gesturing to behind you. You took the hint with a hum, already turning around and making your way to the garden, the two boys hot on your trail.

𖡼 ⊹ ˚.

"So," you started, watching the way Patrick exhaled a cloud of smoke, turning his head slighty as to not blow it in your face. "Why don't you go to Stanford?" you asked.

The three of you were sitting on a bench facing the impressive French Parterre in the middle of an even more impressive garden. You sat in the middle of the two, head having to move back and forth between them every time you talked.

"I dunno," he said, "just isn't my thing." He replied, taking another long drag of his cigarette as his eyes gawked your reaction. You only nodded, head moving to your right, Art's head rising from his palm when he saw your attention on him. "What about you?" you asked, "why are you at Stanford?"

He scratched the back of his head in thought, before shrugging. "I dunno," he answered, "what about you?"

"I want a degree, that way I might get a good job if tennins doesn't work out," you replied. "Which seems to be the right choice with the way it's been looking lately," you added a little bitterly.

"I can always coach you," Patrick said softly, smirking at you when you turned to look at him with raised eyebrows. "You're funny," you scoffed without any real offense. "You don't need a coach," Art spoke up, "you just need to get out of your head."

"How do you know I'm in my head?" you asked. He shrugged, "I dunno. I can just see it." You frowned, turning back to Patrick. "You see what he sees?" you asked him, watching as he stubbed the cigarette out on the bottom of the bench's armrest. He gave a small shrug before nodding. "Okay," you said, standing from the bench and turning around to face them. "How do you suppose I get out of my head then?"

Neither of them answered; Art's head dipped down, suddenly very interested in his jeans and Patrick swiped a hand across his mouth with a small laugh. You sighed. "I'm gonna get going, I have a busy day tomorrow," you said, causing Art's head to rise again, but you were already walking off.

"Wait, the night can't end here," Patrick said, causing you to turn around. "Why not?" you asked, words a little snappy. You didn't want to admit it to yourself, but their comments on your playing soured the mood a little. You had always been awful when it came to receiving criticism, constructive or not.

"I'm staying here for the weekend. Come over to my hotel," he tried, giving you his hotel name and room number. You recognized it as the hotel where your parents were staying for the week. They had come over to watch your matches and asked you to stay with them at their hotel room for the week to catch up. You weren't going to tell him that, though.

"You want me to come over to your hotel and find your hotel room?" you asked with a laugh. "If it's not too much trouble," Patrick replied, that stupid smirk still on his face.

You could almost laugh at his eagerness. "Is he gonna be there?" you asked, turning your head towards Art. "He could be, if that's what you want," Patrick replied, his eyes watching the way your smile widened the slightest at his words.

You nodded before turning around again. "Okay," you replied before making your way back to the party.

𖡼 ⊹ ˚.

You had barely given two knocks before the door was eagerly opened, Patrick standing in the doorway with a dopey smile and an unbuttoned shirt, looking flustered.

The hotel room was messy– that much had been expecting from two boys living together– and the sight of their beds pushed together made you laugh. Art was standing by the bed, hands clutched together in front of him like a church deacon. You gave him a small smile before turning around to Patrick as he pushed the door closed. "So," you breathed, looking down at the playing cards scattered around the carpet, "how often do you guys do this?"

Their brows furrowed. "Do what?" Art asked, watching as you moved to the bedside dresser, taking a beer from the already opened six pack. You opened the can, the crunch and wizz pairing wonderfully with the sound of the humming AC. "Recruit a third?" you asked, taking a gulp and watching the way they sputtered.

"Oh, that's not what we—"

"We're not—"

"Are you two not, y'know?" you asked. "No," Art answered quickly. "No, we're not together." Your eyebrows raised. "Oh, alright," you smiled. "You work so well together, though," you added, "I'd hate to disturb the syncopation."

You moved to sit down on the bed, eyes shifting to Patrick in question. He quickly found his way next to you, sitting much closer than necessary. You gave him a smile, eyes scanning over his face, watching the way his cheeks balled when he returned the smile. Still, you moved closer, turning your body so that you faced him completely and lifting your one leg onto the bed.

His eyes kept moving down to your lips, swallowing when he saw your tongue dart out to wet them. Your faces were all of a sudden much closer than before, your noses almost touching as his hand, now placed on your thigh, rubbed across the skin tentatively. "You never answered my question," you spoke, looking down at your hand as it smoothed across his exposed chest, relishing in the feeling of his chest hair against your palm.

"Hm?" he replied, the sound ending in a sigh when you looked up at him again. "What do I need to do to get out of my head?" you asked again. He was beyond incoherent at that point, mind only registering the feeling of your hand on his chest and your warm nose now rubbing against his.

You hadn't given him chance to think much further either, your mouth finally meeting his in a kiss that had him sighing in relief. He immediately went all in, turning his head to deepen the kiss as your hands touched the sides of his face. This went on for a while, the sound of the broken AC and the occasional sigh and groan from Patrick filling the room until you pulled away. His mouth tried chasing yours but you turned your head completely, your focus now on Art, who sat at the very edge of the bed as he gawked at the two of you.

Patrick's mouth moved to your neck as you tapped the empty space next to you. Art moved quickly, shuffling along the cheap covers untill he was right next to you. You turned your body completely, causing Patrick's lips to detach from your neck as you faced Art.

"What about you?" you asked as Art's face moved closer to yours, his hand reaching for to your thigh and clashing against Patrick's that was still rubbing the inside of the opposite thigh.

"Do you know what I need? Hm?" you asked, watching Art's mouth open in a heavy breath before you kissed him. He was much more timid than his friend, lips unsure before he gained a bit of confidence when he felt your hand on the back of his head, gripping the hair there.

The kiss ended much too soon for his liking, and he almost passed out at the look on your face, eyes half-lidded and lips swollen. You turned to your left, Patrick not looking much better than you. Your eyes went back and forth again, looking at the two boys and noticing when their eyes briefly met each other's over your shoulder.

"Maybe I do need a coach," you said softly as you rose from the bed, the old mattress creaking underneath you. You quietly made your way to the door, leaving them with a soft "goodnight."

✰ ⊹ ˚. part 3

[zepskies]

Down to the Crust

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: You’ve set out on a very specific mission for Dean. The problem is, you now have ulterior motives for your (formerly) pure love of baking.

Request: Since reading your imagine, "Dean Gives You an Impossible Choice," I have not been able to shake it, one point specifically. I was wondering if I could request a fic where the reader is learning to bake pies for Dean. She's best friends with the boys, but she and Dean have undisclosed feelings for each other…

AN: You guys know I love baking shenanigans lol. This one is set at a particular time during season 14…

Song Inspo: “Joy” by Blackstreet

Word Count: 2.6K

Tags/Warnings: Flangst, hurt/comfort, hint of spice~

No, no, no, no, NO!

You did your best to scoop out the salt you’d just poured into the flour.

You can’t really be this dumb, you berated yourself. How could you confuse one white powdery thing for another? Salt vs. sugar—it wasn’t that hard!

You shook your head in simmering frustration. You decided to just dump the whole contents of the bowl, salty flour and all, into the garbage. You’d have to start again…for the third time now. 

Frankly, this was getting ridiculous. You could make cookies, brownies, even cupcakes (with homemade buttercream).

How hard could a pie really be?

Maybe it was the telltale tremble of nerves in your hands.

Maybe it was because you had an ulterior motive for doing this, besides your formerly pure love of baking.

Maybe because this promised dessert was for one pie-loving glutton who was set to come upstairs from the garage any minute. Or at least, whenever Dean’s stomach finally called him back to the kitchen.

Though recently, he hadn’t been all that hungry. He’d denied your friendly offer of a snack earlier (since when did he turn down taquitos?), and he’d barely touched the pizza you guys had for dinner yesterday. (One slice? The man could eat half a pizza in one sitting. To your knowledge, there wasn’t a pie he didn’t like.)

Dean hid it well, but he wasn’t on his game. You knew why, of course, but…

You sighed and measured out the last of your flour for a fresh try. If you messed this one up, you’d literally have to wash your hands of this mission. And yes, it had become mission fucking impossible, as far as you were concerned.

Once the flour was safely mixed with a cup of sugar, you cut up some chilled butter to create the pastry dough. You followed the instructions in the recipe even more carefully this time, from your open laptop on the kitchen counter. The keyboard was dusted with flour at this point, along with your hands and arms. You even felt it under your nails and in your hair, but you didn’t care.

You were going to make this damn pie if it killed you.

You’d even bought real cherries, not the canned filling. It meant more work for you in removing all the pits inside them, but this was worth the extra labor.

However, as it just occurred to you, you’d left them simmering with some sugar, lemon juice, and cornstarch in a pan, around the time of your second attempt at pastry dough.

“No!” you gasped, hastening to open the lid and checking the saucepan.

Oh, thank God, you thought, seeing that the cherry filling wasn’t bubbling over. It actually looked like the proper thickened consistency and smelled delicious. You just needed to do some more stirring.

An hour or so later, you had successfully shaped the dough, chilled and poured in the filling, and covered it with the (embarrassingly uneven) lattice work on top.

“Whatever. The man still believes in the Five-Second Rule. He’ll eat this,” you muttered as you slid the pie in. You even remembered to do an egg wash on top. You admired it for a moment in its raw pastry form, then closed the lid to the oven with a nod of satisfaction.

You wore a wide smile, feeling accomplished, until you turned around and saw the disaster you’d made of the kitchen. Flour was dusted across the counters, a pile of dishes in the sink, cherry remnants in the pan and dripping across the stove, and so much more. You winced at the sight.

“What the hell is this?” came a gruff voice.

Your gaze drew to the doorway with a sharp intake of breath. Dean was standing in the doorway to the kitchen with a bewildered expression on his face.

The man had a thing about people in “his kitchen.” You got ready to placate him with your hands raised as you took a step towards him, but then you gasped.

“Shit!” you yelped, slipping in some egg that had dropped on the floor. Your hand accidentally banged the oven on the way down, but your head also hit the corner of the wall.   

You ended up sprawled on your side across the dirty floor, dazed and winded. Dean hurried to your side with one of those frowns that always made you want to smooth the wrinkle between his brows.

He braced your shoulder, almost but not quite touching your hip with his free hand.

“Damn. You okay? This ain’t a slip n’ slide,” he said.

Your lips twitched at a smile, but you sighed. “I’m okay.”

“You hit your head?” he asked, beginning to help you up slowly.

“A little,” you admitted. “Nothing the old bag of frozen carrots in the freezer won’t cure.”

Dean grimaced, but after he made sure you were settled on your feet, he checked the back of your head. You tried not to blush (and revel) at the feeling of his fingers slipping into your hair, even if he was trying to feel for a knot back there.

He was close enough that you could almost feel his body heat through the black shirt he wore, for once without the outer layer of plaid. He smelled like grease and sweat; likely he’d been working on Baby.

Were you weird for kind of liking that smell?

“Well, I don’t feel any goose eggs, so you’re probably fine,” he remarked.

“Thanks, House. Is that your final prognosis?” you asked, beginning to smirk.

Dean’s gaze met yours in amusement.

“Tell you what,” he said, “If you get a headache, I give you full permission to take one of the fun little pills I’ve got in my dresser.”

You laughed. “If it’s not Vicodin, I don’t want it.”

House M.D. was one of those shows you and Dean liked to watch together, along with Game of Thrones, and even Smallville, on occasion.

Dean smiled slightly. But even that was a small feat, and something you hadn’t seen from him in weeks. Not a real smile, anyway. Before today, nothing you’d tried had been working to brighten his mood.

Not pizza Fridays. Not letting him listen to the same damn Zeppelin album without complaint for that eight-hour ride on the last hunt. Not trying to gouge his level of broodiness and offering to hang out, to be a listening ear if he needed it.

He still hadn’t taken you up on the last one. While that hurt, you also understood it. You understood how Dean dealt with things he didn’t want to think about, let alone talk about, even to his own brother.  

Dean now looked down on you knowingly, gesturing at the rest of the kitchen.

“You gonna tell me what you’re doing in here?” he asked.

You crossed your arms and raised your chin, a smile playing on your lips.

“What, can’t handle somebody else in your kitchen? What’re you, Gordon Ramsey?” you teased.

Dean’s brows kicked up, his lips twitching.

“You’ve made a mess of my kitchen any number of times, but I ain’t ever smelled sweet, sweet cherry coming out of that oven,” he said. “You’re finally making me pie?”

You had to laugh. Inside, you were pleased that he now looked excited, his green eyes dancing. You clapped your hands over his arms.

“Yes, I’m making you your damn pie. Only took me fifteen tries, but it’s happening,” you said. You turned to check on it, but the second you opened the oven, black smoke billowed out.

Your eyes widened in horror and your mouth fell open on reflex, but harsh coughs tore from your throat as you waved your hand against the smoke. Dean quickly handed you the oven mitts, and you shoved them on before taking out the steaming dessert.

The entire top crust was scorched black. Cherry filling oozed out, and not in a good way. You slammed the oven shut with your hip, and you had to toss the pan onto the counter for how hot it was.

Inside that pan was a dreadful excuse for a pie.

Dean had an arm crossed under his elbow, while a hand came up to cover his mouth as he took in the state of it. He then looked over at you.

He saw the shock, settling into pursed lips and tight shoulders. You turned in slow movements.

You saw that the oven had been switched to “Broil” on the highest setting. You’d probably messed that up when you fell and hit the dial with your hand. But Christ, was that a powerful oven.

Those old white guys really didn't mess around when they built this damn bunker, you thought sourly.

Dean took another look at the steaming pie and grimaced, despite his amusement.

“Well, she won’t be entering any beauty pageants, that’s for sure,” he teased.

His playful smirk fell, however, the moment you turned around. He saw the way you were biting your lip, and the tears brimming in your eyes.

He softened, and he went to you.

“Aww, sweetheart. It’s okay,” he chuckled, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “‘S probably better than I could do.”

You rested your head against his chest and sniffled. You blinked to try to stem off your tears. 

“It’s not about the damn pie! I mean, not really. It’s just…” you trailed.

You quieted, realizing you were about to say things you’d rather not.

Dean noticed though. Because of course he did.

“Then what’s it about?” he asked.

You avoided his gaze at first, though he was too perceptive not to notice. He jostled you a little against his side.

“Huh? You wanna answer me?” he asked. His lips curved at the way you were fighting a smile yourself. Your tears won out though.

You turned under his arm and leaned up on your toes, so you could hug him. Your arms twined around his neck and you held him tight.

To say it surprised Dean would be an understatement, his eyes widening a fraction. He still held you back, almost on reflex.

“I couldn’t do anything else,” you said, through tears. “Not for you, or Sam…or for Mary.”

Dean’s confusion descended into grim understanding. A weight fell deep in his gut, clenching painfully the way it always did, when he thought about his mom.

The fact that Jack didn’t have his soul didn’t make a difference, no matter what Sam said. Not in Dean’s mind, anyway.

Jack had killed their mom.

She was gone, had been taken from them. And that second loss had torn a new chasm in Dean’s heart, deeper than the last one. He held you a bit tighter without realizing it.

“I’m sorry,” you said, rubbing his back. “I know you don’t want to talk about it. I just wanted to…to do something for you.”

Slowly, Dean pulled away a little. His hands moved to your waist as he looked down on you with a heaviness in his eyes. For a moment, he just took in the contours of your face, your eyes shining with tears that clung to your lashes. You were looking up at him like all you wanted to do was fix it. And fix him.

Well, you had to know that was a lost fucking cause. But it just didn’t stop you from staying here with him and Sam, living with them, hunting with them, being one of the last friends they had, after all these years.

It didn’t stop Dean from loving you for it, either.

He let out a breath, and he couldn’t help but raise a hand to get some of the flour off your cheek. He smoothed the back of his hand against your skin, along your jaw, and finally brushed his thumb across your lower lip, where you had worried it with your teeth.

“You’re too damn much, you know that?” he murmured.

You were blushing hot at his touch, but you frowned at his words. Until you noticed the fond glint in his eyes…and for the first time, something more. Something he was finally allowing you to see.

When he bent down and claimed your lips, your thoughts stuttered to a halt. You gripped the front of his shirt instinctively. He framed your face with his hands; they were calloused and smelled like motor oil, but you didn’t give a shit. Not one iota. Because it meant something, and your heart swelled with a warmer, brighter feeling.

You gripped his shirt tighter and leaned up to meet his second kiss. His hand moved to your lower back, pulling you flush against him. You grabbed onto his shoulders and let him invade your mouth with his warm tongue slipping against yours. You moaned, the sound echoing between you both and shooting right to his dick.

His brows furrowing, Dean’s fingers slipped into your hair again, but this time, to tangle in the strands. He walked you back until your ass hit the counter, where he grabbed hold of your thighs and hefted you on top of it, regardless of whatever stains covered its surface.

He moved in between your jean-clad thighs and encouraged you wordlessly to wrap them around his hips. You didn’t need much encouragement.

“Dean,” you whispered, between heated kisses, hands wandering down your body, exploring soft curves and warmth over clothing.

“Hmm?” he said, into your mouth. It was distracting, but you found the strength to slow things down, gently taking his face into your hands.

You both caught your breath for a moment. It allowed Dean to see the thread of uncertainty in your gaze, even though you caressed his stubble-covered cheeks.

“I just…do you…is this…” you tried, but your brain seemed to be on a short fuse. You blamed his sinful lips entirely.

