#i want to be able to do things with them outside of fic and college projects

[rhysazriel]

Only Angel [Mafia!Azriel]

SUMMARY: Azriel's a dangerous Mafia leader, Y/N is his favourite dancer at his strip club. His usual Friday night dance turns into something a little more. (6.2k)

WARNINGS: mentions of the mafia and illegal activities, kissing, teasing, swearing, smut; dirty talk, sexual intercourse, spanking, fingering, lap dance.

A/N: This is a rewrite of a very old fic from an old fandom I was in. I’ve edited it the best I can to fit around Azriel’s character, so I apologise in advance if anything appears out of place :) 

Azriel owns a lot of businesses. From stores to hotels, to apartments to clubs. To many, he's a man of business, a man of money. To those aware of the world around them, he's a man of the mafia. Powerful and dangerous. Maybe that's what caught her eye all that time ago, the mysterious aura that bubbled around him.

Y/N's been a dancer at his club since it opened three years ago. It started as a joke between her friends. She was fresh in college and desperately needed a part-time job to pay her bills after she was laid off from the bakery she'd been working at. Callie had mentioned a new strip joint opening on the outskirts of Prythian, that it was a more underground, elite sort of club.

Y/N had laughed it off, joking that she'd look into it and then didn't think of it anymore. But after two weeks of job hunting and no luck, she found herself bumping into a group of young women in a restroom at a bar, and somehow snagged herself an interview at said club.

Eria Vanserra, manager of the club, had hired her the second she opened her mouth and her pretty little voice spoke her name. Y/N was attractive, there was absolutely no doubt in that. She had that look of pure innocence in her eyes, but her lips were wicked. 

The girls had trained her up, taught her the basics on the pole. She's grown close to them, thinks of them as her sisters more than colleagues. They're a team, have each other's backs when new customers try to take advantage and hype each other up for when the regular 60-year-olds come in and request private sessions. 

Y/N -- or rather Angel -- only offers private sessions for one customer: The Boss. They met just over a year into her employment, and it was on their first greeting that Azriel took an instant liking to the devilish dancer, and she took the same approach with him. 

Y/N's been teased for it relentlessly; snickers made from a few of the girls that didn't like how much Azriel liked her, but she didn't care then, and she doesn't care now. Not when every other Friday night, he has her booked for an intimate performance in the back room -- the room that's only ever reserved by him. 

It's been a long week. Classes were cancelled due to some ongoing investigation with one of Y/N's professors, and so she's been able to pick up shifts every night at the club. Shadow's is an elite place, and Y/N knows it. It's a home for the best dancers and the richest of men that sneak off to get their fix. 

It's not a brothel -- at least, not primarily. And none of the girls is ever forced into anything they don't want to do. That's one of the first things Eris made very clear. 

You're here to dance. Private sessions are your own choice, and anything that goes on behind closed curtains is your decision. If you want to offer extra services, the club doesn't touch that money.

Y/N's never been one to stray from the pole. She knows her strengths, and she knows her weaknesses. She's strong, it's obvious, but even the strongest of dancers find it unsettling to be behind a closed curtain with a strange man that clearly can't get much outside of what his money can buy.

The thought unsettles her, but she's never let her own discomfort project on the other girls that spend hours in private rooms with a different man every twenty minutes. They're the real talent, she thinks. Inspiring and badass, and Y/N wishes she had that extra ounce of confidence that they do.

Or at least, she used to wish so. Before she met Azriel -- before he started watching her whenever he stopped by. For two years, she's the only dancer his honey eyes have watched, and something about that knowledge gives Y/N all the confidence she thinks she'll ever need.

Because she's the one that gets under the mafia leaders' skin. His eyes are always on Y/N. She's the one that occupies his mind and tightens his pants from her presence on the pole. It wasn't until almost five months ago that Azriel made a move to ask for a private dance. 

