#i tried catching three in the last day i had and all three almost filled up all the way

[st0neddew-valley]

stardew valley sturgeon my beloathed </3

[ja3yun]

The Doll House | Park Sunghoon

doll!sunghoon x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, cream pie, oral (f.rec), fingering, dom!hoon (i didn't mean this, it just happened), begging but not really, horror elements, anything else lmk! wc: 8.9k synopsis: once you find out the dolls' secret, you're on the hunt to find out how they became this way. in the library you stumble across something and you're left alone with park sunghoon who promises to keep your rendezvous with jaeyun a secret from their owner, but not without something in return jaeyun | masterlist | jongseong a/n: hi! this is the second installation of this series and i'm enjoying writing it so so much! there's a little bit of the lore in here and i tried to put in some little nuggets like word play and everything to give you guys some hints! i hope you enjoy and as always, likes, comments, feedback, and reblogs are always appreciated <3

In the week following your encounter with Jaeyun, you've stirred something deep within him. Whenever possible, he finds his way to your side, lending himself to you as he helps you with your daily chores, holding onto your hand when you sit down for some relaxation time between cleaning and cooking, and most importantly - at least for him - he’s been fucking you like crazy.

Something about last week made him feel alive, stronger than he had ever felt before, and he wanted to have that feeling ignited within him almost every day. He coaxed you into having sex a second time around by using those beautiful round eyes to pull at your heartstrings and break your resolve and from then your embarrassment subsided and you used one another to your heart's desire.

Having sex with a doll puts you in the same bracket as those lonely middle-aged men who have no friends and find solace with their rubber girlfriends, which is quite embarrassing. But this is different, you like to think, Jaeyun is for all intent and purpose alive and might as well be a real human.

Sure, he doesn’t have internal organs, his skin is made from thermoplastic elastomer, and his doll shell is made from durable porcelain with insulated heat, but he’s as real as they come. You did ask him how he can get hard and fill you up to the brim with his faux seed, but he says it’s just the way he’s designed. 

Soonyeol is a kinky bitch and she knew exactly what she was doing when she purchased these specific dolls.

You break Soonyeol’s rules almost every day because of him though, venturing into his room to fuck him silly, both of you seeking pleasure and comfort in each other's presence, holding one another close late into the night, swapping stories and laughter; it is nice to have someone to talk to, even if it’s in hushed tones.

Your inquiries into his origins and existence yield no concrete answers; after all, he's only been "alive" for a short time and consequently doesn’t know much about himself, his only offering is to explain that Heeseung and Jongseong know the most out of the four of them. And with your promise to Jaeyun to keep his slip-up of spilling the beans to you a secret from his brothers, seeking clarification from the other dolls remains off-limits.

That doll can get you to do anything he asks if he wants to and it’s almost embarrassing to admit.

As you go about your daily routines, you maintain a facade of normalcy, interacting with the other three dolls just as you did before discovering their secret. You speak to them as if they were merely inanimate objects, not expecting any response in return.

Despite your efforts to remain composed, a sense of unease creeps in the longer you’re in the room with any of them that isn’t Jaeyun. You can't shake the feeling that their eyes are following you, tracking your every move with an unsettling intensity. What once was blissful ignorance is now hyper-awareness. 

At times, you catch glimpses of movement out of the corner of your eye, only to find objects mysteriously rearranged or misplaced when you turn to investigate. It's a subtle form of mischief, one that leaves you feeling disconcerted and off-balance, unsure of what other tricks they may have up their sleeves.

Jaeyun assures you time and time again that none of his brothers would act in malice, however, his words fail to instil any comfort, especially around Heeseung. 

From the moment you arrived at the mansion, Heeseung had captivated you with an inexplicable allure, drawing you in with an intensity that bordered on hypnotic. It was as if he possessed a power unlike any of the other dolls. He was the one that got you to say yes to staying, you know it.

But beneath that surface charm, there's a darkness that unsettles you, a sense of malevolence that lingers in the air whenever he's near. You can't quite put your finger on it, but there's a palpable sense of foreboding that hangs over your interactions with him, like a shadow creeping across your consciousness. He is dangerous and the soul - or whatever it is that he has that brings his doll to life - is entrenched in a dark cloud, one that you want to steer clear of for the rest of your time.

Despite your reservations, you find yourself drawn to Heeseung, unable to resist the pull of his enigmatic presence. But with each passing day, the feeling of unease only grows stronger, leaving you to wonder what secrets lie hidden beneath his doll facade.

You’re cleaning the library and the sun is beaming through the large windows, the hot sun adding an uncomfortable heat to your body.

You continue regardless, wiping your brow and dusting down the shelves with a lime green feather duster you found hidden in the kitchen cupboard. You wanted to do a good job but the library is extensive with wall-to-wall shelves filled with books ranging from present to pre-world war one and you’ll be damned if you’re cleaning each book one at a time; the feather duster will be your new best friend.

As you make your way toward the desk positioned in the centre of the room, a surge of curiosity washes over you, compelling you to indulge in a bit of snooping. The allure of uncovering secrets about the mansion and its mysterious owner, Soonyeol, proves irresistible, fueling your determination to explore further.

With cautious steps, you approach the desk, scanning its surface for any signs of hidden compartments or concealed documents. Your fingers itch with curiosity as you reach for the drawers, your heart pounding with excitement and trepidation. If there are any clues to be found, surely they would be nestled within the confines of this desk.

It’s ridiculous how exciting you find all of this like you’re in some James Bond movie about to uncover the deep secrets of the villain. It’s not that deep but you need to find some excitement in the quiet of this home, so why not make snooping around the fun part of your day?

Beside Jaeyun, of course. 

When Jaeyun is with you, you don’t pry into the mansion, scared that he will take it the wrong way, like you’re trying to expose the brothers and their minder.

Listen to yourself, Y/N. You’re worried about a doll’s feelings, you think to yourself and cringe. It’s concerning how much you don’t want to hurt the doll but that’s just the effect he has on you.

Your fingers wrap around the drawer handles, eagerness flowing through you as you prepare to reveal whatever mysteries may be hidden inside. You gently tug on the drawers, but to your dismay, they remain firmly closed, guarding their contents from prying eyes.

Frowning in frustration, you give the handles a harder shake, trying to remove whatever mechanism is keeping them locked. Despite your attempts, the drawers refuse to move, it's secrets tantalisingly out of reach.

“Shit,” you murmur, trying one more time.

Your gaze wanders over the desk, looking for any sign of a key or secret compartment that may lead to the contents of the drawers. Your pulse rushes with excitement as you dig through the desk, brushing your fingertips around the edges in search of a secret latch or trapdoor.

However, as you scan every inch of the desk, your search provides no results, leaving you feeling irritated and dissatisfied. There must be some way to get those drawers open, there’s no way if there wasn’t something secret inside, some form of incriminating evidence about Soonyeol, that she would keep them locked up. 

As you stand before the locked drawers, your mind flows with questions regarding Soonyeol's occupation and the mystery surrounding her actual identity. The mansion's vintage furnishings and rows of ancient porcelain dolls appear to point to a career in antique collecting, but an ongoing feeling of anxiety suggests darker possibilities. If she was a mere collector, how on earth did she manage to obtain four dolls who are alive? Is she just insanely clued up on possessed dolls and where to find them on eBay?

You look around the room to see if any pictures are hung suspiciously, all those nights of binge-watching Sherlock Holmes are coming in handy because you know now that pictures almost always hold either a safe or a taped-up key behind them.

You meticulously inspect each picture frame in the library, your eyes scanning for any signs of hidden compartments or concealed keys. You check portrait after portrait, your fingers tracing along the edges of each frame, but your efforts yield no results. Disappointment threatens to overwhelm you as you realise that your search has so far been fruitless.

Why is this proving to be so difficult? Surely there has to be something you can scope out, even a bobby pin would suffice at this point so you can pick at the locks.

Just as you're about to give up hope, your eyes fall upon an unusual floor-length portrait hanging inconspicuously on the far wall. It depicts the bizarre scene of a lamb with a human body, eating its sheep counterparts. It’s an unsettling fusion of outlandish and grotesque. You can't help but grimace at the tasteless decor choice, wondering what possessed Soonyeol to hang such a peculiar painting in her library. 

“Seriously? She is one fucked up lady,” you wince to yourself, wondering why she couldn’t just have a poster of some kittens or literally anything else.

Despite your feelings of unease, curiosity overcomes you, and you move forward to inspect the painting more closely. As you reach out to touch the frame, your fingers brush over the edge, and you notice that it seems there is a gap between it and the wall, as if there is something hidden behind it.

With your heart pumping from anticipation, you carefully pull the picture from the wall, exposing a dark wooden door that is concealed behind it. Your breath catches in your throat as you realise that this may be the breakthrough you've been waiting for. With shaky hands, you reach for the rusted doorknob and give it a cautious jiggle.

But just like the locked drawers, the door remains firmly sealed shut, thwarting your attempts to uncover its secrets. You groan out loud, tossing your head back and shutting your eyes in frustration. 

"What has a girl gotta do to find out what the fuck is going on in this place?" you mutter under your breath, your voice tinged with frustration and determination. You refuse to be deterred by this setback, knowing that you're not one to give up easily.

Gathering your resolve, you kneel down to inspect the door handle, your fingers tracing the contours of the keyhole with a sense of anticipation. You can feel the weight of the unknown pressing down on you, the tension in the air palpable as you prepare to uncover whatever secrets lie beyond this enigmatic door.

As you peer inside the keyhole, your breath catches in your throat, your eyes straining to penetrate the darkness that shrouds the room. Every fibre of your being is on high alert, a sense of anticipation tingling at the back of your mind. 

But then, just as you begin to make out the faintest hint of movement within the darkness, something catches your eye - a faint glimmer of red light flickering like a flame from within the depths of the keyhole. Your heart skips a beat as a surge of apprehension courses through you, a sense of foreboding tightening its grip on your chest. 

What is that? 

Your heartbeat quickens as you realise whatever it is, it’s not good and it’s trapped behind that door for a reason. You squint your eyes further, trying to focus on the faint shapes you can see throughout the room but it’s proving difficult, the red beam being your only sense of light.

Time appears to slow to a crawl as you watch the red light pulse and flutter, its intensity increasing with each passing moment. Your palms go sweaty in anticipation, and the hair on the back of your neck stands on edge as you brace yourself to find out what is behind the door.

Then, without warning, just as you go to reach for the handle once again, the red light bursts brightly, obscuring your eyes. With a startled scream, you stagger backwards and deck onto the hardwood floor, your heart beating as adrenaline rushes through your veins. The room swirls around you as you try to regain some form of direction, your senses overwhelmed by the abrupt blast of light and the overpowering feeling of dread that persists in the air.

“Fuck!” you manage to yell out and as your senses slowly return, you find yourself gasping for breath, the remnants of the red flame still burning brightly in your vision, creating white spots behind your eyelids. With trembling hands, you reach out to steady yourself, your heart pounding in your chest as your blood pumps nervously through your veins.

In a daze, you glance to your right, your gaze falls upon the portrait you had removed from the wall and it's changed - it is now portraying a human head with a sheeps body, eating it's mesty carcass, blood smeared over it's mouth and wool.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you quickly rush to replace it, your hands shaking as you fumble with the frame. Your heart feels as though it's about to burst from your chest as you struggle to hang the painting back in its rightful place.

Finally, with the portrait back on the wall, you step back, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you try to steady your racing heart and swallow the sick that rose from the pit of your stomach out of fear. 

But as you turn around, your heart jolts to a panicked stop in your chest as a new wave of terror washes over you. Sitting there, in the corner of the room where there was nothing before, is one of the dolls - Park Sunghoon, motionless and silent.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you are the last thing I need right now,” you say in frustration, pinching your eyes to extract the last few spots from your vision. It’s bad enough that you’ve just been blinded by god knows what, and now you’re being startled by Sunghoon’s sudden appearance.

Breathing out, you compose yourself and nod, “Okay, so I won’t be going near that door again,” you swallow thickly, trying to inject a laugh to lighten your heavy heart. Scouring around in Soonyeol’s drawers was one thing but you would rather be massacred by a hatchet at the hands of dear Sunghoon over there than find out whatever the fuck is behind that door.

As you regain your composure, a manic laugh escapes your lips, a mix of nervous energy and relief bubbling to the surface. Sunghoon remains motionless, his expression unchanged, as if unaffected by the chaos unfolding around him.

You approach him with a mixture of curiosity, noticing the pair of frameless glasses perched on his face. It's a strange sight as you certainly didn’t put them on him this morning because why on earth would a doll need reading glasses?

"A fashion statement?" you quip, tapping the side of the lenses lightly. The failed joke eases some of the tension that still lingers in the air, and you find yourself chuckling softly as you take a seat on the table beside him.

Leaning in close, you lift Sunghoon's chin to meet your gaze, studying his features with fascination and admiration. Despite the unsettling circumstances, there's a strange comfort in his presence, a sense of solace that washes over you as you take in his ethereal beauty.

His hair falls in soft waves around his face, his bangs framing his eyes in the most captivating way. His features are striking, from the delicate freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks to the sharp line of his jaw. Sunghoon's beauty is almost otherworldly, captivating you in a way that you can't quite explain.

"You'll protect me from whatever is in there, right?" you joke, trying to lighten the mood but Sunghoon sits mute and unmoving. You ponder if staying still like that hurts them or is uncomfortable; does it just come naturally? There are so many questions but after that ordeal, you’ll give up on prying for now.

You pat Sunghoon's cheek softly, smiling down at him before deciding to press on with your chores, hoping that the mundane tasks will help ease some of the weight from your shoulders and restore a sense of normalcy to your day.

With careful hands, you adjust Sunghoon's head to stare forward once more, a futile attempt to spare him any unnecessary discomfort - although you can't help but wonder if he's even capable of feeling pain. Setting him back in place, you make your way to the desk and retrieve your duster, ready to resume your duties.

Focusing your attention on the far side of the room, away from the ominous door, you begin to polish the ancient globe that sits near the entranceway. 

Spinning it idly, you sigh and think about all the places you want to see before you die. You’ve been stuck in this city your whole life only going as far as hopping from city to city and you are in dire need of some vacation time. Maybe it’s the red light that almost blinded you, but you’ve never felt more of an urge to pack up and go.

Maybe it’s just this place you need to get away from. 

But you’re stuck, something is keeping you here. Any normal person who saw what was behind that door would have run for the hills and never looked back, yet, despite the fear in your body that lingers deep inside, you don’t want to leave.

You’ve said this whole time it’s for the money but you could find work somewhere else, a job that wouldn’t give you chills in your bones. 

Once you’ve settled your nerves fully, you want to keep investigating this place and find out why Jaeyun and the other dolls are alive, and unfortunately for you, you have a sneaking suspicion that whatever is behind that door might just hold your answers. 

As you continue to clean, your eye is pulled to an object perched on one of the shelves: an old camera. Intrigued, you approach it, admiring its appearance with a mix of curiosity and nostalgia. The camera's folding body, made of worn leather, emanates timeless beauty and carved nameplates on the side hint at its extensive past.

Upon closer inspection, you recognise it as a model from the 1940s or 1950s, similar to the Agifold your grandmother used to own. Memories of her beloved camera fill your thoughts, followed by a twinge of regret that you never got the opportunity to use it yourself. But now, with no one to stop you, an opportunity presents itself.

Gently, you pick it up and inspect it further, opening the back to see some film still lodged inside. You gently pick up the camera, its weight cooling in your hands. Opening the back panel, you uncover a roll of film that is still wedged inside.

Raising the camera to your eye, you adjust the focus and squint, searching for the perfect angle to capture the essence of the room. With a steady hand, you press the shutter button, the satisfying click echoing in the silence of the room.

Flash.

As you lower the camera from your eye, a satisfied smile tugs at the corners of your lips. But as your gaze sweeps across the room, a chill creeps down your spine, and the smile freezes on your face.

Something is…different.

You scour the room, your eyes darting from one corner to the next in an attempt to discern what has changed so abruptly. It feels as though the world shifted in the blink of an eye, leaving you disoriented and on edge. The familiar sights of the room offer little solace as you search for any sign of what could have caused the sudden disturbance.

The painting of the sheep still hangs on the wall, which means the door remains shut - good. The books on the shelves remain undisturbed, their spines aligned in neat rows. The windows are shut tight, allowing only a faint breeze to filter through the cracks in the draught. Everything appears to be as it was before, except for one glaring absence.

Sunghoon.

Your breath catches in your throat as you realise that the lifelike doll is no longer within your line of sight. He has vanished without a trace, leaving behind only an eerie emptiness in his wake.

A shiver runs down your spine as you consider the implications of his disappearance. Despite Jaeyun's assurances that his brothers are harmless, you cannot shake the feeling of unease that settles over you like a heavy fog. Even though Jaeyun is kind to you, the others may not share his benevolence. In a house filled with secrets and shadows, trust is a fragile thing, easily shattered by the slightest whisper of doubt. 

“You shouldn’t go around touching things that aren’t yours,” a hushed voice flows from behind you, taking advantage of your transfixed body to reach around your waist and take the camera from your trembling hands.

As he lets out a chuckle, Sunghoon moves around you with grace, returning the camera to its rightful place on the shelf. His towering presence now looms over you, casting a shadow that seems to swallow you whole.

Yet, you don’t feel threatened like you thought you would, somehow it was his lack of presence that put you on edge but now that he is standing before you, you know deep down you are in no harm. Your body relaxes a little, your spine finding its strength again as you straighten your posture.

Your movements amuse Sunghoon, his tongue running along his prominent canine as he smirks, “You don’t seem surprised?” he asks but it’s more of a statement than a question. He knows you must have already been in on their secret, “So was it Jaeyun? Did he spill like we thought he would?”

Jaeyun’s saddened face pops up into your head after your first time with him, begging you not to tell the others as they already see him as incompetent. The memory tickles your heart and you start to shake your head definitively, “No, I am shocked, look!” you say, bringing up your shaky hands to his eye level, a feeble attempt to convince Sunghoon.

“Oh really? Then why didn’t you question how I moved from my bedroom to the library without you carting me around in that fuck awful wheelchair?” Sunghoon queries, raising his eyebrow in mock suspicion. He knows you know, he’s just waiting for you to admit it.

“No, I…I just thought…I was…”

“You are a terrible liar, Y/N,” he scoffs out an endeared laugh and pushes your hand away from his face, “It was him, wasn’t it?”

Your heart pounds against your chest as Sunghoon’s stare holds you captive, those beautiful glass eyes slowly dissolving your loyalty to Jaeyun. You are trying so hard to come up with an excuse as to how you know their secret but the doll before you is so alluring in his beauty that your brain might as well be replaced with a tin of mushy peas.

He licks his bottom lip and starts to laugh as your silence becomes his confirmation. 

“Shit,” you huff out, looking down, feeling bad for betraying Jaeyun like this. One tiny secret was all you had to keep and you’ve given it up without even uttering a word. Fuck these dolls and their power over your resolve.

Sunghoon looks up at the ceiling, shaking his head in disbelief, “He really can’t keep his mouth shut,” he says to himself quietly, astonished that he even had any faith in the yapping puppy to begin with.

Your back goes up, eyebrows knitting together, “Hey! Don’t blame him like that,” you say defensively.

He halts his laughter and slowly looks at you, tilting his head, “Oh?...oh…” he mutters, a wide smile of bewilderment appearing on his face as he starts to piece you and Jaeyun’s relationship together, “How on earth did he manage to pull you? Did he give you a bat of his lashes and that signature pout? Did he make his eyes do that stupid sparkle? Hmm?”

You're taken aback by Sunghoon's accurate description, a mix of surprise and embarrassment colouring your expression. How did he know exactly what Jaeyun had done to win you over? Does Jaeyun do this with every housesitter?

Sunghoon watches your reaction with amusement, his grin widening as he sees the realisation dawn on you. "Ah, I see it now," he says, his voice tinged with playful mockery, "He's quite the charmer, isn't he? You know, he isn’t as innocent as he looks, he knows what he is doing."

You shift from one foot to another, looking down at your hands. It’s embarrassing for any woman to be hit with the truck of truth, especially when it’s about succumbing to a man, but a doll? That’s even more humbling. 

Lifting your chin, he gives you a smug smile as he sees inside your mind, “You shouldn’t feel ashamed, baby girl, Soonyeol is the same. She loves it - to look after him, coddle him whenever he wants, and give him kisses in passing,”  he leans down to make direct eye contact with you, a flash of something behind his iris’ brings you to attention as he continues, “That’s all that matters, isn’t it, that you have fun?”

You feel yourself nodding because he’s right. Inside of yourself, you knew Jaeyun was luring you into bed but you wanted it just as much as him, so did you really get played? And you enjoy his company, his constant telling of stories and his high energy, you’ve grown to cherish him with each passing conversation. 

Sunghoon observes the gears turning in your mind. "Can I tell you something?" he asks, his lips whispering over your cheek. You nod, permitting him to continue, your eyes fixed on his as he leans in closer, his lips almost brushing against your ear. "He's been unusually happy since you arrived," he murmurs softly, "I think you might be his new favourite person."

His admission causes a warm flush to spread across your cheeks, a mixture of surprise and delight flooding your senses. Knowing that Jaeyun feels a similar connection to you fills you with a sense of happiness and validation. You can envision Jaeyun becoming a lifelong friend, someone you cherish deeply.

While his initial intent might have been to charm you into fucking him, the time you've spent together since then feels genuine and sincere. You take comfort in knowing that Jaeyun values your companionship and enjoys your presence for more than just physical intimacy.

Sunghoon inhales sharply through his teeth, a disapproving tsk escaping him, "I don't think Soonyeol would be too pleased about that," he remarks, pulling back slightly as if considering the ramifications. "After all, Jaeyun is her favourite, and if she were to discover you've been fucking her precious little puppy..."

Your eyes widen in alarm as you grasp the implication of his words, shaking your head frantically as you instinctively raise your hands in a defensive gesture, "No, no, no, you can't tell her!" you exclaim, your voice tinged with desperation. You find yourself on the verge of pleading, almost dropping to your knees in a last-ditch effort to appeal to Sunghoon's mercy, "I need this job," you implore, your voice trembling with anxiety.

Sunghoon's lips curl into a sly smirk as he watches your panic-stricken reaction. "Well, I suppose I could keep my mouth shut..." he muses, drawing out the suspense and relishing in your apprehension.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you hang on to his words, hope flickering within you at the possibility of him relenting. But just as quickly as your hope appears, it’s gone as you see the dark shimmer in his eyes behind his glasses, the way his tongue is sitting on the inside of his cheek as he watches you.

“You can’t be serious? You’re blackmailing me into having sex with you?” you retort, the revulsion evident in your tone.

"I'm not a creep, Y/N, I wouldn't do that," Sunghoon responds, a hint of offence lacing his words. As you meet his gaze, you feel a pang of regret for assuming the worst about him. But he lowers his voice, his eyes hooded as they lock onto yours. "I'd only fuck you if you wanted me to," he murmurs, the timbre of his voice sending a shiver down your spine. You find yourself involuntarily rubbing your thighs together, a nervous habit forming as you bite your lip.

Sunghoon's hands find their way to your waist, drawing you closer until he’s pressed firmly against you. His nearness is intoxicating, and you can't help but tip-toe to etch closer to his face, craving more of his presence. His lips hover tantalisingly close to yours, teasing you with the promise of something more.

"Oh? Would you like that?" he asks smugly, his grip on your waist tightening as he effortlessly makes you melt under his touch, succumbing to him like putty in his hands. It's crazy how much power these dolls possess over you, their allure is irresistible and their influence undeniable.

His smug expression only adds to the internal chaos, making you feel both irritated and strangely drawn to him. You want this more than you would like to admit, perhaps it was the comfort he was bringing to you after your ordeal with the door, or maybe it’s because you’re an idiot that simply wants to fuck him.

Sometimes there is no other reason than pure lust.

Sunghoon's grin widens as he sees you surrender to him, his fingers dancing on your waist as he leans in even closer, closing the already minimal gap between your lips and before you can fully comprehend what's happening, his lips brush against yours in a teasingly soft caress. It's a fleeting touch, but it ignites a fire within you, awakening something.

You're acutely aware of how vulnerable you are in this moment, how easily Sunghoon has managed to unravel your defences and ensnare you in his web of temptation. He is doing exactly what Jaeyun did to you last week, and just the same, you’re letting him because you want it.

"Tell me to stop," Sunghoon whispers, his voice barely audible above the pounding of your heart. His hands continue their gentle exploration, tracing the contours of your sides with a feather-light touch that sends tremors of pleasure coursing through your body.

It's a cruel temptation, the way he places the power in your hands, knowing full well that you won't utter that simple word; not when every caress feels like fire against your shivering skin.

Instead, you close the gap, your mouth melding against his as your once shaky hands now thread through his hair, pulling him further into you. You can feel his victorious smile against your lips as he guides you to sit on the very desk you were snooping around earlier, pressing your ass against the edge.

He briskly undoes your jean buttons, his lips planting one long kiss on yours before he sinks past your tits and stomach until he is on his knees in front of your pussy. Teasingly, he pulls down your bottoms, slowly but surely exposing your dampened core to him.

“There you are,” he mutters, placing a gentle peck on your pubic bone, his lips lingering there as he savours the moment. He looks up at you behind his glasses and smirks as he sees your chest rising and falling in anticipation, “I’ll make sure you feel good, baby girl, don’t worry.”

His smirk widens as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin as he trails kisses along the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. Each touch is deliberate, calculated to elicit a response from you, and you can't help but arch your back in anticipation, silently urging him to continue.

With a soft sigh of contentment, Sunghoon grants your unspoken desires, his tongue delicately tracing the beginning of your slit. He flattens it against your tender flesh, savouring the taste of you as he lingers there, lost in the intoxicating sensation of your essence. 

You grind your hips onto his face and before you know it, you’re riding his face, using your hips to move your clit along his rigid tongue. Your fingers desperately seek to find refuge on a surface to steady you, which they find in his hair, tugging gently at his scalp to help anchor you.

Sunghoon is loving it as much as you are, the smile on his face is a testament to this. He pries your legs further apart to sink his mouth further into your heat, the tip of his wet muscle now working in tandem with your hips to help you out.

"F-fuck," you moan breathlessly, your body arching instinctively towards him as he spreads your folds between the fingers of his right hand. Anticipation courses through your veins as he teases you with soft, long licks, each stroke of his tongue sending waves cascading through your body.

You're consumed by both pleasure and longing, your senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating sensation of his touch. Every lingering, deliberate swipe of his tongue against your clit makes it throb with need, and you find yourself clenching around nothing, yearning for more.

You want him to go faster, to get you to the edge quickly so he can fuck you against this desk, but at the same time, you're intoxicated by the slow, deliberate pace of his movements. He’s so good at this it’s almost awe-inspiring. 

Sunghoon's long fingers stroke up and down your folds with a delicate touch, savouring the sight of you spread open before him. But he needs more, he wants to see you completely exposed and at his mercy. With a determined gaze, he shifts your legs over his shoulders, positioning you firmly on the edge of the wooden desk.

"Your pussy is the closest to heaven I'll ever get," he remarks, a smirk playing on his lips as he takes in your needy expression. Your whimper for attention to your clit only fuels his desire further, "I want to make you beg so bad, baby girl," he adds, his voice dripping with need, "but I don't want to wait to see what it feels like to have you cumming on my tongue."

The plea escapes your lips before you can stop it, your desire overriding any sense of restraint, "Please, Sunghoon," you moan, your hips instinctively thrusting towards him, begging for his touch.

He can't resist the temptation any longer. With a hunger that borders on desperation, Sunghoon spreads your folds open once again, his gaze fixated on you in this new position. He licks his lips in anticipation, his mouth watering at the sight of your glistening wetness.

His tongue flicks over your hood, teasing your clit with quick, back-and-forth strokes that send electric shocks through your veins. You writhe beneath him, lost in the overwhelming sensation of his touch as he expertly pushes you to the edge. 

Sunghoon’s glasses steam up as he switches between licking and sucking your clit, drawing out moans of pleasure from both of you. There is nothing he loves more than eating pussy, the feeling of someone’s sweetness on his tongue is the best feeling he’ll ever know, he could spend hours just worshipping each and every cunt on the planet.

But he knew from the moment you walked in, that he had to have just one taste of you.

“Sunghoon, fuck,” you moan through bated breaths, holding his head hostage between your legs - not that he minds, the desperation your exhibiting only heightens his desire to consume every part of you, to make you unravel under his touch.

Your back presses against the desk, the crumpled documents from Soonyeol's work forgotten beneath your squirming body. In this moment, nothing matters except the overwhelming pleasure that consumes you both.

Sensing that you're on the brink of orgasm, Sunghoon dips two of his fingers into your warm, inviting heat, the sensation sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Fuck, Sunghoon, yes," you scream, your voice filled with desperation and hunger as his fingers join his mouth to drive you wild. You're teetering on the verge of bliss, your body twitching with anticipation as he deftly guides you to the peaks of pleasure.

"That's it, baby girl," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. "Let go for me..."

As the waves of your orgasm wash over you, you cry out his name, your body trembling with the intensity of your release. Sunghoon watches you with a satisfied smile, his own desire burning brightly in his eyes. His fingers never let up, continuing to pump in and out of you as your climax washes over you, coating his hand and even spurting onto his face.

Standing up, Sunghoon keeps his digits buried deep inside you, still wriggling them around as he leans over your spent body on the desk. "If this is you with just my mouth and fingers," he says, pausing to give you a sweet kiss, "then just imagine you on my cock."

His words send a shiver of want down your spine, and you can't help but imagine the feeling of him buried deep inside you, filling you completely. The thought alone is enough to reignite the fire of desire within you, and you find yourself yearning for more of him, for the pleasure only he can provide.

Withdrawing his fingers from you, he brings them to his mouth, licking himself clean of your cum. The sight has you gasping, wishing his mouth was back on you, using that tongue just one more time. Sunghoon sees the need in your eyes and smiles cockily.

"You want a taste?" he asks, already offering his fingers to your parted lips. You eagerly accept, sucking and licking them clean, savouring the lingering taste of yourself on his skin. "You taste unreal, right?" he remarks, his voice husky with desire.

You nod, popping your mouth off his fingers, "How can you taste me if you've got no taste buds?" you ask, genuinely curious. There's still so much you don't know about these dolls, and each revelation only adds to your intrigue.

"Ah, we're all different makes. Some have functions others don't," Sunghoon explains as he begins to undress, leaving him in only his boxers and glasses.

"So you can taste? What can the others do?" you inquire, your curiosity piqued.

"You bored of me already, baby girl?" he teases, deflecting your question with a smirk. His hands grip the bottom of your t-shirt, and with a swift motion, he lifts it over your head, leaving you exposed and vulnerable on the desk, "The real question you should be asking is what else I can do."

You lie naked before him, anticipation palpable in your expression as you look him up and down, suddenly intrigued by the possibilities. "What can you do?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, eager to discover the depths of pleasure he can offer.

“Let me show you,” he murmurs, his voice low and seductive.

He pushes his boxers down, revealing his throbbing arousal. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him, his length throbbing in his hands. Each time he pumps, the pulsing of the fake veins quickens. He presses his cock against your folds and you feel the pulse.

"Do you feel it?" Sunghoon asks, already knowing the answer as he watches you involuntarily move your hips, seeking more of the delicious friction his cock provides.

You nod eagerly, your desire mounting with each passing moment. The anticipation of what's to come sends a wave of heat rushing through you, and you can't help but yearn for more of him.