Said lips drew into a smirk. Dean’s hands moved up your thighs and held your waist less gripping, more comforting (and claiming).

“I really do, and damn straight it is,” he said, slightly teasing. He did lean back in to press a gentler kiss to your lips.

“Trust me,” he said, as he became more serious. “If you want more from this…”

At that, your uncertainty melted into warmth. You released his face, holding onto his shoulders instead.

“Yeah, Dean,” you nodded. “More than anything, yes.”

He read your sincerity, and it warmed him too. Again, he gave into the urge to brush his thumb against your blushing cheek.

“I uh…I had a feeling it was always gonna be you,” he said.

You raised a brow at that, even though your smile threatened to unravel him further.

“Oh, yeah? How long?” you asked.

Dean pretended to think.

“Since that first batch of oatmeal cream pies,” he said, with a cheeky grin. “Pretty sure I was marked from there on out.”

And not just because he’d been imagining what you’d be like to taste, ever since.

You giggled, though you gestured with your eyes at the charred pan next to you on the counter.

“Guess I should try again on that pie. Wonder what that’ll get me,” you hedged, letting your thumb graze his neck. Dean smirked.

“All right, sure. Remind me to pick up a new fire extinguisher,” he said.

You guffawed and hit his shoulder, but he just laughed and pulled you in for another kiss.

It was sweet enough on its own.

AN: I know, I know. I'm a sap. 😂 Let me know what you thought of this pie-filled episode! 🥧 💕

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Dean Winchester One-Shots

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms

@foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma

@iprobablyshipit91 @melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy

@wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons

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@chernayawidow @mimaria420 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse

[redheadspark]

Here (Part Three and Final Part)

Summary - Azriel's mate pulls through, but Azriel sets a new target on the one who almost took his mate.

Warnings - Angst with a hint of fluff mixed in

A/N - Part of the Ocean Eyes Series. Here is the last part of this small three-part series, by popular demand. I hope you like it!

Part One

Part Two

Azriel felt himself flying out of the guest room, thankfully moving his son safely to the side of the bed to let him sleep. But you were in his mind, hearing your voice calling out to him so gently and yet strained simultaneously. He was beyond fast, going across the hallway in a mili-second and bursting into your room. He stood still at the doorway, seeing the blue tint of the room thanks to the moonlight and how you were squirming a bit in your position on the bed. Almost as if you were waking up from an unpleasant dream. You squinted, your nose twitching a bit as you took in a sharp inhale. 

Azriel…what happened…

"Honey, hey," Azriel said in such a rush and trembled as he made his way over to him, pushing the chair to the side abruptly to be kneeling and in front of your face. He reached up to touch your cheek, his palm against your cheek lovingly as you took in another breath that sounded a bit uncomfortable. Finally, he saw you open your eyes right at him and he finally smiled, tears in his eyes as your gorgeous blue eyes were looking back at his hazel ones. Azriel only said three words, there words that were simple but moved your heart:

"There's my girl,"

All the worry he had, the fears of you dying in front of him and leaving him this world, they no longer existed. You were there, safe and alive, watching him with weary but comforting eyes. Azriel felt like he could breathe again, finally taking in a long breath since it felt like he was holding it in for so long. The last several hours were filled with worry, despair, rage, and devastation at the notion of Azriel watching you slip away from him. He was already thinking over every scenario that could happen to him, but now he simply wished to fall to his knees in both happiness and exhaustion from being on edge for far too long. 

"Az?" You finally voice, your voice so raw and yet still gentle. Azriel beamed, tears down his face from hearing your voice finally. How he missed your voice, the warmth it brought like the sun rays on a summer day. Hearing it in the bond was one thing, but to finally hear It with his ears, made the tension that he carried fly away and out the window.

He took out a long breath, attempting to remain composed in front of you as you were searching his eyes, but it was all too much for him. He hid his face for a brief moment into his arm, the last thing he wanted to do was to show his tears to do since you were the one who was hurting and near death. Although you were still in the same pain and drowsy, you were concerned seeing your mate in such a way in front of you, 

"Azriel, what.." You were about to ask, not understanding what was going on, but Azriel inhaled sharply and looked back at you. You saw the pain in his eyes, pain that was mixed relief and grief as he scanned your eyes.

"I'm just fucking glad you're okay," He hummed, his voice sounding so broken but also ecstatic at the same time. He leaned forward, kissing your cheeks and forehead over and over while his hands cradled your face and stayed so close to you.  You heard it and saw it, how he was so worried and now relived that you were there and breathing.

"Cauldron, don't you dare scare me like that again," he said against your hair as he cradled your face in his palms, you feeling some of his tears hit your cheeks and nose. You carefully reached up to touch his wrists, holding him there like an anchor as you were letting him kiss you all over and touch you. 

The last thing you remembered was trying to fly into the sky, masked men chasing after you and attempting to ambush you, and then the searing pain that blossomed throughout your entire body. The scream from your lips was almost animalistic as your vision went cold and you fell from the skin, limp and cold.

But now you were there, warm in a bed and Azriel in front of you with fresh tears.

"Where am I?" You asked, looking around at the room you were in. Azriel moving the hair from your eyes and rubbing your arms soothingly.

"River House," Azriel explained, "Cassian found you out cold and brought you here. You've been asleep for a good 9 hours, baby,"

You attempted to sit up a bit, in hopes to maybe gather your bearings, but you froze and gasped out in pain. The entirety of your back had a spasm from the shocking pain and you whimper. Your wings felt so stiff and painful, especially your left wing, almost like it was on fire as Azriel wrapped you in his arms and helped you go back to your side.

"Your wings are still healing, rest for me," He urged you as you sighed and took in a few long breaths, "Madja got most of the poison out from your wing but there's still some left,"

It made you look at him in shock from the news that there's poison in your wing. No wonder you were feeling insane pain, to the point that moving your wing would be almost like torture so to speak. You recalled that searing white pain when you were flying up in the sky, the pain was large enough to have you lose your breath and then pass out cold, paralyzing you within seconds. 

You shot an alarmed look at Azriel, "Where's Alec? Is he safe? Is he—" You were about to ramble several questions all at once about your son, who was now in your mind at the forefront of your worries. 

"He's okay, sweetheart. Alec's safe and okay. Look, he's asleep right across the hall, see?" Azriel said to you, you looking out the door that was left abruptly open. Even from your spot on the bed, you could see Alec, tucked away in bed amongst the messy sheet and snoring away with his head on the pillow.  Watching your son shift in his sleep, his black hair was thatgrowing out a bit too long against the dark blue satin pillows, you smiled at the view. There was your son, safe and sound, sleeping as if nothing was going to harm him. 

Just the way you both wanted.

"He's worried about his momma, just like I am," Azriel explained, his voice solemn as you looked from your sleeping son to your mate, watching him scan your body up and down with his wide eyes. Although you knew his worry was valid from what happened to you, you also wanted to bring Azriel would have the current headspace he was in, which was dark and almost sickening. So you moved your own hands up to cup his cheeks and face, feeling how flushed he was along his skin and almost clammy. 

You leaned up and kissed him, his lips were soothing to you since it felt like years since you kissed him last. Azriel instantly caved and melted into your touch as he cupped your jaw with one hand and the other moving down along your waist to tuck you in close without harming your damaged wings. You both needed this kiss, not in a lustful manner but in such a way like lovers who have been separated for some time. It felt like it, you missing his warmth and his soothing touch for however long you were unconscious and slipping in and out of reality. It felt like you were in some deep sleep that had no dreams or nightmares, but almost like you were walking in the form of direction. 

Kissing Azriel was your direction, your guided path, and it felt like you were found again.

You barely pulled away from him, breathing in the scent that only Azriel would carry while you were still caressing his face with your fingers and watching him with love in your eyes, "I'm right here, Azriel. I'm right here and breathing and I'm not going anywhere,"

"You better not," He hummed, almost in a light joke but the emotion was still there in his voice, "You're not allowed to leave me In this world,"

"Never," You vowed, that single word rang in the air between you two in the small room. You still had plenty of questions about what happened, from what you remembered last and what occurred in between. Did Azriel know what happened to you? Did the others know and find out through him? 

Who was it that did this to you?

Perhaps your husband and mate knew you were thinking deeply, from the look on your face made him stare at you lovingly," You don't need to worry about it, my love,"

Of course, you were going to worry, waking up in a foreign bed and insane pain from almost being poisoned to death. Youknew you were in no unmarked territory or area that you shouldn't be in.  In actuality, you knew the woods for centuries and were familiar with the layout. So you weren't lost, nor were you in a nasty situation. Which only left…

"Who was it?" You croaked out, Azriel's eyes going a bit big from the sudden question from you. But you were alert and watching him intently, to which he was shocked by what you meant. 

Azriel shook his head, "No, no. Don't worry about it right now, okay?"

"Az—" You were about to argue, but he interrupted you.

"That's for me to deal with, not you," he stated to you, you searching his eyes and seeing something a pinch darker. Hetook in a long inhale, "I'm going to take care of it, I need to. Someone tried to take you from me, and I can't let that go,"

He sounded so broken in that moment with what he said to you, the protective side of Azriel was visible over his eyes and in how he was even kneeling next to the bed. Stiff, on alert, and almost mechanical.  This side of Azriel was more prone to inflict fears onto others, to bring even the strongest of men to their knees. You have only seen it a few times in all the life you had with him, and it felt like you were seeing it all over again.

"Stay with me, tonight. Stay Azriel, please," you pleaded with him, thinking having him with you would be the safer option than for him to go out on a rampage. Even with the several questions ringing in your mind, somehow you were willing to just be with your mate. You are also trying to distract him from doing something he would regret in the end, and Azriel reluctantly takes the bait. He sighed, inhaling deeply and then nodding.

"Okay," He hummed, the anger that was threatening to overcome him was now diminishing and evaporating into the air. Maybe he sensed your worry over him, the panic that he may do something that would make him be filled with regret. Carefully, but with swift movement that seemed so fluid, he scooped you in his arms. You clung to him, feeling a bit of the pain as he kissed your forehead and knelt on the bed. He gently got you back on the bed, though he was now on his back and having your head tucked into his neck.  Your arms around him, being able to use his body now instead of a body pillow that you were attached to for several hours, and breathing in his musky and yet gentle scent.

Azriel cradled you close in his arms, finding that love again as your body was against his, your hair against his cheek and nose, and feeling your heartbeat against his own.  This was his center again, the fact that you were awake and there with Azriel made him feel safe all over again. The last 9 hours were hell, torture upon himself since he had no way to help you or make you wake up for him. But not anymore, and the happiness he thought he lost was slowly coming again in wave after wave.

"I love you," You hummed, your energy was dropping as sleep was about to overcome you. Azriel held you a pinchtighter as you felt his fingers in your long hair.

"I love you more than the stars in all of Prythian," He vowed against your head, you feeling his fingers move along your hair and his lips along your forehead, "I got you right here, get some sleep,"

While you were holding him gently and falling back asleep, a smile was now etched on your lips with the sense of security in your mind that your husband and mate were both holding and protecting you, Azriel was already thinking of what he was going to do with your attacher and whoever else was behind this. Even while you were alive and well, he still had the protective streak about him and that side that was locked away. 

It's been some time since he let his Spymaster side come out full throttle, maybe it was time for it to happen again. 

"High Lord Beron informed me that Eris went rogue,"

Azriel rubbed his face in his hand, both in frustration and with the anger festering under his skin as he was sitting across from Rhysand in his office. Cassian was chatting with you in the room where you are recovering, Nesta and little Rose accompanying him as they were giving you some company.  Alec too was with you, not once leaving your side when he woke up and found you awake in your bed and happy to see him. Azriel knew then that he needed to talk to Rhysand and Cassian about the meeting they had with High Lord Beron the night before while he was with you. Though he was furious that they both conducted with him present, he also knew why: he would have torn the room to pieces in anger beyond reason.

"We showed him the arrow, and he recognized it from Eris's security and their stash of arrows. Not to mention the poison that the arrow was drenched in. He found out Eris left Autumn Court an hour before the attack happened, and hasn't been seen since," Rhysand explained to Azriel, seeing how his shadows were fuming from near this news. Cassian side-eyed Azriel, feeling the tension himself as he cleared his throat. 

"Beron doesn't condone what he did, and he claims that it's not a representation of Autumn Court," He said halfheartedly.

"Cassian," Rhysand said in a warning tone, but Cassian simply glared back at him.

"I'm not gonna sugar coat it, Rhys. I don't buy what Beron said: it came from his Court and that makes me suspicious of him," Cassian explained in a shrug.

"I agree, but I also need to take into account that Beron would not place his own Court in the line of fire. He hasn't since the war, why would he do that now?" Rhysand countered back, Cassian huffed silently as he leaned back in his chair. Rhysand focused back on Azriel, who was still quiet throughout the exchange and looking down at his scarred hand that was clutching the arm of his chair. Rhysand could talk to him through his bond with him, he's done it in the past. Butsomething about this moment, seeing his Spymaster and his brother, trying to hold it together, he didn't want to pry his mind. It felt too emotional for him, too raw even, to even tap into his mind.

"Beron has soldiers looking for him, he had made it his personal mission to search for Eris. We also have permission to find him with our men since this happened in our Court," Rhysand explained to Azriel, motioning his head over to Cassian, "Cassian volunteered Illyrians to comb the sky and the woodlands as we speak. If he is found in our territory, we can punish him as we see fit."

Once again, Azriel said nothing, to which both Rhysand and Cassian gave him uneasy looks since the calm demeanor that Azriel was giving off was unsettling. Neither one of them seen him so calm, so collected almost, especially considering his mate nearly died hours before. 

"I've already warned the other High Lords in case he does hide out in the other Courts, though I did not close the details and what precisely happened. All of them agreed to notify us if he does show up in their territories, and if he is found—"

"He's mine," Azriel finally spoke, his voice low and raw. Both Cassian and Rhysand shot a look at him, seeing him slowly uncurling his fingers from the arm of the chair. Marks were seen in the wood from his nails, to which his palm was facing up and he made a small fist.

"Azriel, you need to focus on your mate and your son, not Eris," Rhysand gently reminded him, but Azriel shook his head once.

"He's mine," He repeated, his eyes not swaying from looking at his scarred hand. Cassian was looking at him in concern now as Azriel was sitting so still, not blinking once.

"Az," Cassian was about to chime in, but Azriel jumped up abruptly for the chair with such force the chair fell back behind him and bounced off the floor.  The fury in his stance, the heated stare that illuminated his hazel eyes, even his shadows were radiating off his body as he glared at Rhsyand in front of him.

"HE WENT AFTER MY WIFE!" He bellowed, his voice booming off the walls with such a force that it was almost deafening.  Both the High Lord of Night Court and the Illyrian Army Commander were silent, almost afraid themselves as Azriel was still glaring at Rhysand.

"My…fucking…wife. He wanted her dead….and he went after Alec when he was a babe. I'm done with him and with this," Azriel growled, his scarred hands clenched so tight Rhysand saw the veins pop out in contrast to his scars, "I am done letting him sliding through my fingers. I watched my own wife nearly die in my arms Rhys, enough is enough. Don't you fucking dare tell me you wouldn't feel the same if it was Feyre who was nearly killed,”

Azriel was heated, he might have crossed a line mentioning his High Lady, but he was agitated and no longer wished to be composed. Rhysand felt the pain, and deep down he was right: Rhysand would feel the same if Feyre was the one who was hurt. He would have reprimanded him for mentioning Feyre, but he wasn't going to. Not when Azriel was right. Azriel looked over at Cassian.

"Or you with Nesta," he said, Cassian inwardly growled from the thought of Nesta being in that position. 

"I want his head on a spike," Azriel stated as he looked back at his High Lord, "He needs to pay from these past years breathing fear down my family's back for his amusement.  I need to know, here and now, that he is mine when he is caught. DoI have your word?"

He was asking Rhsyand, both as his High Lord and also as his brother and friend. He could go against Rhysand if he needed to, his mind was simply on ending Eris and eliminating the threat against his family.  No matter what it took, the length and the commitment, he would. But this was one last ditch effort for Azriel to get his High Lord's permission, the last inch of sanity he had.

Rhsyand, giving him a solemn look knowing that Azriel was driven in this, took in a long inhale.

"You have my word," He replied, sealing Eris's hate.

The End.

Tagging - @valeridarkness @impossibelle @acourtofbatboydreams @prettylittlewrites @fxckmiup @sizzlingstarlightsky @iluvyewman-blog @masbt1218 @a-courtof-azriel @homeslices @zanzie @topaz125 @saltedcoffeescotch @he6rtshaker @tenshis-cake @pruvii

[stylesispunk]

"I love you, it's ruining my life" | part iii.

Joel Miller x f!reader

previous chapter | part iv

Summary: Joel tried to win you back or where Joel goes all his way to find you but things are not as easy as he thought or that's what he thinks. w.c: 5,7k warnings: angst, FLUFF. Perhaps grammar mistakes cuz I didn't check the chapter, sorry. Not my best chapter, but some hearts are going to be happy a/n: As I promised, part 3 is here! Thank you so much for all the love you gave it to the first part, I'm really happy you loved it despite the messy writing. This one is not my best, but some hearts will be mended. This was a messy week for me and I was not completely focused on this, but I wanted to give it to you. AGAIN, this part will not be the end, so a fourth and last part is already in the works to end this mini-story since I split this chapter in two :) If you have a suggestion, question, or want to talk to me, you can come to my dms or asks! Happy reading 💌 dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Five years ago,

On your 25th birthday,.

Years were passing by; it was your 25th birthday, and your friends had decided to throw a grand party for you in a dowtown venue. Of course, Joel had told you he couldn’t make it; he couldn’t leave Sarah behind, and being a single father of a three-year-old at twenty-five held him back from dropping everything and just coming to your party.

You stood by the entrance, looking around at the lively scene, when you decided to give Joel a call. He had told you earlier that he couldn’t make it; being a single father of a three-year-old at twenty-five made it impossible for him to drop everything and come to your party.

“Are you sure you can’t make it?” you asked through the phone, your voice tinged with a hint of disappointment. The noise from the party buzzed in the background.

“Oh, sweetie, you know I would love to be there with you, but I’m having a party with my baby,” Joel replied. You could almost see his smile through the phone, picturing him sitting on the couch, trying to make Sarah fall asleep in his arms.

Though you understood, a part of you felt incomplete without him there, and you knew exactly why.

“Okay, then,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light and cheerful despite the sinking feeling in your chest.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, promise,” he said, his voice warm and sincere.

“Alright, Joel. Give Sarah a kiss for me,” you said before hanging up.

The party continued in full swing, but you found yourself increasingly detached from the celebration around you. The laughter and conversations felt distant, overshadowed by the thought of spending your birthday without Joel. Finally, unable to shake the feeling, you made your excuses and slipped away from the party, leaving the lively party behind.

Joel was exhausted. He had put Sarah to sleep and just sat on the couch to watch a movie, wanting to keep himself awake and make sure you would arrive home safe and sound. As the soft glow of the TV flickered in the dimly lit room, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt for not being able to celebrate your birthday with you.

Lost in his thoughts, Joel was startled by a soft knock at the door. Frowning, he glanced at the clock—it was late, and he wasn’t expecting anyone. He stood up, making his way to the door and opening it to find you standing there, a small, tired smile on your face.

He said your name, shocked.

“What are you doing here?” Joel asked, his eyes wide with surprise and concern. “Shouldn’t you be at your party?”

You shrugged, stepping inside and giving him a warm hug. “I was at the party,” you said, your voice soft and filled with emotion. “But I realized that there’s no place I’d rather be on my birthday than here with you,��� you paused, “and Sarah, of course.”

Joel’s expression softened, a mix of relief and gratitude washing over him. “Sarah is sleeping, and you didn’t have to do that,” he said tenderly. “It’s your birthday. You should be out celebrating.”

You shook your head, your eyes meeting his with unwavering sincerity. “This is where I want to be,” you replied firmly. "Besides, I brought food,” you said, lifting bags in front of Joel's face.

Joel's smile was slow but genuine, a warmth spreading across his features as he pulled you into a tight embrace. “Happy birthday,” he whispered, his voice filled with affection.

As you both made your way to the kitchen, you unpacked the food you had brought. It was a simple spread—some of your favorite dishes from the party. You set the table, and the cozy atmosphere of Joel's home makes you feel more at ease.

Joel poured you both a drink, and you sat down to eat, sharing stories and laughter. The conversation flowed naturally, as it always did between the two of you. It was moments like these that reminded you why Joel was such an important part of your life.

After finishing the meal, you both moved to the living room. Joel put on a movie, and you settled onto the couch, comfortable in each other's presence. The noise of the TV filled the room, but it was the quiet, unspoken bond between you that brought the most comfort.

As the movie played, Sarah stirred from her sleep and toddled into the living room, rubbing her eyes. "Bubu?" she said, her voice sleepy and endearing.

You smiled, reaching out to her. "Hey there, birthday girl," you said softly, lifting her onto your lap. Sarah snuggled against you, her tiny arms wrapped around your neck.

Joel watched the two of you, a soft smile playing on his lips. "It looks like Sarah wanted to join the party," he said, his voice filled with warmth.

You laughed; the sound was light and happy. "The best party I could ask for," you replied, hugging Sarah close.

As the night went on, the three of you sat together, enjoying the simple pleasure of each other's company. The flickering light of the TV cast a warm glow over the room, and in that moment, everything felt perfect.

Joel glanced over at you, his eyes filled with gratitude and something deeper that he couldn't quite put into words. "You really made my night by coming here," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion.

"I couldn't imagine spending my birthday any other way," you replied, your heart full. "Thank you for being here for me, always."

Joel reached over and took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "We're always here for each other," he said, his voice a promise. "No matter what."

Joel didn’t know why his heart felt like it was exploding every time you were around.

A year had passed since you left, and Joel found himself constantly haunted by memories of you. The days had blurred together into a monotonous routine, and the nights were filled with restless thoughts of what might have been. Every corner of his house reminded him of you, from the empty chair at the dining table to the quiet, lonely evenings after Sarah had gone to bed.

Joel spent the year focusing on Sarah, trying to be the best father he could be while grappling with the void your absence had left. He poured his heart into his work, his family, and his responsibilities, but nothing could fill the emptiness that lingered in his heart.

As the months went by, Joel found himself yearning to see you again, to hear your voice, and to feel your presence. He knew you needed time and space to heal, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to find you to see if there was any chance of rebuilding what they had lost.

And so, with trembling hands and a heart full of fear, Joel found himself standing in New York, pacing back and forth in front of your building. The bustling city seemed to move around him in a blur, the noise and energy contrasting sharply with the turmoil inside him. He had come all this way, but now, standing so close to you, he was paralyzed by doubt.

Had you thought about him the same way he had been thinking about you? He thought for himself while pacing back and forth over the cobblestones in front of the building you lived in.

Joel couldn’t make up his mind until the exact moment he took all this courage and flew all the way here to find you. It felt surreal to be in this city, so far from the familiar life he had known, all for the chance to see you again. The realization of how much he had missed you and how deeply he still cared had driven him to this point. Now, as he stood in front of your building, the weight of his decision pressed heavily on his shoulders.

His thoughts raced with questions and doubts. What if you had moved on? What if you were happy without him? What if seeing him only brought back painful memories you had worked so hard to move past? These fears churned in his mind, paralyzing him with indecision.

He looked up at the windows, imagining you inside, living your life. The city around him buzzed with activity, but Joel felt isolated, trapped in his own whirlwind of emotions. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but his hands still shook as he clenched and unclenched them.

Joel stood there, the city’s noises fading into the background as he lost himself in his thoughts. His mind drifted back to the moment he realized he was in love with you, a moment that had come so unexpectedly yet felt so right. It was a quiet evening, long before the chaos of the last year, when he saw you playing with Sarah in the backyard of his house. The way you laughed and the tenderness in your eyes as you helped Sarah with her tiny steps had struck him deeply.

It had always been you, he realized. Through all the ups and downs, the moments of joy and sorrow, you have been the constant in his life. Tess had been important, but she felt like a chapter in his life.

The night before he was supposed to get married, when you confessed your feelings, was etched in his memory. Your vulnerability and the raw honesty in your eyes had shaken him to his core. How he had kissed you then, driven by an overwhelming need to bridge the gap between what he had always felt and what he had denied for so long.

Now, standing in front of your building, the weight of that realization pressed heavily on his chest. He had almost married another woman, but it had always been you. His heart ached with the knowledge of the pain he had caused—the confusion and hurt that had driven you away.

Taking another deep breath, Joel forced himself to focus. He had come here to make amends, to lay bare his soul, and to hope that you could find it in your heart to forgive him. His hands still trembled, but the resolve in his heart was unwavering. He needed to see you to tell you that he loved you, that he had always loved you, and that he was willing to do whatever it took to rebuild what you both had lost.

Just as Joel mustered the last of his courage to cross the street and approach your building, he heard the sound of a car pulling up. He glanced over and saw you stepping out, laughing with a man beside you. His heart sank at the sight, a mixture of jealousy and heartbreak washing over him. The scene before him seemed to confirm his worst fears—that you had moved on and found happiness without him.

You looked radiant, your laughter lighting up the whole town, and he smiled at the sight of you.

He stood still, not knowing what to do, just asking himself, How could you be able to bear the burning feelings in your heart at the sight of him with another woman and still be so good to him? It hurt like he was feeling it now.

Joel stood there, his heart aching as he watched you, his mind racing with thoughts of the past and the overwhelming emotions he was experiencing in the present. He felt an immense sense of guilt and regret for the pain he had caused you, and now, seeing you with someone else, he couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy and sadness.

His thoughts were interrupted when you looked up and locked eyes with him. The shock on your face mirrored the turmoil inside him. For a moment, time seemed to stand still, the bustling city around you both fading into the background.

Your smile faltered, replaced by a look of surprise and confusion. You stopped in your tracks, the man beside you following your gaze to where Joel stood. Joel felt his breath catch in his throat, unsure of what to do or say. The reality of the situation hit him hard—he had come all this way, and now he was standing before you, unsure if he even had the right to ask you for a chance.

He was about to go when he heard your voice.

"Joel," you said, crossing the street, your voice barely above a whisper. "What are you doing here?"

Joel took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I came here to see you," he said, his voice gaining strength. I came here to tell you that I love you. I know I hurt you, and I know I have a lot to make up for, but I couldn't let another day go by without telling you how I feel. He thought.

"Joel," you began, your voice filled with a mix of emotions. "It's been a year.”

“I know. It’s just,” he paused for a second, “forget it.”

Your words hung in the air, heavy with unresolved emotions. Joel felt the weight of them pressing down on him, his heart sinking with each passing moment. He knew he had no right to expect forgiveness or to ask for another chance. But he couldn't bear the thought of walking away without at least trying to make things right.

As he turned to go, he felt a gentle hand on his arm, stopping him in his tracks. He looked back to see you standing there, your eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and uncertainty.

"Joel," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please don't go."

He hesitated, torn between the desire to flee from the pain of rejection and the hope that maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance for redemption.

"There's a café around the corner," you continued, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside you. "Let's go there and talk."

He graced his lips with a tiny smile and nodded.

“Just wait here a second.”

To say you were fine would be a lie. Of course, you have been better since you were in pieces. You had thought about Joel every single night since the day you left. He was coming home to a woman who wasn't you, sleeping and waking up next to her, having a family. Perhaps on the possibility of Tess being pregnant, you were sitting across from him, the man who had once been your everything.

Joel looked older and more worn, but there was a softness in his eyes that you recognized. You could tell he was nervous, and it mirrored your own anxiety. The silence between you was thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions.

"I didn't know if I'd ever see you again," you finally said, your voice barely audible over the hum of the café.

Joel nodded, his fingers wrapped tightly around his coffee cup. "I didn't know if you'd want to see me," he replied, his voice rough with emotion.

You looked down at your own cup, the steam rising in gentle tendrils, and took a deep breath. "How did you know my address?”

“Tommy.”

“That fucker,” you joked. 

Joel chuckled, "I know," he said, his voice breaking slightly. “But don’t blame him; I asked him.”

You glanced up, meeting his gaze. The intensity in his eyes was almost overwhelming, and you felt a flicker of hope ignite within you. "Why?”

“Why?”

“Yes. Why, after a whole year, Joel?” You questioned him, not calling him by tender names anymore. The way you called out his name felt strange and foreign.

Joel's smile faded slightly, replaced by a look of deep introspection. He took a moment before responding, his gaze dropping to his coffee cup. "Because you needed time, and I did, too,” he said softly.

You nodded, not uttering words. There was anything for you to say, or so you thought. “I-How… How is Sarah?”

Joel's smile faded slightly, replaced by a look of deep introspection. He took a moment before responding, his gaze dropping to his coffee cup. "Because you needed time, and I did, too," he said softly.

You nodded, not uttering words. There was nothing for you to say, or so you thought. “I—How… How is Sarah?”

“She misses you,” Joel replied, his voice thick with emotion. "She talks about you all the time and wonders when you’ll come back. I didn’t realize how much you meant to her until you were gone."

A lump formed in your throat as you thought of Sarah, her innocent face, and the bond you had shared. "I miss her too," you admitted, your voice breaking slightly. "She’s a big part of why I stayed away. I didn’t want to confuse her or make things harder for her."

“How could you? You were everything to her.”

“I bet Tess loves her that much too.”

Joel chuckled again. It felt almost insulting to you. “I didn’t marry Tess,” he confessed.

Your eyes widened in surprise at Joel's confession. “What?” you asked, barely able to believe what you had just heard.

Joel looked down, his fingers tracing the rim of his coffee cup. “I didn’t marry Tess,” he repeated, his voice quieter this time, laden with the weight of his decision.

“But why?” you asked, your voice a mix of shock and curiosity. “I thought...”

Joel sighed, lifting his gaze to meet yours, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and resolve. “I couldn’t go through with it. It wasn’t fair to her, to Sarah, or to myself. My heart was never fully in it because my heart has always been with you.”

You felt a rush of conflicting emotions—relief, confusion, and a lingering ache from the past year’s pain. “Joel, I...”

Your words got cut. You felt shame wash over you once again. Guilt, as if you committed treason and ruined another person's life. You thought about Tess.

Your words got cut short, replaced by a wave of overwhelming emotions. Shame washed over you, followed by a torrent of guilt. You thought about Tess and the life she might have imagined with Joel, a life you had inadvertently disrupted. The weight of it all felt suffocating.

Unable to sit still, you stood up abruptly, pushing your chair back with a screech that drew a few curious glances from the other patrons. Joel looked up at you, alarmed by your sudden movement.

“Wait, where are you going?” He asked, his voice laced with concern and a hint of desperation.

You took a step back, shaking your head as if trying to clear the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. “I-I can’t do this, Joel,” you stammered, your voice trembling. “It’s too much. I feel like I’ve ruined everything.”

Joel stood up as well, reaching out to you. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he said softly, trying to reassure you. “I made my own choices. I couldn’t marry Tess because it wouldn’t have been fair to anyone. Especially not to you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, the pain and confusion evident in your expression. “How can I live with myself knowing I caused her so much hurt?”

Joel took a step closer, his hands gently reaching out but stopping just short of touching you, respecting your space. His eyes were filled with a mix of determination and tenderness as he spoke, his voice steady but earnest. “Tess and I have talked,” he said. “She deserves someone who can love her fully, and I realized that person wasn’t me. It was a hard decision, but it was the right one for both of us. She’s moved on, and she’s happy.”

You searched his eyes, seeing the sincerity and deep affection that had always been there. But the weight of guilt and the fear of causing more pain were too overwhelming. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were to blame for the hurt Tess had gone through. “I don’t know if I can do this,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

You shook your head, the tears spilling over as you took another step back. “I can’t, Joel. I just can’t,” you said, your voice breaking. Turning away, you started to walk towards the exit, your heart pounding in your chest.

Joel’s voice rang out, louder and more desperate, stopping you in your tracks. “Will you run away from me again?! It seems like a habit of yours!

His words stung, and you spun around, your eyes blazing with a mix of anger and hurt. “A habit? You think running away is a habit?” You shot back, your voice trembling with emotion. “Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to leave? How much did it tear me apart?”

Joel took a step closer, his face etched with frustration and pain. “I know it was hard. It was hard for me, too. But you can’t keep running every time things get tough. We need to face this together.”

“Us? There’s no us, Joel!” You echoed, incredulous. “You were about to marry someone else, Joel! How was I supposed to face that?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, his eyes filled with regret. “I wish you had never told me about your feelings; I wouldn't have lost you.”

“'You would, though.” You whispered.

“You're the coward here.” He cried out.

“Did you want me to spend a whole fucking year of my life waiting for you? You were supposed to be married; you never saw me the way I saw you, and I wasn’t going to stay there to watch.” You paused. “I waited for you to call me to show me I was important, but... Listen, I don't blame you. How could I? You didn't know.” You tried to say, hoping to change the tone this conversation was taking, but for Joel, everything you said didn’t matter anymore.

“The man you were with...”

“We’re dating,” you replied, not meeting his gaze.

Joel’s expression hardened at your admission; the pain was evident in his eyes. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the anger and frustration bubbled just beneath the surface. “You’re dating someone else,” he repeated, his voice strained. “And you didn’t think I deserved to know? You didn’t think I had the right to fight for you?”

“What was there to fight for, Joel?” You shot back, your own anger rising. “You were getting married to someone else. How could I believe there was anything left for us?”

Joel ran a hand through his hair again, his movements agitated. “Fuck this,” he said, his voice breaking. He turned and started to walk past you, his shoulders tense with unresolved emotion.

You watched him go, a part of you wanting to reach out and stop him, but the pain and confusion held you back. “Joel, wait,” you called after him, but he didn’t slow down.

The weight of the past year’s emotions, the regrets, and the missed opportunities pressed down on you as you watched him walk away. You wanted to scream, to cry, to do something to make it all better, but the words wouldn’t come.

Joel pushed open the door to the café and stepped outside, the sound of the city flooding in. He paused for a moment, his back to you, as if he were wrestling with the decision to leave or stay. The seconds stretched into an eternity, the distance between you feeling insurmountable.

“Joel, please,” you said, your voice breaking. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

He turned around slowly, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger, hurt, and something deeper—hope. “I came here to see if you were good,” he said simply, his voice raw with emotion. “I don't want to accept that losing you is our fate, but if you’re happy the way you are now, I have nothing else to do here.