You understand Soonyeol a lot more now.

Slowly, Sunghoon guides himself to your entrance to let you feel the throbbing more intensely as he begins to push inside you. The sensation is electrifying, sending your body into a flush as he fills you completely with his length.

Imagine if every man possessed this kind of touch; maybe, just maybe, there'd be less reason to complain. It's like slipping into a dream, feeling his hands explore every inch of you as he eases into a gentle rhythm of thrusting.

You find yourself lost in the sensation, every nerve ending alive with anticipation. His movements synchronise with the rhythm of your heartbeat, building a crescendo of desire.

You can't help but draw comparisons to Jaeyun, though you don't mean to. Their approaches to pleasing you are starkly different. Jaeyun is fervent and eager, consumed by his own need for you. His passion is raw and primal, leaving you breathless and craving more, even as you revel in the intensity of his desire.

In contrast, Sunghoon's touch is confident and measured. Each thrust is a masterpiece of skill and intention, as if his sole purpose is to ensure you experience the pinnacle of pleasure. There's a depth to his movements, leaving you utterly captivated by the artistry of his fucking. He was born to do this.

Once he senses your body yielding to him, growing accustomed to the girth of his cock, he presses his hand firmly against your lower stomach, anchoring you to the desk as he intensifies his rhythm. His muscles tense with each powerful thrust, driving deeper into you with a primal urgency.

"God, you're tight," he remarks, a cocky grin spreading across his face. His glasses slip down the bridge of his nose, his tousled hair falling into his eyes, "Are you sure Jaeyun's been fucking you?" he teases, his voice laced with playful arrogance as he revels in the control he holds over your pleasure.

As Sunghoon's words cut through the haze of pleasure, a pang of guilt tugs at your conscience. Despite the lust coursing through you, his casual dismissal of Jaeyun stirs conflicting emotions within you. Jaeyun may not be perfect, but he holds a place in your heart that you can't deny.

"I... I don't like when you talk about him like that," you manage to say between breaths, your voice wavering slightly. 

But that only makes him pound into you deeper as you cry out. Your hands reach for his arm as you grip it tightly, trying to keep yourself grounded as he fucks you with an intensity like never before.

Sunghoon's response is a low growl, his grip on you tightening as he drives into you with an almost punishing force, "You don't want me talking about your little puppy?" he taunts, his words laced with a mixture of lust and disdain. The sound of the drawers rattling beneath you only adds to the chaotic symphony of pleasure and pain enveloping you.

Your head swims with conflicting desires, torn between the familiar comfort of Jaeyun's touch and the intoxicating thrill of Sunghoon's dominance. And as his thumb finds its way to your clit, sending bolts of ecstasy shooting through your body, you can't help but succumb to the overwhelming pleasure, surrendering yourself completely to the man who's determined to claim you as his own.

"I hit a nerve, huh?" Sunghoon's laughter rings out, a mixture of amusement and triumph lacing his words as he continues to tease your sensitive clit, each flick sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

You try to form a coherent response, but all that escapes your lips are desperate moans and gasps as Sunghoon's relentless assault pushes you closer to the edge. Sensations overwhelm your senses, leaving you trembling and breathless in his grasp.

"What's the matter, Y/N?" Sunghoon's voice drips with mock concern, his tone betraying his underlying satisfaction, "Did I touch a sore spot because you know I’m right? That pup could never fuck you this good, just admit it." His thumb circles your clit once more, sending a bolt of lightning up your body.

You bite back a whimper, your mind clouded with a mixture of arousal and frustration. The realisation dawns on you that you're caught in the middle of a rivalry, a competition between two men, each determined to outdo the other.

But amidst the chaos of conflicting emotions, one thing becomes clear - in this moment, there is only Sunghoon, his touch, his dominance, consuming you completely.

As Sunghoon redoubles his efforts, fucking into you so good you think you might struggle to walk for a week, you find yourself surrendering to him; but as long as you’re getting fucked like this, who cares?

"Sunghoon," you manage to gasp out between ragged breaths, your voice pleading yet smothered with arousal, "Please..."

He pauses, his movements slowing as he looks down at you, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Please what, Y/N?" he taunts, his voice dripping with amusement, "Do you want me to stop?"

You shake your head frantically, unable to form a coherent response, "No," you whimper, your fingers clutching at the edge of the desk for support, "Fuck...don't stop."

A wicked grin spreads across Sunghoon's face as he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear, "That's what I thought, baby girl.” He kisses you messily, his fingers circling your sensitive bud as he continues his pace.

Sunghoon's eyes latch on yours, a knowing grin on his lips as he awaits your release. The air crackles with eagerness, "You're almost there, aren't you, Y/N?" Sunghoon's voice is deep and husky, sending shivers down your spine as his words stoke the fire inside you, "Just a little more..."

His words propel you over the brink, sending you spinning into oblivion as waves of ecstasy rush over you. You yell out his name, your body quivering with the intensity of your release as you surrender totally to the euphoria surging through you.

Sunghoon stares at you with dark, hungry eyes, his own release near as he continues to push into you with unwavering passion. He turns his thrusts from rapid to sharp, the vibration excruciating with each punch of the tip of his cock to your linings. He is so smug as you knock the lamp off the table by accident, too busy trying to escape the overstimulation you’re pussy is experiencing, but he holds you still.

"Give me just one more minute, baby girl, you can handle it, right?" he rasps, his voice thick with desire, eliciting a groan from you. He's moving with the intensity of an animal, overwhelming yet fucking satisfying.

His glasses teeter on the edge of his nose, moving by the force of his thrusts. With a swift motion, you snatch them from his face, placing them on your own and viewing him through a new lens. He's breathtakingly beautiful, with or without the glasses, but especially in this moment.

"Please, Hoonie, cum inside me," you plead, pushing the glasses to the tip of your nose. As Sunghoon takes in the sight of you, combined with your newfound nickname for him, he loses all semblance of control.

With a final, powerful thrust, he spills into you, his release coating your insides as some spills onto the desk below. The vibrations from his cock cease, and he remains still inside you, his face buried in your neck as he trembles with the intensity of his climax.

Sunghoon's trembling subsides as he lifts his head from your neck, his eyes locking with yours in a haze of post-orgasmic bliss, "You're incredible, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice filled with awe and reverence, “I can’t let him have you to himself,” he admits, a smirk playing on his face.

You return his smile, your chest still heaving and your body buzzing with the aftermath of your shared passion. "He did mention that Soonyeol shares you all," you point out, a playful glint in your eyes.

Sunghoon nods, his expression turning serious as he brushes a strand of damp hair away from your face. "True, but she doesn't exactly fuck us every day," he confesses, his voice low and husky with desire, mischief evident in his expression.

"We don't have to..." you begin, but Sunghoon cuts you off with a determined look.

"You're fucking mad if you think for a second I'm going to let any opportunity to have you slip away," he declares, his tone leaving no room for argument, "I'll take you whenever and wherever I can, Y/N. That's a promise."

“Am I going to have to sort out a rota?” you joke, giggling as you begin to sit up, his cock slipping out of you with a soft pop.

Taking a tissue from the box laid on the desk, he wipes you down, something Jaeyun doesn’t do at all. But Jaeyun does cuddle which is something you can’t imagine Sunghoon doing. 

As he tosses the tissue into the waste basket and begins to get dressed, you watch him with a mixture of affection and anticipation. "Put me on the first shift tomorrow, yeah?" he requests, his voice tinged with eagerness.

You nod with a smile, already looking forward to the next time you'll be together. "Consider it done," you agree, a spark of excitement igniting within you at the prospect of what tomorrow might bring.

You hop off the desk and begin to put your clothes back on, satisfaction courses through your body, yet your mind remains unsettled. There’s one lingering question you hope Sunghoon can answer before he retreats back to his room.

“Hey, Hoonie?” you shout before he reaches the door to exit. He turns around and looks at you expectantly, “What’s behind that door?” It’s a loaded question but one you need answers. No amount of fucking can make you forget that spine-curling red light.

Sunghoon sighs, his steps retracing back to where you stand, his hands reaching for your face. You wonder what he's up to until you feel him peel off his glasses, giving them a quick clean before settling them back on his nose.

“Do me a favour?” he asks, his tone carrying a weight you can't ignore. You nod, hoping he'll grant your request for insight into the mystery beyond that door.

“I won’t tell Soonyeol about you fucking us if you agree to stop sticking your nose into matters that don't concern you, understood?” his words sting, his stare unwavering as he awaits your response. Whatever lies behind that door is a sensitive topic, only fueling your curiosity further.

There’s no denying you need this job though, so with a reluctant sigh, you nod in agreement, accepting the terms of his proposal, "Okay, Hoonie," you concede, the weight of your decision settling heavily on your shoulders, "You have a deal."

Sunghoon's lips curve into a small smile, a glimmer of appreciation shining in his eyes. "Good," he replies, his voice softening with approval. "Now, let's keep this between us, shall we? Jaeyun doesn’t even know and if Heeseung catches a whiff that you know about that thing, he will kill you before you can even attempt to find a key.”

His warning sits like vomit in your throat at the mention of Heeseung, the most mysterious one of them all. You don’t know enough about the cherry-haired doll to debunk whether Sunghoon is joking or not.

You offer him a solemn nod, a silent promise to uphold your end of the bargain. But what he doesn’t know is that as he leaves, you have your fingers crossed behind your back.

taglist: @nshmrarki @kgneptun @ui11iane @addictedtohobi @parksunghoonsgf @chaewonshoney @chiiiiiiiiis @lilyuwon @rayofsunshineeee @moon7jay @erehkinnie30 @brownsugarbaybee @minniejenseo @woninluv @jaysluvs @fakeuwus @capri-cuntz @ash024 @who-tf-soddhi @bambangan @vousty @heeseungspookie @alvojake @yorukoshii @haechonly @riftanswhore @belowbun @emi-en @branchrkive @featjunranghae @thejjrl @nyxtwixx @sunghoonnsupremacy @nctislifue @itsnikitty @enhypenlovre

[hintsofhoney]

Mine

Paring(s): Alpha!Dean Winchester x F!Omega!Reader

Summary: When Dean is forced to mark Y/N in order to not blow their cover on a case, it leads him to reveal a secret that he's been keeping since they met.

Square(s) Filled: biting for @anyfandomkinkbingo

Tags: 18+, true mates, smut, p in v, marking, a/b/o if that wasn't already obvious lmao, knotting

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: Helloooo, it's been a minute. If I'm being honest, I have about 10-15 finished works just sitting in my "ready to post" folder, but posting is always such an ordeal, so they just stay there until I feel like dealing with Tumblr. But, this one I did write over the last two days after I finished reading Bride by Ali Hazelwood, which I loved so much that it made me want to dip my toes into the Omegaverse! That being said, I don't know how much in here is actually in line with A/B/O "rules", but I know I needed to twist some things to fit the story (e.g. in this specific A/B/O fic/universe, claiming marks will fade if they're not true mates). Huge thank you to my A/B/O girlies, @makeadealwithdean and @emoryhemsworth, for reading it over, I love you both to the moon and back! I hope you all enjoy!

You can also read me on Ao3!

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST |  SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST |  MAIN MASTERLIST

“We get in, find the knife, get out, got it?” Dean asks, looking between Sam in the front seat and Y/N in the back, making sure everyone is on the same page. They both nod once in understanding, before the three of them make their way out of the car, their doors slamming shut simultaneously. 

Y/N stares up at the mansion before them, the music loud, the party raging. It’s some charity event thrown by the wealthiest Alpha in the state, and he just happens to have the weapon they need to finish out this hunt. Y/N stumbles a bit, tripping over the cobblestone driveway in her heels, and she catches the sleeve of Dean’s suit to steady herself. He shoots her a glare that tells her to pull it together. They need to blend in.

“Sorry,” she whispers.

“Here,” Dean replies, grabbing her wrist and pulling it through the crook formed by his bent elbow, forcing them to walk arm-in-arm.

“I don’t need –”

“You are an Omega, Y/N. And there are upwards of a hundred Alphas here who can all smell it. So what you need to do is start acting like one. Just because I’m not some asshole Alpha who demands your respect doesn’t mean they aren’t, and we can’t risk drawing attention to ourselves.”

Y/N takes a deep breath and plasters on a fake smile as they move slowly up the driveway. “Anyone who demands my respect just because of some bullshit biological hierarchy doesn’t deserve it,” she grits out.

Dean stops, turning to face her, one of his hands on either side of her biceps. “Do you want to be on this case or not?” 

His voice is lower than usual, demanding and gruff. A voice he only uses when he wants to remind her that he is an Alpha, and bullshit biological hierarchy aside, her body is wired to listen to him. 

She gulps, and he tries not to focus on the bob in her throat, the pulse in her neck near her gland, the scent of her. The moment he met her he knew who she was, what they were. Are. He’s been taking scent blockers since before he met her, finding it far easier to interact with other Alphas when investigating cases if they couldn’t scent him out, but the moment he met her, he knew he had to start taking rut blockers too. Though, it feels like the longer he’s around her, the more immune he becomes to the pills. Like she’s going to send him into a rut any fucking second, and she has no idea. He’s thought about telling her so many times, but mates come with strings. Strings that aren’t conducive to the life of a hunter.

“Yes,” she answers his question meekly, almost submissively, and he nods to cover the hormones he forces himself to swallow down. Rejecting your biology is not easy, no matter how many pills you take.

“Then I’m going to need you to take my arm, put on a smile, and act like being an Omega is the greatest joy of your life. That means –”

“I know how to be a good little Omega, Dean,” she interrupts, dragging the words ‘good little Omega’ through a sarcastic tone.

He tenses slightly at her words, sarcastic or not. Good little Omega.

“I’m only bad for you,” she continues with a cheeky wink, and fuck, he might explode. Hell, he might take her into the bushes right now and mark her, claim her, before parading her around in front of this entire fucking party with his teeth marks on her neck. He’s rigid, trying to keep himself under control, and she gives him a playful pat on his shoulder. “Lighten up, Alpha,” she teases. “I’ll be a good girl.”

Jesus fucking Christ. He gives her biceps a squeeze that he hopes comes off as reassuring as he’s trying to make it seem, before linking his arm with hers once more and catching up to Sam at the front of the driveway.

The trio is greeted by the owner of the mansion himself, one Jim Myers, who welcomes them in with a smile on his face and a cigar in his hand. 

“How Gatsby-esque,” Y/N mutters under her breath, watching as Myers shakes Sam’s hand.

Dean nods in agreement. “You definitely wore the right outfit.”

Y/N blushes as she looks down at her dress; a black, semi body-hugging cocktail dress bedazzled with gold sequins in some sort of art deco pattern. All she’s missing is a cigarette holder and a feather in her hair. 

“Only because I read the invitation. Unlike some of us,” she mumbles in reply.

“Watch it, Omega,” Dean grits out, plastering on a smile as soon as Myers comes over to greet him.

“Jim Myers, pleasure,” he says, shaking Dean’s hand.

“Dean. And this is Y/N.”

She keeps the cordial smile on her face as Jim takes her hand and brings it to his lips, kissing it gently before inhaling her scent. 

“Pleasure, Miss Y/N,” he says with a feral grin, his eyes darkening with unmistakable lust as he lets her hand fall back to her side. 

Dean takes a step forward, unable to stop himself. “Mine,” he practically growls, and Jim takes a step back, throwing his hands up in surrender. 

“My apologies. I didn’t see a mark, so I just assumed.”

Dean falters, clearing his throat, suddenly reminded of the reason they’re all here in the first place. “No, that’s alright. It’s my fault for not putting it in a visible place.” His eyes dart over to Y/N’s. “I think I’m gonna fix that.”

She ducks her head but can’t hide the red flush that creeps up into her cheeks, reminding herself that it’s just her biology, and that this is all for show anyway. They’re here to do a job, and sometimes those jobs involve… well, whatever the hell just happened. And clearly, Dean is a better actor than she gives him credit for.

Jim chuckles, clasping his hands together. “Well, you three have fun, the drinks are free, the food is good, and if you,” he points at Sam, “good sir, are in search of an Omega, there are plenty to choose from.”

Sam blushes. “Right.” He nods. “Thanks.”

And with that, Jim disappears into the crowd.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Sam says. “You two go. Upstairs, down the hall, third door on the right. If I got the right blueprints.”

“If you got the right blueprints?” Dean asks.

“Just go.” He taps his ear to indicate that he’ll drop in on Dean’s earpiece if anything goes wrong. 

Dean sighs, taking Y/N by the hand and leading her up the stairs. He weaves in and out of the crowd, the scents of everyone mixing together, making it impossible to decipher who is what. Y/N’s never been more glad to be on heat suppressors; knowing full well the scents of this many Alphas invading her nostrils would send her body into a major one.

Dean quickly finds the door, and they slip into the room unnoticed, closing the barrier and switching on the light. It’s a bedroom — the master, from the looks of it — and the knife is right in front of them in the middle of the room, across from the foot of the bed. It’s in a glass case, on display, and likely armed with a million alarms, but right in front of them nonetheless. 

“Son of a bitch,” Dean mutters, running a hand through his hair as he thinks about what the next move should be.

“We could find something that weighs the same? Lift the glass and replace it super fast?” Y/N offers.

“Unfortunately, I think it’s the glass that’s probably set to trip an alarm. But the fact that you’re applying Indiana Jones to real life scenarios is making me want to —” 

He stops himself, realizing what he was about to say. He needs to get himself under control but Y/N in that dress with her smart fucking mouth, with other Alphas eyeing her, he really shouldn’t be here, with her, alone, and —

“Making you want to what?” she asks.

Shit. “Making me want to… make you watch more of them,” he replies, opting to circle the display case, searching it for a way in to distract himself from her. 

“Oh, goody. Can’t wait.” She’s as monotone and sarcastic as ever, and every time something smart comes out of her mouth he has to resist the urge to bend her over and fuck her right then.

“Get out of there now,” Sam’s voice comes in on Dean’s earpiece. “Lost track of him for a few seconds, just found him again. He’s making his way upstairs.”

“Shit,” Dean says. “Shit, shit, shit.” He looks around the room frantically. If they go out the door, Myers will without a doubt see them leaving his room. “Myers is coming,” he explains to a confused-looking Y/N.

“Fucking — God dammit.” She looks around too, for a hiding spot, for a weapon, and then she spots herself in the mirror hanging on the wall and an idea comes to her. “Mark me,” she orders.

“What?” Dean snaps, his attention fully on her.

“Get over here and mark me. You told him you were going to make it visible.” She continues before Dean can protest. “Who knows if it’ll even stay, it’s not like we’re mates, right? And if it does, I don’t mind being bound to you for the rest of ever. It’s not like I’m having much luck in the relationship department anyway. But we need that knife, and we’re not going to get it if we don’t –”

“Fuck,” he says under his breath with a quick shake of his head, before he strides across the room and pushes her up against the wall just in time to hear the door click. He inhales her scent, his mouth trailing from the base of her jaw all the way down to her mating gland where it hovers as the door opens all the way. Then he bites down.

Y/N throws her head back, her fingers digging into Dean’s shoulders as his teeth sink into her, and none of it is for show. The pain is euphoric, and her senses heighten, and she suddenly wishes she hadn’t been so stringent on taking her fucking pills, because whatever this feeling is, coursing through her veins, settling in her core, she needs to feel it more. She can’t stand how dulled it is, how it just stays there, simmering underneath the surface. She wants to erupt. 

“Mm, fuck, Alpha!” she cries out, no trace of sarcasm in her voice, and Dean’s hands grip her hips tight enough to bruise them. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Jim exclaims. “Got an alert that someone was in here, there’s some very valuable things in here, you see, and I just wanted to make sure —”

Dean pulls away from her neck long enough to shoot him a glare that translates to “get out or I’m going to kill you”, and Jim gets the message, backing out the door and shutting it behind him. 

“Fuck,” Dean breathes, letting his forehead fall to Y/N’s shoulder. He shouldn’t be so close to her. He should back away, give himself some space to breathe. But her scent keeps him rooted in place. It’s her usual scent; something like freshly baked sugar cookies and vanilla, sweet and enticing, but there’s something else, something —

“Are you guys okay?” Sam’s voice in his damn ear again.

Dean lifts his head and presses the button on his earpiece to reply. “Fine, Sam. Give us a second.” Then he takes the earpiece out and tosses it over his shoulder, more agitated than he should be at his brother just trying to check in.

“Dean,” she breathes, and she sounds absolutely wrecked. She brings her hands to his cheeks, forcing him to look at her. “Are you okay?” 

He nods. Her touch is like fire on his skin. He needs her. 

Y/N squeezes her thighs together. She’s never been able to scent Dean before, but he’s never been this close for this long. He’s never marked her, either. Right now his scent is breaking through the suppressants, little by little. It’s bits of cedar and leather and whiskey, and she’s never smelt anything like it, yet it is so familiar somehow. It invades her senses, and if this is what he smells like with suppressants, she’s terrified of what would happen without them.

“Dean… your scent.” She closes her eyes and inhales deeply.

“Fuck, my pills must’ve worn off, I —”

She shakes her head. “It’s dulled but… but it’s there.” Her thighs clench together again, and she needs him back on her skin. “It’s there and it’s so fucking good.”

Dean’s eyes fall to the gland on her neck, and the severity of what he’s done comes crashing into him like a wrecking ball. It’s enough to force him to take a step away from her, panic rising in his chest. “I – fuck. I marked you. I fucking marked you.”

Y/N’s fingers come up to graze the indent on her neck, and she shudders at the touch. “I told you to.”

“No, you don’t understand, Y/N –”

“I know what happens when mates get marked, Dean,” she interrupts matter-of-factly. “I’m sure this’ll fade.”

“It won’t. I – I shouldn’t have done that. Fuck. Fuck!” He turns to the wall next to him, hitting it with the side of his closed fist. 

“Dean.” Her touch on his arm is gentle and comforting, but he doesn’t turn to face her. “You need to calm down. It’s really not a big deal, I –”

Dean takes a deep breath, both hands on the wall now as he collects himself. He can’t even bring himself to look at her when he says, “You’re my mate, Y/N.”

She takes a step back, and her fading scent is what makes him finally face her. She’s halfway across the room by the time he does. 

“W-what do you mean?”

“You’re my mate, Y/N,” he repeats.

She shakes her head, her hand coming to her neck again, the teeth marks seared into her skin. “N-no. H-how? When? How – how long have you known?”

Dean takes another long, deep breath. He could lose her tonight. She could run and never come back and he wouldn’t blame her. “Since we met.”

“THREE YEARS!?” she roars. “YOU’VE KNOWN FOR THREE FUCKING YEARS!?”

“Y/N, I –”

She stalks toward him, one finger outstretched, one fist clenched by her side. She points at him as she backs him into a wall, and he’s incredibly turned on and incredibly scared at the same time. 

“You’ve known that we’re fucking mates for three years, and you didn’t feel as though that was pertinent fucking information to tell me!?”

Dean swallows. “I – it’s – there are… strings with mates. You know that. I didn’t want to ball and chain you. I didn’t want to keep you anywhere you didn’t want to be. And if – fuck – we’re hunters, Y/N. If something had happened to me, and you knew… I didn’t want you to have to live with that. With the pain that comes with losing a true mate.”

Y/N stops half a foot away and drops her accusatory finger. “What did you say?” she whispers.

“True… mates,” Dean breathes.

“We’re…? But… We never – I don’t –”

“With me on my pills, and you on your pills, I think it was enough to… so we just never…”

“But you knew,” she says, closing the gap between them, her hand coming up to caress his cheek. “You knew for so long and you watched me go on dates, had to listen about the… things I did with other Alphas… if I had mated with one of them, you –”

“You deserved to have a choice. Regardless of what I wanted, you deserved to have a choice.” 

“My choice could’ve left you depressed and alone and celibate forever, you fucking dumbass.” 

He shrugs, and her hand falls to rest over his heart. She stares at it as she continues.

“When you… marked me… I felt… I don’t know what I felt. Nothing’s ever been so intense.”

She looks up at him through her eyelashes, and he smiles softly.

“That’s the bond,” he explains, his large palm coming to rest over the hand on his chest. 

“And if we weren’t on… our blockers?”

“If we weren’t on our blockers, there’s no fucking telling how many pups we’d have running around by now.”

Y/N shivers as the thought of being bred settles in her core, and for once she’s not cursing her biology. Dean chuckles faintly at her reaction, dropping his forehead to hers. 

“We can practice in the meantime. Until you decide you want off of them.”

She inhales deeply, taking in as much of his scent as she can. “Oh, I –” another deep breath, “I’m getting off of them for sure.”

Dean lets out a borderline animalistic growl, thinking about how many times he’ll get to fuck her through that first heat. “I’m gonna stop taking my pills, too,” he says breathily.

“Yeah?”

“I had to get on rut blockers when you moved into the Bunker because I knew I wouldn’t be able to control myself. But now,” he says, spinning them both around and pinning Y/N against the wall, “now I don’t fuckin’ have to.”

“Dean,” she half gasps, half moans. He kisses the mark on her neck before licking all the way up to her jaw line and pulling back. 

“You drive me fuckin’ crazy, Omega.”

She meets his feral gaze with one of her own, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Prove it.” 

And it might be an incredibly stupid thing to say to a horny Alpha, but it’s also Dean. And he’d never hurt her.

“Mm, fuck.” His voice is raspy and wrecked and they haven’t even done anything yet. Before Y/N can process what’s happening, he’s picking her up and throwing her onto the bed. He climbs over her, hovering for a moment, taking in her flushed cheeks, the warmth radiating off of her, her scent. “You’re beautiful,” he states plainly, like it’s the one fact in the world that he knows without a doubt to be true. 

Y/N blushes. “Thank you, Alpha.” She says it because she knows what it does to him. 

“You’re beautiful, and I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you.” 

A gasp leaves her lips as he pushes her dress up her hips and moves down her body to the foot of the mattress, his fingertips dancing along the hem of her panties before his eyes meet with hers. She gives him a nod, and it’s all the confirmation he needs before pulling them down her legs and tossing them aside. 

He watches hungrily as she spreads her thighs, her core damn near dripping with her wetness, and if this is what it’s like when she’s on heat blockers, he can’t even begin to imagine what it’ll look like covered in her slick. His cock grows hard in his slacks at the thought, and he has to step off the bed to take off his pants and boxers before the containment grows painful. He shrugs off his suit jacket and white dress shirt too, and when he’s standing in front of the bed, fully naked, Y/N is propping herself up on her elbows to take him in.

“Holy – fuck,” is all she can get out. 

Dean chuckles deeply, one knee coming up onto the mattress as he fists his cock. “Fuck, sweetheart.” He looks her over again, pussy glistening, nipples peaked through her dress. “Fuck, I want you to – would you present for me?”

A smirk spreads across her lips, but she doesn’t say anything before flipping over and assuming the position. Ass up, legs shoulder width apart, chest resting on the mattress. 

Dean lets out a low and guttural, “Fuuuuck,” and it’s enough to make her pussy clench around nothing. She feels the mattress dip behind her, and when his cock starts to move through her folds, she almost cums right then and there. 

“I know you you wish you weren’t an Omega,” he starts, “but you’re a fuckin’ perfect one, baby.” 

She shakes her head, soft whimpers escaping her as he continues to tease her with his dick. “I’m glad I’m an Omega, because I’m yours.” 

With that, Dean loses what little self control he has left. He lines himself up with her entrance and sinks into her heat, and she feels so fucking perfect, the way she molds around his cock. The noises leaving her throat spur him on as he thrusts into her, setting a bruising pace. He wraps his hand around her shoulder for leverage, his other gripping her ass.

“Oh my fuck!” she practically screams, and he can feel how close she is, can smell it. 

“You’re gonna be a good little Omega and cum for me, aren’t you baby?” he pants, and he couldn’t be thrusting deeper if he tried.

She nods frantically. “Yesyesyes, please, Alpha, I wanna to cum. I wanna — mm, fuck — on your —”

She’s too fucked out to even finish her sentence, and Dean can feel himself about to fall over the edge. “What’s that, sweetheart? Speak up.”

“I wanna cum — oh, God! — on your knot. Fucking fill me up, Dean, please.”

He barely manages another thrust before he buries himself to the hilt, the base of his cock swelling inside her as he pumps her full of his seed.

The feeling of him filling her sends her over the edge, her pussy clenching around his cock, his knot, and she feels so full and fucked and sated.

“Oh my fucking fuuuuck,” he groans, feeling her pulse around him. “Fuck, everyone and this fuckin’ party is gonna be able to smell me inside of you.”

She moans at his words.

“Gonna have me dripping down your thighs ‘til we get back home.” His hand squeezes the globe of her ass before he leans over, getting as close to her ear as he can. “And then I’m gonna fuck you again. And again. And again. Because we got three years to make up for.” He nips at her ear playfully. “And now you’re finally mine.”

[little-diable]

A bit of heat, a bit of anger - Aaron Hotchner (smut)

It's been a while, but this idea found its way to me and I simply had to write this. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Aaron has never treated her as kindly as he treats the rest of the team, but after a fight between them and a guy trying to chat the reader up, Aaron can't hold himself back any longer.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, car smut, somewhat enemies to lovers, clear power imbalance, jealous Aaron

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!fem!reader (3k words)

The heat was burning down on them, letting the sun heat their bodies as the warmth travelled straight through their dark clothes which added an almost dangerous touch to their appearance. (Y/n) had her eyes focused on JJ, listening to her talk while they took in their surroundings.

It should be an easy case, allowing them to catch their unsub in a few days before they could fly home again to escape this heat. (Y/n) could barely believe that she had once grown up with temperatures this high, forced to accept the sweat pooling on her forehead, the thin clothing she’d wear for most parts of the year, things she now hated more than she could put into words. 

“(Y/n), Rossi and I will visit the families, Reid I need you for the geographic profile, JJ and Prentiss talk to the journalists again.” Aaron Hotchner’s voice rang in her ears. A sound so strong, so familiar, she didn’t understand how it still had that same effect on her. (Y/n) had joined the BAU a while ago, instantly drawn in by their friendliness and how they treated her like a member of their small family. She had found things to bond over with every single one of them, all but Aaron Hotchner.

The man was a confusing case to her, a case she struggled to solve. He was kind to her, treated her with just enough warmth to lead her on, and yet he was more distant with her than with the others, drawing a clear line between them. The others had tried to tell her about his cautious self, how he struggled to trust new people and that it would take him a while to warm up to her, but now, months later, he still hadn’t managed to give in to the friendly talks (y/n) tried to rope him into. 

“(Y/n), you should focus on the sister, she is about your age, so you should manage to bond with her, while we will talk to the parents.” Aaron’s dark eyes found hers in the rearview mirror while he spoke to (y/n). She knew better than to protest, knew better than to object – there was no use in going against Aaron Hotchner, at least not when they were on a case away from home. All she could do was nod her head, shooting him a tight smile before focusing on the files she was rereading. 

“I think, (y/n) should be the one to speak to the parents, she did better than we did last time.” Rossi’s voice filled the SUV, forcing their eyes towards him as his grin grew wider. There was something lingering in his gaze, something he and Aaron seemed to understand while (y/n) didn’t see through their wordless back and forth. 

“It’s alright, I will gladly speak to the sister.” She couldn’t bear an awkward atmosphere, couldn’t bear being roped into some useless bickering that would push Aaron Hotchner further away from her. His eyes snapped back towards hers, studying (y/n) for a few more moments before nodding his head at her. 