"Joel,” you called out his name again, but he disappeared into the crowd. Tears welled up in your eyes as you watched him walk away, a sense of loss washing over you. You wanted to run after him, to tell him that you weren't happy and that you still loved him, but the words caught in your throat.

Joel had come all this way to find you, to see if there was still a chance for the two of you, but now he was walking away, and you didn't know if you would ever see him again.

Feeling lost and adrift, you sank into a nearby chair, the weight of your emotions threatening to overwhelm you. The café buzzed with activity around you, but you felt completely alone, the absence of Joel's presence like a gaping hole in your heart.

As you sat there, grappling with the pain and regret, you realized that you had to make a choice. You couldn't continue living in the past, holding onto what might have been. If you wanted a chance at happiness, you had to let go of your fears and take a leap of faith.

You wanted him to forgive you for not waiting for him, but a year after radio silence was the answer you got. Not fighting, not callbacks asking you to come back. The love you had for him felt childish, with promises made but never to keep, and maybe you had just closed the door to him.

Back in your apartment, the weight of the recent events bore down on you like a heavy burden. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you sat on the edge of your bed, clutching your cell phone tightly in your hand. The breakup with the guy you had been dating had been inevitable, with your feelings for Joel still lingering beneath the surface, stronger than ever.

With trembling fingers, you scrolled through your contacts until you found Joel's name. Taking a shaky breath, you pressed the call button and waited, your heart pounding in your chest.

After what felt like an eternity, Joel's voice came through the line, filled with warmth and concern. "Baby?" he said, his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

Tears welled up in your eyes again at the sound of his voice, the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. "Why did you have to come back to do this?" you whispered, your voice raw with pain and longing.

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, as if Joel was trying to find the right words to say.

“I could prove to myself that my life could continue without you, but you had to come back and fuck up everything, Joel?

The words spilled out of you—a mix of anger, frustration, and hurt. You wanted to push him away, to shield yourself from the pain he had brought back into your life, but at the same time, you couldn't deny the love you still felt for him, pulsing beneath the surface like a live wire.

Joel's response was barely a whisper, his voice heavy with remorse. "I'm sorry," he said, the words hanging in the air between you like a weight. "I never meant to hurt you."

The tears flowed freely down your cheeks now, your heart torn between conflicting emotions. "But you did," you choked out, the pain of the past year crashing over you in waves. "You hurt me so much."

There was another pause, and then Joel spoke again, his voice thick with emotion. "Tell me how to fix it," he said softly. "And I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make it right."

His words hung in the air—a promise and a plea all at once. You knew that forgiving him wouldn't be easy and that rebuilding what you had lost would take time and effort, but deep down, you couldn't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, there was still hope for the two of you.

"I just wanted for you to love me the way I love you," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. The admission hung heavy in the air, the raw vulnerability of your words laying bare the depth of your feelings.

Joel's response was immediate; his voice was filled with regret and longing. "I do love you," he said, his words laced with sincerity. "I was just too blind to see it before, too scared to admit it to myself."

"I don't want to hear it on the phone, Joel," you said softly, your heart pounding in your chest. The thought of facing him again, of seeing the pain and longing in his eyes, was both terrifying and exhilarating.

There was a pause on the other end of the line, as if Joel were considering his response. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice filled with determination. "Then open your door," he said simply.

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, the weight of the decision pressing down on you like a heavy burden. You walked over to the door and turned the handle, pulling it open slowly. There, standing on the other side, was Joel, his gaze filled with a mixture of hope and uncertainty.

For a moment, neither of you spoke; the weight of everything left unsaid was hanging heavy in the air. Then, finally, Joel stepped forward, closing the distance between you.

You held each other's gaze for a long moment, the silence between you speaking volumes. Then, without a word, Joel reached out. Without a word, Joel reached out and gently cupped your face in his hands, his touch sending shivers down your spine. His gaze locked with yours, filled with an intensity that made your heart race.

And then, slowly, almost hesitantly, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours in a tender kiss. In that moment, the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you suspended in time.

The kiss was soft at first and tentative, as if both of you were afraid to fully give in to the overwhelming emotions swirling between you. But then, as the warmth of his lips met yours, something shifted, and the kiss deepened, becoming more urgent and more passionate.

It was as if all the longing and desire that had been building between you for so long finally found release in that single moment of connection. You melted into his embrace, your arms wrapping around him as you kissed him back with equal fervor.

As your lips parted, Joel looked into your eyes with a depth of emotion that took your breath away. His voice was filled with sincerity as he spoke, and his words were a heartfelt confession of his love for you.

"I love you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper but resonating with a depth of feeling that echoed through the room. "I have always loved you, from the moment you opened the door. You've been in my thoughts every day, in every moment. I can’t just pretend I want a life without you in it.”

Tears welled up in your eyes at his words, the weight of his confession washing over you like a wave of emotion. All the doubts and uncertainties melted away in the warmth of his love, leaving only the undeniable truth of your connection.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to realize it," Joel continued, his voice filled with regret. "I was scared of losing you and of facing my own feelings. But now, I know that I can't live without you. You're the missing piece of my heart, the one I've been searching for all along."

You wrapped your arms tightly around Joel, pulling him close and burying your face in the crook of his neck. His warmth enveloped you, comforting and familiar, as if you were finally coming home after a long journey.

Tears of relief and joy streamed down your cheeks, mingling with the scent of his cologne. In his arms, you felt safe, loved, and understood in a way you had never experienced before.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you like I did," he sobbed, not letting you go from his hold. "I felt I stabbed myself in the heart that day. God, when I read that letter...

"Do you remember the night we met? When you went to-“ You began.

"Your house with Sarah, yes. Of course I do," he continued for you.

"I lied to you that night."

His eyebrows furrowed at the words. 

"I said I had you come back home, but in fact I was going on a date with my boyfriend.”

"Did you have a

"Yes, he was a sweetheart, and I stood him up for my neighbor that night.”

"Why did you love me back then?"

You didn't reply; no words were enough for that.

"This whole time without you, God has been... miserable," he said.  "I'm sorry," he repeated, his voice choked with emotion. "I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you like I did."

You reached up, gently brushing away the tears that streaked his cheeks. "I forgive you, Joel," you whispered, your voice filled with love and understanding. "I forgive you because I know that your heart was always in the right place, even if your actions didn't always reflect that."

He leaned into your touch, his eyes searching for yours for reassurance. "I love you," he said softly, his voice trembling with sincerity. "I've loved you from the moment I met you, and I'll love you for the rest of my days."

Tears welled up in your own eyes as you felt the weight of his words sink in. "I love you too, Joel," you replied, your voice filled with conviction. "More than words can express."

Joel leaned in and gently pressed his lips against yours. It was a tender and passionate kiss, filled with years of longing and unspoken love.

Wrapped up in each other's arms, you felt a sense of completeness that you hadn't experienced in a long time. Every touch and every caress was a silent affirmation of the love that had endured despite the trials and tribulations you had faced.

As you deepened the kiss, your hearts beat as one, a symphony of love and passion that echoed through the room. It was a moment of pure bliss, a reminder that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as you had each other, you could overcome anything.

taglist 💌: @immywonderdefender @sarahhxx03 @powellssaturn @ifall4dilfs @harriedandharassed @skysmiller @missladym1981 @brittmb115 @guelyury @heartpascalispunk @ashleyfilm @loveisacowboyyy @southernbe @pedroloml

[after-witch]

Bookworm [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Title: Bookworm [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Synopsis: Mahito doesn't like that you have an interest in a book character.

Word count: 1787

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, mentions of other people being tortured/killed, supreme self indulgence of the highest order

“Who is the smiling man?” 

The silence that had existed between the two of you was broken by a question that made you flinch. Well, why not? Mahito has been quiet all morning--and afternoon, actually, which perhaps should have startled you more than his sudden words. 

But you were too happy to enjoy some quiet (you would never say “peace and quiet,” not down here, not with him); all too happy to curl up in your haphazard nest on the floor with some books that took  you away from this place. Away from Mahito.

Who was, of course, still here. Lounging in his hammock with a pile of books sagging down the netting. 

You couldn’t tell exactly what he was reading from down here--you probably needed new glasses, a subject you were certainly not going to bring up with Mahito, who might reiterate his offer to “fix” your eyes. It looked like a bundle of pages stapled together. Maybe he went to the library and printed off obscure articles to read again. 

“Hey,” he calls down, and the first hint of worry begins to prickle on your arms at his uncharacteristically serious tone, “Answer me.”

Your mind stutters, tries to put one word in front of the other, and make sense of it all. 

The smiling man? The smiling man, the… ah. From Small Spaces. The otherworldly supernatural entity who lives in a world behind mist and has a penchant for making deals with people for their greatest wishes. 

It’s not your fault that you haven’t thought about him in ages. It’s not like you had copies of your books with you, and the fun you had with imagining him in an endless number of scenarios had fallen by the wayside considering your circumstances. 

It’s hard to daydream about worlds behind mist and cornfield servants when you’re watching people be turned into grotesque experiments that had them, sometimes quite literally and loudly, begging for death.

Mahito is looking down at you now, staring expectantly. 

“He’s a character,” you say, fidgeting on the floor. “From a book series.” You look down, flip a page in your book, although you haven’t finished reading the last one, and ask, casually as you can muster: “Why?”

Mahito, up above, flips a page. You can hear the wobble in the paper--not a bound book, that’s for certain. And there’s some low, primal sense that shivers through you which says, plainly, that he’s actually reading whatever’s in front of him. 

“You write about him a lot.”

Oh.

Low, slimy dread filters into your stomach. Thick and gelatinous, resting at the bottom of your belly like an unwanted slug. 

“I… don’t know what you mean,” you say, voice only half-there, because while you are apparently stupid enough to lie to Mahito’s face, you’re not stupid enough to think he’ll believe you. 

You are just stupid enough to think that he won’t know exactly how deep your interest in this particular character goes; before Mahito took you, you thought about him all the time. You’d take walks and daydream about him, write story after story; you’d even commissioned fanart of him, because it wasn’t like there was a plethora of fanart for a character from a middle grade horror book. 

Mahito huffs out a sigh. Quick and short, it sends a shock right down your stomach. 

“Get you a man,” he starts, and confusion buzzes through your brain until he continues. “Who is an otherworldly entity that is so petty when an 11 year old beats him that he traps her in another world, leaving her to a fate worse than death, and laughs until he cries about it.”

You wrote that. There’s a vague memory of when you posted it--after you’d taken a walk, you think, and reread your favorite parts in the books for a few hours. But the way Mahito says it makes it sound--you don’t know how to explain it. Like saying the words out loud almost pains him; they come out clipped and bitter. 

Bitter? But why?

He doesn’t stop there. He reads something else, voice getting higher, almost mocking the way you talk. And that bitterness is still there, a thread continuing through every syllable.

“What if we kissed in the corn maze before you turned me into a scarecrow servant whose soul slowly gets dried out and useless and in the end you feed it, crunchy and tasteless, to your hellhound.” 

He takes a breath. Then--

“One particular aspect of the Smiling Man’s cruelty that I truly adore is that he can make people feel understood. He can make them feel like he cares, like he’s lending a listening ear, like he’s wanting to help them out and make them feel nice.”

Another breath--and he continues, again and again, reading your posts. Quoting your stories. Listing off the titles, the imagine posts, everything you’ve said about him.

All the while, bitter and mocking, his voice raising now and then in an imitation of your own. 

Then he gets to the last page of his clearly self-created tome and stares down at you, waiting, expectant. 

And you… you actually glare up at him. 

Because you're scared, sure. You’re always scared in some way, when you’re with Mahito. But there’s something else too, something that digs its way out of the rot in your gut and sticks up a petulant middle finger.

How dare he do this. How dare he take something that was yours and make it his; put it in his mouth and sneer over it. 

“Have you been--” Your mouth sticks together, refusing to let you accuse him of what you know he’s been doing. Stalking your online profiles. “That’s… that’s private,” is what you finally mutter, cheeks feeling hot and that half-buried petulance pushing you forward. “It’s not any of your business.” 

“Private?” He mutters the word softly, cradling the sound.

And then--

Mahito doesn’t often move fast around you. He prefers to be slow, languid. Calculating. You think it’s because that terrifies you more.

But now, in a moment, he goes from being slouched in his hammock to leaping down and crouching right in your face--there’s sudden pain in your head, and you realize he’s grabbed your hair and yanked it back.

That metaphorical middle finger sinks back down into the slimy gut sludge.

“Not from me,” he says, low, a warning. “Not for you.”

This is all it takes for tears to prick inside your eyes.

Mahito’s lips quirk up. Just a little. Just enough for you to notice.

“You’re going to cry already? I didn’t even do anything.”

Your eyes dart up and back, towards where he’s currently gripping your hair hard enough for it to sting.

He sighs through his nose. “This isn’t anything. You know that. Don’t be childish now.”

But--he lets go of your hair, and doesn’t grab for you when you scoot backwards on your blanket nest. Instead, he plops himself down, crossing his legs and resting his chin on his elbow.

You don’t speak. You don’t want to, and you don’t know what to say. Sometimes it’s better to be quiet around Mahito, so he doesn’t get ideas. Although he comes up with them on his own just fine, even if you try to stay silent.

It’s Mahito who breaks the silence.

“Why do you like him so much?”

How silly, to feel embarrassed right now. With the creature in front of you, and what he can do. But that’s what makes your cheeks burn: embarrassment. 

“I don’t know,” you mumble, because while you are stupid in so many ways, you’re still smart enough to know he wants an answer. “I guess I just like antagonist characters sometimes.” Well, most of the time. But it’s better to keep that from Mahito, if you can.

Mahito’s lips quirk here and there while he thinks. Then he looks at you with something like genuine confusion.

“You say that you like how awful he is. The awful things he does. So…” He tilts his head a little. “You should like me. Right?”

Your fingers pick at the loose threads of your clothes. Your eyes don’t meet his entirely--they flick up and down, from your legs to his face. 

“It’s not the same thing,” is what you come up with. But how to explain that to a curse?

Mahito frowns. 

“I don’t understand.” No bitterness, no pouting. A simple statement of fact.

“He’s not real.” You swallow against the minefield that all of this is making you step through, hoping you’ll avoid them. “But you are. That makes it different.” 

Mahito leans forward, grabbing your wrists, pulling you closer to him with a yanking, childish gesture.

“So you should like me more,” he says, a slight pout in his tone. “Because I can really do those things.” His eyebrows raise, and you swear you can hear a buzzing light bulb go off. “I could turn someone into a scarecrow for you.” He smiles, sudden, excited. “Do you want me to find some school children to torment?”

“No!” Your voice cracks. There are brief images in your mind--the people he’s tortured and killed, experimented with, before you were here and while you’re here and probably after you’re dead and gone--and you shake them away. 

Mahito’s eyebrows furrow. He groans and rolls his eyes backwards until they are entirely white, not in mockery or an attempt to scare you, but in irritation. Fingers squeeze your wrists briefly and let go, and you stay quiet, trying to fight your urge to cry, until Mahito slowly rolls his eyes back to stare at you.

His gaze flicks over you, until he catches your eyes with his. 

“You won’t write about him anymore.”

You don’t take a moment to answer this time.

“I won’t.”

“You won’t read those books anymore.”

“I won’t,” you stay. “I haven’t. I--don’t even have copies anymore.”

Mahito smiles, a little. Maybe it’s a good thing you never asked him to find you a copy, a thought which had been a brief temptation a while back.

And then he leans in closer again, until his nose touches yours.

“You won’t think about him anymore,” he says, quiet, solemn. Not an order but a matter of fact. 

You don’t answer. You swallow against a bitter taste in  your throat; you swear, sometimes, that the sludge in your gut is real and tries to make its way out sometimes.

Mahito presses his nose against yours until it starts to hurt.

“You won’t,” he says again, this time more to himself. “I’ll make sure of it.”

[hai7ani]

talk 2 me / haitani rindou

You think Rindou is the most charming he can be like this ー fresh out of a nap, hair all messy and wearing his old basketball jersey from high school as he shoves your cooking down his throat. There's sleep marks all across both his arms, a tiger balm plaster stuck on his left shoulder that he'd rummaged through cabinets and asked for you to help him stick it on, the evening sun kissing all over his back, painting his soft tanned skin pretty gold and honey.

And you? You're sprawled across the couch watching him, TV show long forgotten and the remote control in your hands as you fiddle mindlessly with the buttons. You think you really want to press a kiss to his toned bicep ー maybe nibble on it a little, watch him hiss in faux pain as if he isn't already used to the gentle sting of your teeth poking into his flesh, your teethmarks indented and some saliva smeared across his skin.

But here's the thing ー Rindou is mad at you (you think your baby is still mad at you). He isn't facing you while he eats ー well, technically he is facing you, just sideways, kinda. You know he knows that you're looking at him ー watching him like a hawk, taking in his every move as he feeds himself spoon after spoon of the leftover bowl of rice you couldn't finish, and hearts in your eyes despite the little argument shared earlier in noon.

"Honey," you start, voice all soft and sweet when calling him such a lovely endearment, and Rindou visibly softens at your coo. His shoulders aren't as tense anymore and he not-so-discreetly starts lowering down the volume of the movie playing from his laptop.

You heart flutters a little at his gesture despite knowing that he is still mad at you. "'M sleepy. Gonna go nap a bit." You wait for him to process it, and with that, you retreat into his room with his cat following behind in little meows.

He blinks a bit when he hears his bedroom door closing and puts down the spoon with a sigh. Ran emerges from the balcony with a scoff after having to witness all that went down.

"Are you still not going to say sorry?"

Rindou doesn't think he's felt this guilty before.

/

You awake from your nap to soft kisses littered all over your face and a familiar weight pressed on top of yourself.

With one eye open you see your honey lying atop of you, beefy arms wrapped around your torso, your waist, and he's chosen to bury his head into your neck now. His cat rests just a little beside both your legs, purring loud as ever, but she is awake and she is watching the both of you as Rindou clings and buries himself into your warmth while you rub and massage his shoulder for relief.

"You know, I dreamt of you taking me to the beach." You murmur, hints of sleep still evident in your voice. You feel his lips stretch into what seems like a smile against your skin. "You were only asleep for 10 minutes."

"A lot can happen in 10 minutes, baby... My dream, for one."

He scoffs playfully against you and neither of you speak anymore afterwards ー just busy enjoying each other's warmth and basking in the sun until it slowly lowers itself and hides behind the many skyscrapers of Tokyo.

It's quiet until it's not.

"Are you still mad at me?"

You poke and tickle your nose against his cheek, prompting him for a response. You wish for him to say that he isn't. You don't like it when he is mad at you ー you never do. You hate it, actually. And you hate it even more when you fight knowing it's no one's fault and you hate it too when you do not know how to communicate to him despite knowing what it is that you actually, really want. (He doesn't really, either, but you're both trying for each other, and it is all that matters.)

"No, I'm not." You melt into his arms as you let him manoeuvre you both on the bed until you are facing each other. Rindou still has his hands wrapped around you, so you move one of your own to rest on his arm, thumb rubbing soft circles onto his pec as you listen to him speak.

"'M sorry for earlier. Didn't mean to raise my voice. Was just frustrated 'n everything. You never really tell me what you want." He apologises in broken up sentences and your heart melts a little upon spotting the cute pout on his lips as he nuzzles closes to you.

"I mean, I just want you to tell me what's up, what's going on, you know? I won't... I won't react differently. 'S just me, babe. Tell me things. I don't want you to keep it all inside." Rindou confesses.

A warm, calloused palm covers itself on your hip. One of your own covers his cheek.

"I know. I'm sorry for earlier too." A thumb swipes across his brow, then his eyelid. "I don't really know how to tell you things, but I am trying. I know you won't judge, but it's hard to open up."

"...Then we'll try, together. Jus' don't wanna see you sad. Don't like it when we fight either."

You know Rindou hates it when he does things that upsets you. Like the one time he'd gone out and fought with the douchebags who'd messed with you despite telling him not to, and he'd ended up coming home to you with one black eye and a busted lip only to see you in tears because you don't like seeing him all beat up. That was ages ago, when he was still young and had nothing much to lose except for you. Or the other time when Rindou had accidentally neglected your feelings at the start of your relationship because his simple mind couldn't yet differentiate between time spent with you and time spent together with you.

But those were the past. Right now, he's looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky ー like you'd crafted the Earth and created the Sun.

"Promise me you'll tell me things, yeah? Make it my problem too. We'll settle it together." He grabs your hand on his cheek ー kisses the tips of your fingers, then your palm.

"Okay."

And you both watch as a certain furry creature squeezes its way past both your bodies ー little movements accompanied by soft meows, until it eventually finds a comfortable spot between you and your lover and confidently topples down right where you face each other.

"We'll go to the beach tomorrow." Rindou grumbles in annoyance after being fed a mouthful of cat fur, honeyed voice a little muffled as he tries his best to shift her into his arm, "...with this light bulb here."

You laugh into his chest. "Okay, honey."

i feel like most of my stuff are pretty repetitive but i am such a sucker for gentle, mundane romance 😕😕

[roseghoul26]

Cooper Howard | The Ghoul x fem!Reader

Tags: Teasing, Flirting, Developing Relationships, Injury, Kissing, Cunnilingus,  Synopsis: It had been apparent from the moment you met him that The Ghoul was Cooper Howard, your favorite actor. He had no idea that you knew who he was, so how could you not have some fun with it? Author’s Note: i’ve watched nothing but bridgerton recently and now i keep finding myself writing the way they speak also i’ve got no clue how radiation and water interact to just pretend what i wrote is true okay? also if you got the notif for the first upload of this fic, no you didn't :) Taglist: @ancientbeing10 @alex-does-art-things

The poster you stood in front of was in remarkable shape, with only hints of discoloration littering the page. The frame that held it had stood the test of time and came out victorious, with only a few scratches across the glass to show for it. A fond smile grew as you read the words emblazoned across it: The Man from Deadhorse. 

A man was also pictured riding on the back of his trusted steed, pistol in hand, aiming it toward an unpictured outlaw. A man that you knew to be Cooper Howard, the actor who you’d grown quite fond of during your life in the vault. You’re sure you’ve watched his entire discography or at least all his films that your vault had, which was a significant amount. 

So when said actor captured you after being exiled from your vault, albeit a little less human-looking, you couldn’t believe it. It took a second to clock it, but you managed to piece two and two together when you heard him talk and watched how he wielded his gun. Hell, he was still wearing the same clothes from the movie whose poster you stood in front of. It hadn’t been that difficult. 

Of course, he had no idea you knew who he was. You didn’t utter a word, not from when he first captured you to when he begrudgingly let you tag alongside him or even when you’d formed a bond. Friends, maybe not, but you trusted each other, and that was enough. 

You couldn’t help but admire the man on the poster, if just for a few more moments. Anyone could see that Cooper Howard was handsome, and his charisma added to that. As incredible of an actor as he was, you would admit that you didn’t watch his films just for his skills. He’d been your childhood crush, following you into your teenage years. 

And maybe it was still around, lingering at the back of your mind. Perhaps that would explain the butterflies in your stomach whenever you looked at The Ghoul. Even though his face had completely changed, you still believed he was just as handsome as before becoming a ghoul. His charisma and wit had just become sharper, and even though he sneered more than smiled, you still recognized that grin from the movies. 

You snuck a glance at your traveling partner, Cooper Howard, The Ghoul. He had yet to see the poster, or maybe he chose to ignore it. Either way, his back was to you, rifling through the desks of the building the two of you had entered. It was becoming evident now that this place was a movie theatre, someplace you thought, until now, they had entirely made up to mess with you in the vault. They knew your love of movies; why not tell you there was a place where you could see them on giant screens?

“You gonna stare at that fuckin’ poster all night, or are ya gonna help me?” So he had chosen to ignore it, then. 

You refrained from sighing, not wanting to annoy the man. Instead, you got to work on the other side of the theatre, where a few doors stood. Glancing into the first room, you found it filled with garbage. Literal garbage. Bags were piled from floor to ceiling, and even after all the time that had passed, it still smelled. Holding back a gag, you shut the door as best you could. Gross. 

The next door was a little more pleasant. It was a bathroom with three stalls lining the rightmost wall and a few sinks. A first aid kit had been bolted on the wall, and a slight, victorious noise left you when you found two stimpacks, a roll of bandages, and a small canister of water. You quickly deposited those into your bag before continuing to the stalls. 

Two were empty, but the third had something in the toilet. When you peered in, you chuckled. A teddy bear sat on the edge, a newspaper in its hands, a pair of broken glasses on its face. No matter how vicious the surface world was, people still managed to find humor in the small things, and you cherished it. 

The third and final room was locked, so taking out a bobby pin, you got to work unlocking it. It took you some time, as you weren’t nearly as quick as The Ghoul was, but eventually, the door swung open. Inside was what you presumed to be once an office, a desk with a terminal flush against the wall. A large safe was tucked into the corner, nearly hidden by bookshelves. Grinning at your new prize, you bent down in front of it, pulling the bobby pin and screwdriver back out. 

If the door took some time, the safe took even longer. A small pile of broken bobby pins had started to grow at your feet, and your back was beginning to ache from bending over for so long. You could feel that you were close; you just needed to move it a little more to the right…

Snap!

“Motherfucker…” you grumbled under your breath, adding another pin to your collection. The idea of admitting defeat flashed through your mind, but you shook it away. You needed to prove this to yourself. 

And to The Ghoul. 

You heard the sound of footsteps drawing closer, stopping when they reached the room you were currently in. You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was; you could hear his spurs. “The hell is takin’ you so long?” His gruff voice stopped you as you were about to insert another bobby pin. 

“This fuckin’ safe,” you sighed, resuming your attempt at lockpicking. Your back was really hurting now, and so you got down onto your knees, which helped a little. The concrete floor was uncomfortable, but sitting offered some respite, and you bent forward, returning to work. You had expected The Ghoul to have already left, so you were startled when you felt him crouch beside you. 

His gaze was locked onto the safe when you glanced at him, and he shifted almost nervously beside you. Weird. “Lemme do it.” His tone held no room for argument, yet you still shook your head at him. 

“No, I’ve got this.” 

“You’re gonna run outta fuckin’ bobby pins before ya open it,” he jabbed, nudging the pile with his foot. You didn’t bother to hide the glare you sent him. 

“Then I’ll just take yours.” You were pleasantly surprised when you turned the lock and were met with resistance an inch before it had turned all the way. You were close. 

“Oh, I’d like to see ya try, sweetheart.”

“Maybe I already have.” You had shifted the pin to the right and were met resistance way later, and a victorious smile grew on your face. “C’mom, baby, open up for me,” you whispered, voice dangerously low, and you missed the way the man beside you shifted even more. 

He didn’t offer any more arguments, and you let out a small laugh when the safe door finally opened. You’d barely gotten a glimpse of the contents inside when you saw a gloved hand sneak inside. You smacked it away, glaring at him. “Open your own fuckin’ safe,” you chastized.

He matched your expression, human-looking eyes glaring daggers into you, but you didn’t let up. It was a quick standoff, but he eventually backed down, not before muttering something under his breath. You didn’t hear what he said, but you didn’t care. 

Opening the door further allowed more light in, allowing you to see your prize. A stack of pre-war bills sat on the bottom, and you tucked them into your bag. There was a silver locket, which you also grabbed, knowing you could get some caps for it. A few unlabeled chem bottles were on the top shelf, all added to your bag. 

But you were most excited about the revolver tucked behind all the chems. It was heavy, heavier than the pistol on your hip, and in surprisingly good condition. The barrel's metal was mostly unscratched and shiny in the dim light. The wood grip, a deep brown oak, was cool in your hand, and it contrasted beautifully with the steel of the rest of the gun.

You raised a brow when he held a hand out expectantly, moving the gun a bit closer to your chest. “Are you gonna give it back?”

He let out a deep exhale. “Yes,” he responded before making a ‘give me’ motion with his upturned hand.

After some hesitation, you set it in his palm, observing as he tested it in his hand. His expression was difficult to read as he evaluated it, his eyes carefully roaming the gun. You had to bite back a laugh when he raised the gun to the right of him; he looked like he did on the poster you just saw. 

You must’ve done a worse job than you thought, holding back your laugh because he was fixing you with another glare. “Sorry,” you began between chuckles, “it’s just… you look like the guy on the poster.”

The Ghoul was good at hiding his emotions, and his face remained unreadable as he glared at you, but you swore you saw a bit of alarm behind the fire in his eyes. “Do I, now?” He asked, seemingly unbothered. 

“It’s not a bad thing,” you teased, an idea forming that made you grin. “I’d take it as a compliment, being compared to as handsome a man as Cooper Howard.”

The heat in his stare dimmed, replaced with a hint of surprise. He blinked at you for a moment, unsure what to make of your words. You continued. “What, you thought I watched his movies just for his acting skills?” You were careful not to use the word you, not wanting to let him in on the secret.

When he continued to just watch you, at a loss for words, you finally stood, your back crying out in relief. You stuck out a hand, gesturing to the gun in his hand, and he slowly gave it back to you. “Thank you,” you smiled sweetly at him, your confidence growing at how you managed to stun the man. “I’ll meet you out there. Help yourself to whatever is left in here.” With that, you tuned and left, your sweet smile turning to one of victory. 

Unbeknownst to you, the man you’d left in the room had a slight smile on his face before quickly coming to his senses. A groan left him, and he ran a gloved hand over his face as if he could wipe away the heat he felt in his cheeks. 

If he could blush, he was sure he would be bright red right now. 

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

“Why the hell were ya kicked outta your vault, anyway?”

Well, that certainly wasn’t the question you expected to hear today. You glanced behind you at The Ghoul, continuing down the long-since abandoned street the two of you were on. Even though it had been a few months, it still hurt, the wound never fully closing. “Why’d you ask?” You responded after some hesitation. 

“Do I gotta have a reason?” He shot back, and you sighed. 

“I suppose not,” you agreed before taking a few moments to formulate your answer. “They thought I was a threat to their way of life. I was too inquisitive for my own good, didn’t work well with authority, and constantly challenged said authority.”

“You? Disagreeable? Never.” 

“Well, fuck you too,” you huffed, turning away from him. Here you were, telling him about possibly the worst thing that happened in your life, and he was insulting you. Asshole. For a moment, you thought he was being genuinely friendly, wanting to learn about you. You were bitterly disappointed to find the opposite. 

A tense silence hung in the air as you continued to walk, not bothering to glance at him. He didn’t deserve your attention right now. Your somewhat positive mood was now ruined, both from having to bring up your past and because of him. 

“They really kicked ya out for that?” He finally spoke. It wasn’t an apology, but you could tell it was an attempt at relieving the dispute. 

“I think they were afraid I would change everything, and you know there’s nothing vault dwellers hate more than change. Even if change would improve their lives, they’d rather stay with what they know, not wanting to risk losing comfort and familiarity. They just couldn’t wrap their heads around the fact that change is a good thing. I don’t think they ever will.” The words had just tumbled from your mouth, anger making you ramble freely. When you finished, you finally glanced behind you, cringing at yourself. 

To your surprise and relief, you didn’t find a look of judgment on his face. Instead, he seemed almost pensive, not expecting to hear you voice your opinions like that. 

“Do ya miss it?”

“Fuck no. Even with all its dangers and obstacles, life up here is infinitely better than any life I could’ve had in a vault. At least up here, my life is mine. I make my own choices, for better or for worse. I exist for myself, not to fulfill some corporation’s quota or for some experiment. I am myself.” You let out a sigh. “There is one thing I do miss, though.”

He didn’t respond but nodded, gesturing for you to continue. “I miss the movie room,” you chuckled, almost bittersweet. “It’s silly, I know. But I miss lounging on one of the couches and getting lost in the story.”

“Did ya have a favorite?” He asked, and you swore he was reminiscing a bit as well. 

“Oh, plenty. The Wizard of Oz, The Man from Calabasas, and The Silence of the Lambs, to name a few.”

“The Man from Calabasas?”

“Have you seen it?” You knew damn well that he had done more than seen the movie. He had been the lead star of it.

“Somethin’ like that,” The Ghoul muttered in response. “You weren’t kiddin’, were you?”

“About liking Cooper Howard’s movies? No, I certainly was not. Hell, I’d go as far as to say he’s my favorite actor.”

Like always, his expression towards your response was unreadable. “Would ya, now?”

“Uh-huh. I had a crush on him growing up. Maybe I still do,” you laughed lightly, shrugging your shoulders. He faltered a bit, his eyes widening a fraction, and you had to return to facing forward, unable to hide the smirk on your face any longer. It was so fun to tease him. Every time you’d seen a poster with him on it for the past weeks, you were sure to point it out, always commenting on him.

“He’s much older than ya, sweetheart,” he finally responded after some time.

“It wasn’t like I was dating the man,” you laughed. “Not that it would’ve deterred me, though. I always liked them older.” 

The man behind you cleared his throat, and when you turned, you saw his eyes locked onto you, his jaw clenched, and a quickly growing fire in his eyes. Oh, this was so much fun. “You got something against that? Not that I’d change my mind based on your opinion.”

“Not a problem at all.” His words were clipped, strained. You halted in your tracks, holstering your gun, the revolver you’d just found a week ago. He cocked his head, watching you closely, stopping a good few feet behind you. His shoulders tensed when you approached him, his jaw never unclenching. 

“Everything alright?” You asked, innocence dripping from your words. “You seem… tense.”

“I’m fine,” he bit out. Giving him enough time to stop you as he spoke, you raised your hands to his coat, fixing the crooked lapels. Once they were straight, you ran your hands down them, resting them on his chest. You couldn’t feel it through all of this fabric, and it was quiet enough that you couldn’t hear it, but a small groan rumbled his chest.

“If you say so,” you teased, running your hands up one last time before letting him go. You took a few steps back, glancing around at the dilapidated scenery. “We should probably find shelter soon. Only an hour of sunlight left.”

“I… sure.” You’d never heard him sound so uncertain, completely taken aback by what you had done. A part of you worried that you had taken it a step too far, but you knew the man. He would not have let you touch him if he didn’t want it. As you turned back forward, you failed to see how his eyes trailed down your body hungrily, gloved hands lingering where yours had just been. 

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Even though the bed was the comfiest thing you’d laid in in months, sleep would not come. No matter how much you tossed, turned, and readjusted, you just could not sleep. It wasn’t like your mind was preoccupied by anything. 

Well, that wasn’t true. You’d found your mind wandering to your traveling companion more and more these past weeks since you’d stopped and fixed his jacket right in the middle of the street. You thought he had been more affected than you, but ever since then, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about how he felt under your hands and what he’d feel like elsewhere. 