(Y/n) could only pray that this day would pass quickly enough, already set on visiting the bar Emily had picked for them on their way to this town, all too excited about riding a mechanical bull while putting on a show for whoever would dare to look at her for too long. 

……

To say the visit with the first family had been a bust would be an understatement. Within moments everything had escalated, forcing the three agents out of their home because the sister (y/n) had spoken to had flipped on her, screaming at the confused agent that had been pulled out of the room by a fuming Aaron Hotchner. 

No words had been shared on the ride back, leaving her stomach in knots while overthinking what had happened. It hadn’t been her fault, at least deep down she was aware of that, and yet she had instantly feared Hotchner's outlash, unable to live with the knowledge that she had disappointed him. 

“Do you have a moment, sir?” She was holding open the door to the room they had been offered at the local police station. The others had left for the bar minutes ago, leaving Aaron and (y/n) behind who were still working on new files they had picked up today. A nagging feeling deep inside of her had urged her on to search his closeness, to speak to him while the others were waiting for them. 

Aaron’s eyes flickered up from the file, studying her expression that dripped with too many emotions, a confusing mess she couldn’t fight through. He nodded his head at her, watching (y/n) take a step further into the room before closing the door behind herself. 

“I’m sorry for today, but I need you to know that I would never do something to escalate a situation. She wasn’t in a good mindset and was easily triggered. Disappointing you is something I don’t want to do.” Her hands were interlocked in front of her, tightly squeezed together while the words rolled off her tongue. 

“I shouldn’t have let you do this alone, I’ll make sure to supervise you the next time.” The words felt like a punch to her gut. He treated her as if she was a new agent, as if this was her first time out on the field and not like she had worked with other teams before joining the BAU. Anger began to simmer deep inside of her, an anger that threatened to take over her system. 

“Why are you treating me like this?” Her voice was small, quiet as if she was scared of his reaction. But this wasn’t about fear, no, she was trying to stop herself from spiralling, from getting lost in the rabbit hole he had just pushed her down. 

“Excuse me?” He leaned back in the chair, arms crossed in front of his chest. A fire was burning in both of their eyes, a similarity both shared and yet couldn’t focus on. 

“You treat me as if I’m a child, as if I came here straight from the academy and not like an agent with years of field experience. You know, people always told me all these stories about you, and how I should be grateful for the chance to work with you, but so far I don’t see what they all see. It’s quite disappointing, really.” She shook her head at him and turned from Aaron to flee from the room. But the call of her name forced her to a sudden halt. 

“I will let this pass, write it off as an exhausting day we all had. But the next time you speak to your supervisor like that, you will be asked to leave this team.” Angry tears welled up in her eyes, tears she blinked away while her feet carried her away from Aaron and the brooding expression nobody wore as well as he did. 

……

“It’s your turn, (y/n)!” Emily had her arm slung over (y/n)’s shoulder, dragging her through the bar towards the mechanical bull Emily had ridden minutes ago. It had been a while since (y/n) had left the station, making a quick stop at their hotel to trade her work clothes for a nicely fitting dress that allowed her to blend in with most people at the bar.

“You know, I’m only doing this because I love you, right?” Her laughter bubbled out of her, ringing in both their ears while Spencer, JJ and Derek came to a halt next to Emily. They watched (y/n) climb into the ring before swinging herself onto the bull. It had been years since she had last done this, and yet her body still seemed to remember the routine well enough, giving her the confidence she needed.

Her wandering eyes were instantly drawn to his, watching him sit down next to Rossi, who was also looking at her with a wide smile. Parts of her wanted to put on a show, wondering if any of this was getting to Hotchner, the man whose jaw muscles were clenched and whose arm muscles were stretching the fabric of the dark shirt he wore. But another part of her was convinced that no matter what she’d do, he wouldn’t care, not about her. 

Music filled the air, buzzing through (y/n) while her surroundings began to spin. The people around her cheered for her, letting her smile grow as the movements gained some speed. She tightened her grip, her thighs clamping down as she rode each motion with determination. Her hair flew around her face, but she kept her focus on him, her laughter ringing out above the noise.

She managed to hold on even as the machine made an almost violent lurch, set on throwing her off. With one final, spectacular buck, the bull tried to unseat her. (Y/n) held on for a heartbeat longer before she was finally thrown, landing in a heap of laughter and exhilaration. The crowd erupted in applause, and she looked up to see her friends leaning over the barrier, smiling down at her. 

A guy she hadn’t seen before reached his hand out for her to take, pulling (y/n) back to her feet and straight into his chest. The guy was cute, about her age with piercing eyes that wandered over her features, all while she felt the eyes of the others on her, still cheering for her. 

“You were good, seemed like a natural.” His words left (y/n) chuckling while running a hand through her hair. 

“Did lots of these things as a teenager.” She watched her friends back off, leaving her alone with the guy who still held onto her.

“Will you let me buy you a drink?” (Y/n) couldn’t stop her eyes from flickering back to Aaron who was still watching her with a darkening expression. Perhaps it was stupid of her to say yes to the guy, but the alcohol already buzzing through her system made her feel all too excited about the knowledge that whatever she was doing was clearly getting to Aaron. 

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” They were leaning against the bar, he had his hand placed on her waist, while she had her front turned towards him. She struggled to focus on him, struggled to think about anything but her fight with her supervisor and the desperate need to impress him she couldn’t shake. 

“It’s (y/n).” Her voice trembled slightly, something the guy seemed to misinterpret for attraction or nervousness. His hand moved down from her waist, coming to rest on the small of her back with his fingers spread out on her skin. It was time to put an end to this, to gently push him away while mumbling something about having to return to her friends, but (y/n) didn’t get far. Before she could even try to speak up, she felt a hand clamping down on her wrist, pulling her from the guy’s grasp against a broad chest. 

The scent of his cologne instantly forced its way into her system, making (y/n) shudder against his hold. She didn’t need to look up at him to know that it was Aaron, already feeling much more comfortable than she had seconds before. She barely paid the harsh words Aaron and the guy shared any mind, too focused on the way her heart skipped a few beats as his hand left her wrist only to sling his arm around her waist. 

She didn’t protest as Aaron pulled her out of the bar, past their grinning team mates who studied the two with curiosity. No words were spoken, nothing but silence settled between them, a silence she feared more than the fights she had grown used to over the past months. Aaron started driving away from the bar, dark eyes set straight ahead. 

“So, will you tell me what this was about?” (Y/n) angled her body towards him, studying her supervisor with furrowed eyebrows. For a second, his eyes snapped towards hers, threatening to get lost in her pupils and that overly innocent gaze she shot him. “First you treat me like trash and now you sweep in to rescue me from a guy? You’re confusing me, Aaron.”

It was the first time she used his first name, making his jaw muscles twitch. She kept watching him, every expression tugging on his handsome features while a grin began to grow on her lips. (Y/n) had the upper hand, she had lured him into a trap with his own confusing behaviour. 

“Careful, agent.” His voice was raspier than before, dripping with a dangerous warning she ignored.

“Why? We are no longer on the clock, I can say what the hell I want.” Her grin turned into a full smirk, leaving the man brooding while driving back to their hotel.

“Don’t be a brat, (y/n), I’d hate to punish you.” Aaron’s words shot heat straight down to her core. She clenched her thighs together – a sight that drew a raspy chuckle from the tall man. This seemed to play out exactly like one of her dreams, reminding her of the scenarios she’d come up with whenever she touched herself to the thought of Aaron Hotchner. 

“I think you only speak empty threats, you would never do such things like punishing me.” The words seemed to push him over the edge, forcing the SUV to a halt in the middle of nowhere, parked on the side of the empty road. Within seconds he had turned towards (y/n), pulling her in for a searing kiss with his palm pressed against the back of her neck. She forgot how to breathe, fully sinking into the kiss with her heart pounding in her chest and her hands finding the collar of his shirt. 

Without breaking the kiss, she climbed over the middle console, finding rest on his lap to deepen the kiss. Their tongues were tangled, fully focused on every single touch as she let her hands wander down his front to find his belt. Aaron’s big hands were resting on her thighs, palming her skin with an urgency that left her trembling. 

“Aaron,” she mumbled his name against his lips. For a moment, they broke apart, looking at one another with glassy eyes. She couldn’t stop her chuckle from rumbling through her, buzzing through (y/n) while Aaron tightened his grip on her. “Be honest with me, what is this all about?”

“I hate myself for looking at you differently, for having this selfish need to protect you and pull you away from tasks because I fear you getting hurt. It’s egotistical and stupid, but I can’t stop it. I tried not to get too close to you, because I knew from the first day you’d make me suffer. But seeing you with this guy, how he had his hands on you, it forced me to act.” She kissed him again with as much passion as her dazy self could muster. Aaron instantly responded to the kiss, allowing his hands to move once again while she shuffled closer, letting her clothed heat rub against his growing bulge. 

“I need to ride you like I was dreaming of me doing for the past months.” Aaron’s fingers danced up her thighs, pushing her damp panties aside to tease her pulsing bundle. Her moans were the sweetest sounds he had ever heard, Aaron was sure of it – sounds he’d forever remember. 

“I don’t have anything on me.” His mumbled words left her humming, drawing her away from the kiss to reach for her small bag and the condom she had been carrying around with herself. Aaron let her fumble with the package while freeing his cock, giving himself a few tugs before (y/n) rolled the condom down his length. 

With their lips pressed together once again, (y/n) sank down on his cock, groaning as he stretched her all too perfectly. Both held still for a second, letting her adjust with fluttering walls before slowly raising her hips to fuck herself on his cock. Aaron and (y/n) moaned in unison, high on the feeling of him buried inside of her and the way she could feel him oh so deep. 

“Fuck, baby.” Aaron’s head rolled back, while his hazy eyes kept watching her. His big hands supported her movements, placed on her ass to keep her close. She looked thoroughly fucked out, happy to feel him this close as they got to know one another’s body for the first time. 

(Y/n) had one of her hands pressed against the window, trying to support herself while her limbs began to quiver. Aaron seemed to pick up on her trembling, letting his hips jerk upwards to fuck into her, needing to feel her cum around his cock. Curses left them both over and over again, blending together as they lost themselves in the different sensations. 

“Feels so good, don’t ever stop, please.” She was begging for more than she could handle at that time, and yet (y/n) didn’t find it in herself to care. She didn’t mind the overstimulation she was begging for, didn’t mind the desperation dripping from her words, all she cared about was both of them cumming together. 

“I’m so close, fuck, please Aaron.” The smirk tugging on his lips made her see stars, pushing her even closer to the edge.

“Touch yourself, baby, make yourself cum for me.” That’s all she needed to hear, allowing her fingers to rub her pulsing bundle to give her the needed push. She struggled to keep her eyes open, struggled to focus on anything but her nearing orgasm, all while Aaron kept holding onto her. 

And with one last whimper, (y/n) let herself fall into her orgasm. Her walls clenched his cock, pulling him in further while he pushed himself over the edge with a few more thrusts. (Y/n) was trembling in his grasp, holding still with her forehead pressed against his broad shoulder. 

“I,” a shaky exhale left her. “I am happy this finally pushed you over, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could go on with my feelings for you.” Her words left Aaron smiling, pulling her in for another kiss that left her heart fluttering. 

“You won’t ever have to worry about that again, sweetheart. I’m sorry it took me this long to realise.”

[stars-for-circe]

Bones and All - Part 1

Part 1, Part 2 - wip

Tags / cw: Cannibal!reader x Vampire!Ellie, reader is a psychopath, Ellie is over 100 but physically 23, reader is around 27-30, reader is sophisticated/classy, gore, blood, suggestive, dark themes - read at your discretion, murders, drugging, cannibalism, reader is rich

On Monday, you were reckless. Starved. It had been three days since you had last feasted. And even now, after catching a meal, it was only a leg. The poor victim crawling away in agony as you dined on his limbs. And when he dared to pause his escape, to look back at the sight of you tearing through flesh with your teeth - your white cocktail dress now wine red, drenched with his life - he screamed.

"Y-you fucking monster!" He was dry heaving at this point, saliva and snot and tears dripping out as his body tried to keep itself alive.

You merely turned to look at him, and grinned - bearing your red teeth.

"And what did your wife call you? When you hit her? When you killed her?"

He whimpered in realisation. This, this wasn't some random attack. This was planned, methodical. This was karma. Whatever god that ruled above had breathed a purpose into you, as a vessel of retribution. You simply took back what your victims stole. A life for a life.

"Darling, don't act so righteous. You and I? We are no different." You were almost patronising, void of any empathy, any remorse.

He promptly passed out. Either from the blood loss or the shock - or both, you considered - it made cleaning up easier when the mess wasn't screaming for help. Unfortunately, the pill you slipped into his glass didn't work for long. You realised as such when you noticed his brows scrunch as you dragged him out of your car and into the forest. God, there was so much blood. Painting the forest floor, the fallen Winter leaves now reflecting the colour of Autumn. It was nauseating.

And usually, you were meticulous. In choosing your victims (who were always as evil as you, in their crimes, their abuses), in luring them out of hiding, in drugging them until you killed. You made sure to be inviting, enticing, making them eager to have dinner at your manor, or drinks at a quiet bar.

Of course, dining at home was easier for you to slip something in their food, but most bars were dark enough for a dissolving pill to go unnoticed. And sometimes you enjoyed going out - the thrill of possibly getting caught, the clouded eyes of your victims thinking you were taking them to bed. Well, you did, but it was to their deathbed, rather.

You would undress them, bathe them, even talk to them. Because who knows? Maybe they could still hear you in their dreams, amidst all the drugs in their system. Then, in a bathtub filled halfway with warm water, you would slit their throat. And you would let them drain until there wasn't any blood left. Because unlike your other, more famous peers, you hated blood. Its metallic taste on your tongue oh-so unpleasant, when you'd rather savour the other delicacies in humans.

But this time, you had no choice. The son of a bitch woke up halfway home. You had to take a detour into the forestry surrounding the manor. You had to eat. You couldn't wait any longer. That sense of panicked urgency now overtaking your ravenous hunger. And as the drugs wore off, he was thankfully still weak enough to drag outside, and leave laying against a tree. But as the drugs wore off, he screamed and begged for his life when the glint of your knife shone under the moonlight.

You just begged for some peace and quiet while having dinner. But, some dreams would only remain dreams. And he would remain screaming as the knife sunk in.

So that night, you ate. A disgusting, bloody meal. But a meal nonetheless. It tasted horrible, but it would last you another few days - it was enough for now. The creatures of the forest would eat the rest.

On Monday, Ellie smelled the blood. It was fresh.

On Tuesday, Ellie found the source. 7 miles away, in some forest in the middle of nowhere. Wolves, surrounding a carcass of what was once a man, now just fertiliser. The leaves, damp from early morning fog, squelched under her feet as she got closer. And vampires, being at the top of the food chain, bowed to no-one. The wolves ran away at the sight of her.

"Holy shit..."

It was missing a fucking leg. A clean cut - the wolves weren't this clean in hunting. And it couldn't be because of the wolves - they never attacked people. This was a body, left in the forest, missing a fucking leg - and Ellie didn't know why.

For a moment, she suspected another vampire in her territory. This was in the outskirts after all, maybe they didn't recognise her markings. But vampires didn't do this. They were discrete - which was part of the reason why it was so difficult to hunt in this era, with the amount of fucking CCTV everywhere. Ellie herself hadn't eaten in weeks. This? This was a fucking mess. There were clothes thrown everywhere, the body was still identifiable, and the smell reached miles on every side.

But most importantly, there was blood. So much blood. And Ellie was a vampire, for fucks sake. Another vampire wouldn't kill for no reason - and this looked like the blood was avoided on purpose. Her mouth watered. Fuck, it was unintentional - this was so gruesome she could have thrown up at the sight. But the coat of fresh blood spread everywhere made her wish the body was still alive - still warm.

So Ellie was confused. And honestly? She was really fucking spooked, too. This forest was quiet - eerie even. There were no birds singing, no crickets chirping, even though they should have been wide awake. It screamed of danger, even to her. Vampires were predators, but for some reason, Ellie felt like prey. Her leg started twitching, begging her to run out of this place, lest it be next.

So she got out of there as fast as she could, in whatever direction was in front of her. The fog, still cold and damp, blanketed both the forest floor and herself, and Ellie couldn’t tell if it was the temperature or nervous that send the chill down her spine - but she ran. And after an hour, spent narrowly missing hidden branches and rocks (No, she didn't trip), she found a break in the clearing. Thank god.

Wait, was that a manor?

…

She ran the wrong way.

"Son of a-"

"Fuck these fucking forests and their fucking trees and their fucking rocks and houses-" She kicked a nearby tree, breaking the trunk in half. Then a rock, then the dirt. The volume of her yelling caused the birds to fly out of the trees. She glared at them, and then ran back to the proper way out. Fuck the blood for smelling so enticing.

On Tuesday, You heard commotion in the clearing near your house. But no human dared to come near, so you blamed it on the wild animals.

On Wednesday, You built an appetite. But so did Ellie. And this time, you were prepared.

On your bedside table sat a sugar bowl, a vintage style of ornate - only the sweets worthy enough deserved to be held within. It was rather beautiful, as the early morning sun gently reflected off the edge of it. It garnered your attention, as you slowly woke up. And slowly, as you leaned against the headboard of your bed, and reached over to sit it on your lap, your mouth watered at the promise of the treats inside. Today was the day.

You took the little gold lid off, eyeing the candy inside. Each piece wrapped in a different type of paper than the last. You licked your lips tentatively - what would you fancy today? Gooseberry? No, you had that one two days ago. How about Grapefruit instead? A tough choice to make, given the amount of flavours to choose from. Gently, your fingers circled the rim of the bowl, tracing the intricacies drawn onto the china, before you dipped your hand into the bowl and pulled a piece out at random.

The pastel green wrapper crinkled as you unwrapped it, before popping the candy in your mouth and closing your eyes as you savoured its taste. Green apple - an old favourite of yours. Though, it had definitely been a while since you last had that one in particular, because they were always the hardest to catch. Hidden in the ridges and bumps of the bowl, seen rarely, and chosen even lesser. Hm, you had your work set out for you tomorrow.

You clenched your fist in contemplation, and felt a poke from the crinkled wrapper still in your hands. You almost forgot. And at your favourite part nonetheless! You sat your self up, now cross legged on the bed as you unfolded the wrapper in anticipation. It was silent for a moment, as you raised a brow, absorbing the information in front of you.

Oh?

Written, in small font, was her information. Her age, her name, her crime. A lovely choice. And it was ironic, that out of all the ways she would be punished for it, you were her executioner. How cyclical, you thought. But never mind that, for she was just another victim to get rid of - nothing more, nothing less. You bit down on the candy, breaking it inside your mouth. It’s sour taste clouding your senses as you contemplated your methods. And yet, it would be a shame not to have fun with this one, after all, it wasn't often you feasted on one of her kind.

'Ellie Williams, 23, vampire.'

A dinner party at your manor would suffice, to lure her into your clutches, and to celebrate your forthcoming victory.

On Wednesday, Ellie was reckless. Starved. 3 weeks since she had last fed - and she was ready to do anything for another taste.

Taglist: @bready101 @elliewilliamsblunt @aouiaa @strangehuman101 @lov3lylotus @wishbones999 @seraphicsentences @les4elliewilliams @happysparklingshadows @irelandzo @r3starttt @iamaboringrattat @genderfluidlesbain999 @slut4mascss @rxreaqia @kylorey25 @massivepeacefemme @elliewilliamsfavborderhopper @ratdungeon @elxarw @mariasabanahabanabana @vvynia @abbyshands @littlegingerperson5 @flowersforvi

[takes1]

bratty tsukishima x manager!reader enemies to lovers

warnings. none for this part. stay for steamy stuff in later parts ;) content. tsukki not knowing how to handle a crush/enemies to lovers!/manager!reader/gn!reader for this part, could change?/passive-aggressive tsukki/daichi being a friend/suga being a friend/future smut/future sexual frustration notes. i'm branching out! first haikyuu fic! not done with mha but it just doesn't motivate me to write rn :( links. masterlist for mha. my ao3. PART TWO HERE. PART THREE HERE. PART FOUR HERE. FINAL PART HERE. haikyuu collection

You were walking back with a full case of freshly mixed sports drinks for the team when the whistle blew for a break. The entirety of Karasuno was on you at a moment's notice, rowdy despite their long practice.

A plethora of 'thank you's and appreciative mantras filled your heart as you were able to hand out bottles.

The first to swipe them were the first-years that sprinted up to you, trying to beat each other in their own intense, but good-natured race. Then the less excitable members, like your fellow seniors, that gave you slower and sincere thanks, shoulder pats, and tried to engage you in conversation.

Except, you had to make sure everyone got theirs. Which left the bane of your existence.

He sucked his teeth and looked away, disinterested in hydrating as soon as he realized you were handing them out.

"Tsukishima, come on," Suga heeded a subtle warning, but his mistake was turning away to speak to the others- and not following up to ensure the first-year did this simple task.

You weren't going to hold up a bottle for the kid all day. This was ridiculous and beneath you. Your arm slapped down to your side.

Everybody knew he had some issue with you. His disliking for you was nearly automatic upon being placed on the team, but it had somehow grew to a new intensity each day you had to interact.

Little instances like this one added up quick. And it didn't take long to notice, especially amongst your longest friends.

It boiled down to something about you being enough to piss him off, much like Hinata and Kageyama of his own class. For those two, it was relatively harmless bullshit. For you, the structure of the team hinged on him listening to you as his senior and manager.

"I really don't know what's gotten into him-- I-I'm so sorry," Yamaguchi spoke through gritted teeth.

He would've blabbed for much longer on his friend's behalf like usual, but he stopped short with a chill when he found your mirrored cool, upward stare.

"You don't need it anyway," You set his full bottle back into the case with a loud thump, "You haven't even sweat today."

It was a tad bit of an exaggeration, but his growing habit of letting certain spikes through had been prevalent enough to catch your attention. It bothered you because not only did he so quickly run out of steam -much sooner than the others who got the same court time as him-, but Coach didn't always notice his faults the same way you could.

You didn't try to look at him more than the others, truly. Your job hinged on being objective and you liked to think you did a great job at that. Lately though, it'd been tough not noticing every little shitty idiosyncrasy of his.

The way he hit the ball. The curve of his body into the net when he leaped into the air. The angle he liked to hit. The side he favored. The amount of steps he took before he jumped.

He wasn't as skilled as he let on. They could all use improvement, but his cockiness really ate at your patience. The others at the very least pretended to listen to you, and most took your criticism as a chance to improve. God forbid you comment on his faults, though.

The last time you did, his face had frozen with that ugly, twisted expression for the rest of the match.

Almost as soon as your accusation met his ears, that unbelievably fake calm demeanor crumbled into one serious mixture of aggravation.

His jaw tightened and he glanced around your stone-cold stare.

Bitter, he almost seemed to loom over you as he wiped his forehead with an oversized palm. His gaze remained unfaltering, ever so hateful, and he squeezed a closed fist in between you.

Sweat drip, drip, dripped onto the gym floor.

Head cocked, he opened his mouth to speak-- but Daichi slapped a mighty hand onto Tsukishima's upper arm. His forced grin -a welcome sight at this point- came into view.

"Thank you for volunteering to mop today, Tsukishima!"

Sometimes, when you had these types of exchanges, everyone else just sort of... fell away. Despite some polite cover-up conversations, most of the other players had a sensitive ear to his attitude problem with you. They were practically trained to listen to you speak-- this, compounded with Tsukishima's quiet demeanor, and the gym usually fell just short of completely still.

The blond's scowl elicited your covered laugh as you were pulled away. Suga warned you quietly to not get too caught up in talking to the first-years, but it was difficult to focus on his words.

"Thanks," Was punctuated with the sound of Coach's whistle- he gave you a sympathetic expression and ran off.

You didn't realize how worked up you got until they all returned to the court to finish their spiking drills. They formed up in a neat line, one after the other.

Clipboard gripped a bit tighter, you took a big breath in. Then, out. Your heart settled.

Nobody likes confrontation.

SLAM!

Not unless they're a masochist or something.

SLAM.

Why did he have to pick on you? And not some bigger fish that was actually on the team? Your heart squeezed from the burden of it all.

S L A M !

Tsukishima turned to move to the back of the line, but made sure to catch your eyes before you could even think to ignore him. His expression was indescribable but nothing short of trouble.

@ me to be added to the taglist for this fic series! i have at least 4 more parts i want to do that will be substantially longer

[soamericn]

𝜗𝜚 𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐃 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐄

🐰ྀི₊˚⊹ he said, "baby, " that's what he called me, "i love you" every single word you say makes me feel some type of way, it's the thought of you that slightly scares me but it takes my breath away, forget what I was gonna say

𝜗𝜚… summary , ( f!y/n x oscar piastri ) oscar’s plans for a date for him and his girlfriend after feeling bad for being busy all week, but ignoring how tired he’d been turns out to not be the best idea.

𝜗𝜚… faceclaim , up to your imagination <3

𝜗𝜚… triggers , swearing , anxiety

𝜗𝜚… authors note , I was really proud of this!!! hope you like it it had a plot and I sorta lost it while writing it but thats okay, my next fic is gonna be an smau I have an idea planned out

🐰ྀི₊˚⊹ masterlist

It’d been a busy week for Oscar, almost the start of the season and he’d missed the feeling of winter break already. He loved his career, most didn’t get to say that but there was a sort of weight off his shoulders when the last race ended, a certain peace in the air that put him at ease. 

Currently, the ease had subsided and the stress was catching once again in his throat, and his schedule had started to fill up. He knew he had to make time this year not just for himself, he’d recently gotten a girlfriend right before the end of the race last season. 

She’s everything he’s ever wanted, he’s never met someone who’s understood him so much until he met her. Oscar felt a nervousness in his heart, what if he couldn’t make time for her? What if she’d validly lose interest with him not around? 

He’d been reassured plenty of times by her, even without sharing his thoughts. She just knew. God, Oscar couldn’t even put into words how perfect she’d been for him. 

Towards the end of his week, they’d planned to go on a date. Oscar had felt guilty after not properly going out in a while, not that she minded they were both homebodies anyway. 

Setting the reservation for the restaurant days in advance that he’d known she liked was easy, picking out the right outfit a few hours before he had to pick her up was not. 

This all felt silly to him. Never in his life had he’d cared so much about what he wore. Christ, he wore the same Mclaren polo in the paddock practically every race weekend. 

Scouring his limited closet for the right shirt and pants proved harder than he thought. He’d tried a nice t-shirt and jeans, too casual. Maybe not a tux either, too fancy. He’d finally settled on a white button up with the top three buttons unbuttoned, and a pair of khaki shorts. And feeling somewhat satisfied with his choice he put on some cologne, and ran a hand through his hair. 

This might as well have been a first date the way the Aussie was stressing. Tapping a finger on the steering wheel as he drove, running many hands through his hair. Both tell-tales of his nervousness.

Tall glass doors filled his vision as he reached her apartment building. Tapping twelve on the elevator and tapping his foot as he waited. The silence of the confined space was so loud, nerves rising in his chest. Oscar felt stupid. He had no need to be this nervous. No need at all. She was just so her, so perfect and the exact image of someone he’d imagined his life with. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve her. 

Once the elevator doors had opened with a small beep, he’d walked out and the hallway seemed hauntingly long with her door at the end of it. This was all muscle memory to him, he could’ve come here with his eyes closed if he wanted, though he might’ve gotten some weird looks and a potential car accident.

He’d rung her doorbell, folding his hands neatly and awkwardly behind his back as she waited. “Coming!” A soft voice shouted on the other side of the door. Oscar smiled to himself. 

For the first time since he started getting ready he’d checked his phone, and sighed. He had been almost an hour early then when he said he’d be picking her up. Now suddenly the feeling of him intruding on her crowded his thoughts. 

They faded away the minute she opened the door and her eyes lit up. Y/n���s hair had been curled but was obviously not styled yet, she wore pajama shorts and a t-shirt and looked halfway done with her make-up. 

“I’m early, I think,” His nose scrunched as he spoke. 

She shook her head, lips in a small friendly pout. And gestured for him to walk inside. Once he’d taken a step closer into the apartment she’d pulled him into a hug, standing on her tippy-toes and her arms around his neck. “I missed you.” The girl whispered into his ear sending shivers down his spine.

Oscar’s arms fit snugly around her waist pulling her close, his face buried in her neck smelling the floral scent of her body wash. 

He hadn’t realized how tired this week had truly made him till he’d fallen into her touch. The coziness of her presence made him notice how much he actually needed this, how much he’d been needing her.

Pulling away from his tight grasp she looked up at him in a way that made him wanna melt into her all over again. Y/n’s hand slowly moved up from his neck tracing the light stubble along his chin before holding his face in her hand, he swore she would be the death of him. 

“You look handsome.” She commented with a hint of surprise in her voice and a furrow of her eye brow as she scanned his outfit. 

A small pink rose to his cheeks but a sarcastic comment rose in his throat, “do I usually not?” 

Her head shook, “No you do, even in the same Mclaren polo and unbrushed hair.” 

Oscar’s head looked down at the floor slightly embarrassed with a huge grin spread across his face. Using her hand once again she tilted his head to look at her, their eyes meeting. “I gotta finish getting ready but the tv’s on in the living room.” She said, placing a quick peck on his lips before walking off to the bathroom, having no idea the effect she had on him.

He paused standing there in the hallway, he wasn’t sure what it was about her that had such an impact on him. It might’ve been her bubbliness, how she radiated positivity, or just the fact she knew him, like truly knew him.

Every time she’d walked away from him, Oscar missed her presence like he hadn’t seen her in years. He never imagined himself being clingy but it was like with her he couldn’t stay away. Y/n had been his second home. 

The brunette boy took a seat on the couch sinking into it, the t.v. played some random sitcom the volume low. The exhaustion he’d been pushing back for the whole week had broken through a dam and flooded back into him the moment he took a seat. It didn’t help that her home was the exact definition of cozy. A candle burned filling the apartment with the smell of fall, she’d refused to use the overhead lighting opting for smaller lamps and other lights.

Oscar could’ve slept three days here if he was allowed, preferably with her near him. Subconsciously he rested his head on a nearby pillow at the end of the couch lifting his legs up (them partially going off the couch). And his eyes seemed to drift closed.

The scent of cinnamon filled his nose as his eyes fluttered open. He made a confused groaning noise stretching his back and arms out because despite the couch being fairly comfortable it wasn’t exactly made for his height. He sat up taking off a blanket that was placed across him that he didn’t remember putting on.

It’d taken him a moment but not long to remember where he was but more importantly what plans they had. Panic seeped through him and he jumped up looking to the bathroom, the door was now opened and the light had been turned off. “Fuck.” He whispered under his breath, guilt filling his pores. 

Oscar ended up in the kitchen where Y/n sat on the counter, legs criss-crossed watching something on her laptop. She’d put her hair up and had been in her pajamas like she was before her make-up removed as well. Looking at the time on the stove, Oscar cursed himself he’d slept right through their reservation. 

God, he wished hadn’t ignored how drained he was like he did. Now she’d noticed him and paused what she was watching looking at him with a soft smile. The smile hadn’t warmed his heart like previously, he couldn’t put into words how horrible he’d felt. 

Taking steps closer to her, ending up standing in front of where she was sitting, her legs uncrossing and he stood in between them. “I’m so so sorry, I feel horrible right now.” He admitted, not wanting to meet her eyes. 

“It’s okay, we all need breaks sometimes, you’ve been busy.” He didn’t deserve her. Oddly he felt like her yelling at him would’ve been better than this. She’d been such an angel and he broke the one promise he’d made all week. 

Oscar shook his head, “Sweetheart, It’s not okay I told you we’d do something special and I fucked it.” He looked at the granite next to her leg not wanting to meet her eyes still. 

A soft light hand placed itself on his chin and pushed him to face her. Her eyes were comforting like a warm blanket of kindness. “You did, but it's okay.”

He had so many apologies in his throat so many words he could say but only the simplest ones came out. “I’m so sorry again-” He was suddenly distracted by the sudden scent of cinnamon once again. “What are you making?” 

“Well right now dessert but I need help with dinner.” She admitted and he wrapped his arms around her torso and her around his neck once again except he was the one looking up at her. 

Oscar furrowed an eyebrow. “Is that not the wrong order?” 

“Oh shut it, you’re in no place to make jabs right now.” She joked with a fake roll of her eyes.

“How about I make dinner for you?” He offered lightly running his hands up and down her back. 

Her facial expression showed her contemplating it. “Do I trust your cooking?” 

Oscar was now the one to roll his eyes. “Do I trust yours?” He commented. 

Y/n lightly hit his shoulder gasping. “You’re very rude, Oscar, don’t you know that?” 

“Oh am I?” His hands moved from her back to her waist once more.

“Mhm.” 

He carried her off the counter as she wrapped her legs around his torso and she started laughing, a sound Oscar wished he could hear on repeat forever. His hand resting on her butt holding her up. He placed a light kiss on her lips, more intimate than the quick peck from earlier. He pulled away but their faces were still inches apart. 

“So can I make you dinner?” He asked again in a whisper. 

Her eyes tilted up dramatically thinking about it, “Only because I don't feel like it.”

She placed another quick peck on his lips and Oscar pulled her back in for a deeper one, and he swore no matter how long they knew each other he’d never get over this feeling.

𝜗𝜚… tags , @whitcferrari @cedarbcws @c-losur3

[longing-for-the-past-times]

The four times you fell asleep on Ghost and the one time Ghost fell asleep on you - two.

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

word count: 3,157 (got a bit carried away)

synopsis: after a mission, you and Ghost end up in a safe house, waiting for exfil. Both of you are exhausted after two days of being under the fire, but will any of you give in to exhaustion?

notes: I definitely did not expect so much support on the first part, so thank you very much, I really don't know what to say. I hope you enjoy this as much as the first part!

reader's callsign is Bambi (she/her)

find it on ao3 part one part two part three part four part five

masterlist

two.

You hadn't slept properly in two days, but at least the mission was a success. As successful as a mission can be when you have to spend the night in a deserted safe-house, in the middle of nowhere, waiting for exfil.

At least you were not alone, you reasoned, as you lay on the ragged couch and pulled out your sniper rifle. And perhaps you could get some shut-eye before dawn if your partner would assign you to the first watch.

There was a catch though. The person you ended up in the safe house with was none other than your Lieutenant, Ghost. And after the embarrassing scene where you fell asleep on him on base last week, you were mortified to be in his presence, especially when you were alone and there was no one there to fill the awkward silence that would settle in. He hadn't even teased you about it—only that one time, immediately after you groggily awoke on his shoulder.

The memory of the moment lingered in the back of your mind: the exaggerated way in which he rolled his shoulder, as if to emphasize your weight almost put his arm to sleep, and the glint in his eyes, perhaps delighted to catch you off-guard. If you hadn’t been so busy avoiding him for the following days, you would have noticed his slight shift in demeanour towards you. Whenever you were in the same room, his gaze would linger on you, his eyes visibly softening as if he was silently reliving the scene. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but after he had the time to fully process the interaction, he’d felt oddly satisfied with himself - he made you feel safe and protected, even if it was only for a fleeting moment.

So why wouldn’t you look him in the eye when he tried to speak with you?

“You can go rest, L.T., I’ll take the first watch!”

He definitely did not want to give you that look, not when it had been two days since you’d last exchanged any words with him. But he was stubborn, and you were also stubborn, and the last thing he wanted was to argue with you.

“There’s a bed in the other room. You can rest there till they get us out.”

So he chose his preferred tactic: deflect your words, plainly overlook them, as if they were merely a background noise in the conversation.

He did not miss the way your shoulders tensed up or that you’d stopped cleaning your sniper riffle. The fact that your breath stilled was not lost on him, but he kept pretending he was busy checking his own riffle as if it would determine you to listen to his words and get some well-deserved rest. And yes, he was stubborn. But you were more than stubborn. And you had also won several debate competitions in high school:

“I was only involved in surveillance, I believe I am rested enough to take at least the first watch!" “We are not having this conversation, Sergeant!”, Simon rolled his eyes in annoyance, all too aware that you were only beginning your argument. “You haven't slept in two days!” “Well, technically I was in a position that allowed me to rest more than you! I was literally resting on my belly for most of the time while you were out there, in the line of fire!” "We both know that's not how it works, Bambi!", he let out a frustrated groan that made you widen your eyes in his direction. It was the second time he expressed himself in such an uncharacteristic way, not even seeming to be bothered afterwards by the sudden display of emotion.

But that did not make you back down. Instead, you propped your sniper riffle on the small coffee table, purposefully ignoring him as you busied yourself making the necessary adjustments so that it pointed towards the middle of the wooden door. Anyone who would try to barge in without identifying themselves would be pierced by your bullets before realising what was actually going on. Ghost placed his skull mask on the same table and discarded most of his heavy gear, until he remained in the tactical vest, a basic black balaclava covering his face. As he got up from the couch to check on his ammo, you also started to get rid of the heavy layers of your sniper gear, most of which was covered in grass and dirt. You wouldn't even bother to clean it up when you got back to the base - the messier it was, the more realistic it looked on the field. As you were checking that all knives were in their sheaths, your gaze fell on the skull plate casually tossed next to your riffle. You were so used to it being plastered to Ghost’s face that seeing it carelessly thrown on the table seemed out of place, inexplicably domestic even. The more you thought of it, the more you realised that you’d never seen it anywhere but on his face - he must have kept it stowed away somewhere when you were stationed at the base.

If you were sane and did not have a death wish, you would have at least asked for permission before leaning in to touch it. No, scratch that, the thought of the action itself would not even cross your mind: no one touched L.T.'s mask, whether it was on his face or not. But you were exhausted, the two days of constantly being on the lookout, with little news of your team, starting to take a toll on you. And the sight of splattered blood across the cracked white surface was troubling enough to make you let your guard down and start scrubbing the mask vigorously with your sleeve, in a seemingly futile effort.

You were so concentrated on the task at hand, eyebrows etched into a deep frown, that you did not notice the creeping silhouette that was lingering in the doorway. The sight of a 6'2" man, coming to stand directly in front of you with his arms crossed in a suggestive stance was completely lost on you as you kept rubbing your palm against the red stains, huffing in annoyance when they did not seem to go away. He must have been involved in some form of close combat as the blood clearly wasn’t his and although you knew he was more than capable of taking care of himself, the thoughts of what could have been if he hadn’t paid enough attention, or if he’d been outnumbered plagued your mind. You were not supposed to worry about him like that. He was just your superior.

And also the person you fell asleep on once.

In the meantime, Simon was at a loss for words. He too was tired, having spent the last 48 hours being shot at and almost stabbed a couple of times. And perhaps, if he had to spend the night with someone like Soap, he might have gone to sleep for a couple of hours, letting the demolition expert keep watch. But he couldn’t allow himself such a liberty when you came into the equation- the need to protect you, to keep you from harm’s way was too intense, almost burning inside him. He could not fathom the thought of trying to rest with you having to spend the night in alert, on the lookout for any potential enemies. It was not that he did trust you with such a task, he was aware you were fully capable of it, but it just didn't sit well with him.

Yet there you were, your hands holding a piece of him. More than a couple of years have passed since he'd donned the persona of Ghost and the mask that you rubbed your knuckles against was an integral part of it. Never before had someone dared to touch his mask, he knew that everyone was too scared of it, of the persona he'd created through countless missions and stories. He was used to hearing people whispering behind his back, scrawny recruits sloppily pointing at the skull plate he'd spent an entire night stitching to a balaclava. He was also aware of the bets made on that topic and the gossip that claimed he must have been some kind of mutant, his physical features too grotesque to be displayed to the world.

There was a time when he himself did not know why he was wearing it, but the familiar weight on his face was a comforting sensation, a lover's embrace. That was the moment he knew he was becoming one with Ghost. That, and the fact that people couldn't tell his mood based on his facial expressions anymore. It was sort of liberating, not having to be judged based on what your face looked like at a certain moment.

He slightly tilted his head to the side, both amazed and alarmed that you hadn't noticed him yet. He hoped it was because you didn't think of him as a threat, not because your situational awareness was dimmed as your exhaustion increased. And he had to bite back a smile when he heard you mutter a string of curses under your breath when the crimson stains didn't seem to go away. Should he tell you only bleach does the job?

He decided to keep that secret to himself, loudly clearing his throat to get your attention. At that point, he was willing his eyes to stay inexpressive in spite of his lips twitching as your reaction to him was worthy of your callsign.

You couldn't help but flinch at the sudden intrusion, quickly placing the mask back on the table. You gave Ghost a tight-lipped smile, all too aware of the heat that was spreading across your face, your eyes resembling those of a deer caught in the headlights.

"I'm so sorry, Lieutenant, definitely did not mean to pry like that!', you profusely apologised, trying, but failing, to not look into his dark orbs.

Those damned eyelashes, why did they have to be so perfect?

But Ghost was too distracted by your doe eyes that he did not process your words properly. He wouldn't ask you to repeat whatever you'd just said, but he also did not want to ignore you, not when you spoke to him more than you did in a week, so he said the first thing that came to his mind: one of his army puns.

"Why did the mask go to therapy?"

You blinked back at him, not quite accepting that he'd simply brush it off like that. But his look was so expectant, almost willing you to answer what you knew was going to be one of his bad dad jokes, that you had no choice but to gesture him he could go on.

“It had too much 'bloody' emotional baggage.”

You cringed visibly at the reply, letting out a small sigh as you sat back on the couch, with him plopping next to you:

"Not gonna lie, but that was really bad, Ghost!"

He gave you his usual unimpressed look and you could see his balaclava shifting as he opened his mouth to answer, but a huge yawn interrupted him. A huge yawn that you tried to cover with both of your hands and that made you give him a sheepish look, that of a naughty child who pretends to be innocent.

"Wanna hear another?" "Oh God, spare me-" "Why did the tired operator try to stay awake during the mission?"

It was your turn to look unimpressed. He was definitely making it up on the go.

"Because she thought falling asleep on the job would be a 'mission impossible'."

His balaclava may have been on, but his eyes were sparkling again, a small glimpse of amusement in them. You wished you'd known a couple of one-liners just to be able to keep that glimmer as it was.

"You're really enjoying yourself, aren't you?" "All I'm trying to say is that you should get some rest, Bambi. I know you think I'm also tired, and believe me, I am, but you know what do two tired operators make?"

If you were taken aback by the amount of words he put into that sentence, you did not let it show. Instead, you caught on the quip and dutifully replied:

"Two dead ones." "You're a quick learner. So just get some sleep, even half an hour would do it. In the bed, on the couch, hell, even on the floor if that's what you want-" "Ok, ok, you got me, Ghost! But on one condition!" "Let's hear it." "When I wake up, it's your turn to rest. Two tired operators are dead operators, but one rested and one tired operator are just as much!"

The defeated mumble that you got as a response made you smirk, purposefully avoiding his determined gaze, currently set on you. Shaking your head in defeat, you trudged to the bedroom, took the weighted blanket from the bed and placed it on the couch, unaware that Ghost had scooted over to make you more space. It was not a complete success, he'd rather you took the bed that at least had a mattress more comfortable than the springs from the couch, but he would make the compromise. And you would be sleeping in his presence again, not that he had any feelings, good or bad, towards it. He would just relish in the vulnerability of the moment and his role as your protector.

"Alright, wake me up in 30!", you warned him as you got under the blanket, leaning on the arm of the couch, bracing your knees to your chest.

The deep hum you got as an answer sent a soothing sensation down your spine, and you couldn't help but smile as you cuddled up in the fetal position you chose. Deep down, a part of you felt selfish for giving in to the weariness, but the Lieutenant was right: fatigue led to mistakes which could lead to getting you killed.

Besides, you would also make sure he got some rest before morning. You were confident you could do it, you just didn't know how. Yet.

***

The mark of half an hour came and went, but Simon did not shift from his rigid position facing the entry of the safe house. He couldn't bring himself to wake you, not when the faint noises you occasionally let out were a testament to how much you needed the break. And it was not like he could have slept as peacefully as you did - now that he had time to think and reassess the mission, his mind was plagued by alternate scenarios and what-ifs. What if Laswell's intel pointed them to the second building in the compound instead of the first, and they would have been blown up to pieces as soon as they'd broken in? What if Soap hadn't warned him through comms of the two hostiles that were headed towards him, from his blind spot? What if someone had noticed that their men were falling even when no one in the building was shooting at them, and sent someone to look for the sniper positioned nearby?

His trail of thoughts was interrupted when he felt a familiar weight near his leg. He momentarily froze and had to make an effort to look down at the couch and see that your head was resting dangerously close to his leg, your hair gently brushing against his worn-down tactical pants. You must have somehow shifted in your sleep, as the weighted blanket you covered yourself with was forgotten on the floor, your left arm hanging limply on one side of the couch. You were lying on your back, soft snores leaving from your half-open mouth, and all Simon could think of was that your head was almost in his lap.

Why did he want it to be there? He recalled your embarrassment when you fell asleep on his shoulder, back at the base. You would be mortified if you woke up with your head in his lap, and tactically speaking, it would make it harder for him to react to an immediate threat. Then why was he craving the contact like he craved the feeling of the sun on his face on those first days he wore the mask?

**

Another hour passed and Ghost had no intent of waking you up. You truly must have been exhausted, he thought to himself, as he took in your soft snores and occasionally small sighs. The night was dark and silent, and the only source of light that trickled into the room was a dingy lamppost from across the road.

Eventually, Ghost let his eyes wander over your sleeping silhouette, hooded eyes hungrily lingering over the delicate details accentuated by the faint glow. And in that moment, you were as boundless as the sea and vast as the universe. You were lost in a world woven from your dreams, while he, awake and aware, found himself trapped in a dream of his own. And he was in deep that he did not realise when he let his arm rest above yours, leaning his head onto the back of the couch. The grip on his combat knife remained firm, ready to jump into action if needed, but his eyelids were heavy, too heavy for his liking and the soft cadence of your breathing was too inviting. He would only rest his eyes for a bit, not that he could fall asleep like this. He shouldn’t fall asleep like this, not when he is supposed to keep you safe.

**

The faint crackling of your communications could be heard across the room, mingling with the sunbeams that filtered through the heavy curtains. Grunting in annoyance, you rolled on your side, looking for the blanket you’d covered yourself in earlier. It took your mind a moment to register you were not in your bed, but on a couch, yet it was too late to prevent you from rolling into thin air, the heavy thud of you falling on the floor reverberating across the room.

Ghost opened his eyes in an instant, eyes promptly directed to where you had been sleeping. The absence of your body sent his half-asleep mind into a frenzy, hands scrambling for a weapon which he pointed to the floor. His cold gaze softened when he saw your bleary-eyed figure, a smile dancing on his lips as he took in the string of curses you kept muttering under your breath.

“Watcher 1 to Bravo 0-7, how copy? Exfil’s inbound your way. I say again, exfil’s inbound your way.”

Not taking his eyes off you, Ghost pressed the button on his comms, wishing he had Soap’s Polaroid at hand:

“Bravo 0-7 to Watcher 1, copy.”

taglist: @neoarchipelago

[stuckwthem]

hii could i req a matías recalt x virgin!reader smut ? reader is enzo’s little sister, and so she has to deal with matías and agustin hanging out at their place almost every day. but she doesn’t mind it because she’s practically best friends with agustin. and she has a crush on matías! one day, when enzo and agustin go out to buy some stuff, matías and reader are left alone and they start to keep each other company. one thing leads to another and after they’re done, matías says “who knew i would be the one taking your virginity” 😣😣

altitude | matias recalt

summary: you and matías have a thing going on, but never went cross that line...until then. matías recalt x virgin!femreader

tw: smut, fingering, cuss words, situationship, 4k words of pure profanity

this smut is named after this song. sooo, yeah.

it all started on the last trip, when you first started to hang out with the boys. enzo was not very exactly pleased with the idea of you around all the other guys, not that he was jealous, just a little protective, but after all, they were his friends and he could trust them. agustin, one of the closest friends of your brother and also your best friend even helped you when you tried to convince enzo, so he had no option but to accept. his little sister was coming together and spending three weeks with all those boys and their girlfriends. and, inevitably developing a huge crush on one of his friends, matías.

you knew matías. you knew him very well since he started to stick around in your house, always getting second glances and sneaky smiles until you two really got closer. he would be all day on your business, using your brothers as an excuse to come to your house and talk to you. matías had a knack for finding reasons to be around. whether it was helping enzo fix something, teaching you how to skate (which was his idea), or just "passing by" to chat and drink some mate, he always found a way. and you couldn't help but notice the way he'd linger a little longer each time. your initial conversations were casual, filled with shy laughter and plots against your brother, but it didn't take long for the undertones of something more to emerge. enzo, occupied with his own life, didn't notice the subtle shift in dynamics between you and his friend.

since you two started to hook up, boundaries have been established. you were a virgin, and to the moment it all began, you weren’t willing to hand the privilege of having you on a plate to any guy. matías respected it, of course, he always had been careful to not cross lines or make you uncomfortable, always stopping when you felt it was too much or when you showed just a slightly uncertainty. but lately, ever since the last make-out session, things have been kinda different. your mind keeps going back to sex. with him. constantly.

besides, after all this time with matías, you never felt more sure, more confident, and there's no doubt he's the one you'd wanna cross that line with.

thats why it was getting hard to hide how just sitting next to him made you nervous and eager, shaking your legs nonstop, what would always catch matías attention, and discreetly he would put his knee close to yours or just get a bit closer. but this time, almost like he could read your thoughts, he was somehow bolder, putting his hand on your thigh. 

your breathing hitched when you felt his cold fingers caressing your bare skin, automatically putting you on alert. shame on you for putting your tiniest short.

you tried to ignore how much it affected you, trying not to attract the attention of your brother or agustin, who were sitting on the other sofa across the room playing some game on tv, but controlling your sighs became increasingly difficult as matías' restless hand began to explore the inner part of your thigh a little more, slowly going down and up, in total provocation. just act cool, you said to yourself, continuing to scroll on your phone, as if you didn't even care. but his plan was to make things harder for you, a perverse challenge. his fingers were dangerously close to your shorts hem, tangling in the fabric and then returning to your skin, drawing small circles.

matías was loving every second of it, you could see the mischievous smirk on his lips. son of a bitch. you couldn't deny you liked it, the cold touch of his skin against yours making you hotter, like an anticipation, making you want more. you finally mustered the courage to speak, your voice a mere whisper to avoid attracting attention.

"matías, stop this. they are right there," you warned, trying to convey a sense of urgency through your hushed words.

not that the thing between yall was forbidden, but you both understood the potential repercussions it could have on the dynamic within the group. and you didn’t know how enzo would handle this, so for the better, matías and you chose to keep it on the low. besides, the risky feeling was addicting and the situationship was not that serious. you didn’t even had sex, if you consider fingering and blowjobs apart of it.

he leaned in, his lips close to your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "why stop when it's so much fun?" he replied, his warm breath against your skin causing a flutter in your stomach.

that 's it. you would lose your mind. you took a deep sigh, giving him an annoyed side eye while crossing your legs, getting away from his hand. deep down, you loved it. he knew how this kind of thing affected you, he knew how you almost had no experience and how any slightest teasing made you feel.

matías laughed quietly, suddenly interested in the tv when agustin turned around, looking between you. agustin had an idea of what was going on, he wasn't stupid, he knew exactly how to annoy you with it, but he only squinted his eyes in your direction.

“you good there?” your best friend asked, with a smirk on his lips. you gulped, knowing exactly what he was doing. “you look kind of…red.” 

“yeah, i’m fine.” you coughed nervously, running a hand through your hair while discreetly flashing your middle finger at the older man. enzo turned to look at you, with a frown. “just hot. its very hot in here, right? you know what, i'm gonna make us a drink!”

you stood up from the sofa with a forced, cynical smile on your face and adjusted your shorts, pulling them down a little as your eyes burned into matías, who had his hand clenched into a fist over his mouth, hiding his smile. he raised his eyes to meet yours and gave you a slight wink. the devil in disguise.

you rushed your way to the kitchen, leaning on the sink and enjoying the feel of the cold marble against your abdomen, taking a deep breath and trying to go back to a time when you weren't being completely controlled by your hormones.

“actually, the boys have just texted me. esteban and fran are already around, we're going to get some beers.” you heard enzo from the living room. 

“i'm coming with you” agustin's voice echoed in response. 

great. you heard the keys jangling, and then the door closing. no sign of matías or his voice. maybe he'd given up that little game and joined the boys. you could take a cold shower until they got back and forget how much you were craving his fingers, a little further down your shorts.

you then decided to prepare your lemonade, silently picking through the things in the kitchen. as you focused on preparing the drink, the rhythmic sound of the juicer drowned out the lingering thoughts of matías's teasing. or you tried to. 

“why are you escaping from me?” caught off guard by matías's sudden presence, you turned around to find him standing there, his voice unexpectedly filling the air. “did i do something wrong?”

your heart skipped a beat. matías was standing there, a playful glint in his eyes and a mischievous smile playing on his lips again. now that you two were alone, you wanted to jump on him, but decided to go ahead with that silly little game.

you rolled your eyes, attempting to sound nonchalant, "i just wanted a lemonade. and for the record, i wasn't trying to escape from anything."

“uhum” he nodded, getting closer to you as you poured the juice on two cups. he caught a slice of lemon from the counter and sucked it, casually, watching you carefully. “so, can i kiss you now?”

you tried to maintain your composure, suppressing the urge to smile as you handed matías a cup of lemonade. his casual demeanor and teasing antics were both infuriating and exhilarating.

rolling your eyes, you replied, "smooth, matías. real smooth. you know it's not that easy."

“no?” he said, an almost innocent expression on his face. you wanted to ruin it. 

matías put one of his arms on the counter, making you lean your back against it. the boy took a sip of the juice and then left it under the counter, taking advantage of his movement to get even closer. his body pressed against yours. 

“no” you replied, hiding your smile in your cup, taking a sip while looking into his eyes. 

his hands went to your waist, holding it gently. then, his nose trailed a way into your neck, making you turn on in the very same instant. you knew you couldn’t resist it for very long. his lips quickly replaced his nose, slowly kissing the sensitive skin of your throat, causing a ragged breath to escape your mouth. when he heard the glass being placed on the counter, matías smiled against your skin, knowing that he had already won.

“you smell so good” the boy whispered, kissing his way up to your jaw. his voice reverberating through your whole body, reaching an exact point.

your arms quickly wrapped around the back of his neck and he laughed, pulling away just enough to look at your face, finding your eyes already heavy and hazy.

“you still don't want to kiss me?” matías teased, biting his lower lip, making no effort to hold back a smile.

“shut up, recalt” you exclaimed, drawing a laugh from both of you before hungrily attacked his soft lips, feeling the citric taste on his tongue. 

it wasn’t a regular kiss, you could feel it with the way things escalated very quickly. you knew what could happen. it seemed like just having his lips against yours wasn’t enough. the proximity of your bodies wasn’t enough. in a hurry, matías bent down, slipping his hands behind your thighs and pulling your body up, placing you on the counter. immediately, your hands went down to the collar of the boy's shirt and your legs encircled his waist, pulling him even closer to you. 

slowly, matías' tongue rubbed against yours, eliciting such a sweet, spontaneous sound from you that the boy felt his whole body tense up, increasing his desire even more. when you realized the effect you had on him, you wasted no time in devoting your attention to the older boy's neck. with your heavy breathing meeting his sensitive skin, you left small bites and marks to be admired later. the grip of matías' hands on your waist intensified as your bodies sought each other out, initiating a movement of disjointed friction.  

"fuck, you're going to drive me fucking insane" his husky voice sounded so weak that it was impossible not to smile against his skin, satisfied.

as if to prove his point, matías pulled you closer to the edge of the counter, pressing the inside of your thigh against his crotch. a sigh escaped your lips as you felt how hard he was, making your abdomen cool and warm at the same time. taking advantage of the cue, your hands slowly made their way down the boy's chest, scratching him over his shirt until they reached the waistband of his shorts. you felt matías' throat rise and fall heavily against your lips, and just as you were about to touch him, he pulled away, leaving you confused.

"did i do something wrong?" your voice came out breathless, in a worried tone. you stared at the boy, his lips swollen and red, his gaze fixed on you, as if determined. "mati...i..."

"shh" he whispered, drawing back, placing his index finger between your lips. matías let out a small laugh and bit your chin, moving down your neck in return for what you had done earlier. "it's my turn now, huh? i need to return some old favors."

your eyes roll with the intoxicating sensation of feeling him descend his mouth to your collarbone, licking and sliding down to your shoulders. your tank top is taken off so quickly that you have no time to process what happens when he returns his kisses to your skin, rubbing his nose down the middle of your breasts, sucking on the part just above the fabric of your bra. you gasp softly, directing one of his hands through your hair and the other to your shoulder. he licks just below your ribcage and then traces a path to the button of your shorts. you open your eyes, blinking rapidly, trying to take in what's happening as he opens the button and slips his hand inside the shorts, feeling how damp it was under the thin fabric of the panties.

"fuck," he mutters, gasping as he stares at you over his eyelashes. 

you feel your cheeks burn and matías now seems completely deluded at the feel of you, his index and ring finger slowly stroking the wet, still covered length. "all that for me?" 

your hand squeezes the boy's shoulder in reflex, and you nod, unable to formulate a sentence. your mind is too cloudy and light to think of anything else. 

he hisses a "may i?", coming face to face with you again. with your voice weak, you manage to agree with a feeble "uh huh" and then matías pulls the elastic of your panties aside, brushing your lips with his two fingers as he reaches your entrance.

a sultry moan echoes through the kitchen as he slowly moves his fingers inside you, and without daring to breathe, the two of you stare at each other. matías' mouth is slightly open, watching you intently, carefully discovering the exact points that make you shudder. he curves his fingers a little and your back arches, your breasts meeting the boy's chest, and just that small sensation of friction makes your body tremble.

"matías" you whisper softly, digging your nails into the skin of the boy's back under the t-shirt as he keeps working his fingers deeper into you, his thumb now gently circling your clit. 

you can almost see stars as the warm, liquid sensation grows in your womb. your legs start to tremble as he starts to speed up his pace and there you know it's not enough, you want more of this, of that sensation, of his closeness.

you finally feel ready and there's no one else who you would want to do that for you other than matías, who understands you and your desires so well. 

"i need you" you whisper again, your body falling back a little, weakly. matías seems too focused, his eyes fixed on your lips that pull in air with difficulty. "matías"

"i know, i know," he replies, as lost as you are. another moan, this time a little louder, escapes him as he pushes his fingers upwards. 

"inside me, mati. i need you inside me" your confession seems to be enough fuel for the sensation at the base of your stomach to explode.

matías looked at you, somehow surprised and amused, working with his fingers inside even harder. something seizes your body for a few seconds, making you dizzy and breathless, clenching against matías' hand inside you. 

the boy moaned as his body shuddered along with yours, the mark on the denim fabric of his shorts getting bigger and bigger.

"yeah? you sure, linda?" matías questioned, eager. his eyes met yours once more, and you nodded with assurance. “we don’t have to rush just because…you know, i want you to have a good time, princesa.”

“i'm having a perfect time” you laughed, softly, wicked. honestly, it was comforting to see how he much cared. the insecurities about anything related to this no longer existed in your mind. “i’m sure, amor”

your lips crashed into matías' again, now a little slower, sweeter and softer as he withdrew his fingers from you, making the empty sensation ache and tighten your muscles. matías broke the kiss only to lick his own fingers, drying all the honey from his hand with delight, making you think the most inappropriate things possible.

you kissed him again, now feeling your taste mixed with the boy's saliva, a completely depraved sensation.

"let's go upstairs," you ordered against the boy's lips, who didn't hesitate for a second to lift you off the counter and carry you up the stairs to your bedroom, a familiar spot to him.

once you have entered the room, matías gently sits you on your bed, his attitude a little calmer and more patient now. hot and sweaty, you remove your shorts and panties at once, while the boy stares at you. matías runs a hand through his hair and sighs at the sight as you slowly take off your bra, revealing your breasts to the boy, who looks at you from head to toes with devotion.

you reach into the bedside drawer, grabbing a condom from under your clean panties, prepared for a moment like this. it was almost unbelievable, but it was happening.

"sit down" you ask, patting your hand on the side of the bed.

he looks serious now, but doesn't contest it, following your request.

swallowing dryly, hoping to get it right, you stand up, unbuttoning matías' shorts and pulling them over his boxers. 

"they'll be back any minute," you warn, not wanting to waste a single minute.

even with all the little you've learned throughout your life, you nervously approach the boy once again, opening the laminated package. your hands shake a little with adrenaline, but soon matías helps you, cautiously coating his member with the condom.

carefully, you cross your legs over matías' lap, both of you gasping at the friction that your sensitive core exposed against his bare skin causes.

your hands drag the fabric of the boy's shirt upwards, pulling it over his neck. when the collar passes over his head, messing up his hair, you both giggle, the atmosphere of the intimate and intense moment hanging over you.

"hi" matías murmurs, affectionately, as he admires your face. his hand runs from your waist and reaches the back of your neck, stroking your hair.

"hi," you reply as well, still with a little breathy giggle. the two of you take a moment to appreciate each other, contemplating the sensations that come with it. "is it okay if i stay on top of you? am i not hurting you?" 

"no, not at all. don't worry," matías laughed, pressing his lips to your temple in a tender kiss.

your chest was about to explode with the force of your heart beating against your ribs, a warm, euphoric feeling coursing through your body. matías smiled, sharing the same satisfaction, unable to believe his luck. your gazes intertwined, revealing the vulnerability and anxiety that hung in the air. the atmosphere between the two of you became electric, and the tension was palpable, even though you felt pleasantly calm. 

slowly, you leaned on matías' shoulders, and with his help, positioned yourself right above his member, which was throbbing at your entrance. a long, broken sigh came from both of your lips, taking in the new sensation. this was the moment that would share a before and after, that all intimacy and vulnerability would consume you completely. 

matías lifted his hips slowly and eagerly, slowly fitting himself inside you. you could feel the intangible connection being established as he moaned your name, entering your pussy. your forehead rested on the boy's shoulder, and between gasps and moans, both of you began to move against each other. your thighs instinctively locked against matías', helping you to roll onto his cock. 

"fuck. oh fuck." you moaned, while matías' hand was still in your hair, stroking and pulling. the boy's free arm wrapped tightly around your waist, helping you to balance and move on top of him.

"is everything all right?" he asked, his husky voice sounding distant but so close. his mouth brushed against the edge of your ear, sending a shiver down the back of your spine.

"yeah. it's great." the pain at first was a little overwhelming, feeling him enter you fully as your walls squeezed him, but it soon diminished, being almost completely replaced by pleasure. it was good, delicious and calm. 

you moved your face away from his shoulder to look directly at him now, being able to carefully watch every change in matías' expression, while he did exactly the same. your faces contorted into mirror-like revelations of pleasure, the moans repeated in unison as your bodies moved in harmony. 