With a huff and warm cheeks, you sat up, giving up on falling asleep. Slipping on your shoes, you kept your steps light as you crossed the room and made a pointed effort not to glance at the sleeping silhouette of The Ghoul. Grabbing your gun, you stepped outside, the cool night air doing wonders for your flushed skin. 

You sat on the edge of the barely standing porch of the house you were sleeping in. You balanced your gun in your lap, and from the pockets of your jeans, you pulled out a beat-up pack of cigarettes and a barely functioning lighter. It took a few moments for the flame to catch, the clicking noise filling the silent night, but you eventually had a lit cigarette between your lips, the smoke swirling comfortingly around your body.

You felt the wood creak before you heard it, and you whirred around, gun pointing at the new figure behind you. The figure let out a familiar chuckle, and you sighed in relief, putting the gun back down. “Didn’t mean to wake you,” you muttered as you turned back. 

The Ghoul sat beside you with a sigh, arms extended behind him. “You’re gonna attract unwanted attention with that,” he muttered, ignoring your previous statement. 

“Like you?”

He laughed. “You’d be lucky if the worst you got was me.”

“I suppose,” you conceded. “But your company isn’t exactly… unwelcome.”

He merely hummed in response, and you offered him the cigarette. He eyed it briefly, eyes flicking from it to your face, but he eventually grabbed it. Skin grazed yours, and it almost startled you when you realized he wasn’t wearing gloves, and it felt scandalous to see him without them. Still, you kept your composure, observing him silently as he took a drag. 

“Can’t sleep?” You heard him ask after some time, and you shook your head. “Me neither.”

“Sorry if my tossing and turning kept you up.”

“Ain’t your fault,” he sighed, passing the cigarette back to you. “Is… are ya alright?”

He’s been surprising you with the questions lately, and you couldn’t help the slight disbelief on your face, nearly choking on the smoke. “Just a lot on my mind” is what you finally went with. It was not entirely a lie, but it withheld specific details. 

He thankfully seemed to clock that you didn’t quite want to talk about it, so he left you in silence, taking the cigarette you passed to him. You both whipped your heads to the left when you heard the sound of something groaning, followed by a few more groans from other entities. Whether it was human or not, you couldn’t tell. He quickly smashed the cigarette under his boot, standing up slowly, hand inching towards his gun. 

His other hand extended towards you, and you didn’t give yourself time to second-guess before you interlocked your finger with his, letting him pull you up. You had barely gotten to your feet when he was dragging you inside, nearly making you stumble over the planks of wood sticking up.

Still, both of you managed to get inside quickly, the door being kicked soon shut by him, and you locked it. Peering out the blinds, you saw a horde of ferals shuffle their way down the street, some gathering where you were just sitting. You and The Ghoul probably could’ve bested the group, but you never knew. You noticed out of the corner of your eye that said companion wasn’t looking outside like you were but instead trained on you. 

When the horde continued further down the street, you let out a breath before switching your attention to the man. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes scanned over your face, something unreadable in them. You gasped lightly when you felt him squeeze your hand, your fingers interlocked with his. So that’s what was making him act so weird. 

A small smile graced your face as you looked down at your intertwined hands, neither of you making any move to pull apart yet. His hands were rougher than you were expecting, and even though you could feel the grooves of his marred skin, his fingertips were incredibly calloused as they rubbed into your skin. It was the most lovely thing you’d ever felt.

You’d never seen him regard something so gently when you looked back up at him. It was like you were catching a glimpse of the man he once was before the war. For a moment, you caught a glimpse of the actor, yet this was no scene from a movie. This moment was real, two lost souls finding some semblance of comfort with each other.

But just as soon as the gentle moment had started, it came to a screeching halt, and The Ghoul took a step back, pulling his hand from yours. You tried not to let it sting, but you couldn’t help the slight hurt in your heart as he backed away. “Good night,” he muttered out, his voice cold. 

You simply nodded in response, not trusting your voice, and you heard the receding footsteps of The Ghoul as he marched back towards where he was sleeping. You stayed locked by the door for a good moment, unable to move, and embarrassment and sadness locked you there. 

You don’t even remember walking back to your bed. All you remember is that you were suddenly looking up at the ceiling, sleep even further than it was before. You swore you could still feel his hand in yours, the heat from his skin, the texture of his skin beneath your fingers. Sighing, you rolled over on your side, back turned away from where The Ghoul was sleeping.

Sleep didn’t come to you that night, and when you finally got up hours later and saw the way The Ghoul sat hunched over the table, you knew he didn’t sleep either.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

It had been days since that night, and things had been incredibly tense between the two of you since. Hours of travel, once filled with light conversation, were now done in silence. Soft glances were now guarded, lingering touches nonexistent. It was distracting, constantly on your mind, overanalyzing everything you’d done or said to him. 

Maybe that distraction was the reason you now sat bleeding out, half lying against an old car, your fingers clutching your stomach uselessly. Blood poured out between your fingers, every breath feeling like you were being stabbed all over again by that Raider. It had been a poorly hidden ambush, yet they still managed to catch you off-guard, your thoughts elsewhere. 

It had been fine until you’d gotten cut off from your companion and forced into a small alleyway. You’d managed to take down most of your attackers, but one had gotten lucky with a stab to the stomach. They currently lay dead on the floor as well, shot by your gun, but that had been after they got you. 

The sounds of gunfire had ceased about thirty seconds ago, making your ears ring. Or maybe it was the blood loss. You couldn’t tell.

You heard the sound of loud footfalls, and you reached for your gun with a crimson-covered hand, which made it difficult to grasp the weapon. Your arm shook like crazy as you raised your gun, training it on the entrance of the alleyway, waiting as silently as you could. Small gasps of pain kept pouring from your lips, and you blinked back tears. 

Relief flooded you when you heard your name being called by The Ghoul, his gruff voice never sounding so lovely. You managed to croak out a response, your arm falling to your lap, unable to hold it up any longer. He called out your name again, even closer this time, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond, your energy quickly leaving. 

When you saw that familiar silhouette at the entrance, you couldn’t help the small smile on your face despite your incredible pain. He was by your side in a second, or maybe you blacked out for a bit. Everything was so blurry now. You cried out in pain when you felt him press down on your stomach, and you tried to squirm away, but he was much stronger than you. 

You sagged against the car, unable to fight him any longer. Your eyes felt heavy, but you tried your hardest to keep them open, especially when The Ghoul practically shook you awake. “You better keep those fuckin’ eyes open,” he snapped, and if you were more conscious, you would’ve been able to detect the panic in his voice. 

“Are you threatening me?” You wheezed out.

“If that’s what it takes to keep ya awake, then yes.” You felt cold air hit your stomach as he lifted your shirt, examining the wound. You didn’t look at his expression, not wanting to know how bad it was. 

“At least take me out to dinner,” you chuckled before a cough rattled your body. Something warm and sticky fell from your lips, making The Ghoul curse, who hurriedly looked for something in his bag. A small first aid kit clattered to the ground, and you cringed when you saw him pull out a needle and thread. 

“After this, I’ll take ya out to as many dinners as ya like,” The Ghoul murmured, and because of how hazy your vision was, you missed how his hands shook as he threaded the needle. 

“Is that a promise?” It was starting to get hard to get the words out now, as they were beginning to slur. 

“You know I don’t make promises I can’t keep, sweetheart.”

“I love it when you call me sweetheart,” you admitted, unable to stop yourself. Your smile turned into a wince when you felt the needle pierce your skin. He muttered an apology, but you just shook your head and leaned forward slightly as he worked quickly to sew your wound close. It was just close enough that you could see him clearly, and you unabashedly let your eyes roam his face.

Blood loss was kicking in now, and the world was spinning. You tried hard to keep your eyes open but found them fluttering close even more frequently, your head drooping to the car. He shook you gently whenever he felt you do it, promising that he was almost done. “We gotta get this close before I can give ya a stimpack.”

“You’re pretty,” you whispered before almost immediately breaking into laughter.

“And you’ve lost a lot of blood,” The Ghoul shook his head, working diligently. 

“I mean it,” you practically pouted. “You’re so pretty.”

“I’m sure I’m quite the fuckin’ catch.”

“You’ve always been a catch,” you teased, and you tried to bring up one of your hands to caress his face, but it fell limply to your lap. 

For the first time, his eyes shot up to yours, confusion on his face. But they quickly returned to his work, shaking his head again. “Whatdya mean by that, sweetheart?” He asked, trying to keep you talking. Or maybe he was genuinely curious. 

“The entire time I’ve known you, I’ve thought you were beautiful,” the tiniest bit of tension left The Ghoul, “but even before then, I’ve always thought you were the most handsome man I’d ever seen-”

“You don’t mean-”

“Guess that’s why I’ve still got a crush on you,” you sighed, continuing despite his objections. But you didn’t get to see his reaction, the weight on your lids growing unbearable, and you let them fall close, unconsciousness finally claiming you. Your name being said like a plea was the last thing you remembered.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

You weren’t sure how long you were out for. All you know is that the room you woke up in was unfamiliar, and everything in your body hurt. Wincing, you tried to sit up, only to collapse in pain, your stomach in agony. A shadow fell across your face, and through tears, you managed to see the familiar face of The Ghoul above you. 

He looked as terrible as you felt, the deep sockets of his eyes somehow even more pronounced. It looked like he hadn’t slept in days, the whites of his eyes bloodshot. His clothes were more rumpled, and he had discarded his hat somewhere in the room. If you weren’t in so much pain, you would’ve asked him why he looked like, well, shit. 

His lips moved, but you couldn’t hear the words, your ears ringing too loudly. You fought back when you felt a needle enter your skin, but you relaxed when the pain began to dim like a bright light covered with a blanket; the pain was still there but not nearly as noticeable. 

After a few more seconds, your ears finally stopped ringing, the man's gruff voice replacing it. “Just some painkillers,” he explained.

You tried to thank him, but your voice was too dry, and you broke into a coughing fit. With a lot of help from him, you could sit up enough to drink, greedily gulping down the canteen of water that he presented you. Despite your objections, he pulled it away from you when he deemed you had enough. 

You were starting to feel more alert now, and your vision was not as fuzzy as it was moments ago. The Ghoul sat in the chair you just noticed beside your bed, a soft sigh leaving him. The room was still unfamiliar, and you realized he had probably just dragged your unconscious body into the closest possible building. 

Glancing at him, you watched as he leaned back into his chair, his eyes never leaving your face. His expression was, as always, unreadable, but you couldn’t help but feel like you’d done something wrong. Well, something besides getting stabbed. “How long have I been out for?”

“Almost three days.” 

“Thank you.”

“For?”

You gestured to your body. “For saving me.”

In response, he made a vague noise, his arms crossing over his chest. His stare became scrutinizing, and you felt like he was picking you apart. You could feel your heartbeat accelerate, your nerves becoming terrible, yet you forced yourself to hold his gaze.

After what felt like hours of tense silence, he finally spoke. “Whatdya remember?”

“Well, not much, to be honest. I remember getting injured, and then you helped me, and then I passed out.”

“D’ya remember anythin’ you said?”

You furrowed your brows. “No? Did… did I say something bad?” When he didn’t respond, you grew even more worried. “Look, if I said something to offend you-”

“How long have ya known?”

You blinked. “What?”

“How long have ya known who I am?” His voice was surprisingly steady, not leaning towards any particular emotion. 

Internally, you were kicking yourself. Of course, you just had to let your secret slip while you were bleeding out. You figured it useless to attempt lying, so you just sighed deeply. “I’ve known since the moment we met,” you confessed. 

��So this entire time-”

“Yes.”

The chair creaked, and you jumped when you felt his elbows lean on the edge of your bed. “And ya didn’t fuckin’ think that was important to tell me?”

You leaned as far away from him as you physically could. “I’m sorry.”

He laughed at that, a bitter sound. You felt his fingers creep toward your hand beneath the covers, noticeably bare of gloves. Something dark crossed his features when he made contact, his fingers running along your hand tortuously slowly. You whispered out his name as a question, confused but not against this conversation's direction. “You know my real name, sweetheart. Might as well use it.”

Your throat suddenly became dry, but you didn’t dare reach for the canteen perched in his lap. “Cooper,” a small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, “I thought you’d be… angrier.”

“Oh, I’m fuckin’ pissed.” You saw his eyes flash momentarily, making you want to shrink into a ball and hide. You’d never been on the receiving end of his anger, and you hated it. Or at least that's what you told yourself. “But there’s far more important things on my mind right now.”

“Like what?”

“Like keepin’ ya alive, for example.” His teasing tone turned somber. “You almost bled out.”

“Oh,” was all you could think to say. You hadn’t realized how severe the wound you’d gotten was. Tentatively, you lowered the sheet that was around your body, then raised the still bloody shirt that now had a hole in the front. “My poor shirt…”

He scoffed. “Ya got stabbed in the gut, and you’re worried ‘bout your shirt?”

“Do you know how hard it is to find intact clothing up here?” You shook your head before examining the stitched-up gash on your stomach. Well, the once stitched-up gash. Thanks to the magic of stimpacks, he had been able to take out your sutures, leaving behind a barely healed scar across your stomach. You supposed it was a miracle, too, that it hadn’t caused severe damage to any of your intestines. “Thanks, doc.” You tried to jest. 

He laughed, but it sounded forced even to you. His gaze locked on where he rubbed your hand, looking like he wanted to say something. “Was… was there anything else?” You asked carefully. 

He exhaled sharply, and for a moment, you thought he wouldn’t respond. “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

An exasperated chuckle left him. “Everythin’. Every comment, every tease, every single fuckin’ thing you did that’s kept me awake for nights on end. Did you mean it?” To any other person, the way he re-asked the question would’ve sounded angry, pissed off. But you knew better. There was almost a sense of desperation in his words, his gaze boring into you as he waited for a response. 

“I am many things,” you began slowly. “A liar is not one of them. I meant it, every single thing.”

He paused. “Were your words only meant for the man I was?”

“Can they not be for the man you are as well?”

Your words seemed to catch him off-guard. “I guess they can,” he sighed, tilting his head down to break eye contact. Without thinking, you freed your hand from the blanket and his touch, and you gently tugged his chin until he was looking at you again. You were both equally surprised by the action, but you didn’t let yourself back down now. Not when you were so close to what you wanted. 

You gave him a moment to pull away from your touch if he was so pleased, and when he didn't, a gentle smile grew on your lips as you adjusted your hand so that you now held the side of his face. It was a stretch to do so, but seeing how he practically melted into your touch was worth it. You wondered how long it had been since someone had held him like this. 

“I rather like the man you are,” you admitted softly, your thumb running over his scarred cheek. “The man who put up with my constant teasing. The man who’s become the person I trust the most in this fucked up world. The man who just saved my life.” You sat up slowly, much to the complaint of your stomach and The Ghoul, but you ignored both. 

With one arm holding you up, you tugged him forward until he was half on the bed, one leg between your own, the other still firm on the floor. His hands braced on either side of you, face inches from yours as he leaned above you. He was close enough that you could feel his chest rise and fall, now slightly quicker than before. 

Human eyes flicked down to your lips, an unspoken question to which you already knew the answer. Instead of speaking, you let your actions do the talking, closing the distance until your lips brushed over his. But you didn’t let them connect. You wanted him to do it, to show you that this was what he wanted.

You heard your name said softly, a mix between a plea and a warning. It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard. 

“Cooper,” you sighed in response, and that seemed to do the trick. He finally closed the space between you two, lips surprisingly gentle against yours as he kissed you. It was everything you wanted, and you sighed happily, fingers trailing patterns across his skin. 

After a few moments, he pulled away, much to your audible displeasure, and chuckled. “I’m still fuckin’ angry at ya, sweetheart.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” you laughed lightly, “but be mad at me later.”

“Why would I do that?” 

“Because I want you to kiss me again.” 

“So fuckin’ needy,” he teased, a slight grin on his lips, but he brought himself back down to your lips. “I like it.”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond, his lips crashing against yours with noticeably less gentleness. You didn’t resist as the force of it pushed you back gently onto the bed, and your hand fell from his face to the front of his jacket, grabbing a fistful of the material. His lips were almost feverish against yours, a barely contained desperation in the act, and you felt fingers brush against your cheek. They were just as rough as you remembered.

The bed shifted as he finally put his entire body on it, one knee between your legs, the other resting by your hip. One hand still worked to keep himself from resting his whole body weight on you, the other tracing patterns into your skin, just like you had done to him. If he had any reservations left, they no longer existed. The only things on his mind were the way you felt beneath him and the way your lips felt against his. 

You gasped when you felt him move down your jaw, down to your neck, kissing and sucking the delicate skin there. No longer able to hold his jacket comfortably, you switched to holding the back of his head, nails scratching lightly against the skin. He practically shuddered, his arm buckling slightly, some of his body weight falling onto your lower body. 

A groan of pain tore through you when you felt him press against your stomach. It was almost funny how he seemed to jump off of you, hooded eyes immediately becoming alert. “Fuck, sweetheart, I’m sorry-”

“Get back down here,” you practically growled, reaching up for his shirt again. He stopped you, redirecting your hand to the bed, securing it with a firm hand when you tried to break free. 

“You’re injured,” he countered, stopping your continued attempts to break free with a look. 

“And?”

“And we just got ya stable. I’d be even more fuckin’ pissed if three days of work was all for nothin’.”

“We’ll just be careful, then,” you protested, desire making you irrational. You’d just gotten a taste, but you needed more of him. Hesitancy flashed across his features, making you nervous. “Unless you don’t want to…”

“Oh, I fuckin’ do,” he chuckled. “But I ain’t doin’ anythin’ to ya until you’re healed.”

“Anything? Not even a kiss?”

He sighed, shaking his head, but his face had a fond expression. “You’re difficult, ya know that?”

“I’ve been told,” you laughed. “So is that a ‘no’, then?”

You had to stop yourself from laughing when he kissed you. When he pulled away, he rested his head against yours. “There. Satisfied?”

Far from it. “For now,” you sighed, lying comfortably on the bed. Now that you didn’t have anything exciting in your near future, exhaustion slowly began to creep back in, making you yawn. He chuckled, moving to get up, but you halted him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Lay with me? Please?”

You could tell that he was ready to argue against it, but he relented. With a smile, you were able to roll over to one of the sides of the bed with limited amounts of pain, giving him enough room to squeeze in behind you. Immediately, you felt one of his arms tuck beneath the pillow, the other resting on your hip, being careful to avoid your injury. 

With his front pressed against your back, you let your eyes fall close, much less violently than previously. Your breathing eventually evened out, and you let your body fully relax against him. He must’ve thought you were asleep because you felt him brush away any hair that covered your face, and even though you couldn’t see him, you knew he was observing you. 

You manage to be still when his lips grazed the shell of your ear, a featherlight kiss, and his following words were just as light. “I’m glad you’re alright, sweetheart.”

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

You couldn’t believe the sight in front of you. 

You’d accidentally stumbled upon it, traveling a little too far off the beaten path, but you were so glad you did. In front of you were scattered pools of water, about six total, ranging from five to twenty feet across. Steam billowed off the top of the pools, the water bubbling by some unseen force, disturbing the clear water's surface. Set into rust-red stone, you couldn’t tell how deep the pools were, but you were eager to find out.

Stepping toward the edge of one of the larger pools, the rational part of your brain finally kicked in, and you took out your Geiger counter. You expected to hear the annoying ticking noise that accompanied said pools of water but were surprised when it remained silent. 

After checking it a few more times to be sure, you sat back on your heels, debating. It was then you finally heard the footfalls of your companions, huffing in annoyance because you ran off on him. “The hell ya doin’?” He asked, wary of how close you sat next to the water. 

“There’s no radiation!” You called back, glancing behind at him. “At least not enough to be a problem!”

The Ghoul crouched beside you, glancing from you to the pools of water. “Are you sure?” 

“I’m positive. Look!” You returned the counter to the water’s surface and received the same results. 

He hummed curiously. “This must’ve formed after the bombs.”

“What is it?”

“They’re hot springs,” he responded like it was the most obvious answer in the world. “Stick your hand in it.”

Cautiously, you let your fingers dip beneath the water's surface and were startled to find it quite warm. A small laugh left you as you pulled your fingers out, wiping your hands on your pants. “Are they safe?”

“Well, sayin’ as there isn’t any radiation, and no creature can live in waters like this, I’d say so.” He had just gotten the words out before you stood again, toeing off your ragged shoes and socks. “The hell you doin’?” He asked again, bewildered by your actions. 

Your bag hit the rocks with a thud right next to your shoes. “I’m getting in,” you stated, leaving no room for argument. “I’m filthy, sweaty, gross, and I desperately need a bath. You see any other options around?” 

“Well, no, but-”

“Turn around if you don’t wanna see me get undressed.” Your gunbelt and armor were next to join the ground, close enough to the edge that you could grab it if you’d like. 

“And if I wanna see?” he asked when your hands reached the hem of your shirt, still partially stained from the event the week before, a hastily sewed-on patch on the front. 

You finally glanced down at him, and he watched you with rapt attention. “Well,” you laughed lightly, “then enjoy the show.” Your shirt was off in one movement, joining the pile on the ground. You didn’t bother to look at the new scar on your stomach, which had become significantly less painful over the past week.

You knew you were toying with something dangerous, a line the two of you had been dancing on over the past week. Things hadn’t gone beyond kissing and lingering touches, and you were ready for more. You wanted more, and if the way he seemed to restrain himself each time he kissed you, you knew he felt the same. 

Your jeans were next, leaving you in only your undergarments. He was utterly transfixed, excitement visible on his face as you reached for the clasp of your bra. It had been weird; over the past week, you felt like he was becoming better at not hiding his expressions. Or you were getting better at reading him. 

You playfully threw the garment at him when it slid off your shoulders, obstructing his view momentarily. During that, you let your underwear slide down your legs, and you kicked it off your ankles, letting it join the pile. For a moment, you let his eyes hungrily roam your body before submerging yourself beneath the water’s surface. It was just deep enough that you could stand, and your head and shoulders were free, letting you breathe freely.

The sound you made when the hot water met your skin was unintentionally filthy, a mix between a moan and a curse. “Fuck, that feels good,” you laughed airily. The water was nearly unbearably hot, but you quickly grew acclimated.

Leaning back, you let your head submerge beneath the water, wetting your hair. At this angle, you could see him still, stunned, and still crouched by the water. Grinning, you adjusted back upright before reaching him, resting your arms on the rock face, and you rested your chin on them, looking up at him. “Are you getting in as well?”

That question broke him out of the semi-trance he was in, and he shook his head, much to your displeasure. “Someone’s gotta keep watch,” he grumbled.

“You’re no fun.”

“Is that so?”

You nodded. “C’mon, just for a little bit.”

“Sweetheart, you and I both know that if I get in there, it won’t be for ‘a little bit’.”

“And that’s a problem because…?”

He shook his head again but removed his gloves, making your grin wider. Backing away from the edge, you watched his hat come off next, then his gunbelt and coat. When he reached the buttons of his shirt, he paused, glancing into your eager eyes. “Turn around,” he requested, and you responded with a confused glance. “Do ya want me in there or not?”

You were still confused, but not wanting to push his comfort, you complied, distracting yourself from the scenery around you. It was hard to hear over the rolling water, but you listened to the sound of clothing hitting the rocks, making your breath hitch in excitement. Anticipation made your skin crawl, although not unpleasantly, and you waited for the sound of water splashing as he joined you. 

But after a moment passed and you were met with just the continued sound of bubbles, you shifted nervously yet didn’t dare look back. Time seemed to crawl on agonizingly slow, your breaths turning shallow. You nearly screamed when you felt an arm wrap around your midsection, still mindful of the injury, but relaxed almost immediately when the familiar timbre of his voice hit your ears. “Not even a peek, I’m impressed.”

“Is it truly that shocking that I can follow directions?” You scoffed, letting him ease you against his now bare chest. The contact was blissful, and you sighed out in content. “Can I turn around now?”

He made a noise of consideration before resting his head on your shoulder. When he spoke next, it was almost straight into your ear. “In a moment. Lemme hold ya for a bit longer.”

When he received no objections from you, he pressed a kiss to your shoulder. His other arm joined with the other, keeping your body wrapped up in his arms. It was a bit of an awkward angle, but you managed to reach around to hold the back of his head gently. You could feel him smile lightly when your nails scratched lightly.

“So, how’d you figure it out?”

It took a few moments of wracking your brain until you finally realized what he was talking about. “We’re having this conversation now?”

“Don’t see any better time. Besides, ya can’t run away from the questions now.” It was true; over the past week, you’d found an excuse not to answer his questions, finding something else to do as an excuse. Now it looked like he had you right where he wanted. 

Groaning, you hung your head, much to the amusement of him. “It was your voice, mainly,” you admitted. “When I first heard it, I thought I was just reaching. Then, it just clicked after watching the way you wield your gun, the way you carry yourself, everything. You even look a bit the same,” you chuckled. 

“And you thought the best thing to do next was to fuckin’ tease me?”

“You have to admit, it was kinda funny.”

You felt his shoulders shake, a light chuckle leaving him. “I ain’t admitting to nothin’, sweetheart.”

“Are you still upset about it?”

“Not for the reason you’re thinkin’.”

That piqued your curiosity. “Oh?”

“I wished ya told me sooner because I wouldn’t have had to wait this long to do this.” His arms tightened the tiniest amount around you. “D’you know how hard it's been these past weeks, months, haivn’ to bite my tongue every time you make one those comments, those touches.”

“Months?”

“That’s how long it’s been since we met, right?”

Shocked laughter left you, and you tried to turn in his arms. You could only get halfway around before his grip stopped you, but you had turned enough so that you could look at him. You weren’t expecting him to look so confident about his response; the muscles of his brow raised like he was daring you to say something. “You’ve wanted me for-”

“Since the moment ya stumbled into me that night.”

“You tried to kill me.”

He shrugged. “Still knew that I wanted ya.”

“How… romantic,” you scoffed. 

“And they say romance is dead.”

“You did promise to take me out to dinner.”

“Out of everythin’  from that conversation, that’s the fuckin’ thing you remember?” You felt his arm go lax for a second, but that was all you needed. Turning, you finally were facing him, your chest pressed into him, making him groan appreciatively. Your arms wrapped around his neck in an embrace, and you felt his hands begin to trail up your back. One settled on your ribs, the other continued up to the base of your neck, brushing your hairline. 

Any words you were about to say fell short when you felt him scratch lightly, a choked noise leaving you at the action, your body shivering. Your mind went blank, and he just chuckled knowingly. His fingers ran up even more, your body reacting similarly, and you both knew the conversation was over for now. 

You gasped when you felt him grab a fist of your hair and pull back; it was not rough enough to be incredibly painful, but it still stung a bit. But it wasn’t like you could feel the pain anyway, your desire being far more powerful. He leaned down into your space, face hovering above yours as he tilted yours back. “What, cat got your tongue?” He teased you for your sudden silence, which was uncharacteristic. 

“Fuck you,” you managed to whisper, making him laugh.

“We’ll get there, sweetheart.” 

His lips were on yours before you could respond, your senses now overwhelmed with him. His other hand wasn’t shy, grabbing and kneading at every piece of skin it could find, making you groan against his mouth. 

You laughed when you began to feel him back up to the edge of the pool, barely able to keep up with his eager movements. But you were confused when you felt his hands grip your waist and lift you so that you were now sitting on the rock edge. It was a warm day, but even the warm air wasn’t enough to stop you from shivering from the temperature difference. “I thought we were supposed to be getting clean,” you tried to protest.

It didn’t even cross your mind that your entire body was exposed to him now, and if you did remember, you doubted you’d even care. Not with how his eyes roamed your body like he was trying to memorize every inch of you. His hands gripped your thighs, pulling them apart so he could stand between them. He stood level with the base of your throat, wasting no time before he lavished it with kisses and bites. 

“We can do it after,” he murmured against your skin. “I need to fuckin’ taste ya, Now.”

Involuntarily, your legs tightened around his body at his words, laughing lightly in shock. You don’t think you’d ever had a partner so eager to go down on you. “Cooper-”

“I fuckin’ love hearin’ you say my name. I bet ya sound even better screamin’ it.” His lips had moved down to your breasts, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs. 

You tried not to think too much about the implications of his words. And you tried even harder not to let your body react any further, not wanting to fan the flame of his ego anymore. But you’d be a liar if you said you weren’t enjoying his cockiness. “Is that a promise?” You echoed the question from the previous week. 

You felt him smirk. “I wasn’t kiddin’ when I said I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” A soft nip made you jump slightly, and he soothed over the hurt with his tongue. “Lie back, sweetheart.”

Excitement and arousal buzzed in your veins, and you required no further encouragement before you were resting back on your elbows, unable to feel the stone beneath you. He pulled away when you leaned back, something almost like pride in his eyes at how easily you complied. 

He adjusted your legs so that they now rested on his shoulders, the heels of your feet resting on his back. It gave him perfect access to your center, and between your thighs, you saw how his eyes turned impossibly dark. They flicked to you one last time, looking for any hesitation, before leaning forward until you felt his breath caress the sensitive area. 

But he didn’t make contact where you wanted. Instead, you felt his lips ghost the insides of your thighs, teasing you. Groaning, you tried to close the distance with a roll of your hips, but he shut that down quickly. His hands no longer held your thighs open. Instead, they were splayed across your hips, keeping you pinned down to the rocks as he continued his light touches. 

You’d forgotten how strong he was, and you found yourself unable to move your hips any longer, rendered completely still by him. You didn’t have to see him to know he was loving tormenting you, inching closer and closer to where he knew you desperately wanted him. “I thought you said you needed to taste me,” you reminded him, and repeating his filthy words made you warm. 

“I know what I said,” he breathed. “Consider this payback for the weeks of fuckin’ torture you’ve put me through.” A frustrated noise left you, and you tried to move away, but to no avail. Teeth dragged against your skin, up towards your center, halting right before reaching it. “You don’t get to run off on me now, sweetheart. You’re gonna take what I give ya.”

“Cooper, please.”

“As amazin’ as you sound beggin’, you ain’t gettin’ what you want that easy.” One of the hands holding you down moved up, calloused fingers grasping at your breast, making you whine. If you thought that because he let up one of his hands, you’d be able to move your hips freely, you thought wrong. All you could do was lay there and comply, much to his evident enjoyment. 

You’re not sure how long you sat there, time crawling on tortuously slow, as he continued to tease and rile you up. Occasionally, you felt his lips ghost over where you wanted him, and you’d think he was finally having mercy on you. But when he passed over, too light to provide any relief, you knew he was just working you up more. No matter how much you pleaded or begged, he didn’t relent, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

But he was only human, and he, too, had a limit to his patience. It broke when the hand groping your breasts snuck between your legs, fingers spreading you open. His breath hitched when he saw the evidence of your arousal. He sighed, an air of finality in the sound. 

“Oh, fuck this,” you heard him growl before his mouth was finally on you. Startled but oh so relieved, a jumble of words left your mouth, a mix of his name and curses. His tongue swept through you desperately, face burrowed deep between your thighs, a groan tearing from his lips as he finally tasted you. 

He was incessant, addicted now that he’d gotten a taste. Your thighs tightened around his head as he ate you out, but he didn’t seem to mind. It almost seemed to urge him on, knowing he was making you feel that good. He still had a hand holding you down, the one between your legs teasing at your entrance, making your eyes flutter close. 

When his tongue began to focus on your clit, you could barely keep yourself propped up any longer, and your arms started to shake. Desperate for something to hold on to, you grasped at the hand on your waist. He adjusted so that his forearm now pinned you, leaving his hand free for you to grab, which you did eagerly. It would’ve been funny how the two actions juxtaposed each other if he wasn’t making you see stars. 

His name was being said like a mantra, turning more and more breathy as pleasure began to build. It turned louder when you felt one of his fingers ease into you, and you could feel the various groves of his skin, all adding to the stimulation you felt. Slowly, he began to pump it in and out of you, his mouth continuing to toy with your clit. Peeling your eyes open, you dared to glance down at him, gasping lightly when you found him looking at you. 

He looked so eager, so hungry, his pupils blown out with lust as he watched you slowly begin to fall apart. You were caught in a trance, unable to look away from him anymore. Not that you’d want to look away from such a glorious sight. 

Keeping your gazes locked when you felt a second finger join became a challenge. The tension that he had so beautifully wound up inside you was on the verge of snapping, your breathing growing faster as you neared your release. You didn’t have to say anything to him; it seemed like he knew your body as well as you did. As he moved his fingers, you felt him crook his fingers in a ‘come here’ motion, making you cry out. 

Your thighs around his head begin to shake, your heels digging into his back almost painfully. You were so close, your grip turning vice-like on his hand. It was when you felt his lips latch onto your clit and suck when you finally fell apart. You had no idea how loudly you cried out his name, the sound of your ears ringing blocking out any other noise. White-hot pleasure washed over your body, your one arm finally going boneless beneath you, your back hitting the rock. 

It took a few moments of deep breaths to get your heart under control, the ringing in your ears becoming background noise. You didn’t have the energy to prop yourself up yet, so you just strained your neck until you could look at him. He was still between your thighs, fingers having been withdrawn, but he continued to lap at your release. You could feel the smirk on his face when you made eye contact.

Overstimulation quickly made itself known, and with a groan, you finally sat yourself up. Easing your legs off of him, he still didn’t let up, and so with a half-hearted shove, you backed him up. He didn’t stay away long, helping your back towards the edge of the rock, lips once again making contact with your throat. His hands caressed your body, but he didn’t do more than touch, giving you a few more moments to recover. “Told ya I’d make you scream,” he muttered, making you scoff.

“I wasn’t that loud.” Was I?

“Scared off a few birds.” He laughed when you slapped his shoulder in mock offense, making him look up. “Ouch,” he deadpanned. 

You rolled your eyes, shaky hands grabbing the sides of his face and bringing it close to yours. You snuck a quick kiss to his lips, but even though it was short, you could still taste yourself on it. It made your head spin, and you offered no objects as he tugged you into the water, the temperature shock making you gasp. 

You’d barely gotten your footing before he was on you, all lips and teeth against your skin. Hands skated down your slides, beneath your thighs, tugging one of them up until it wrapped around his body. You gasped when you felt his hard length press against you, and you rocked your hips eagerly. It got the response you wanted, a groan of your name leaving his lips. 

“C’mon, Cooper,” you gasped, hands grasping his shoulders, bracing yourself. “C’mon baby, let me feel you.”