“like this, yeah, bebé” matías murmured, his hand palmed at the end of your back, holding as you rocked into him, whimpering. “god, you feel amazing. so fucking tight.”

he sounded absolutely wrecked, lost in the pleasure, combusting with the way your body went up and down above him, bouncing on his dick. you couldn't help it, you were moaning –  groaning, to be more truthful. asking for more, begging shamelessly. 

“that noise…keep doing it, you're being so good. such a good girl, right?” matías kept talking you through it, until he shared his attention with your boobs, sucking and licking your nipples. you buckled your hips with the feeling, so emerged on the way his tongue worked around your areola, throwing your head back. lost, just like him.

then, as the movements began to intensify, faster and faster and your hips more skillful, matías began to fuck you as he had been kissing you before. hungry, torpid and willing to satisfy you. his hands went down to the curve of your ass, pulling your body more and more impossibly onto his dick, your skin like dough in his hands, molding it the way he wanted it. the sounds of your body against his along with the breathing and cursing were totally obscene, becoming an impulse for you to seek more of it.

the stars in your eyes seemed to come close again as the sweat ran down your back, feeling complete with matías inside you. filled. it was an unforgettable and incomparable sensation. you knew you would become addicted.

“i never felt anything like this before, never” you heard matías say. your hands went up to his cheeks and hair, holding his face as you rode him nonstop. a smile stamped your face, reflecting his. “say you want me, and i’m yours” 

your stomach dropped, the feeling on your womb deepened. his tired voice saying things like this to you was so good to hear as the way he was fucking you. the cold current seized your abdomen again, as if warning you that you were close to cumming, and you could barely put the words together.

“don’t say that, matías. don’t play with me” you responded, looking into his eyes. 

matías was absorbed with pleasure but surely not saying things without meaning it. he shook his head negatively, thrusting more slowly against your hip now, making your eyes roll so hard they hurt.

“i’m being honest. say the word.” he sounded so serious, so close to your lips, so deep into you.

matías was slowly guiding your pleasure to a point where it was almost impossible to hold back an orgasm. then, you allowed yourself to let the sensation consume you once again, this time more intensely, your fingers twitched and your mind went into an almost unconscious state, eliciting a guttural moan from you. you felt the warm liquid drip from your womb and soak matías, it was almost like floating.

“i want you. god, how i want you” you exclaimed tenderly between ragged breaths, while the boy was still searching for that same sensation that you had just reached inside you.

it was enough for matías to completely collapse inside you, mumbling dumb your name. you felt his hot, sweaty body shudder beneath yours, relaxing completely little by little until he could open his eyes again. a feeling of satisfaction ran through your body, and you honestly had no idea if it was just from the dopamine of the orgasm or knowing that matías had been your first. and his arms were still there, wrapped around you while an affectionate gaze , while he admired you, all of you. the sweat going down your forehead, your smile, the weight of your body above him. everything, matías appreciated every second. you kissed him, a lazy and sloppy kiss, just enjoying that high together, and then a silly thought crossed your mind.

"i guess my brother was right to keep me away from the boys," you murmured, panting and giggling against his lips.

"who knew i would be the one," matías laughed too, biting your lip. "the lucky one for taking your virginity."

a slap on the arm caught him by surprise, and you feigned false offense, pretending to be completely innocent. but the calm didn't last long. five minutes of trying to get back to normal and you heard the keys in the door, the boys' voices, and footsteps inside. you were screwed, literally. you didn't even have time to dwell on the absence of aftercare.

"shit, shit, shit," you exclaimed in exasperation, getting up from on top of the boy, who quickly removed the condom, tossing it into the trash bin in the corner.

both of you nervously laughed, enjoying the situation as you tried to readjust. you tied your hair into a messy bun and then quickly tamed matías' strands. you were sweaty and red like two runners, anyone could tell by the little smiles on your faces.

"we'll still having talk about that," matías referred to the moment earlier, approaching and giving you a kiss, longer and deeper than it should be. but still, in a failed attempt to disguise it, you agreed, laughing, and pushed him out of the room.

and then, reality struck. your tank top. on the kitchen floor, damn.

you dressed in the first shirt you saw, probably a mistake, and went downstairs, walking as calmly and unbothered as possible. luckily, the boys were still in the living room while matías engaged in a seemingly casual conversation with them as if he didn't just came inside you. you suppressed the smile that came when you remembered the feeling of being on top of him just minutes ago, biting your lips, and entered the kitchen, finding agustin with a beer pack in one hand and your tank top in the other.

you froze right at the door, feeling the color drain from your face completely. and then, he looked in your direction, aware of your presence. he assessed your expression, your sudden change of clothes, and all the other little details. his gaze shifted over your shoulders to matías in the living room, and then, agustin laughed – no, he actually burst into laughter. laughed so hard that he had to lean against the fridge seeing your shocked state. you had been caught.

━━━━━━━ ★ ━━━━━━━

yeah. i'm shocked too.

i had so much fun - hornyness - writing this. thank you so much for the ask!! i really tried to follow your idea, just changed the phrase a litlle bit. i hope i made justice to your need ;)

again, if you have a request for the lsdln boys just please send me a ask!!

sorry for any spelling mistake :p

[perkqularkreashions]

Living with the Enemy, Joe Goldberg x Reader

Part 1: Last Nice Guy in New York??

Prompt: YN is close friends with Peach, Annika, Beck, and Lynn. She doesn't fit into their circle, nor does she try to. Joe soon sets his sights on YOU, leading to a domino effect within Y/N's life.

Requested: YES | Requested are OPEN|

Warnings: Mature Content, Manipulation, Stalking, Slightly Proofread.

It had been some time since you last spoke with Peach and her willing and obedient entourage. You blissfully ignored them, avoiding the usual hangouts and skipping daily walks with your son. You took different routes and dined at other eateries, and for a while, you enjoyed this simple and slow-paced lifestyle. 

It was a particularly warm day in New York; the increasing winds had died, allowing you to turn off the space heaters that litter your apartment. You relished the smell of cleaning products and baby formula rather than burning rubber. You watched as Rafi bounced around in his walker from his room back to the living room. His hand slapped against some trinket that sang a quick tune of “You are my sunshine.” It was probably his favorite plaything on that bouncer, but it annoyed the absolute hell out of you. The loud and high-pitched continuous loop of "you are my sunshine... my only sunshine", but he loved it, so you endure it. You cracked open the window, allowing the fresh air to filter into the apartment, the warm breeze washing over you briefly before returning to stillness. Contently, you sighed. Your eyes flickered to the door; a hesitant knock followed by two more confident knocks. You shuffled off the couch, unable to gaze through the peephole due to the grime built up over the years. You mentally noted that you need to tell the landlord about that. Unlocking your three deadbolts, you pressed your ear against the door, hearing the muffled female voices.

You opened the door and noticed Peach, Beck, Lynn, and Annika. Your eyes widened as you stumbled back, Peach charging into the apartment. Her eyes glanced around as she brightly smiled at Rafi before returning her cold gaze to you. She crosses her arms, waiting for you to fill the silence with an apology. The tension hung in the air like a heavy fog, palpable and suffocating everyone as they all watched you, their once easy rapport replaced by an uneasy silence. Every word left unsaid seemed to echo between them, filling the space with a sense of unease that was almost tangible. You chuckled before turning away, gathering some of Rafi’s items out of habit. “You don’t just go MIA for weeks like that!” Everyone slowly shifts into the apartment; you feel suffocated. “I called, you never answer.”

You plainly answered, “I know.” You shoved some clothes into the hamper before returning to the group. You tried to think of something to say and formulate something harsh and crude to say back to Peach and her brainless minions that followed her every call, jumping at the snap of her fingers and pleading for some sort of acceptance from her. You sighed, sitting on the sage-colored love seat, your elbows resting on your knees as you rubbed your temples gently. “Peach, you and your…whatever this is. Can happily get the fuck out of my apartment. You can’t just storm into my home and expect me to drop to my knees begging for you to what…forgive me?” 

You felt the couch dip next to you, the smell of her engulfing you. It iterated the fuck out of you yet offered you a warm feeling. She was home; despite her manipulation, gas-lighting, and bitch behavior, she was home. You finally looked at her, your face growing warm as you pressed your lips together. Her smile growing as she knew, she squealed, wrapping her arms around you. “Say you forgive us… me?” You nodded against her before pulling back. “Great, let’s go out to eat! We’ve missed you and have lots to catch you up on!”

You nodded, pressing a feigned smile on her lips; Annika smiled, wrapping you in a brief, one-armed hug. She was followed by Lyn, who seemed more than pleased that you had returned. They moved away, gawking at Rafi as they spoke with him in an annoying, high-pitched tone. They were flashing toys in front of him before snatching them quickly as he giggled loudly. You stood beside Beck; an awkward silence washed over you both. Beck wanted to speak… she wanted to ask if what Peach had been filling in her head was true. Suppose you had been trying to pine after Joe; how would she feel? She admitted her feelings for Joe were growing; she liked having him around and the attention he provided her when Benji was off on a binge of whatever drug would provide him with whatever relief. “We missed you… I missed you,” Beck spoke, cutting through the silence. 

“I’m sorry,” You mumbled, bumping into her shoulder and offering her a half smile. She tucked a small piece of hair behind her ear.  

“I’ve been dying to tell you about everything, I mean everything,” Beck whispers through her laugh as she watches you for a moment. Beck confided you about everything; you weren’t judgmental and never gave advice—you were just a lending ear that she craved in the whirlpool that was Peach. You sighed, knowing that no matter where you were in your life and how far you thought you had escaped Peach, she was always lurking in the shadows, ready to devour you at any minute.

You hummed softly, your hand occasionally, moving the visor back to check to see if your son was still alive. Your hand fluttered in front of his face; quickly, he reached for your fingers. You had spent most of the morning shopping for groceries and wanting to find some fresh produce. You gathered green apples, strawberries, and some blueberries. It has been a slow-paced morning; class was canceled, you were finally caught up on your assignments, and only needed to grade some papers from some of your classes. You hadn’t seen Peach since your lunch date with the girls two weeks ago. It was spent, for the most part, talking about Beck’s choices in men and the plethora of men that have taken her to bed… all this steaming from Benji ghosting her. You didn’t know what she saw in him, but he was a poser and couldn’t hold down an idea, let alone his own business. She had fucked, Mr. Bedroom Eyes, someone that she had met in the library, all while leading on Joe and worrying about Benji.

Your eyes shifted slightly; noticing him underneath the navy-blue baseball cap, he examined the fruit before placing it down. You smiled brightly, peering left and right before approaching him. You stuttered for a moment; wait is it weird that you were approaching him? Did you even need to say hello? You stood behind him, mindlessly watching his gaze at the fruit. Weaving through the throngs of people as your eyes held steady on him, your hands tightening against the stroller. Panic surged through you, threatening to overwhelm my senses as your hands hesitantly reach out to his shoulder. Joe jumped as he spun around; a toothy grin fell on his lips as his eyes shifted to Rafi. “Sorry, this must be weird.” You quickly tried to explain, and yet there you stood. 

“No!” Joe smiled, “No weird at all.” He watched you, taking in your beauty from the curve of your lips to the furrow of your brows. Your eyes are a soft color, filled with so much emotion. He contained his excitement, continuing to handle the slightly ripe peach in his hand. A soft breath of relief escaped your lips; Joe watched you, taking in every moment, from the twitch of your eye when you smiled to the slight tightening of your hands against the stroller’s handle. Were you nervous? You didn’t need to be! I am all yours! Joe’s thoughts muddled aggressively through his head, his eyes concentrating more on your slight movements, the way you shifted your weight to your left hip as you stood there, watching him. Your index finger nervously taps before stopping.

“Good, I thought it’d be weird if I recognized you in this crowded space,” you laughed; it was soft. A small smile crept on his face as he moved closer to you, a single step to be closer to you. You slightly shifted, leaning against the stroller as you pushed it in front of you before bringing it back. “It’s nice to see you again.” Your heart fluttered as you watched his goofy take hold of his lips. His cheeks dusted pink as he nodded hesitantly; he stepped forward, watching you walk away in the crowd, occasionally wiggling your fingers in front of your son’s view. 

“Are you alone?” Joe mentally cringed as you paused, peering over your shoulder in confusion, “I meant, I could keep you company while you go shopping… If you don’t mind.” Do you mind? You wouldn’t mind, would you? Joe thought; he watched you ponder his offer, and you fully faced him as you smiled, nodding at him. Joe joined you, shoulders bumping into each other as you continued to walk through the farmer’s market. Looking at the different herbs and vegetation sprawled on the tables, you fingered at them, rubbing your fingers with a concentrated look on your face as Joe pushed Rafi. Joe watched you in awe, his hand gripping against the stroller in angst and yearning. He watched you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear; you quickly turned to him, putting a strong-smelling herb in his face. He winced as he swatted at his nose; you laughed softly before agreeing with the saleswoman that the left one was more pungent. 

“My mom made this weird-tasting soup for me when I was sick, but it always helped. It helps when Rafi has a little bug. He hates it; he scratches at my arms when I force-feed it to him.” You laughed, showing him the small craters in her skin that hadn’t healed properly. Joe took your arm, letting his thumb trace over the craters. “He’s so mean when he wants to be; I guess he gets that from his dad.” Joe watched you, taking in every word that was said. 

“His dad hit you?” You were stunned; you placed the herbs in your tote bag before looking at Rafi, making a slight face and tickling him. Joe observed you, your face tense as you seemingly tried to feign enjoyment in the brief time with your son. He watched how you weren’t standing so close to him; your shoulders still touched every again, but not the same as before. Joe cursed at himself for bringing it up; Joe hated that he made you feel so small and helpless again. You froze at the sound of your name; Joe noticed it, too. He peered over his shoulder seeing someone rush to you, his hand waving wildly as he began to jog to catch up to you. He called your name again. Joe’s eyes flickered at you, and you were frozen, eyes wide in fear. Joe leaned closer to you, but you were snapped out of thoughts when the man stood directly behind you. You slowly turned, now facing the stranger. Joe watched the man; something about was familiar, the curve of his lip and the bushiness of his brow. His hair was long and pulled into a rendition of a man-bun with some pieces falling in front of his face; he was clean-shaven and muscular. His skin was a deep cooper color that glistened but wasn’t sweat…more of an oil-based lotion. 

“It’s been so long!” he smiled with a bright smile, teeth perfect and in a row, no obscurities or imperfection. He tried reaching out for a hug, but you backed away, letting a small smile rest on your lips. You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t have to for Joe to notice how uncomfortable you were. “Who’s this?” His eyes never left yours. Joe could see the intimidation in his eyes, and his smile never reached his eyes when he spoke. 

Joe moved the stroller before him, stretching his hand in the process; a bright smile rested on his lips. “Joe.” The man didn’t acknowledge him or care for his name. Finally, he passed him a glance, his face churning into a distasteful look. His eyes moved to the stroller, and as a bright smile crossed his lips, he bent down for a moment. Wiggling at Rafi’s shoes, speaking in a babbled baby talk before looking up to you again. 

“You know he misses you and him; you shouldn’t run away. Especially with his child.” The man spoke, and he stood to his feet. “See around.” He spoke before brushing past you. Joe grabbed your arm, and you winced momentarily, flinching away from him. Your eyes finally connected with Joe’s; you sucked in a deep breath before grabbing unto the stroller. A sense of comfort washed over you. 

“Thanks for today… for this. I appreciate it,” you hummed. Joe nodded, watching you walk away; his eyes focused on the man who had ruined your perfect day together. It started innocently enough, stumbling into an impromptu game of hide-and-seek. Plunging into the maze of crowds, Joe found himself, trailing the stranger, drawn by the same curiosity that everyone in the market has. Joe shadowed his movements, picking up a weathered journal or a fruit that was slightly ripe. His eyes cut to the man every chance he had gotten. As Joe meanders through the maze of makeshift booths and colorful displays, the man he’s following remains blissfully unaware of his presence. They weave through the crowd, partaking in a dance that only Joe is aware of. 

“Dom! Dom! Dom Batista! As I live and breathe in the flesh it is you!” Joe groaned at the dramatic nature of New Yorkians, every word that stumbles out of their mouth an illicit affair with Shakespeare and a Soap Opera. “It has been so long since we’ve last seen each other!”

Joe followed behind you, face low as he watched you hurriedly move through the streets, passing men and women alike. 

Batista….Batista….Batista is the name of a Judge in New York City; their mother was an actress who starred in plenty of movies before her fall from grace and getting addicted to cocaine. They had three children, three boys: Jonathan, the oldest—who was a criminal defense attorney. He was married with two sons. He didn’t post on social media, but his wife, Mary Glassgo, came from an Affluent family in Virginia who had established wealth through “other means.” during the late 1700s, did, in fact, post and posted often. She was overly descriptive and pictured all the locations where they dined, shopped, and vacationed. She was on a trip with her two sons, enjoying the mountains in Vermont.  The caption was, “Can’t get away from life all the time, but when I do, it’s always with my two favorite boys.” Joe followed you across the street, scrolling through her Instagram until he came across a photo from Thanksgiving; he dragged his thumb across the screen, revealing a picture of her and another man who looked similar to Jonathan, tagged was St_Do_Batista. Dominick, the middle— Joe, recgonized him as the man he saw today; he frequently posted almost every day at the gym. He was a professional boxer; his face wasn’t riddled with too many lacerations and scars, which indicated that he was good at his craft. He had a girlfriend, one of many girlfriends. They all came and gone, as soon as a new one would be posted with a bright smile, not knowing her fate. Petite blondes, curvy brunettes, tall red-heads, even some bald girls with tattoos riddling every surface of their bodies.  

“Hello….” Joe thought; he scrutinized the photo, and you were smiling, your cheek pressed against him as you embraced him. He just won a fight; he hugged you tight. Joe scrolled to the following image… it was a video; he played it. You giggled as he spun, cheering as one hand held you tight against him. You spoke gently, words that the camera didn’t pick up, nor did anyone else. He continued to scroll as he noticed that most photos were of you cooking in his house, at the park with him, on his couch with the laptop tucked on your thighs as you carefully examined whatever was on the screen. You took up a majority of his life and then nothing. Joe saw a picture of him and another look similar to the Batista family; he clicked on the tagged name. RafiBat didn’t post much, but when he did, he generated a lot of attention from women. He was a boxer, too, and he and his brother were often referred to as the Basista Brothers. He didn’t post you often, once or twice; that was in photos with Dominick. But it was evident that you both were friends. He was attending a university known for its Marine Biology program. He had been traveling overseas, where he had been for the last few months, pictures of him with sharks, fish, turtles, and some other classmates. There was a picture of you, smiling brightly in his bed with her belly exposed; it was small, possibly in the early months of your pregnancy. His caption read “My Everything.”

Joe’s attention was averted to the left as he noticed someone briskly walking, eyes concentrated on you. His hand dug into his pocket as he pulled out his phone, dialing quickly. He spoke before hanging up. Did you not notice? Did you feel someone following you? Joe broke off in a sprint, laughing softly before calling out your name; you peered over your shoulder in confusion, hesitating as you squinted your eyes at him. 

Joe’s body collided against yours, taking your hand as he smiled gently. “Why’d you run off like that? I was looking for you everywhere!” he calls out exaggeratedly loud, his hand falling at his side; he watched your wide eyes swiftly snap to him while he continued to guide you forward, Joe’s hand pressed on your lower back. “Someone has been following you,” he whispered through a gritted smile. Her body stiffened as his words echoed through the stillness in the air; you were tempted to look, her head inching to the left slightly. “No, don’t look… Just keep walking baby.” You hummed in understanding. Joe peered over his shoulder, watching the man avoiding the dim street lights, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his body focused ahead of him, but he could see the whites of his eyes and the darkness of his orbs staring deep into your side. Then Joe remembered the small encounter you had at Peach’s party, the drunken party-goer grabbing you, retelling his woes of missing their friend group and a man who seemed to miss you just as much. Your body reacted negatively, your eyes watering, and your skin paled as you stumbled away from him.  Joe watched your hands dance against your face, trying to wipe the anxiety that was trailing through your body. Joe wanted to lead you home, protecting you from the evils lurking in the shadows you weren’t aware of. Joe allowed you to lead you both to your apartment complex. Joe swiftly grabbed Rafael, allowing you to close the stroller. You put in the code 76477; Joe held open the door as you shuffled in your hands, digging through your satchel in search of your keys. He noticed three locks; just as if you practiced this a hundred times, you easily unlocked the door. 

Joe smelled deeply, taking in the scent of baby powder and your aroma. Rafael rested against his neck, his chest breathing gently as he slept. His tiny breaths could be heard as they smacked against his pacifier. Joe scanned your apartment again; it was vastly bigger than Beck’s and his. His eyes fell on an opening; it wasn’t too big but just big enough to have a window, an oak-colored crib decorated with white and green. “You can just set him down in there…He won’t last too long in the crib,” He heard your voice as you locked the front door. You were latching on the deadbolts and other self-brought knick-knacks. Joe set Rafi down, brushing his hair out his face; he squirmed slightly in a panic. Joe quickly turned on the mobile, slightly out of reach for Rafi. He pressed a button; the mobile began to hum to live, and soon, water sounds came on. Splashing, sounds of whales and dolphins, and what seems like rain hitting the waters. It was soothing, and Rafi’s face soon mellowed. Joe allowed Rafi to hold unto his finger; his grip was tight as his body sprawled on the crib’s mattress.

“He usually isn’t so peaceful to put down. He must like you.” He heard you whisper; Joe peered over his shoulder, watching your head pressed against the door’s frame. Joe removed his finger, returning his attention to you. You walked out of the room as Joe followed you. The silence washed over you as you paced around the room, trying to find the right words. Joe stood there, waiting, allowing you to take as much time as needed. 

“Joe?” You finally whispered, your eyes finally landing on him. In that moment, Joe felt your souls tying together, latching and burning into each other. “Thank you.” you pushed out, tucking your bottom lip into your teeth. 

“I noticed him following you after the market…I didn’t know what to do but when I saw him trying to cross the street… Who is he?” 

“Dominick, my ex’s brother. Rafi’s father.” Joe nodded; you trusted him, you trusted him. You weren’t a liar like Beck, “Dom and I were close; I even thought we would be together, but then he got a girlfriend. He stopped coming around, that’s when I met Rafael, he was gentle at first…but I guess that was the point. I had a fling with him and then with his brother, shit just got messy fast, and I got pregnant. That’s when he got abusive… I tried pressing charges, but his dad always dropped the cases, saying that I was a daughter of a junky prostitute and a “john.” I asked for a different judge and each time I was denied. I was finally….finally allowed to get a restraining against him, but it expired, and I wasn’t allowed to renew due to no current impending dangers.” Joe watched you; he stepped close to you, grabbing your arms. You sighed, looking up at him. 

“If you need anything, anything… I am here for you.” Joe whispers; you nod, folding your arms underneath each other.

Please ask me to say; please beg me to stay. Joe thought; he nodded as he moved away from the couch. “Joe, wait!” You stood up, “You don’t mind staying for the night, do you? I would feel comfortable with a man around the house… just for the night.” Your voice is soft, and Joe could tell you needed him. He couldn’t deny you. He peered over his shoulder and smiled. 

The night progressed as you lay in the bed, shifting uncomfortably in the bed. Your eyes squeezing shut, trying to feign being asleep in hopes of tricking your mind into slumber.

“Joe, are you sleeping?” You called out into the darkness, “Joe?” You called out once more, panicked; you sat up quickly squinting through the darkness as you watched his chest slowly fall and rise. You sighed for a moment, shifting comfortably in the bed.

“Yes?” 

Joe rises from the couch, groaning as he shuffles to you. He crawls into bed, and you open the covers, allowing him to slide in. His eyes were low from being awoken from his sleep, his hands tight as he observed you move closer to him. You craved his warmth; a sense of comfort and protection seeped through to you. Your eyes focused on Joe’s, watching through the stillness of the night and the slight light that the moon gave you. His hand gently reached out, tucking your hair behind your ear, holding onto the strand until he reached the end. He moved closer, pressing a kiss on your forehead. He held it, trying to compose himself. He didn’t want to push himself onto you; he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He wasn’t going to be like your ex or your father. Joe pulled back, your eyes fluttering open hesitantly, and you moved closer to him. Your lips molded together, smacking in the silence as your slight hums vibrated into his mouth. He pulled away; you were vulnerable and seeking out comfort in him. He needed to wait to see if this feeling rang true. He wanted you more than you could know, more than he thought possible. He couldn’t take advantage of you like this, not right now… not ever. He cuffed your cheek, kissing your forehead before you, wishing you a good night.

Burning something evoked a wide range of emotions in Joe, a symbol of something new shifting in the atmosphere. The flicker of a match igniting, the scent of smoke swirling in the air, and the crackle of flames consuming the body— the overwhelming sensory experiences that engage him in the death of Benji. He stood over the growing flames, watching them dance against his body; Joe thought he would feel at ease. He couldn’t–his mind racing back to you and Rafi. Joe grew angry, feeling compelled to kill Benji; he was powerless against the woe of Beck, her smile and innocence being stripped away. It's as if his autonomy is being stripped away, leaving him feeling vulnerable and exposed. The heightened feelings of frustration and resentment began to grow through this loss of control. 

He thought of you as he smelled the charred remains of Benji, your face dancing in the flames. He sighed, pushing his forearm against his brow. He quickly dialed you; he needed to hear your voice. 

“Joey?” Joe heard you whisper, soothing all anxieties that rushed through him. His hand gripping the steering wheel. “Joey? Everything alright?” He hummed, letting his head rest against the steering wheel. It has been one month since he had forced his way into your apartment, leaving articles of clothing behind and coming up with any excuse to stay the night, not that you minded. He had a key to your apartment now, coming in the mornings and getting Rafi together for daycare as you prep for classes and graded papers. Your glasses hung off the bridge of your nose while you gnawed on the cap of the pen—your eyes shifting from the monitor to the paper as you scribbled some markings on it before moving on to the next. The way his lips danced against yours, his hands gently caressed your skin as your lips tangled.

“Yes, everything is alright.” He heard you shuffling, the covers shifting off your body. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, Joey, no, you didn’t. What’s wrong?” You could always read him; you would always tell. You didn’t even have to look at him to see that something was picking at him. He knew that you were good for him; you were everything that he needed you to be. Joe remained silent; the only that was heard was Rafi’s babbling. “Just come over and well talk, okay.”

“Okay.” Joe hung up and made his way to you, his head spinning from his recent murder. His fingers trembled as he pulled down your street, finding a parking spot adjacent to your apartment building. He moved out of the car. His key jingled in the locks swiftly; you swung open the door, watching in bewilderment. Worry drawn on your eyebrows and lips. “Joey, what is going on? Was it—”

“No…no, just Beck.” You nodded for a moment, allowing him to enter the apartment; slamming the door, you proceeded to deadbolt the locks. You stared at the final lock, trying to compose yourself; he wasn’t yours. You were just friends. Why did it hurt at the mention of her name at the thought of him being at her apartment, embracing her? “She just makes me insane, always having to watch her and look out for her. All the lies and the—” You picked up the clothes that scattered the floor, tossing them in Rafi’s dirty clothes hamper. Mindlessly, you grabbed the toys, tossing them in a bin as they interrupted his sentence. 

“I see.” was all you could mumble out, your eyes flickering to him. He continued to ramble about how he didn’t trust her–how she was always so secretive around him. But that was Beck; the doe-like look in her eyes always masked the truth that crawled beneath the surface. She was manipulative; everything she did was calculated and meticulous. Her bold red lip contrasted against her pale skin, and her dress revealed just enough of her thigh to keep her professor yearning for more. The way she teased and poked at man’s most animalistic and primitive yearning, dangling it in front of their face before yanking it. You turned to face him, letting the hamper fall against the floor. 

“I frankly don’t want to hear about Beck. I understand she’s your girlfriend or whatever she is but, I can’t take hearing about her. When you’re sitting in my apartment, helping me take care of my son… playing house with me. I don’t want to hear about Beck. I get enough of her when I am with them. Every issue that plagues her, I hear about, all the damn time. Benji, you, the Captian. I can’t–I just can’t do it.” You turn away, heated you move into the bathroom face burning with embarrassment and angry. Angrily you slapped at the knob, turning on the hot water on. It screeched for a moment before the hot water spit out.

As you step into the shower, the hot water cascades over your skin, offering a momentary reprieve from the turmoil. Droplets dance across your body, carrying away the remnants of anger and frustration that cling to you like a heavy cloak. With each passing second, the tension melts away, replaced by a soothing sensation of renewal. You close your eyes, allowing the water to envelop you completely, washing away the Beck and Joe's monologue that echoed in your mind. Steam fills the air, wrapping you in a comforting embrace as you stand beneath the gentle stream, letting it cleanse your body and soul. Slowly, the weight of the conversation begins to lift, replaced by a sense of clarity and calm. In this sanctuary of steam and solitude, you find solace. You sighed as the shower opened; you saw his feet planted in the shower and the sound of a soft sigh resting in the air. You feel his hands gliding against your waist, pulling you closer to him. His lips pecked your shoulder, sucking in the aroma that cascaded around him. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry. Do you forgive me?”  His hand gently drummed your abdomen, his cock hardening against you as he pecked at you, his hands moving to your breast, kneading at them slowly, letting his fingers squeeze and tug at your nipples. 

“Please, forgive me” he whispered; you couldn’t say no to him. So, you nodded, turning around fully to face him. Pressing a gently kiss against his lip, stepping out of the shower, grabbing the towel as you instantly moved to Rafi’s crib. 

As the tears streamed down his Rafi’s flushed cheeks, Joe’s heart ached with empathy. With gentle hands, he lifted the sobbing child into his arms, cradling him against his chest, his hand rubbing circles against his back something that he noticed his mom and he liked. Leaning close, he murmured soothing words in a soft, reassuring tone, his voice a balm to the boy's distressed soul. With each gentle stroke of his hand and whispered promise, Joe felt the tension begin to melt away from his Rafi’s trembling form. He rocked him back and forth, a steady rhythm that mirrored the beating of his own heart, a silent vow to always be there to chase away the shadows and dry the tears. Joe moved back your bed, and you reached out your arms, allowing Rafi to settle into your chest and Joe to cuddle back into your side. Rafi was a crybaby and wanted you to hold him 25/8; you wanted to break him out of that habit. Joe and you had been working on getting him to sleep through the night in his crib, it would only last two nights out of the week before Joe caved and dragged himself to Rafi’s crib, engulfing him in his arms. You didn’t bother to correct him; you could tell that something was off with him. You two didn’t speak much after your moment the shower; you didn’t try to get him to speak either.

A heavy knock on the door had woken Joe; he hissed in frustration, moving the walker out of the way as he stumped his toe against it. He looked back, seeing Rafi whining for him, his arm stretched as he crawled closer to the edge of the bed. Joe scooped him up, snatching your phone and checking the time—7:37 AM. He grunted as he moved to unlock the deadbolts and finally the door. The door swung open, revealing Peach. Her eyes widened as she glanced at Joe; quickly, she shook her head, trying to find the right words to say but couldn’t. Peach observed him, eyes squinted in fury and confusion. “She’s sleeping Peach.”