An almost pained noise left his lips before he thrust into you, the mix of your arousal and the water around you allowing him to enter with ease. He didn’t give you any time to adjust, setting a brutal pace almost immediately, his hips snapping up into you. Your nails dug into his scarred skin, and once the initial shock wore off, moans tumbled from your lips. 

Water splashed up because of the movement, hitting the rocks, but neither of you paid any mind. How could you, when he was fucking you like it was the only thing he could do, wanted to do? His hand remained on your thigh, helping keep your leg propped up. His other hand held the side of your face, your mouth hung open and panting, and he pulled you in for a messy kiss. 

His tongue swept into your open mouth as if he owned it, a groan leaving you at the filthy act. There was so much happening, and like before, you could do nothing but just let it happen, reciprocating as best you could with soft noises and touches.

A particularly hard thrust left you gasping, breaking away from the kiss, choosing to just rest your head against his. Pleasure blossomed across your body, and you felt that familiar tension return. Sneaking a hand between your legs beneath the water, you began to rub at yourself, making you clench around him. 

“Hands up,” you barely managed to hear him hiss through a groan. “Keep those hands on me, sweetheart.”

You complied, returning your touch to his shoulders, but your lost additional pleasure was only momentary. His hand replaced yours, nimble fingers working you as well as you could, maybe even better. His fingers moved in slow, hard circles, a complete contrast to the rapid movement of his hips. The two different sensations drove you wild, your breathing coming out as short, hot pants. 

You could feel yourself getting close, and you knew he could feel it. The movement of his hips had turned more desperate about thirty seconds ago, and you knew he was close as well. Running your hands up his neck, you pulled his face against yours when they reached his jaw, on the verge of bruising your lips with how aggressively you smashed them against his. “Cooper, I’m so close,” you whispered between kisses. 

“Cum for me, sweetheart, fuckin’ fall apart.” You couldn’t tell if he was asking or pleading, but you would fulfill his request either way. 

It took a few more presses of his fingers and snaps of his hips until you came, shouting his name like you’d done before. You could barely see through the haze the satisfactory smirk on his lips, pleasure once again washing over your body. Every muscle in your body tensed, and that smirk immediately fell from his lips, turning into an almost scowl as he staved off his own release. “Where-”

“Inside.” You didn’t have to hear the whole question to know what he was asking. 

For the first time, he moaned, too caught up in his own pleasure to care. “Fuck, you gonna let me fill ya?” A small laugh of disbelief left him when you nodded. “Goddamn…” His words trailed off as he chased his release, the continued thrusts of his hips bordering on overstimulation. But you didn’t have to wait long, because with a much quieter groan of your name, his hips stilled, and you felt his release seep into you. 

For a moment, the two of you just held each other, catching your breaths. Your body felt like it was on fire, a mix of pleasure and the hot water around you, yet you made no move to leave, not wanting this moment to be over yet. 

Slowly, his hand let go of your leg, and even though the water helped ease the irritated muscle, you still let out a noise of discomfort. He eased out of you then as well, leaving you feeling empty. Some part of you feared that he would push you away next, but a relieved smile appeared on your face when he tugged you into his arms, a surprisingly gentle kiss placed on top of your damp head. 

“You alright?” You don’t think you’d ever heard him so soft, so genuine, and knowing it was aimed at you nearly brought tears to your eyes. 

Too many emotions swirled in your chest, and instead of facing them and the discomfort they could bring, you resorted to humor. “I’m surprised you lasted that long, Cooper Howard. You being an old man, after all.”

“Oh, I’ll fuckin’ show ya old, sweetheart.”

[ashwhowrites]

hi!! can i request a hurt/comfort steddie about reader who somehow meets the both of them but at different times and basically she starts having feelings for both of them w out knowing that they know each other? and one time for exemple at a party she walks on them in the bathroom making out or something and she feels stupid for catching feelings, but eventually both of them talk to her and they make up and get in a relationship! sorry if its confusing ( also no smut pls if u can) thank you!! 💟

I've actually missed steddie x reader! And no smut just like you asked! Just some hinted moments. But it's very PG! I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻very open to writing more about this relationship as it grows

Him...him...or both?

Y/N met Eddie at the hideout. She wandered in on a random Friday night, ready for a drink. But as she walked in, there was a performance on stage. She grabbed her drink and walked towards the stage. Her eyes found him and before she knew it, they were talking.

Then they talked more and more and became good friends. They never saw each other outside of the hideout. She was busy with college and he had school and other things. But the more Fridays they spent together, the more she found herself catching feelings.

Which was dumb because they were only friendly with each other. It wasn't like they kissed or anything. But she wanted something more. She enjoyed his friendship but she couldn't help herself from looking down at his lips.

She couldn't stop thinking about Eddie. She wanted to ask him out but she was too nervous. She also had no idea if he was interested in her. Sometimes he'd send her a flirty smile and she'd touch his arm, but it didn't go further than that.

Y/N met Steve at the video store. She planned to ask Eddie out to watch a movie, but when she went to check out, she checked out Steve instead.

She blushed as his cute eyes landed on her.

"Great film! I've seen this many times. You've got good taste," he winked as he rang up her movie. She watched in awe as he ran his hand through his hair. He was one of the prettiest boys he had ever seen.

"Oh thank you," she looked at his name tag, Steve" she smiled

She panicked and never asked Eddie out to watch it. Now she couldn't stop thinking about Steve. She went back a few times, they discussed their favorite movies and realized they had a lot in common. It was so easy for him to make her smile and laugh.

She also realized she had a type. Cute boys with pretty brown eyes and flowy hair.

~~~

The more she talked with either of them, the more she found herself falling.

Eddie got a little more flirty. Winks and smirks made her stomach flutter.

Steve balled hard with the compliments. A smile never left his face and he leaned closer every time they spoke.

It was like both boys were passing her back and forth and she couldn't get her head on straight. She couldn't even tell which one she liked more.

She had more time to see Steve since he had more of an open schedule. She thought maybe she could ask both of them out, it wasn't a commitment, and people dated more than one person all the time. But she was also terrified to ask out either of them.

The next time she saw Eddie she grabbed a dress that she knew would have him staring.

And she was right.

He sat across from her in a booth, his eyes slipping down her body when he thought she wasn't looking.

The more drinks they had, the closer they got in the booth. She was so close to his lips, that all she had to do was lean in. But she didn't.

Then she'd be back at the video store, leaning on the counter as she listened to Steve's stories. Her eyes followed his every movement. She loved watching his cheeks flush in bright red when he'd catch her staring at his pink lips.

She craved to touch his hair and the chest hair that peeked through his work shirt and vest.

She couldn't decide which one she wanted more.

~~~

Eddie felt guilty for seeing Y/N the way he did. He loved Steve and he was loyal to Steve. But there was something about her that Eddie was drawn to. No matter how much he tried to get her out of his mind, she came back every time.

He wasn't going to do anything with her. He could tell she wanted him to make a move. To kiss and ask her out but he couldn't do it to Steve.

Steve knew he shouldn't blush whenever she showed up. And he shouldn't feel excited when she has extra time to talk. He loved Eddie, and they've been through so much hell to be with each other. He didn't want to mess that up. But he couldn't help but keep falling for her. She was gorgeous and he wondered what her lips would feel like.

~~~

Y/N slammed her last drink before she went off to find a bathroom. She figured a Saturday night at a huge party would help ease her mind about the two boys tugging at her heart.

She was a tad tipsy, stumbling as she leaned against the wall. She found a door and pushed it open.

Her eyes went huge when she saw Steve pushed against the sink with Eddie's tongue in his mouth. Their shirts were off and Eddie's hands were on Steve's hips.

They didn't notice her at first. She was frozen as she took them in. In a way, she was slightly turned on. But then she remembered they were kissing each other, which meant she was completely out of the picture.

"SORRY!" she squeaked after a second and slammed the door behind her. She raced out of the party as fast as she could. She heard her name being called but she kept moving.

She was an idiot. Neither made moves on her and she was dumb enough to believe it was because they were being polite. But no, they weren't interested. She was throwing herself at these guys and they were gay and together.

~

"Y/N WAIT!"

Eddie and Steve yelled at the same time, both snapping their eyes at each other.

"How do you know her?" They asked at the same time. Both look at each other confused.

"Hideout," Eddie shrugged, as he grabbed his shirt.

"Video store," Steve coughed, as he slipped his shirt back on.

"Why do you want to go after her?" Eddie pushed, his eyes accusing but he hoped it was the same reason Eddie was itching to run too.

"Well, why do you?" Steve asked back

"We'll talk about it later," Eddie said, then rushed out of the bathroom. Steve was hot on his heels.

They both raced out and searched around for her. Steve sighed in relief when he saw her sitting on the curb.

"Come on," Steve said as he grabbed Eddie's arm.

"Hey, Y/N, can we talk?" Steve asked nerves in his voice.

She was quick to clean her face. And stood up.

"I'm sorry for walking in. I just needed to use the bathroom," she laughed awkwardly. She wasn't sure where to look as they both stared at her.

"Eddie's fault for not locking the door," Steve mumbled, resulting in a smack from Eddie.

"What he meant to say, was it's okay," Eddie said, a soft glare sent to Steve.

"Cool. So um bye!" She rushed out and turned around.

"Hold on, that's not what we wanted to talk about," Steve said as he stepped in front of her. She halted as he blocked her path.

"I misread some signals, all good! We can just forget about it." She brushed it off

"We don't want to forget about it," Eddie said from behind her. She gulped as she stood in between both of them.

"Can you please stay right here while we go talk?" Steve begged, his eyes pleading as he softly touched her hand.

She nodded and watched as they walked away. She couldn't hear anything they were saying, but neither looked mad. She was worried they'd be pissed at her but mad at each other for not telling her that they weren't even single.

After a minute or so, they walked back over. She coughed as she waited.

"We apologize for stringing you along and not telling you that we were seeing each other," Eddie started.

"And we apologize that you had to find out in that way," Steve said as he gestured back to the house.

"I'm sorry for throwing myself at both of you. I'm completely embarrassed." She confessed as she looked at both of them.

"Don't be," Eddie said softly as he walked closer. "We talked and we both admitted that we are interested in you. We were both too scared to tell each other that we were crushing on you. But we both are, and we are okay with that."

"Which means, if you are comfortable and willing to try something different. We'd like to take you on a date, together." Steve explained. He was more nervous than Eddie. He watched her with scared eyes as Eddie smirked with confidence.

"So...you both want to..date me? At the same time? All together. As in I date both of you?" She asked, her brain was spinning.

"Yes," they said at the same time, sharing a smile before they looked back at her.

"Hell yes," she laughed. She couldn't decide between both of them in the first place, and she was granted a chance to date both of them? She wasn't passing that up.

"Well, you are already dressed to impress in that sexy dress, so how about we go now?" Eddie asked, stepping closer as he cupped her cheek. She shuddered as Steve's eyes watched them.

"Mhhm" she mumbled, her tongue numb.

Eddie smirked and grabbed her hand. Steve twirled his keys in his hands and they walked to his car.

"Steve and I are private in public, we don't want to deal with all the Churches and shit." Eddie joked as he crawled in the back.

"But you are welcome to be public with both of us and us three will interact more behind the doors." Steve winked.

~~~

Dating both boys was better than she dreamed of. They all hung out at Eddie's trailer. Her head was on his lap as he played with her hair. Then her legs were on Steve's lap as he softly trailed his fingers up and down.

A movie on the TV as they enjoyed each other's company.

"Can I ask who you liked first?" Eddie asked.

Y/N laughed to herself "Not telling," she teased

"Yeah, we don't wanna hurt your feelings Eddie" Steve added on

Eddie growled and threw popcorn at Steve, but he successfully caught it in his mouth.

"I know it was me," Eddie mumbled to himself

She loved that she slept right in between both of them. Steve always kissed Eddie first goodnight, then leaned down to press his lips against hers.

She barely catches her breath before Eddie turns her head to kiss her goodnight.

Her heart raced for both of them. She loved that they both wrapped their arms around her and cuddled into her neck.

Everything about their relationship was perfect and she couldn't wait to experience more.

[haoboutyou]

want it, got it | yoon jeonghan

suggestive, strangers to lovers | 1102 words | alcohol consumption

The air is filled with the throbbing beat of the music, a hypnotic rhythm that reverberates through the room, drawing people to the dance floor like moths to a flame. Among the throng of dancers, you move with deliberate grace, your eyes locked on your target—a guy standing by the bar, casually sipping his drink.

You lean closer to your friend, one hand cupping your mouth while the other gestures towards the bar. Your drink sloshes dangerously in your hand, uncaring that drops of the liquor splash onto your hand instead. “Lia!” Your voice sounds hushed over the music. “You see that guy over there?”

“Who?” She yells. The DJ is being annoyingly loud today. She points her head towards the guy by the bar. “That guy?”

Said guy was running his hand through his long dark hair with one hand, the other occupied by a drink. The strobing lights above seem to highlight his delicate features even more as he turns away, showcasing more of his alluring side profile.

You nod, eyes never leaving him. “That’s my boyfriend.”

Lia stares at you incredulously. “Really? When did that start?”

“He doesn’t know that yet, though.”

She spits out the vodka she was drinking. Damn, what a waste of a good drink. “Oh my god!” She doesn’t hesitate to playfully slap your arm when you throw your head back laughing. “I thought you were serious!”

“I am! I’ll make him!”

You quickly down the rest of your drink, wincing at the burn forming in your throat. Just as you reopen your eyes, the man’s eyes locked contact with you. Your heart skips a beat when he winks at you– you’re almost sure the sudden flush on your cheeks was not because of the alcohol in your system.

“You’re insane!” Lia rolls her eyes, nudging your shoulder and giggling. “Use protection!”

You throw a drunken grin at your friend. Just like that, you blow your best friend a kiss with a cheeky wave goodbye. She watches as you skip across the dancefloor, moving to lean against the bar counter next to the alluring stranger. With a final, purposeful adjustment to your dress– a sleek, white number that shimmered in the club's lights– you made your way towards him.

"Is this seat taken?" you ask, your voice smooth and sultry, just loud enough to be heard over the music.

He turns to look at you, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of you. He smiles, a hint of intrigue in his gaze. "Not at all," he replies, his voice alluring. “L/n Y/n.”

“Yoon Jeonghan. Nice to meet you, Y/n”

"Wanna dance?"

He hesitates for only a moment before setting his drink down and taking your hand. Together, you move to the dance floor, the crowd closing in around you. The music seems to pulse through your bodies as you dance, your movements synchronized, the space between you both narrowing with each beat.

You let your hands trail all over his shoulders, your fingers tracing the contours of his collarbones as you move closer. You could feel the heat of his skin, the quickening of his breath. You look up at him, your eyes locking onto his for the second time that night.

"You're a good dancer," you murmur, your lips tantalizingly close to his.

"So are you," he replies, his voice deep with desire. He peeks around you, towards the direction you came from.

“So, what’s this? A bet?” He steps closer to you, his body pressing against yours. A sharp, citrus scent overwhelms you; a welcome change from the sweaty muskiness throughout the rest of the club.

“Saw you whispering with your friend just now. What do you need angel? My name? My number?” He leans into you, hovering by your neck. You can feel his warm breath against your skin heating you up.

“… Something else, perhaps?”

He sees your ears turn red and laughs, a melodic sound that contrasts against the blaring music. Pulling away a little, he lifts one of your hands towards his lips, pressing a soft kiss before he nuzzles against it.

Your hand feels tiny in his. It feels surprisingly delicate, you think. You let your hands linger for a while more before you pull him closer. Your head says ‘fuck it’, already consumed by drunken bravery, and your mouth opens before your brain even finishes processing your actions. Gesturing behind you, your eyes seem to glint with mischief. “I told my friend you’re my boyfriend, but she didn’t believe me.”

Watching you pout adorably despite your scandalous attire is doing things to him. Jeonghan sucks in a breath; he doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s been entranced by you ever since he noticed you across the club at the start of the night.

He tilts his head to the side, dark locks falling across his eyes. “Hmm? That sounds like a problem.” His arm snakes around your waist, nibbling on your ear. “We should fix that, right?”

Your arms wrap around his neck as you start peppering small kisses in between his clavicle and neck, letting out a giggle when you feel Jeonghan’s breath hitch. He sighs, hand relaxing on your waist when you start to nip on his lobe.

“Wai-” He sets his drink down. “Woah, hold on angel.” His thumb caresses your cheekbones, and you lean into his touch. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret– Are you sure?”

See, if you were sober, you wouldn’t dare to fathom going off with some stranger you met in a club. But, as you spot Lia shooting thumbs up from the corner of your eye– as cherry vodka runs through your veins, as Jeonghan stares at you with such seriousness– you’re none the wiser.

“Give me your phone.”

He watches you with mirth as you take his phone from him, sending a quick message to Lia’s number before returning the phone.

“There. Now my friend knows who to find if I go missing.”

He raises a brow at you, still amused by you. “If you go missing?”

“You could be a serial killer, for all I know.” you slide your hand down his chest, feeling him shake in laughter at your words. You hit him playfully at that. “Hey! Being a girl is dangerous, okay!”

“I get it, I get it!” he laughs again. “I promise I’m not a serial killer. I’m supposed to be your boyfriend, right?”

You look up at him through hooded eyes. “Then yes.”

“Yes– yeah. Okay.” A lazy grin graces his face. He gestures towards the exit. “Shall we, then?”