She called out your name, moving into the living room, her eyes falling on you as you lay in bed. Her head snapped to Joe, realizing that he was in his boxers. “What the fuck! What did you do to her?” Peach asked as she tried to grab Rafi. Joe stiffed her and backed away as she continued to reach for your son. 

Joe held Rafi tightly in his arms as Peach had her outstretched arms and a determined frown on her face. Ignoring Joe’s protective grip, Peach reached for the child, her fingers brushing against Joe’s before clasping around the little one's hand. Joe’s heart skipped a beat, a surge of protectiveness welling up within him. He pulled back, his hand resting against Rafi’s back as he watched Peach’s face morph, her eyes narrowing before he turned her attention to you. 

“Peach? What–What are you doing?” You shifted from the covers, you were in a grey crewneck, a B printed in brown and outlined in red. Your hair messing tied away from your face as you squinted to fully focus on her. 

“No! No—what are you doing?” She hisses, stomping towards you, your finger jabbing into the air as she throws her hands dramatically. 

“Peach, he was just—I saw Dominick. Since then, he has been here for me. Nothing… Nothing else has been going on.” You shouted over her rambles. Something in her face changed; she slammed her mouth shut, looking at you, taking in your words. She grabbed the back of her arm, holding it tighter to her person. Joe noticed the slight change in her demeanor at the mention of Dominick; he scared her. 

“Did you–” You quickly shook her hand, stretching out your hands for Rafi; Joe quickly moved to your side, sitting on the edge of the bed as Rafi crawled into your lap. Joe’s hands rested on top of yours; he pressed his lips against Rafi’s head before cuffing your chin. He rose to his feet. He grabbed his things, placing them on his clothes. He jiggled his phone before leaving out of your apartment, a silent single for you to call him when she leaves. “When did that happen?”

“Nothing happened. He just was here for me at the time and… I trust him.” Peach laughs, sitting on the bed. 

“Trust him, absolutely not. You know he’s playing you just like he’s playing Beck!” You rolled your eyes, unsure of what to make of her accusations. I mean, they weren’t incorrect in their entirety. Joe had a fleeting romance with Beck and probably still does. “He’s using you. I lost Beck to him, and I am not going to lose you. In this stupid ideology where you think you need him! You don’t need him! I am here for you; call me if you are feeling scared; call me if you are feeling down!” 

“I know” you mumbled, caressing Rafi. “I shouldn’t trust him” you confessed. “I really shouldn’t” a bitter laugh left your throat as you chocked on a sob that rose in your throat. 

“He could be like Rafael! You are so blinded by love that you didn’t see it then, but I did, and now, I do.” Peach whispered, as she inched in Joe’s spot. Resting her head against your chest, her hands wrapping against your torso. 

 Joe stood outside the closed door, his fists clenched at his sides, he strained to hear the muffled voices from within. Anger simmered beneath his skin, fueled by the snippets of conversation that reached his ears. Each word felt like a dagger, piercing through the thin veneer of his composure. He could hear her strained voice, a mixture with a Peach’s voice—a voice that grated on his nerves like sandpaper. His jaw tightened, muscles coiling with tension as he fought the urge to burst through the door and confront the source of his jealousy head-on. The temptation to intervene, to demand answers, pulsed through him like a steady drumbeat, drowning out reason and restraint. With every passing moment, his anger mounted, a raging inferno threatening to consume him whole. Yet, for now, he remained on the other side of the door, a silent witness to his own unraveling emotions. Something needed to happen, Peach was always in the way, the intricate dance of relationships that she always blocked. Stepping on his toes and stealing you away from him. Tangling you in her grasp, the same spell that Beck was under.  She was a figure looming in the background, casting a shadow over any potential romance that Joe worked so hard to grow and nourish. Her presence was like a shield, deflecting any attempts at romantic advancement with a casual remark or a well-timed interruption. 

He needed to kill her; her undoing was all the fault of her own. 

Goodbye Peach Sallinger. 

[illiterateaffairs]

DISTRACTIONS IV | CATCHING FEELINGS

pairing: jamie tartt x f!reader (ted lasso)

rating: T

word count: 2,468

summary: you and jamie are a couple...a couple of besties with benefits! that’s definitely all this is. 

A/N: very excited about this one - even though its a little shorter! also wanted to let you all know since i have chapters planned out almost through the end of the season, i have this idea of revisiting chapters and writing “missing scenes” to fill some gaps, like within this one which you’ll see. let me know if you’d be into that?

distractions masterlist | previous chapter

After Jamie showed up at your door the evening following their loss to West Ham, you did not stop sleeping together. Two nights turned into three, and then into four. Once you passed five, you decided to upgrade your relationship to friends with benefits status. Jamie was honestly happy that meant you considered him a friend. 

The two of you usually hooked up after Richmond lost a game, which had unfortunately been happening a lot as of late. Sometimes Jamie would find you after a training session with Roy to relieve some tension. Occasionally you went to Jamie when you were feeling anxious about work or something reminded you of Mason. And while the team mourned the loss of Zava after he announced his retirement, Jamie was the happiest you’d ever seen him. (You think you might have had the best sex of your life that night.)

At some point, you’d added other locations to your repertoire, other than your bedroom and sometimes your shower. On rare occasions you’d meet up in your office for a quickie, or even Jamie’s car in the parking lot after everyone had left when you couldn’t wait to get home. Only once had you tried to spend the night at Jamie’s, but at the crack of dawn, Roy was banging on his door for another practice. That was the last time you did that. 

You had to admit, you got a thrill out of sneaking around. You’d gotten less skittish at the office, sharing secret looks with Jamie during practices. Rebecca was still the only one who knew. A week into your new arrangement, she’d inquired about your situation, which you explained. She still seemed weary, but less so because of Jamie and more so because she didn’t think a casual relationship was the best idea. If you’d asked yourself a year ago, you would have agreed. But now, you kind of enjoyed the lack of pressure surrounding your dynamic. Jamie was obviously very skilled when it came to sex, but he was also fun to be around. Your pillow talk conversations were often the highlights of your day. You’d talk about your days and vent when you’d need to. Sometimes you’d get little nuggets about Jamie’s life and childhood, and you’d let him in on some details about your life as well. The more you got to know him, the more you liked him.

As a friend of course. Rebecca also warned you that if feelings got involved in your situation, things could get messy. But you weren’t worried about it. Sure, you and Jamie playfully flirt from time to time, but you’d do that around the office in plain sight too. It was just Jamie’s thing. This dynamic you had was just innocent, casual fun. That’s what you two agreed to and that's what you wanted. 

Jamie was also enjoying your arrangement. Unbeknownst to you, from the second he saw you, he’d found you appealing. Though, when he’d found out you were working for the team, he thought any chance of hooking up with you was off the table. Then he assumed you were seeing Sam, and he would absolutely never interfere with one of his best mate’s relationship. But when he’d found out you were available, he’d crumbled under the pressure. He got to know you a little bit, which made it harder to initiate anything. That was until you initiated it that night in his car and he couldn’t have been more thrilled. He honestly hadn’t expected it to go further than that night, but he couldn’t resist you. You were addictive, and extremely good at distracting him. Not just when you were fucking - which was mind-blowing - but also during the in-between moments when you’d whisper to each other under the sheets.Your mere presence was so soothing, he wished he could be enraptured in it all the time. 

That’s honestly the worst part of your deal; that it was secret and he couldn’t just wrap you up and listen to you breathe whenever he felt anxious. 

The fact that you have such a hold on him only adds to his anxiousness, though. He knows that your relationship is strictly sexual, but platonic, and he’s not worried about wanting more than that. He knew he wasn’t exactly boyfriend material, and wasn’t sure if relationships were something he wanted, at least at this point in his life. But he couldn’t help being attached to you. No one’s ever been so kind to him; so attentive and gentle. So, while your arrangement may be fleeting, he wanted to soak up the affection while he could. 

That’s why he feels so off when he doesn't see you around the club today. 

The team had an early training time, so when he didn’t see you before, he figured you probably just hadn’t arrived yet. But then he didn’t see you around lunch time either. He nonchalantly asked Sam if he’d heard from you, as he spotted him while he lifted weights, but his friend hadn’t heard from you either. That didn’t sit right with him.

He tried texting you after that, not once but twice, but you didn’t answer. That was also out of character. He knew it bothered you when there were red bubbles over your apps, but you hadn’t even read the text. 

As a last ditch effort, he even found himself asking Colin or Isaac if they knew anything but of course they didn’t. 

Jamie was nervously staring at your text chain as he walked out of the locker room at the end of the day. Still nothing. Not looking at where he was going, he ends up running straight into Rebecca. He apologizes distractedly before taking another step towards the door, when she calls out to him. 

“She’s at home.” Jamie looks at her with a quirked eyebrow, so she clarifies by saying your name. “She called in sick so I gave her the day off.”

Though he’s grateful for the information, he fidgets nervously, “How did you…”

“She told me about you two, or rather I figured it out. But I haven’t said a word to anyone else,” she explains reassuringly, “Plus you’ve been wandering around like a lost puppy all day. Wasn’t hard to guess why.” 

Jamie flushes, but smiles tightly in thanks before wishing his boss a goodnight. On his way to run some spur of the moment errands, he wonders what kind of things you’ve told Rebecca. 

As the sun sets for the night, you’re finally forcing yourself out of bed. 

You weren’t sick sick. You were on your period, and this morning you’d woken up with a migraine and some of the worst cramps you’ve had in a while. It wasn’t uncommon for you to feel this bad every couple of months, but when it got this severe, there was no way you could function as a human being. So you made yourself persevere through the pain for a few moments to call Rebecca and explain the situation at hand. She was quick to suggest you stay home, and while you weren’t surprised, you still adored her for understanding. Best boss ever. 

When your pain is bad, you can only stomach so much food, so you just pick on things like crackers to hold you over. Now that it was nearing dinner time, and your headache had finally subsided, you were ravenous. You quickly search for nearby pizza places and select the first thing that comes up on Google and place a delivery order. 

While you wait, you curl up with a blanket on your couch and turn on one of your favorite Grey’s Anatomy episodes. You’re only ten minutes in when there’s a knock on your door. You begrudgingly stand up, impressed that your pizza had come so fast. When you pull the door open, you instead find Jamie standing there with a bag of groceries. 

“You’re not pizza.”

Jamie narrows his eyes at you, “And you don’t look sick.” 

Your shoulders sag, “Rebecca told you?” 

Jamie nods, “Yeah, I was worried. Wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

Your heart warms. You pull your door open wider, and he doesn’t hesitate to enter. 

“I’m sorry I worried you,” you shove your hands in your sweatshirt pocket awkwardly, “I’m actually not technically sick, just on my period, which I’m sure is exactly what you want to hear.”

Jamie surprises you by not visibly reacting to your admission.

“Damn, I wish I’d known that, otherwise I would have picked up different things.” he draws your attention back to the paper grocery bag in his hands as he sets it on your coffee table. He starts pulling out items as he lists them off, “I got you some soup, some tissues, a shit-ton of different medicines because I didn’t know what kind of sick you were. Some gummy bears, but that’s just cause I know you like those.” 

You try not to be overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness, “Aw, Jamie, you didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugs, not making direct eye contact, “Sorry most of it's not very helpful. Although, this might still work?” He pulls one last thing from the brown brag: a carton of Neapolitan ice cream. 

You gasp, immediately taking the item into your hands. “You are a saint. I will be saving this for later.” 

Jamie smiles as he follows you to the kitchen where you transfer the ice cream to the freezer. It's at this moment he also realizes you’re wearing one of his Richmond sweatshirts he must’ve left behind one night. He keeps this realization to himself.

“D’you say you ordered pizza?”

“Yeah. You’re welcome to stay if you want, there’ll be plenty.  

“Where from?”

“Uhh,” you scratch your head trying to recall the name of the place, “Pizzeria Pellegrini, I think?”

Jamie groans, “That place is rubbish, you should have ordered from Lucia’s.”

For some reason, a small smile makes its way on your face, “I’m sorry I didn’t consult you first, Mr. Pizza Expert.”

“Well, now you know,” Jamie pulls out his phone and begins tapping up a storm.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Ordering us a pizza from Lucia’s. You like pepperoni, right?”

“Jamie,” you gasp exaggeratedly, “I already ordered one. It will be here any minute.”

“Well, now you’ll have two, so save room. I’ll get express delivery. I need you to try both so you know which is superior.” he snickers and you roll your eyes, “Anything else I should get?”

You shake your head amusedly, but still ask, “Can you get me a side of ranch, please?” 

Jamie scoffs, “Aren’t you getting some with your first order?”

Okay, he knows you too well. 

“Yeah, but every restaurant has a specific ranch. I can’t have Lucia pizza with Pellegrini ranch, that’s insane.” 

He gives you a crazy look, “No, I think you’re insane.” 

“Look, I’m right and you’re just going to have to deal with it.” 

Jamie shakes his head, but bites back a laugh. He orders you a pepperoni pizza with extra ranch. 

As you lead him back to the couch, you catch him up on your evening plans of binging Grey’s.

“But we don’t have to watch if you don’t want to. We can watch something else, or…”

Jamie sits beside you on the couch and shrugs, “You’re the one feeling like shit, we can do whatever you want.” 

“Alright, then buckle up, Tartt,” you chuckle, pressing play on the remote.

As the episode continues, Jamie asks questions about what is happening and who the characters are. Normally, you’d be annoyed with the constant talking over the show, but you like that he seems genuinely interested. So you fill him in on what has happened in the episode so far, and some backstory for the characters. 

“Wait so there’s a bomb in that person’s body?” “Yup.” And then he’s hooked.

Both of your pizzas arrive at different points during the two-part episode, and you give in and admit his pizza place is better. You even let him share your ranch dressing. However, your eyes widen in horror when he goes to dip a piece of Lucia’s pizza into Pellegrini’s ranch.

“What the hell are you doing?” you exclaim, sitting up slightly. 

“I’m going to prove your theory wrong,” Jamie scoffs, shoving the slice into his mouth. 

You watch in anticipation and smirk in satisfaction when he frowns. 

“Okay, you’re right. This is wrong.” he immediately switches out the cups of ranch.

You bob your head up and down, “Yeah, it's sacrilegious.”

“Each ranch just compliments its own pizza so well!”

You press your hand to your chest and smile, “You get me.” 

After dinner, the two of you treat yourself to bowls of ice cream and settle back into the couch. Jamie lets you lay across it, while your feet rest in his lap. With Grey’s Anatomy becoming background noise, you two chat quietly. Jamie tells you about his day and how stressed out the team has been with all the losses.

“I’m sorry I can’t help you destress tonight,” you joke, referring to your usual nighttime activities that are being cockblocked by your favorite week of the month. 

Jamie chuckles, absentmindedly rubbing your ankle. “S’alright. Just being here’s made me feel better.” 

You look at Jamie thoughtfully as he continues staring at your television screen. Before you’re really aware of what you’re doing, you sit up and plant a light kiss on his cheek.

He turns to you a little caught off guard, but not bothered. “What was that for?”

“Just because.” 

You go back in for a kiss on his lips this time, and he immediately reciprocates. When you pull back, you give him a shy smile before laying back down on the couch, wrapping your blanket around you, and turning back to your comfort show. Out of your peripherals you can see a small smirk settle on Jamie’s face as he refocuses on Grey’s Anatomy as well. 

You’re proud that you pulled that off nonchalantly because inside you were feeling anything but. An uncomfortable feeling settles in your stomach as you come to the realization that that wasn’t just a casual kiss. You kissed Jamie because you wanted to, not just as a prelude to sex. All night he’d been attentive to your needs, genuinely interested in hearing what you had to say even when it was nonsensical ramblings about a show you liked, and just an overall sweetheart. The more you think about it, he was always like this when you two were together, even when he was teasing you. It didn’t help that he also looked especially good tonight. 

Holy shit, were you…falling for him? When you explicitly said you weren’t going to?  

Well this certainly won’t end well. 

A/N: this apartment scene and the car scene from part two are the first things i thought of and inspired this whole story :’) can’t wait to know what you guys think!

Taglist: @atabigail @boundtomyfate @sammysgirl1997 @lil-tracys @shephard17895 @alaspice @itsbarbraann @redpool @drmeghanjones @straightforwardly @alex-sulli @aiyaiy @artemismaximoff @roadtoself-love @theloud-yet-quietone @forcesofgrief @kirisimpster​ @geek-and-proud​ @grippleback-galaxy​ @lalla-04p​ @gabbycoady13​ @royalestrellas​ @qardasngan​ @creationcitystreet-em​ @percysaidnever​ @emily-b​ @mrfitzsimmons​ @k-n-e​ @agentstarkid @legobatmans9thab @mrsprongs25​ @escapismqueen​ @scaramou @beardsplitter @gcidrvsh @ringpopdust @marveltg365 it wouldn’t let me tag the last few of you, let me know if its something with your settings, otherwise i can keep trying in future updates! <3

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Home For Christmas - Jake Seresin x OC

A/N: This is my entry for @bellaireland1981's Winter RomCom Writing Challenge, with the trope childhood friends. I was watching a lot of romcoms last night and felt inspired, it's definitely heavily influenced by 13 Going on 30, Just Friends + Sweet Home Alabama. (I realize only one of those is set in the winter, but I digress). I'm debating a part two/epilogue as well, if anyone is interested! Also super proud of this one, because it's the longest fic I've ever written.

pairing: Jake Seresin x OC

warnings/content: none, lots of fluff and pining. Jake's been promoted to Captain. Probably a lot of inaccuracies.

word count: 7.7k (literally my longest one yet, I'm sorry)

tagging anyone who might be interested: @littleenglishfangirl, @floydsmuse, @sailor-aviator, @mamachasesmayhem 🤍

December, 1999

“Jake! Jake, wait up!” 

“Run faster then, I gotta get home before the street lights come on or my mama’s gonna be so mad she won’t let you come over tomorrow!” 

“Jake, your mama’s not gonna say no to me comin’ over and you know it.”

“Jenna, how you ever gonna keep up with me when I join the navy and start having to run a few miles every day?”

Jake turned around to face you for a moment, running backwards with a grin plastered on his face, his baby-faced cheeks red from the cold, his green eyes full of mischief as he watched you try and keep up with him. His sandy blonde hair stuck out slightly from underneath his Dallas Cowboys baseball cap, a handmedown from his older brother that he rarely left home without since Matt had given it to him. He stopped running, placing his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath, the cold air stinging his throat as he panted. You finally managed to close the distance between the two of you, raising an eyebrow as you panted, your own cheeks ruddy from the combination of cold winter air and physical activity. 

You and Jake had been best friends as long as you could remember. In eleven years, you couldn’t name a single time where the two of you had as much as had a disagreement, or went more than a few hours without talking to one another. Your mothers had been best friends in high school, and you two were destined to be best friends since birth - born four days apart in the same hospital, living on the same street and having your first play date at 10 and 7 days old. Jake was four days older than you, and he never let you forget it when it came to matters where age or maturity played a role. However, where Jake had four days more experience in the world, you had multitudes more experience in dealing with hardship than any eleven-year-old child should have. 

Where Jake had the picture-perfect family - a mom, a dad, an older sister, an older brother and him, all living in perfect harmonious happiness, never as much as a doubt as to whether or not there was love in his household, you had the opposite. An absent father, an only child, and a mother who worked two jobs to try and make life better for the two of you, you spent almost every waking minute with Jake and his family, not only as an escape to experience the happy, blissfully carefree life he lived, but also, as a favour to your mother, with Mrs. Seresin often volunteering to care for you when your mother had to work late or work on weekends. 

You were at the Seresin home almost every night, with Jake’s mother fussing over her best friend’s daughter, helping her lifelong friend however she could in guiding her little girl, you acting as the surrogate daughter that part of her had always wanted. Jake’s father trying to fill in the blanks where your father had lacked - offering to coach sports teams and including you in games of catch with Jake and his brother, taking you and the boys to get new baseball gloves or soccer cleats when needed, taking the three of you for ice cream after a big achievement in life. Jake’s 16 year old sister, Bethany, would take time to do your hair in the mornings before school whenever she had a chance, offering to do it in all the fun styles she and her friends wore, the kind you were often envious of, passing you old tubes of lip gloss she had lingering around in her backpack on your way to school, encouraging you to use them to your hearts content.  Even Matt, who at 14, thought his brother and his brother’s friends were the most irritating beings in existence, had offered you old sports jerseys of his that no longer fit, teasing you the same way he’d tease Jake, treating you like the little sister he never had. 

Until this past summer, you found yourself wishing most days that Jake’s family would just adopt you, let your mother move in with them and the two of you could just officially be a part of their fun, bustling family that served as your cheerful escape from life. However, when elementary school ended in June with middle school looming around the corner, Bethany had pulled you aside to talk to you about the transition between schools. 

“You know, middle school is…different. It’s not bad. It’s just…things change sometimes. You and Jake might start going on dates with people from school, and it might change your relationship. It happens,” She’d said matter of factly, not mincing words as she shrugged her shoulders, fixing her frosted eyeshadow in the mirror before turning to face you again.

“You might even develop feelings for each other.”

At the time, her words didn’t hold meaning for you. You and Jake had been best friends since Jake was four days old. Your moms were best friends. You practically lived in their home. There was no way things could change between you. You could never have a crush on Jake. He was Jake, the boy who would hide under his mama’s kitchen table with you and a flashlight, swapping baseball cards with one another, the boy who, when you were six-years-old, you’d witnessed eat an entire package of Oreos, then laughed at as he proceeded to throw up an hour later from the sheer volume of chocolate-vanilla sandwich cookies he’d consumed that day. Jake could never be someone you’d have a crush on. He was your best friend. That would never change.

It was two weeks later when Jake had been on the baseball diamond, pitching an inning of Little League with you in the stands watching on. His baseball cap had been flipped backwards to mimic one of his favourite major league players, his green eyes narrowing in concentration with every pitch he threw out. His golden blonde hair poked out the front of his baseball cap, much like it was doing today, on this cold January evening. His focus was on nothing but baseball, while yours was on everything but when it came to him. When he happened to look your way during the game, you felt a weird feeling in your stomach - a bubbling sensation, like nerves that couldn’t be settled. Your cheeks flushed, turning a pale pink as they became warm to the touch, reddening slightly as you felt Bethany’s gaze fall on you, a grin forming on her face as you proved her right about how your feelings were evolving for Jake. 

Since that day, you’d found yourself continuing to crush on him, each day your feelings grew deeper and more intense than the day before. At this point, you almost swore you could see yourself marrying him one day. You had to admit, you knew everything there was to know about him, you always had fun with him, and he was always happy to see you - you were convinced you two could be as happy and as in love as his parents were someday when you and Jake got older. You’d never tell Jake, you just hoped and prayed that he’d realize one day that he felt the same way about you as you felt about him. You knew there was always the chance that it might not happen, but you didn’t want to think about that.  In fact, as far as you were concerned, you hoped that there was never a day where Jake didn’t love you as wholeheartedly as your little eleven year old self loved him.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ 

Present Day

“Jake, please, come back. I miss you,”

“I miss you too, Jenna, I’m coming home to you. It’s always been you.”

The ear-piercing screech of your phone’s alarm blared from your nightstand, interrupting your dream as it screamed at you. You rolled over in bed, groaning as you clumsily stuck your hand out, feeling around on the wooden side table for your phone to silence it and allow yourself a few more moments of peace and quiet before you had to start your day. The last think you wanted right now was to let this dream slip away on you - it was the closest you’d ever find yourself to Jake professing his love for you after all these years, and you clung to it whenever it cropped up in your mind as you slept. 

Jake had always been the one-who-got-away for you. You spent your entire middle school years trying to hide your feelings for him, refusing to break until he said how he felt first. You were 13 when he got his first girlfriend, Tiffany Donaldson, a girl in your class. Tiffany was pretty and popular, something that you couldn’t claim for yourself in either case - growing up with Jake, you were seen as more of a teammate or a sister-figure than anything else, despite his sister’s best efforts to help you shake that connection somewhat. After Tiffany, you two had begun high school, and Jake made the football team, and the baseball team. As the school’s star runningback and starting pitcher for the varsity team, Jake was popular beyond words. No one could hold a candle to him, and as his popularity soared because of his athletic prowess in school, you faded further and further back into obscurity, the limelight falling from you and onto someone new each time Jake began dating another girl. Eventually, by the time graduation rolled around, you and Jake had all but fallen out of touch with each other outside of family get-togethers shared between your mothers. 

You had just worked up the courage to tell him your feelings at the graduation party Jake’s parents had thrown for you both, convincing yourself that it was perfect timing - Jake had accepted an offer at the University of Texas at Austin, keeping close to home as he planned to study finance, his secret talent having always been math. You’d accepted an offer to study communications at the same school, and with both of you remaining local, it would be the perfect time to tell him how you felt and attempt a relationship with him, or so you thought.

Before the words could even leave your mouth, Jake was excitedly pulling you aside at the party, stopping outside of his childhood bedroom, the place where the two of you had often played as kids. His green eyes were full of excitement as he looked at you, causing your heart to race as butterflies fluttered in your stomach, making it hard to concentrate on his words. You almost didn’t hear him when he spoke, you were so transfixed on him. If the news had been anything else, you probably wouldn’t have even registered what he’d said the first time. You could still hear the excitement in his voice as he told you his news, and still feel the ache in the pit of your stomach as his words fell on your ears.

“I got accepted! I’m going to the Naval Academy, Jenna, can you believe it? I’m going to serve in the Navy, just like I always wanted. I’m going to be the best aviator they’ve ever seen. Just you watch.” 

Jake’s voice was practically buzzing with excitement as he’d told you his news, and it took everything you had in you to not fall apart as he spoke. While you knew he’d always dreamed of being a naval aviator, as long as you could remember, the news hit you like a ton of bricks, unexpected and hard as it rendered you speechless, leaving you nodding your head and smiling like an idiot while inside you wanted nothing more than to scream out how you felt. You knew this could never work out between you now. Your chance was gone, moving away to Maryland and joining the Navy before you’d even had a second to realize what was happening when he spoke. 

That was 17 years ago, and the moment still haunted you from time to time, more than you’d like to admit to anyone. At first, you’d kept in touch with Jake and his family, seeing Jake when he came home for holidays and such at first, but then, as you and Jake began entering your first romantic relationships as adults, you found yourselves including each other less and less in your lives. With each boyfriend you had, you realized more and more that you could never love them the way you loved Jake -he’d always be your first love, regardless of how he felt in return. When Jake graduated, he’d been stationed at NAS Lemoore, swapping Maryland for California. You’d still hear the odd update from your mother, who remained in touch with Jake’s parents, but otherwise, you didn’t ask much about Jake’s adult life. You knew he’d never married, that he’d become a Top Gun graduate, and held true to his word about becoming one of the greatest fighter pilots in the United States Navy, but other than that, you knew little about his life now. Last you had heard, last Christmas, he’d been stationed in San Diego. 

You sat up in bed, yawning and stretching your body out before heaving a heavy sigh and shaking your head to rid yourself of thoughts of Jake. You were preparing for a trip back home to Texas for the holidays, spending three weeks back with your mother, part of you wishing and longing for Jake to be visiting his family at the same time, while the other part of you prayed he was staying in California or serving a tour so he wouldn’t be able to be there while you were. It had been close to 15 years since you’d seen him, and the last thing you needed was to be reminded of how you strongly you felt. You didn’t need the help from seeing him. The memories of him were more than enough to keep you clinging on. 

Your phone rang and with bleary eyes, you picked it up, pressing the green button to answer the call.

“Good morning, sweetheart!” Your mother practically sang out in a voice that was far too cheerful for anyone to have at this hour. 

“Hi mama, what’s up? My flight doesn’t land until this evening.” 

“Well, I was talking to Mrs. Seresin about Jake, Matt and Bethany…” Your mother’s voice trailed off as she spoke, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat at the mention of Jake.

“Mhmm?” You responded as you stood up, balancing the phone to your ear with your shoulder as you folded a sweatshirt and set it down neatly on the bed, waiting to be packed.

“It turns out both of us are having our kids home for Christmas! Bethany’s coming down from Dallas with her husband and their little ones, and Matt’s coming from Oklahoma City with his fiancee, and Jake’s flying in on leave from California. He’s made his way up to Captain now, you know, Jenna. He’s made quite the career for himself.”

“Mama, I don’t need a sales pitch on why Jake Seresin is the perfect man for me, ok? He hasn’t seen me in years. He probably wouldn’t even recognize me if he saw me.”

“You never know. But I expect you to dress nicely for their Christmas party. You and I have been invited to join them, and I already said you would gladly be attending.”

“Of course you did. So Jake will be there, then?”

“I think his flight lands just before yours does today, actually. His mama and I were actually discussing if we should just carpool together to pick you both up like back when you two were in school together. Remember that? We used to take turns carting you kids back and forth from home to school.”

“I remember, mama. Don’t worry.”

“Anyway…we were talking and it turns out, Jake happens to be single.”

“Mama, why would I care that Jake’s single?” You replied, trying to sound as level-headed as possible. 

“Please, Jenna. You really think I don’t know about this crush of yours you’ve been harbourin’ for years?” You could hear the laughter in your mother’s tone as she spoke, and it stung, almost as though your feelings had betrayed you.

“Mama! I haven’t had a crush on Jake in years. Not since he left for the Navy.”

“Of course not…just, do me a favour? Wear something nice for that Christmas party, ok?”

“Sure, Mama, whatever you say.”

You finished the conversation with your mother and let out an exasperated sigh as you tossed your phone onto your bed beside you. You had to be at the airport in three hours, leaving you little time to completely reconfigure your wardrobe for the next few weeks at home in Austin. Peering into your closet, scanning the items as they sat on wire hangers in the tiny space, you frowned, realizing that nothing was worthy of a reunion with Jake after all these years. At the back of the closet, you found a black, form-fitting sweater dress that you hadn’t worn in years, but, as you held it up to yourself in the mirror, you figured it could work. Part of you hoped this reunion could be the thing that’d remind Jake of what he was missing out on for the last 17 years. 

As you finished packing your suitcase, you zipped it closed with a sigh, shaking your head as you tried to calm your nerves before getting yourself ready for your flight. There was a chance you could see Jake at the airport, and you knew you had to look your best, just in case. 

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ 

The flight from Chicago to Austin was the most painful three hours of your life. You tried to focus your attention on anything but Jake, but every movie saved on your phone, every book on your tablet, and every thought that crossed your mind was filled with him. You tried reminding yourself that he could be a totally different person from who he was when you were 18. That he could look completely different, act completely different - that he may not even know who you are anymore. The thought of Jake forgetting you was suffocating, closing in on you a little bit more every time it creeped into your mind. You took a deep breath as you departed the plane, your eyes scanning the crowd for your mother as you gripped your carry-on. Your face went white as a sheet as you saw her standing with Mrs. Serensin, both of whom waved frantically with excitement as they saw you.

“Jenna! It’s been so long, darlin’, how have you been? Your mama’s told me lots, but I feel like it’s no substitute for getting to see you in person!” 

“Hi, Mrs. Serensin! I’ve been ok, how have you guys been? Haven’t seen you in about, 15 years? I think I saw y’all the one visit after Jake shipped out, but I haven’t been home much for the holidays, Mama’s usually up in Chicago visiting me.”

“We’ve been good, Bethany has two boys now, Easton and Dylan, and Matt’s met this girl, Alexis, she’s wonderful, a real sweetheart. He’s gettin’ married next summer. “

“Oh, that’s great news!” You replied cheerfully, fighting the instinct to bite your lip as she failed to mention where Jake was at in life. 

“We better get going, Julie, Jake’s plane’s about to land,” Your mother said as she grabbed Mrs. Seresin’s arm excitedly, nodding her head.

“Oh, I thought Jake landed earlier?” 

“He was meant to, but his flight got delayed, he’s landing in a few minutes now, I think.”

You nodded your head slowly, reluctantly following behind as your mom and Mrs. Serensin led the way to Jake’s terminal, biting the inside of your cheek as your eyes followed the signage as you walked past. You tried your best to focus on something, anything, but your nerves but so far, your nerves were winning. You were terrified. What if Jake hated you for not staying in touch? What if he forgot all about you? What if you were the last person he wanted to see? What he if came through those doors with a surprise girlfriend on his arm?

“Ma!” You heard a voice call out. You looked up to see a tall, handsome man with neatly combed blonde hair, piercing green eyes and sunkissed skin. His naval uniform was still perfectly pressed without a crease on it somehow after his flight, and he looked perfect. You knew in an instant that it was him.

“Ms. T?” He chuckled as he shook his head, pulling back from his mother’s embrace as he gave your mother a heartfelt hug, before pausing as he looked at you, a warm smile on his lips as he nodded his head, his blonde eyebrow cocked upwards in surprise. 

“Jenna?”

“The one and only,” You shrugged with a smile as you tried your best to play it cool, forgetting for a moment that at 35 years old, you shouldn’t be getting tongue-tied and start giggling like a schoolgirl over a crush. The mere fact that you still had a crush on Jake was enough to make you feel like a fool.

“It’s nice to see ya, Jenna,” Jake nodded as he wrapped his arms around you, enveloping you into his embrace. You breathed in the scent of his cologne, notes of whiskey and cedarwood encircling you as his grip remained tight, yet comfortable around you, as if he was hugging his long lost friend, which, he was in a sense. 

“Nice to see you too, Jake,” You nodded once as he pulled away, a soft smile on your lips as you looked at him, trying to commit this moment to memory before it drifted away on you. 

You swore out of the corner of your eye, you saw your mothers exchange a look with one another, a secret signal to one another, as if a master plan of theirs was underway, and everything was beginning to come together before their eyes.  

As the four of you headed out to the car together, you caught yourself repeatedly stealing glances at Jake. He hadn’t changed hardly at all since you saw him last, apart from gaining some muscle, and his cheekbones and jawline becoming a bit more defined as he’d aged. He looked incredible for 35, if you didn’t know him, you likely would have guessed he was barely 30, and you couldn’t help but feel yourself fall deeper with each stolen look at him. 

“So, you’re Captain Seresin now then?” You raised an eyebrow as you looked at him, hoping to break the silence brewing between the two of you.

“Yeah, this past April! I didn’t expect to get it, to be honest.”

Jake’s cheeks reddened as he smiled at you, trying to appear modest as he spoke of his accomplishments in the Navy since you’d last seen him. He had always used to have an ego so big that it’d rival some of the aircraft around in size, especially as a teenager - he was good and he knew he was good when it came to sports. It was part of what drove the two of you apart, but around you? He was modest like he always had been before, acting embarrassed by the achievements he’d otherwise never shut up about. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think Jake was nervous around you. Jake Seresin, the only service member on active duty with multiple confirmed kills, the US Naval Air Force Captain who’s served for the last 17 years without as much as a scratch on him, the man who graduated top of his class from the Top Gun program, where only the best of the best are selected to participate. Jake Seresin had no need to be nervous about impressing you. He could have impressed you by simply looking your way - but for some reason, he was nervous around you, reduced to a blushing, modest mess.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ 

“Jake’s such a lovely boy,” Your mother said as she sipped her morning coffee, eyes fixated on the news program on her television set. 

“He’s 35, mama, he’s hardly a boy now.”

“Fine, Jake’s a lovely man, he’s still just as sweet as I remember him being when he was young. He comes back to visit whenever he gets a leave and stays for a few days, and he always stops by to say hello - he even asks about you sometimes.”

“He asks about me?”

“He sure does, he asked Julie about you the other day, in fact. He was asking if you’d be home this time at Christmas. Seems you two always come back to visit on opposite schedules and never run into each other. He was saying he’d like to see you again, Jenna.”

Your mother’s words hung in the air for a moment. You took a sip from your coffee mug and furrowed your brow as you thought it over. You dismissed your mother’s words as nothing more than an attempt to set you and Jake up on a date, one that you figured Jake wasn’t going to be a willing participant of. 

“Oh Mama, hush, he probably just said that to be polite because he figured I’d be coming home for the holidays anyway.”

“Jenna, why are you always so stubborn?” Your mother frowned, shaking her head as she let out an exasperated sigh.

“I’m not stubborn, I’m just…practical. I’m the only one who seems to realize the fact that Jake and I haven’t seen each other in 17 years, Mama. We’re not the same people we were when we were 18. He could be a serial womanizer with a series of broken hearts left behind waiting for him in California for all I know. He could have 17 kids by different women, or be a serial killer, Mama. I literally know nothing about him anymore.”

“Jenna Elizabeth Taylor, you’re just being ridiculous now,” Your mother frowned as she shook her head, sighing, “I think Julie would have mentioned it if Jake was a father, and do you really think he’s the type to go around breaking hearts for fun? Besides, how could he be a serial killer if he’s busy flying around on missions all the time?”

“You’re missing my point, Ma.”

“No, Jenna, I think you’re missing mine,” She sighed, setting her mug down on the table as she pursed her lips, “My point is, I know you’ve been holding out for him for years. He’s asked his mama about you, he’s been asking if you were coming home, he stops in to see me whenever he comes home - do you really think he’d do all that if he didn’t still feel something for you?”

“Mama, I’m not going to make a fool of myself and throw myself at him, contrary to what you think would work.”

You heard the sound of someone clearing their throat, and when you turned on your heel, you stood face to face with Jake, now sporting a fitted pair of acid-washed light denim jeans and a burnt orange Texas Longhorns football jersey and a brown corduroy bomber jacket shrugged on over top. His blonde hair peaked out from behind his beloved baseball cap, you’d swear it was the same one he’d been wearing since he was 15 if you didn’t know any better, this hat looked like it had been through hell and back.

He’d let himself in through the unlocked front door, almost certainly at your mother’s previous insistence or invitation. His cheeks were blushing again, his green eyes darting between the two of you, a blonde eyebrow cocked upwards as his gaze landed on you.

“Throw yourself at who?” He chuckled, flashing a set of perfect white teeth your way as gave you that same grin that he always did when you were kids. It was the kind of smile that always got him out of trouble, and sometimes, into trouble, depending on the situation. 

“No one,” You said quickly, shooting your mother a warning glance as you shook your head, a few strands of light brown hair falling free from your half-assed ponytail that you’d thrown it up into the night before for bed. You realized that Jake was now standing in your mother’s living room while you were sporting an oversized old Texas Longhorns tee and a pair of sweatpants - not ideal attire for seeing a man you were attracted to in, regardless of your protests about your feelings to your mother. 

“Right,” Jake nodded his head, but the tone in his voice told you he didn’t quite believe a word you were saying, “I know this isn’t a great time, but Ma wanted me to check and see if you and Ms. T were still able to make it tonight, she wanted me to ask in person, and she wanted me to see if you needed my help bringing anything over, she said you were bringing your famous taco dip, Ms. T? I can bring the dish over now for you if you’d like, Ma’s cleared out the fridge of anything that isn’t a necessity for the party so there’s tons of room.”

“Sure, Jake, honey, it’s in the fridge, Jenna can show you where, I just have to run upstairs and grab something to send to your mama’s with you,” Your mother said as she stood up, heading off up the stairs quicker than you could say a word, leaving you and Jake alone in an awkward stance, nothing but the sound of the morning news to fill the silent void between you, until Jake cleared his throat again before pointing his index finger towards the kitchen.

“In here? I’m sure I can find it if you need to go upstairs and get changed.” 

“I’m fine, not like you haven’t seen me in pajamas before, Jake.”

“Well, in my defense, last time we were like, 12.”

“I’m sure you’ve seen a woman in an oversized tee and sweatpants before,” You shrugged nonchalantly, pretending to be completely unbothered by the fact you felt like you were dressed like an absolute slob right now. 

“Alright, lead the way then,” Jake nodded as he followed behind you. 

You felt his eyes make their way down your body, and you swore you could hear him muttering something under his breath as he sauntered into the kitchen after you. You couldn’t make out what he had said, but it sounded almost like a “Jesus Christ” before he coughed and averted his gaze as you turned to face him. You opened the fridge and grabbed the dish containing your mom’s taco dip before setting it on the counter for Jake to take home. You raised an eyebrow at Jake as you caught him staring in your direction, a look of bewilderment on his face. 

“You good, Hangman?”

“Hmm?” Jake said as he shook his head, an awkward laugh escaping his lips as he raised an eyebrow at you, “How did you know my callsign?”

“Because it’s on the back of your jersey, genius.”

Jake raised an eyebrow as he looked down, as if he’d forgotten what shirt he was wearing today. He nodded his head and laughed as he ran a hand through the back of his hair, scratching the back of his neck as he looked back up at you. 

“Yeah, yeah I’m good. Just, uh, jet-lagged, I think.”

“Jet-lagged? Isn’t only two hours behind us in San Diego?”

“You can still feel jet-lag with a two hour difference, Jenna.”

“I’m not stupid, Jake, I know that, but you seem…distracted? Not tired.”

“I’m fine, honest,” He nodded as he shoved his hands into his front pockets, looking around the kitchen as you checked the fridge for the extra shredded cheese and green onions your mother had prepared the night before to top the dip she’d made. 

“Suit yourself, Jake,” You laughed as you set everything out on the counter for him and nodded, “If you give me five minutes to get dressed, I’ll help you bring it over.”

“Five minutes? God, I remember you taking 30 minutes to get ready when we were kids.”

“I was 12, it was 2000, I needed more time to perfect my lip gloss routine. Now I just have to put something warmer and nicer on than a t-shirt and sweatpants.”

“Fair enough, I can wait here. Your mama said she’d back down in a minute with something for Ma anyways.”

“Right, I’ll be back down in five.” 

You turned around and headed back up the stairs, sighing softly to yourself as you entered your childhood bedroom, opening your suitcase as you grabbed out a pair of jeans and a vintage crewneck sweatshirt. You tidied your hair up into a neat ponytail before heading back down the stairs to meet Jake, who was currently talking to your mother in the kitchen, his body leaning against the counter as he spoke. Jake looked up at you, straightening his posture as he saw you. He picked the taco dip up from the counter, along with the reusable shopping bag your mother had packed up of the extra ingredients. Sitting on the counter next to the food was a gift, perfectly wrapped with a gold bow and a tag written out in your mother’s sleek handwriting. Jake’s mother and yours had always exchanged gifts with one another, and it warmed your heart in a sense to see the tradition still carrying on for them. 

“So, you enjoy living in Chicago?” Jake asked, watching you as the two of you headed back from your childhood home, Jake having insisted on walking you back so you could spend some time catching up, even if just for a few minutes. .

“Yeah, it’s a change of scenery. It’s different from Austin for sure. How’s San Diego treating you?”

“It’s pretty good, I like being on the beach. I do miss home sometimes though,” He laughed softly, giving his shoulders a gentle shrug as he looked around at the street you grew up on, just a couple of blocks away from his own childhood home.

“I mean, yeah, I miss my mom sometimes when I’m in Chicago, but, I know it’s easier for me to come home and see her than for you to come home and see your family.”

“Jenna? Can I ask you something?”

“Mhmm?”

“Do you…do you regret leaving for Chicago?”

“No, I wouldn’t be where I’m at now if I hadn’t left. I have a really good career in public relations, and I’m happy with where I’m at professionally. I wouldn’t have gotten that if I stayed in Austin, just like you wouldn’t have gotten as far in the Navy if you hadn’t gone to Annapolis.”

Jake stayed silent for a minute, his eyes looking everywhere but at you, avoiding your gaze. You could sense tension between the two of you. The Jake you knew growing up was never awkward, and never stopped talking - had he really changed that much since he’d left? You couldn’t see the Navy taming him to the point where he became reserved, Jake had always been so outgoing, so full of self-pride that it often came off as cocksure arrogance, but most of the time, it was out of sheer disbelief that he’d made it that far. You looked to him, his hands firmly in his pockets as he let out a huff, his breath turning to vapor in the cool December air. 

“I should really get going,” Jake nodded slowly, checking his watch as he looked back towards the street, “I promised Ma I’d help her set up.”

“Right, right, I’ll see you in a couple hours? Mama and I’ll be there.”

“Perfect, I’ll see you then,” Jake nodded, a warm smile on his features as he turned to start heading back.

You let out a heavy sigh, mentally kicking yourself as you realized you’d just let another opportunity to tell Jake how you felt slip away from you. As you headed up to your bedroom to get ready, moving quickly to dodge any questions from your mother, who was probably desperate to hear how your alone time with Jake had gone. 

You shut the door behind you, sighing again as you sat at your old vanity table, brushing through your hair and sectioning it with a claw clip as you began straightening it, trying your best to calm your nerves and make a decision on how you were going to approach Jake. You wanted to tell him, desperately, how you felt, but, part of you couldn’t help but cling to the fact you might regret it. That you might be disappointed and find out that Jake never felt the same about you, and that he never would. Or that he’d be in a relationship with someone else back in San Diego, someone prettier, younger, smarter, better. 

On the other hand, did you really want to commit yourself to never telling him how you felt? Letting the door shut on the one man you’d loved the longest, the most, and the hardest in your lifetime? Could you really be happy with anyone else? What if something happened to Jake while he was serving and you never got the chance to share how you felt? What if, somehow, there was the off chance he felt the same way about you?

As you finished your makeup, taking a deep breath as you looked yourself over in the mirror, you nodded your head. You had to tell him. There was no way you could let him go back to San Diego without knowing. You couldn’t let this go unsaid any longer, if for no other reason than to give yourself closure. If he rejected you, you could move on - or at least, try to. You could finally let go of your feelings and meet someone, and try your hardest to love them with the same enthusiastic, all-consuming love you felt for Jake. If he felt the same way, you’d apply for a job transfer to Los Angeles as soon as possible, because a three-hour drive was much more manageable of a commute to see him than a flight from Chicago to San Diego. 

This was it, you were going to finally do it. You just needed to get Jake alone.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ 

“Oh, Jenna! It’s been so long, how are you?” 

Bethany’s voice was sweet as honey as she spoke, wrapping her arms around you in a warm embrace, as if she’d been missing you for years and the sight of you reminded her of just how much.

“I’m great thanks, Beth, how are you? Your mama said you have two boys now? Easton and Dylan?” 

“Yeah, they’re 6 and 4, they’re little handfuls like their uncles, but I guess that’s to be expected when you’ve got Jake and Matt as influences for you. My husband’s not much better.” 

Bethany laughed as she gestured towards Jake playing with Easton? Or was it Dylan? Jake’s unmistakeable toothy grin plastered on his face, his green eyes alight with joy as he lifted his young nephew up, tickling him, the young boy’s laughter filling the air as Jake continued to make him laugh. Jake looked up to see you with his sister, smiling as he set the boy down on the floor, ruffling his hair with his fingers before making his way over to you. 

“Jenna! Hey, I’m glad you came.”

“Told you I would, didn’t I?” You laughed, shrugging your shoulders as effortlessly as possible as you tried to play it cool, praying no one saw through the front you were putting up.

“Hey, Jenna, can I…can I talk to you for a sec?” Jake asked sheepishly.

You couldn’t mistake the look on Bethany’s face, biting her lip to hold back a grin. You caught Jake giving her a stare that could make any person stop dead in their tracks, his green eyes practically piercing through his older sister as she tried not to laugh. As you nodded your head, raising your eyebrow at the scene unfolding before you. You followed behind Jake as he led you upstairs to his old childhood bedroom. When he opened the door, you were confronted with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. Old pictures adorned the wall, some including you and Jake as children, with ice cream covered smiles and skinned knees, baseball uniforms and halloween costumes, missing teeth and messy curls. 

“Ma hasn’t changed anything since I left home, I don’t even think she’s bought new bedding for this room.” He chuckled as he looked around the room, his large hands placed firmly on his hips as he stood in the doorway. 

“Still sleeping with those baseball player sheets you had as a kid?” You teased, eyeing the comforter on the bed, neatly made and pulled together, a sign of Jake’s time in the navy.

“You know it, I’m still a big kid, really,” He laughed, nodding his head as he pointed to a picture on the wall before looking over at you, “Remember this one? Your 7th birthday party, I think I snuck an extra little bit of frosting off your birthday cake and my mama almost killed me. She told me I had the table manners of a barn animal.” 

“You did, you used to chew with your mouth full too.”

“I grew out of it at least. I’m a little more civilized now.” Jake replied with a smirk, shrugging his shoulders as he turned to face you, his chest rising and falling as he took a deep breath before exhaling sharply. You could see Jake chewing at the inside of his cheek, nodding his head as his eyes met yours.

“I have to tell you something, ok?” He finally said, sighing heavily.

“I’m listening, Jake.”

“I should have told you this a long time ago, but…I love you.”

You sputtered for a moment, eyes wide in shock as he spoke. He frowned, clearly expecting a better reaction than what you’d given him. Jake shook his head and took your hand in his, stroking the back of your hand gently with his fingers, which were almost surprisingly soft and smooth to the touch.

“I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way. I don’t care if you just wanna be friends after hearing this, because even though the truth is, I'm scared to be your friend, I would rather have you in my life as a friend than not have you in my life at all. The last 17 years have been spent missing you and wishing I’d said something before I left. That I’d kissed you or held you, or said something, anything to you.” He frowned, nodding his head as he looked to the ground before continuing to speak, his voice beginning to tremble with emotion.

“I was stupid to just go and leave things there, but I’ve been paying for it ever since. No other woman has ever compared to you.”

Without another word, you gripped the front of Jake’s football jersey, using it to give you leverage to pull him in closer, your lips crashing into his just as he looked up at you to see what you were doing. Any initial hesitation either of you felt melted away into the kiss, your lips moving together passionately, Jake’s hands trailing their way down your sides to rest on your hips, pulling your body in closer to his. When he finally pulled away to catch his breath, he maintained a small distance between the two of you, speaking in a low whisper as he watched you bite your now puffy, kiss-bitten bottom lip.

“Is that your way of telling me you feel the same way? Because if you do, I want to take you on a date. And I don't care if it's in the day, or at night, or whenever, as long as it's a real date. And I wanna sit there and tell you how beautiful I think you are, Inside and out. How you’ve always been the most beautiful girl in the world to me, without a doubt. And I wanna have babies with you, and I wanna marry you, and I wanna tell you every day that I love you and I always have." Jake nodded, his cheeks blushing as he scratched the back of his neck again, waiting for your response to his rambling feelings.

“Jake, I’ve spent the last 17 years of my life waiting to hear you say that.”

“I know, I’m sorry, Jenna. I’m so sorry I made you wait.”

“Promise me something, Jake?”

“Anything you want, pretty girl.”

“Promise me you won’t make me wait that long again? I’m not sure I can wait another 17 years for you to ask me to marry you.” 

“Jenna, I swear to you, I’m not making you wait for anything ever again. I’d marry you tomorrow if I didn’t think my mama would have me committed for running off to get married three days after our reunion.”

“You’d marry me tomorrow?”

“With bells on, babe. With bells on. I’d marry you right here, right now, in my beat up Longhorns jersey, and drive off into the sunset with you in my truck if you wanted.”

“I don’t know about that, Captain Seresin,” You smirked, raising an eyebrow at him as you felt his hands caress your sides, “As tempting as that sounds, we do have 17 years of lost time to make up for.”

“And I intend to make up for every single second of that with you, Jenna. Here, Chicago, San Diego, I don’t care. I just want you. All of you, completely and totally.”

[bumblesimagines]

i tried to keep feelings out of this. i really did.

that was the best night of my life.

- Bucky Barnes

that was the best night of my life.

i tried to keep feelings out of this. i really did.

Pronouns: They/Them/Theirs, GN!Reader

The sizzling of bacon sounded throughout the room, filling the kitchen and living room with the mouth-watering smell of food. You carefully scooped a fried egg up from the pan and set it down on one of the plates before reaching over with your free hand to turn the radio dial. Jazz music flowed from the radio and covered the sound of cooking, as well as the creak of your bedroom door opening and closing. 

"Smells good." A voice rumbled and cold metal grazed your forearm, delicately as always. A smile formed on your lips and you switched the stove off, sliding the last strips of bacon onto the plate before turning around and gazing into warm blue eyes. A sweet smile stretched out on his face, faintly nervous and shy. You'd been the first person he'd gotten with in many years, or so he'd told you that night before. He spoke briefly of his time in the military and how it'd affected him, and when a pained look passed over his features, you opted to change the topic and relieve him of those memories.

"Only the best for my favorite neighbor." You cooed and slipped your arms around his broad shoulders. His own muscular arms wrapped loosely around your waist and his eyes glittered with amusement. 

James Barnes, or Bucky as he preferred to be called, had been the most recent addition to your apartment complex. He'd moved months prior into the apartment just three doors down, and boy had he been a sight for sore eyes. As much as you loved your elderly neighbors with their endless supply of stories and gossip, a younger and much fresher face had been exactly what you needed to see when coming home from long work days.

You didn't see much of him the first couple of weeks, only hearing the muffled sound of his footsteps leading up to his apartment until you ran into him in the hallway one day while trying to haul one too many grocery bags up the stairs. He'd regarded you with a stiff nod and eyed the grocery bags digging into your arms before asking if you needed any help and easily taking all the bags into his hands without even straining a muscle. 

From then on, you bumped into him more frequently, almost as if he lingered near the entrance of the complex or by the stairs in hopes of catching you. The first few days he'd been quiet, keeping his typically quick pace down and only sneaking minimum glances in your direction. On the fourth day, you began telling him about your day, about customers and coworkers, and any piece of work gossip that seemed worth sharing with the brooding man. By the sixth day, he started commenting, making jokes, and sharing his opinion on the drama you shared. 

A friendship blossomed fairly quickly, and the day he smiled and laughed for the first time had been all you could think about the following week. You grew to learn there was a sassy sweetheart underneath his serious and stern exterior, and that his laugh sounded like a kid experiencing joy for the first time. He enjoyed making himself useful whether it was tagging along on grocery trips, becoming your handyman when something went wrong in the apartment, or simply keeping you entertained with all the facts he happened to know about the 1900s. Sometimes it almost felt as if he'd been alive during those times with how he spoke of stories he claimed to have heard from an old friend named Steve.

"I had a good time," Bucky murmured and bumped his nose against yours sweetly, eyes crinkling when his smile widened. "That was the best night of my life."

"Oh, please," You scoffed, feeling your cheeks light ablaze at his genuine words and trying to turn away but his arms pulled you back into his chest. A laugh rumbled in his chest and he pushed his face into your neck, the stubble on his cheeks rubbing lightly against your skin as he peppered you with soft kisses. His hold on you tightened briefly and when he took in a deep breath as he leaned back, your bashfulness faded into concern. His hands moved to cup your hips and his gaze flickered around the tiled floor before lifting to make eye contact. The tips of his ears turned a soft pink but the expression on his face remained unreadable.

"I.. I tried to keep feelings out of this. I really did. I'm not the ideal partner and I'm still working on some things but... I was wondering if you'd like to go on a date with me sometime?"

[collapsedglasshouses]

Consequences || Noah Sebastian x Reader [Part 3]

Part 1 - Part 2

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Summary: After not hearing from Noah for weeks, Y/N finds herself at a wedding with the boys.

Warnings: swearing, a tiny bit of angst, tension, mentions of previous sexual events, MDNI, alcohol consumption, let me know if I forgot something :)

A/N: Hello my beautiful people. I wrote this chapter last night. All at once. My head was completely empty after that. Please don't hate me for the cliffhanger ._. Please let me know how you liked this chapter! Enjoy c:

It’s been two weeks since the eventful night that ended with you under Noah’s bed. To your surprise Nick didn’t catch you, not even when you nearly sneezed because of the dust under Noah’s bed. But to your disappointment you didn’t talk with Noah about this whole thing. In all honesty you didn’t even talk at all. The day after the event, you got called by your landlord that your apartment was ready to be lived in again.

That's way you were now, two weeks later, on a thursday, sitting in front of your computer and answering work emails while listening to your upstairs neighbors screaming at each other repeatedly.

When you looked at the clock, it told you it was already time for bed since tomorrow was going to be an important day. One of your childhood friends was getting married this weekend and invited you as well as the boys, since she knew almost everyone out of the group personally except Jolly. But since he almost became everyone's 'service human' she invited him as well.

When you shut down your PC and stretched your back, you couldn't help but think about Noah. You hadn't heard from him in a while. While your brother told you they were working on planing another tour, even going to Europe, you felt kind of sad that he didn't tell you that himself, since you fucking crawled under his bed to escape being caught by your brother.

You almost started to feel something like regret when you stepped into your shower, your mind still infested with the thoughts of Noah's and your 'adventure'. Even though you knew better, you couldn't help feeling like he just used you. It wasn't like Noah had no options, he was the fucking lead singer of a popular metalcore band and looked like the reallife version of Eren Yeager.

It wasn't like you hadn't any options too, having your families genes, but something about Noah just made you feel different.

When you stepped out of the shower, you wrapped a towel around your body before swiping over the fogged up mirror and looking at yourself. Work drained you the last couple of days and you really looked forward to tomorrow since you would be away for almost three days.

So when you packed your bag and finally lay down on your bed, you tried to think about the break you had from your life here for the next couple of days.

Your alarm woke you up at 8 AM. While your plane wouldn't take off until 6 PM, you knew the boys and yourself well enough to give you some extra time to arrive to the airport.

You stood up, put on some music, that being your Bring Me The Horizon playlist today, and began to get ready. First you did your chores and cleaned everything that needed to be cleaned before you would leave for the next days.

Than you made your way to the bathroom at around 11 AM, brushing your teeth, putting on some light make up and than packing the last bit of the things you needed for the wedding.

You almost danced into the kitchen to finally make yourself breakfast, still wearing nothing but a very tiny crop top and mickey mouse panties.

"Time stood still the way it did before" You sang while opening your fridge to grab a milk to pour inside your filled cereal bowl. "It's like I'm sleepwalk-... AAH WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?!"

Out of fear you let your bowl drop to the floor, it making a loud shattering noise while the whole content spread across the kitchen tiles. The intruders, outing themselves as Nick, Folio, Noah and Jolly, laughed violently.

You cursed them out while starting to clean your kitchen and at the same time trying to cover yourself up. "What is wrong with you, guys? I could have been naked! You know I have something called a bell which you can ring to make yourselves known instead of breaking into my stupid apartment, you little fuckers?!"

"That would have been a sight." Jolly joked while standing up with the other boys to help you clean up the mess. "I'll kill you, Karlsson. They'll have to find another guitarist and buy a new guitar because I'll smash yours at your fucking beautiful head." You cursed while wiping up the milk with a rag. You heard Noah laugh behind you, who made it his task to prepare you a new cereal bowl.

"Here you go." He handed you your breakfast. "Sit down and eat, we'll clean the rest."

While you still wanted to set them on fire, you bit back you anger and thanked them for their help before sitting down to eat.

"We wanted to come here early since normally you're always the one being early." Folio explained while sitting down next to you. You took the last spoon. "It's fine but if you do that ever again, I'll take the key from my brother, break it into four pieces and show it up your asses."

"Arousing.", Jolly joked again, causing you to throw the paper work, laying on the kitchen counter, at him.

"Oh, we didn't tell you." Nick started his sentence. "Davis is waiting outside in the car. He offered to drop us of at the airport."

You sighed while cleaning up your bowl, before making your way to your bedroom, getting dressed in something comfortable, grabbing your bag and your dress for the wedding, before heading out of your apartment, not even looking back at the boys. They quickly followed you.

At 5:45 PM you found yourself getting onto the plane and soon realised you were seated next to Noah, meaning you would spent the next five and a half hours sweating out of nervousness.

The first thirty minutes you didn't say a word. Just looked straight ahead and thought about not thinking about Noah which resulted in (oh wonder) thinking about Noah.

The next thirty minutes you tried to listen to music while reading a book, but after you read a spicy scene while listening to The Death of Peace of Mind, you gave that up too.

The next ten minutes you shifted uncomfortably from left to right, causing Noah to finally break the silence. "Are you okay?" His tone gave away that he was in fact slightly annoyed by your actions.

"Why shouldn't I be okay?", you asked finally sitting comfortable and looking him in the eyes. "Because you ignored me for the past hour?" - "Do you have something to say to me?" He stayed silent. "That's what I thought."

You looked straight ahead again, trying to ignore the confused gaze Noah shot you. When he didn't look away for the next five minutes, you glared at him again. "What, Noah?" - "Why are you like this?" He tried to stay as quiet as possible. "Like what?" - "Almost... bitchy?" Your mouth fell open, startled by his words. "What did you just say?" You almost hissed at him. "You heard me." - "Maybe you should think about your own actions before calling me bitchy, Mr. Davis." -

"Oh, don't 'Davis' me, Ruffilo." He shot back and now fully turned to you. You really didn't know how you managed to keep it quiet until now. "Oh, I'm going to continue to 'Davis' you until you realise not messaging someone for weeks who gave you head and than hid under your bed, isn't really 'Noah-worthy', don't you think?" You whisper-shouted at him and were glad that so many people were talking on the plane that the others surely didn't hear your argument.

With that sentence of yours his attitude was slapped out of his body and he began to back down a bit. You knew Noah had a big ego but it was definitely not as big as yours.

It went quiet between you for another thirty minutes, before Noah sighed. "You know, I'm really sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to hurt you. I never would want that."

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms before your chest. "But you did." You heard him take a deep breath before he placed a hand on your thigh, instantly giving you goose bumps.

"Please let us talk about this when we come back home. I don't wanna fight with you." He requested honestly, causing you to shortly look at him before gnashing your teeth in consideration. "I don't wanna fight with you either."

He squeezed your thigh for a short moment before smiling at you lightly.

The next hour you spent avoiding the big topic hanging between you and decided catch up since you didn't hear from each other personally for almost two weeks. You didn't even know when it happened but the next thing you knew was when someone pushed your hair out of your face.

"Y/N, you need to wake up." Noah whispers into your ear, causing your neck hair to stand up. "We'll land in a couple of minutes."

When you opened your eyes, you noticed you had leaned against Noah's shoulder in your sleep. You quickly sat up and stretched your back before shooting Noah a shy smile. Out of the corner of your eye you saw that Jolly had noticed what had happened and now was smirking to himself.

When you arrived at the location, which was a mansion-like hotel only booked for the wedding party over the weekend, you were quickly assigned two rooms for the five of you. Since you were all tired and drained from the flight, you decided Nick and Folio would share a room and the rest of you would get the other.

You quickly changed and fell onto your single bed when you got to your room and slept in to the sound of Noah and Jolly chatting before sleep.

You woke up before the boys and decided to get ready before their alarms would go off. So when you came out of the bathroom, showered and only dressed with your towel, you didn't think to hear a 'Good Morning' from Noah, considering it was about twenty minutes before 6 AM.

"Morning." You mumble, slightly overwhelmed by the sight of him. He didn't wear a shirt, fully displaying his tattoos. His arms were crossed behind his head and he shamelessly checked you out.

So while you gathered your clothes, you couldn't help but look at him a couple of times, before returning to the bathroom. Right before you were about to close the door, Noah slipped into the bathroom as well.

"What are you doing?" You whisper-shouted at him, before putting your clothes on the bathroom counter. He also put down his clothes and his towel next to yours.

"If you don't mind I would shower while you put on your make up." He said and before you could answer, he turns away from you to strip out of your clothes, making your eyes widen. "What if Jolly wakes up? What the fuck do you tell him than?" - "He won't wake up" After that sentence he climbed into the shower while you stared at him through the shower glass.

"Sometimes I hate you, Noah Sebastian." - "No, you don't."

You were halfway through your make up when Noah came out of the shower. You swallowed hard while trying your utter best not to stare at him but when he wrapped his towel low around his waist, you couldn't help but shoot him a glance. The way the water drops found their way down his torso sent a wave of heat down your core.

"Do you have something to say?" He asked teasingly. "No, you?" When he said nothing you took a deep breath before applying mascara while he put on some underwear. Right when you placed the mascara back into your make up bag, you felt his hands on your hips, making you sigh.

You closed your eyes when you felt his breath on your neck. "You already look so beautiful, I can't wait to see you in your dress." I can't wait for you to take it off of me. You thought but quickly regained control, clearing your throat and opening your eyes to see Noah already looking at you through the mirror. "You look really good yourself."

"I'm not even wearing clothes." - "As if you don't know how gorgeous you look right now." That was the moment. The first time you saw Noah's cheeks turn into a slight pink color before a small smile crept onto his face. In all those years, this was truly the first time you left him speechless.

He squeezed your hips one last time before mumbling a small 'Thank you.' Than he left the bathroom right in time for Jolly's alarm to go off.

About an hour later the three of you were almost ready when there was a knock on the door.

"We are late." Your brother announced when Noah opened the door for him and Folio but stopped in his tracks when he saw you standing there while braiding a strand of Jolly's hair. "I don't even ask"

"What? Have you seen him? Have you seen his hair?" You defend your actions while you secure his small braided strand with an elastic. After Jolly thanked you, you turned to fully face you brother.

"Wow, you look amazing, Y/N." Nick states while admiring your dress. The motto of the wedding being 'Black/White/Red' gave you the idea do base your outfit off of the iconic Morticia Addams. You wore a long black dress that flattered your curves with slightly too long bat sleeves. Your fingernails matched with your lipstick, both being the same shade of dark red.

"More than amazing." Noah added shooting you an honest smile that made your stomach twist with joy.

You all hurried to make it in time for the ceremony, not having time to catch up with old school friends, since you were already late.

Even though you weren't that close with the bride and groom, only remembering her from school, you had tears in your eyes by the time they exchanged their vows. This didn't go unnoticed by Noah, who slowly but surely grabbed your hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze.

No matter how delusional that sounded, for a brief moment you thought if there was any future where you would be standing up there with Noah. You quickly shook the thought out of your head by how imaginary the thought sounded but you knew one thing, even if you weren't the wedding couple, Noah would be standing up there with you. There was no way that a universe existed were Noah wasn't in your live. As confusing this whole thing had gotten, there was this one thing you were sure of and from which you would never let yourself be dissuaded.

So you looked at the man you had known for so many years and gave him a smile while squeezing his hand in reassurance.

Around six hours and 30 half-hearted conversations later, you found yourself sitting next to Jolly at your assigned table. "If another person asks me how i've been since school ended, imma drown myself in sparkling wine." You complained to your friend who chuckled at your statement. "I feel with you." You both let your gaze wonder over the party room. A lot of people were pretty wasted, including the bride who was currently dancing to Gangnam Style with her maid of honor. When you looked to her right, you almost choked on your drink. "Fuck, Jolly. You know who this is?" You slightly point your finger at a guy standing at the bar, talking to the groom. "Uhm... no. I don't know anyone except you guys." "That is Michael fucking Baldrow." "Who?" "She slept with that guy when she was... let me think... 18?" Noah answered for you, scaring you a bit before sitting down next to you, looking absolutely done.

"Naaah, was he the one who picked your cherry?" Jolly teased bumping his arm against yours. You almost immediately looked to Noah and with that your fate was decided. You couldn't stop Jolly from putting 1 and 1 together. "NO FUCKING WAY."

You tensed up, shooting a glare at Jolly. "Shut the fuck up." - "Noah and you... No fucking way. This story is getting better everyday." - "I told you to shut up." - "Noah fucking took your virginity?! I can't even breath."

You grabbed Jolly's arm and looked him dead serious in the eye. "If you don't calm down I assure you, this will be your last breath."

Jolly hold his laughter while apologizing to you. You took a deep breath before looking at Noah, who smirked at you. "What, Noah?" - "It's been ten years, I think it is okay if we finally let someone know."

"Nick doesn't know, does he?" Jolly than asks while searching for your brother in the crowd. You all found him standing at the bar, talking to one of his old friends. "No, he doesn't and I think I like it that way." You took a sip from your glass.

"He also doesn't know about the last weeks, does he?" Jolly than asks while smirking, causing Noah and you to ultimately choke on your drinks.

"What did you say?" - "I talked about the fact that you two were definitely fucking on his birthday party." He said that with such a lack of emotion that you weren't sure if he was joking.

You and Noah's eyes met and for a couple of seconds you both seemed to try to process what your friend just set, when he added: "No need for excuses, I also heard that Noah showered while you got ready this morning."

You shot Noah the 'I told you so' glance but before you could defend yourselves, 'Sweet Child of Mine' by Guns 'N' Roses started playing and Jolly forced the two of you on the dance floor, leaving no room to protest.

On the way to the dance floor he managed to catch Folio and Nick and you found yourselves in a circle, dumbly fidgeting around, but with every second passing you forgot about the fact that you couldn't dance and just let go of your worries.

You were here with your bestest of friends. That was everything that mattered to you in this moment.

And than. Than Noah came close to you and whispered in your ear.

"Meet me at our room in five."

What?

READ PART 4 HERE

[charlewiss-writes]

(bad at) keeping secrets / charles leclerc

masterlist

day 8: hide (part of one-word november prompts!)

summary: charles and you were seeing eachother for quite some time, but still couldn't quite figure out how to tell your brother, pierre. (and maybe you don't need to)

word count: 0.6k

pairing: charles leclerc x gasly!reader

warnings: not proofread! also, badly translated french lmao

charles and you had met in the early days of his career, back when he was still racing in karts just like your brother, pierre. you and your family spent your whole days accompanying your older brother who, just as charles', couldn't see himself doing any other thing that wish to be part of the formula 1 world one day.

eventually, all three of you grew up, still together. even though you spend less time with them due to their tight schedules, you hangout just enough to catch feelings for the monegasque. still, you were always too scared to do anything with charles, not wanting to disrupt the friendship the two boys had since they were kids.

but the more you tried to stay away from him, the closest you became. it's like you two were attracted like magnets. so now, three months after starting to see eachother, he was in your apartment in only his sweatpants after a night together. it was a sunday, and due to it being an off-week for him, you two were taking advantage of the little time you had together watching a movie on the tv while laying on your bed.

until your heard the sound of keys on your door lock. you got up and looked at charles, confused because you weren't expecting anyone, and found it strange that the person who was trying to get in had the keys in the first place. you thought that maybe a neighbor had got the apartment doors messed up since they looked all the same, but you quickly recognised the voice that reached your ears.

"ma colombe (my dove), you home?"

charles, who was close to falling asleep a second ago, had almost fallen to the floor, caught off guard by his best friend's presence. you had been keeping your relationship a secret until now, not knowing how or when was the right time to tell pierre that you had been seeing his best friend, despite his general warnings to not mess with any drivers -especially the monegasque-.

"please stay here and hide. i'll get him out as soon as i can" you whispered to him, giving the boy a quick peek on the lips before fixing your hoodie. that wasn't even yours in the first place. god, you hoped pierre didn't notice. "yes, i'm home" you said, closing the door as fast as you could, so he wouldn't see who was inside. "what are you doing here?"

"great to see you two" he huffed. you hadn't mean to come off as annoyed to him, knowing that this was off of character for you, who had always had a soft spot for your big brother. he continued "maman said you had forgotten a jacket, and since your house was on the way to mine i decided that I should drop it off" he said calmly, while handling you the piece of clothing. you smiled and nodded thanking him, but didn't say anything else. "what is it, chère (dear), something wrong?" he asked, now worried due to your lack of interaction. in a normal situation, you would have invited him to lunch, maybe talk a bit about how his last race went. but your silence made him suspicious. "sorry, I was quite busy back there, I was just working" you quickly answered. maybe too quickly.

"working in your bedroom?" pierre asked, switching his stare to the door where you had came from. "if you were working, why are you so flustered?"

"i-i'm not" your cheeks immediately flushed pink, and you knew that if he continued to ask questions, you'll be fucked. "okay okay, if you say. see you at maman'š'" you took a long breath, filling your lungs after holding your breath for a bit too long. but just when he was about to disappear through the door, you heard his voice, full of mischief, while screaming out loud "also, tell charles he needs to get a more subtle car if he doesn't want to be seen".

[diorsluv]

open arms (tz¹¹)

❝ in which your ex calls you back to his apartment on a late night, hoping you’ll come back to him ❞

wc: 5.3k

warnings: ANGST, a bit of fluff, more angst, allusions to a toxic relationship, reader’s comfort movie has ryan gosling but is not specified so imagine whatever you wish, no use of y/n, some really bad writing, proofread at 1 am so i can’t promise that it’s good

notes ) this is not my fav piece of writing i’ve ever made.. but maybe it’s just been a while since i’ve written (i’m a wattpad survivor) so FORGIVE ME if this is really shitty i promise i’ll get better this shit was mad repetitive but it’s okay we ball (i wrote this based off of a real life experience…) and take a shot every time you see trevor say “please”

It had been months since your breakup with Trevor, and you two were far from being on good terms. The day you found him in your shared bed with another girl was the day you swore not to ever be in contact with him again. You moved your things out of the apartment before he could even manage to blink, and you refused to hear his sorry excuses as you walked out the door with tears brimming your eyes.

Trevor was the first person you could ever fully be yourself around, and you genuinely thought he was going to be different. But when he managed to break your heart so easily, you realized how wrong you really were. You broke off all contact with him and his friends, and you only spoke to Quinn and Luke after the whole ordeal.

Now, as you stood outside his apartment door, you felt like you had taken one step forward and three steps back. His apartment still looked the same except for its barren walls, once filled with photographs of you and him, and he smelled just like he did when you first met. His hair was all tousled, his eyes were red, and his face was far more pale than you remembered. 

“You’ve been crying.” Your words came out as more of a statement than a question, truly depicting how indifferent you felt towards your ex-boyfriend. Watching as he brought the back of his hand up to his eyes, you bit the inside of your cheek, not really knowing what to do with yourself.

The boy could barely even whisper your name. “Please,” he tried to plead, but you weren’t having it. Over the course of the four years you dated, you had never heard any other word more than that. The amount of mistakes you had forgiven him for could never equate to how much you loved him, but catching him in the act was what sent you over the edge. Months after your breakup, you still tensed up every time a man begged you to forgive him.

You were about to turn around. You were so close to leaving. But hearing your ex’s desperate voice almost made your knees buckle with guilt.

Trevor’s lip quivered, “I need you.” 

Those three words held a chokehold on you like no other. You could recall all the times he called you at two in the morning after a bad road game, knowing you would pick up because you loved him to that extent. Even if you had work in the morning, you would stay up with him for hours, comforting him and validating his feelings because he “needed you”.

Seven months ago, if he told you he needed you, you would’ve dropped everything to see him. If he was away, you would’ve booked the nearest flight just to hold him in your arms and tell him he would be okay. 

But now, his words only aggravated you even more. 

“Don’t say that.” You stood your ground, not wanting to look him in the eye in fear of caving in. You couldn’t show him that he made you weak. You couldn’t show him that after all he’s done to hurt you, you still cared for him deeply. You couldn’t show him that all he needed to say to convince you to come running back was a simple, three-worded phrase. “You can’t say that to me, Trevor. We’re broken up. You can’t ‘need me’ anymore.”

“Please, I just need to hear your voice. One last time, that’s all I want.” He begged you with his whole heart, his voice tired from all the screaming and crying he had done before he called you over. “You can block me, cut me out of your life, hate me forever, whatever. I just really fucking need you right now.”

Huffing out a sigh, you weakly nodded your head as he pulled you through the frame of the front door and into his embrace. His arms wrapped around your waist while he buried his head into the crook of your neck, finally allowing his tears to release in the safety of your presence. 

He was never afraid to be vulnerable around you when you dated, even when you first became a couple. That’s what made you love him so much; he wasn’t ashamed to be himself and always encouraged you to be true to yourself. 

“God, I had the worst fucking day of my life. I just—fuck, I wish I never let you go.” He mumbled into your skin, his words barely even audible. You stiffened up after hearing his words, slowly beginning to regret your decision to comfort him one last time. “Coach is always giving me shit, the league hates me, the fans are always yelling at me, and I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

Unsure of what to do to comfort him without fully bringing your guard down, you brought your arms around his body and rubbed soothing circles onto his back. You bit your lip in thought, trying to think of how to calm him down while also escaping this now-uncomfortable situation. There was just so much to process all at once. Your mind was running at top speed and going in way too many different directions for you to get a hold on all your thoughts, and you just didn’t know how to handle everything. 

“And then when I came home, all I could think about was you.” You felt goosebumps shoot up your skin while listening to him talk, knowing that you would break eventually. Every syllable he spoke felt like he was pricking needles into your skin, one by one, trying to make you give into him and his pitiful words. He continued, “I know you hate me. I know. I put you through so much shit, and I broke your heart, and you were the only one who really loved me for who I was, but I still managed to fuck everything up with you and make you leave me.”

Tears were now running down your face, too. It was like you were reliving every moment with him, standing with him in his apartment. You could remember every argument you had with him, every night he slept on the couch, every movie marathon you had with him, and every time you spent hours in the kitchen baking little treats with each other. In the corner of your eye, you swore you could see the faint, younger, more naïve versions of you and him happily spending your time together.

“There hasn’t been one day where I haven’t thought of you. I regret all the shit I did. Every goddamn day. I lost you, and you were the one person in my life I could rely on.” Trevor’s grip on your waist was now much tighter as he pulled you closer to him—so close that you could feel his heartbeat on your chest. “And I know it’s too late for me to say all of this, ‘cause I know you’re probably already happier with a boyfriend who can treat you ten times better than I ever did, but please, I need you to stay with me.”

You could feel your heartbeat pounding in your stomach, tears still streaming down your face as you began to pull away from him. You couldn’t stay with him. It wouldn’t be healthy for either of you, and it was as if your ex could read your mind, because he frantically began to ramble once more.

“Just for a few hours. Please. I haven’t even showered or eaten yet, and I came home five hours ago.” He pulled his head away from your neck but still kept your body tightly pressed against him, his tear-stained cheeks only making you want to stay even more. His nose was flushing into a bright pink, and once he locked eyes with you, he started to tear up again. 

Against your better judgment, you contemplatively placed your hands on the sides of his waist and tapped against his body comfortingly, nodding with slight hesitance. “M’kay, Trev. Just for a few hours though, okay?” 

The boy looked like a puppy wagging its tail at the sound of your softer voice agreeing to his bargain, and he promptly began to walk through his living room and towards his room. You allowed your eyes to wander around the apartment that felt so familiar but looked so different at the same time. All the pictures of the two of you on the shelves were now gone, for obvious reasons, but part of you wished he still kept them up. 

“Think ‘m gonna take a shower now,” Trevor mumbled mindlessly, not necessarily directed towards you nor himself. He then turned to face you. “Can you, maybe, like—”

You knew what he was referring to. When you dated, you regularly took showers together, but when he had just come back from a roadie or a late practice, you would typically sit down on the bathroom floor and talk to him while he cleansed himself. The two of you would converse about everything that happened during your time without each other, and it had become so integrated in your routine. At the time, it felt so normal, but now, it felt far too intimate for you to just agree without thinking about it. 

You still said yes. 

A few minutes later, you sat on the bathroom floor with your legs curled to your chest and your back leaning against the wall. The glass door moistened up enough to where you could look straight at the figure behind the fog and still be unable to see anything. Your ears picked up the sound of Trevor squeezing his three-in-one shampoo, conditioner, and body wash into the palm of his hand. (You scolded him for using it multiple times during the four years you were together; he never listened, but he always drained your shampoo a week after you opened it.)

“So,” he started, just like he used to. “Boyfriend?”

“No. Girlfriend?”

“Nope.”

A silence washed over you, and all you could hear was the water beating down on the shower tiles. It remained that way for a while, and then it was your turn to start up the conversation. 

“How’s hockey been going? I haven’t really watched any NHL games since we broke up.” It was a bit embarrassing to admit, considering you fell in love with each other because you both loved hockey so much, but you couldn’t lose any more pride, anyway. You were sitting on your ass while your ex-boyfriend took a shower less than a foot away from you. 

“It’s been alright.” No one to look for in the front row, he bit back a thought. “We still suck ass, nothing new there. It’s just been so tiring lately.” The tone of his voice indicated that his mood was slowly beginning to decrease, and you knew you had to shift the conversation.

You cleared your throat. “Do you still have those cake mix boxes?” 

Trevor’s eager “Yes!” in response to your question was enough to tell you that his mood did a complete switch-up. “Lemme just finish this shower real quick,” he told you, and you could tell he was trying to speed the process up by the way you could hear him aggressively scrub soap onto his skin. About two minutes later, he called your name quietly. It was as if saying your name out loud physically hurt him, but he loved the way it sounded so much that he could endure the pain as much as he could. “Is there a towel there? If there isn’t, there should be some in one of the drawers on my dresser.”

“I’ll go get one,” you spoke briefly, pushing yourself off the floor and opening the bathroom door. Taking a turn to the oak dresser in the corner of his room, you squatted down and tugged on the handle of the last drawer. Back when you were still together, you always kept the towels and other linen in the bottom drawer, so you assumed he kept it the same way. He would have no reason to change it.

You assumed wrong. Instead of towels, you found about thirty framed photos laying flat in the compartment. They were your old photos. The photos you cherished so much were just casually sitting in his dresser drawer. Your eyes landed on the picture laying on the very top, its golden frame contrasting with the neutral, wood frames of the others. It was your favorite one: a photo of Trevor gleefully smearing whipped cream all over your nose as you bit down on a chocolate covered strawberry. The sun and the stars combined couldn’t compare to how brightly your smiles shined in that photo.

Grazing your thumb over the ornate carvings on the frame, tears began to well in your eyes without your notice. You only realized once you heard Trevor yell your name, causing you to blink the tears out of your eyes. Quickly looking down to see that the tear landed perfectly on the boy’s grinning face, you used your shirt to wipe the tears away before gently placing the photo back in the drawer. You hastily searched for a towel in the other drawers, fishing one out and making your way back into the bathroom.

Trevor cracked the shower door open so you could hand him the towel, thanking you before closing the door once more. He then exited the shower with the towel wrapped around his waist, droplets of water still dripping down his toned chest. 

Fuck, you forgot how good he looked. 

The boy seemed to notice your staring, because he let a chuckle escape his lips, “You gonna give me some privacy to change, or what?”

Your cheeks felt like they were burning as you realized you were caught in the middle of gawking at your ex-boyfriend, and you quickly nodded your head as you walked out of the bathroom. 

Hours later, as you stood in your kitchen with your old apron and flour dusted all over your cheeks, your mind seemed to blank when you tried to think of why you left Trevor in the first place. (Reminder: he cheated.)

Your laughter meshed perfectly with the boy’s hearty chuckles, and all it did was remind you of how happy you used to be with him. His whole life used to revolve around your happiness, and vice versa. At some times, it felt a little bit overbearing, but it just proved how much you loved each other.

Other times, you felt like you had never hated anyone more than him.

It wasn’t like you forgot about all the times you would argue with each other about something stupid, like forgetting to buy the groceries or mistakenly saying the wrong thing to a nosy reporter. But those weren’t the arguments that mattered. They were just petty quarrels that occurred in every relationship.

It was the ones over the phone that really hurt. Trevor would be miles away from you for days on end, not even bothering to contact you unless you spoke first. But, of course, it was your fault whenever you called him late at night and it ended with tears and a loud argument. It was your fault when he came back home to a dull and unloving apartment. It was your fault he cheated, clearly, because you weren’t giving him enough love and time for him to truly appreciate you and not have to seek out some other woman.

You could handle the toxicity. You could handle the breakdowns after every argument. You could handle the utter hatred that sparked between you and your boyfriend. But God, you would never be able to handle the thought of him loving anyone else when he so thoroughly invaded your heart and mind. 

Trevor waved his hand in front of your face to wake you from your trance-like state, causing you to shake your head and blink as your thoughts dissipated into the air. “You good?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow. You could only nod your head and purse a smile at his question, returning back to your old tasks as if you never stopped doing them in the first place.

The kitchen was a mess, just like it always used to be after you and Trevor would bake. There were three rolling pins covered in flour, ten tasting spoons in the sink, a batter-covered spatula on the counter, and unwashed bowls cluttered everywhere. Usually, while the two of you waited for your baked goods to finish in the oven, you would get to work by tidying up the kitchen, and Trevor would begin washing all the dishes.

You immediately grabbed all the bowls in sight, placing them in the sink before squatting down in front of a cabinet and opening it in your search for a clean rag. You typically kept them all in the same spot, and just like how you hoped his dresser was laid out the same, you hoped he didn’t renovate the interior design of his kitchen too much.

Before you could even set your eyes on what you were looking for, you felt a gentle hand on your wrist, pulling you back up to your feet.

“You don’t have to clean up,” your ex-boyfriend spoke softly, his eyebrows furrowed. Watching you fall back into your old habits felt so domestic that it hurt him. He already regretted losing you, and he knew that deep down, you’d never be able to forgive him for what he did, so he didn’t want to get his hopes up with the idea that you felt so normal in his home, in his presence. 

“Oh, I’d feel bad, Trevor—”

“Please.” He was desperate. So you obeyed his wishes and leaned your back against the edge of the counter, silently watching as he scrubbed the dishes down and wiped the counters clean. 

The light hum of the oven, along with the trickle of the faucet, were the only sounds you could hear in the large kitchen. The speaker sitting in the very back corner between the refrigerator and the stovetop reminded you of all the times you would force the boy to listen to your slightly concerning playlist, screaming out all the lyrics as he stared at you like he would fly you to the moon and back. 

And he would. He still wanted to.

Eventually, the beep of the oven signaled that your cake was ready, and Trevor rushed to grab an oven mitt before you could even move a limb. 

“I got it!” He exclaimed, shuffling over to pull the oven door open and grab the cake pan from the interior of the hot oven. As he bent over to retrieve the spongy substance, his hair grazed against the very top of the oven. You quickly reacted with a lift of your hand, using your fingers to pull his hair back as your other hand came up as if it was protecting his head. It was a force of habit. 

Grimacing, you gently moved his hair back to its original position, lightly scolding him for not being careful. “You almost burned your hair off, Trev. You gotta be more careful next time.”

The use of his old nickname made his heart beat faster in his chest. You were allowing yourself to bring your walls down and open up to him, and both of you were beginning to recognize it. It scared you, but it gave Trevor a sense of hope. False hope.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled, too eager to begin decorating the cake to allow himself any time to think about what he was getting himself into. You shook your head at his careless demeanor, trying to ignore how the sparkle in his eyes was just pulling you closer and closer to him. He was like the sun in your solar system, and you felt like a mere planet revolving around him, the pull too strong to resist. 

The boy waited for the cake to cool down before popping it out of the pan and slathering frosting all over it, using a very tense piping bag to pipe cheeky designs onto its surface. He was still immature as ever, but his little evil giggles made it all worth it. Even after all these months, there was nothing you would ever love more than his sole happiness.

There was a point in time where all you could feel towards him was hatred, but you were finally over it. You realized you shouldn’t be wasting all your energy into something negative, especially towards someone who hurt you so deeply. So you stopped hating him. You thought you felt indifferent towards him, but this whole night was finally beginning to change your mind. There was always going to be a part of you that cared about him, and there was no fighting it. It was just a matter of how much you were going to let that affect you and your future. 

You swung his fridge open, looking for fruits you could cut up to use as decoration for the cake. Your gaze landed on a plastic tray of strawberries, and you immediately pulled it out to begin cutting them up. Once you carved out the leaves of the red fruit, the two of you sporadically placed them onto the cake, finishing the look with a few dollops of whipped cream along the rim of the cake. 

Both of you migrated to his living room with a slice of cake in your hands, all your better judgment being thrown out the window once Trevor proposed the idea of watching your comfort movie. He vividly remembered when you first watched it together, not knowing you would soon play it practically every time you were remotely upset or had nothing better to do. In fact, you watched it so much that he found himself getting less and less fond of it as the months went by. Now, he would do anything to see your smile when you watched the intro of the film, and this was his chance. 

“But,” he interjected, “if you get annoying about it, I’m changing it to Miracle.” 

Miracle was like his comfort movie, and you felt very similarly about it as he did to yours. The movie came out when he was a mere three years old, and it might’ve been his earliest memory of watching hockey on his family’s television screen. He’d never gotten tired of it and had even gone on a ramble about it during one of your first few dates, so it became some sort of a running joke between the two of you.

“As if. You can’t resist the Ryan Gosling.” Your retorts only made the boy’s heart swell up with even more admiration, even though it felt wrong. The banter reminded him of the old times he spent with you, and how he could always expect a comeback to his incessant teasing. 

With a roll of his eyes, Trevor held the remote up to the TV and began the movie, casually throwing a small blanket over the two of you to force close proximity. Without a second thought, you scooted closer to your ex-boyfriend (who was really feeling like less and less of an ex). Your mind was too focused on the introduction for you to care how close you were to him. 

Thirty minutes flew by, and he was able to blow it all off by focusing on how the light of the television screen reflected so perfectly against your face, your eyes glistening as the scenes passed. You were so gorgeous, and he couldn’t even fathom how badly he fucked up his relationship with you. He wanted you back. He needed you back.

He was going to get you back.

Just as Trevor stretched his arm out to extend behind you, you leaned over to grab your phone off the side table. His nose crinkled in disappointment as he watched your eyes widen at the sight of the time. 

“It’s almost midnight,” you gasped, shoving your phone into your pocket. You tossed the blanket off your legs and scurried over to the kitchen, placing your empty plate into the sink in a hurry. Within a blink of an eye, you found yourself slipping your shoes on near his front door. “Sorry, Trevor, I gotta go now. Tonight wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be. I hope you feel less stressed and stuff, but, uh, I don’t really think it’ll be a good idea if I come back to see you again.”

The boy swore his heart dropped into his stomach. “What?”

You could feel your gut begin to twist in guilt like it always did whenever you saw his face fall into that damned dejected expression, but you had to stay strong. It wouldn’t benefit either of you to keep going on the way you both wanted to. “I just don’t think it would be good for either of us. We broke up for a reason, Trev. You know that.”

“I thought we were good? I mean, you were letting your guard down, and we were starting to be the way we used to be,” his voice sounded so small.

“We’re never going to be the way we used to be—”

He cut you off, determined to win you back. “I can fix this. I know I said you didn’t have to stay for long, but this whole night made me realize that I want you to stay with me for the rest of my life. I need you with me.”

You sighed. “Trevor—”

“No, listen to me, please. It’s been months. We’ve spent some time apart and I don’t think I can spend any longer without you.”

It was your turn to stop him in the middle of his spiel. “You cheated on me! I was willing to give you everything I had, because I loved you that much! You broke my trust. There’s nothing you can fix or do to make things better. I prioritized you over myself. It didn’t matter if I was at my lowest, as long as you were happy. That’s how much I cared about you. That’s how much trust and love I put into you.

“What about the nights I was home alone while you were on your roadies? You wouldn’t talk to me unless I interacted first! We were falling apart long before you cheated on me, and I was the only one in the relationship who tried patching us up when things started to get bumpy. We were one-sided, Trev.” You watched as he shook his head in denial, still desperate for you to hear him out. “We still could’ve fixed ourselves. We weren’t bad at communicating with each other. But you turned to another woman instead of talking to me about the things that were going on in your life.”

Trevor was an inch away from getting on his knees and begging you to stay. “Then stay. Stay with me, and I’ll never make you feel that way again. I’m so, so fucking sorry—”

“That’s the thing. ‘Again.’ The fact that you made me feel that way in the first place, the fact that you cheated on me, will never go away.” You huffed out another sigh, listening to the boy’s pleading babbles as you continued to speak. Running a hand down your face, you took a deep breath and calmed yourself down before you blew up on him again. “This isn’t healthy.”

“What isn’t healthy?” He questioned, knowing damn well you both knew what you were talking about.

“This! You and I. Us.” You gestured your hands between your bodies, your tone now contorting into fleeting despair. There was no saving your failed relationship, but you already knew that. It was only a matter of time before Trevor realized it too. “We can’t keep going like this. I know that you needed me tonight, and that’s fine, but you can’t keep calling me and telling me you need me anymore. We’re just gonna get stuck in this cycle of you needing me, convincing me to drive over to your apartment to comfort you, then us getting into some argument like we are right now.”

The boy looked deflated with the way he stood, slumped against a supporting pillar near the entrance of his apartment. There was only one more thing left to say to you. His last resort. Nothing else was convincing you, so he only had one other option. “I love you.”

You bit your lip in hesitation. “I know that, Trev.”

“Do you still love me?”

Your reluctance to answer was now more evident than ever, your conversation becoming more solemn. Five minutes ago, you were scolding him for all the shit he put you through, and now, you were just trying to resist his desperate attempts to try and win you over. Again.

You shook your head lightly, “I think we both know the answer to that.”

There would never be one day where you didn’t love him. You knew that. He knew that. Maybe that was what kept him going all those months without you.

His hopes were now much higher than before. You weren’t looking forward to the aftermath of his high hopes crashing and burning. “Then what’s stopping you? I still don’t have a girlfriend, and you still don’t have a boyfriend. It has to be because we’re still meant to be together.”

“No, that’s not—God, you know that’s not what it means. I don’t have a boyfriend, but it’s not because I want to get back together with you. I stand by what I said. We’re not good together. We were really fucking toxic when we were together. I don’t think I can put myself through that again. Even if you promise to fix yourself, or if you promise you’ll be better for me. Some things just aren’t fixable, and this might just be one of them.”

The more you spoke, the further Trevor fell into the pit of rejection. He put his all into trying to get you back, and all his efforts were proven futile. His sad puppy eyes were just making you feel worse and worse about the things you were saying, but they were all true. Your whole relationship, you put him before yourself, but it was time to focus on your mental health. 

You took a step towards him, bringing your hand up to his cheek comfortingly. Leaning in for the last time, you gently pressed your lips to his in what seemed to be a sealed farewell. Just before you could pull away, the boy brought you back in, and you let him. You let him savor the moment for as long as possible, because you knew you could never let yourself be near him again. The more you allowed yourself to interact with him, the harder it would be to let go of him.

Both of you pulled away with your eyes still closed, Trevor leaning down to bring his forehead to yours as if attempting to convince you for the last time.

You spoke ever-so-softly, “I think I’m always gonna love you. I just don’t think I can keep being in love with you.” And with that, you gently pushed yourself away from him, slipping out the front door without so much as a squeak. 

You knew there would always be a fine line between love and hate, and for a while, you found yourself flirting with the temptations of the latter. You were always going to reserve space in your heart for Trevor, and you came to accept that long before he begged you to come back. You just didn’t want to catch yourself on the other side of that thin, thin line.

— diorsluv 2024