He's done it before, many times. He's had his dick sucked more than he can remember behind those red curtains, but never by a woman as captivating and as talented as her -- his Angel. 

Azriel still remembers the first time he laid eyes on her, upon that risen stage with soft lights offering a halo effect on her silhouette. He saw her hips first, her long legs as she wrapped them around the poll and jutted her ass out deliciously. Then he saw her face -- those angelic eyes and sinful lips, and he knew he was fucked.

He remembers pulling Eris to the side, eyes still on her as he asked who the fuck she was, and why someone so beautiful was working for him. Remembers the way Eris told him her stage name, how it had his cock springing to life in appreciation for the way she moved. 

It all seems like a lifetime ago when he thinks back to it. And while there have been plenty of Friday nights that he frequents the club, he's yet to take things outside of the red room. 

And it's not that he doesn't want to, because he does -- more than he wants a lot of things. But Azriel is a man of honour (even in his line of work), and he's never been one to pressure a woman into something he wants. 

But Angel isn't like any woman. Not to him. 

Azriel deems she's by far the most precious thing he's ever laid eyes on, and he has a need to hold and protect her and show her just how a woman like herself deserves to be treated. 

He could give her the world, and they both know it. 

Tonight is like every other late Friday evening. Y/N's dolled up to the nines as she reapplies her lipstick. She's been at the club since seven, and three dances later and a round of waitressing, it's nearing midnight. Y/N's ready to go to bed. 

She's ready to call it a night, to tell Eris she's heading out early after picking up so many shifts in the week. Not only because she's tired, but also, Azriel hasn't shown up yet, and he's never come this late before. 

Just as Y/N is adjusting her bra straps, she sees Mor’s head pop out through the corner of the door through the mirror. The blonde has a wide grin on her face, and she knows exactly what that suggests. 

"He's here."

Y/N rolls her eyes. "He's also late. My shift ends in ten minutes."

Mor pouts out her lips, shaking her head, and her breasts bounce slightly on her covered chest. "But he's asking for you. And stop pretending like it's such a burden. You love when he shows up, and he loves when you dance for him. We all know it. Quit acting like you don't secretly enjoy it." She bites back, stomping her foot to make her point and Y/N spins in her chair to look at her full on.

Mor raises her brows. "All the other girls would kill to dance for him, to have him ask for them. Myself included. Stop acting like a brat and put on a fucking show."

Y/N isn't given a chance to reply because Mor is sauntering out of the dressing room, and she's left alone to swiftly get ready. She pretends to ignore the rampaging butterflies in her stomach at the idea of seeing him again. 

She's never scared, could never be. Y/N knows Azriel would never hurt her. But, she's nervous. Azriel always gives Y/N his undivided attention when she's dancing for him, and it's intimidating and exciting all at once. His eyes are so dark and calculated, and he's always so damn respectful when she sits on his lap­ -- never wanting to make her uncomfortable. 

Sometimes, Y/N just wants him to take charge. Even knowing exactly what he's capable of, she wants him to take her. Ravish her. Have his way with her. She wants him to completely dominate her, and often, Y/N finds herself wondering what would happen if she riled him up enough to get him to that state. 

If she acted like a brat, would he throw her over his lap and spank her?

If she talked back, would he pull her hair or spit in her mouth?

If she asked for him to touch her, would he grip her ass and kiss her neck?

Y/N's mind swirls with the unanswered questions every time she sees him, and it's getting a bit much to keep to herself. She's getting tired of being a little plaything to him –- not that she has the right to be upset, but she is. 

She doesn't like that he only comes to her every Friday night. To the club. Is she not worth more than two hours a week? 

Then spirals the anxiety.

Is he only coming to her because he thinks she's easy? Is he doing it because he knows he'll never have to do anything more than let her dance? Is he doing it out of pity? Because he thinks she's lonely, so it's to make her feel special? 

Is Azriel even attracted to her, or does he just do it for shits and giggles? Does he go back to his brothers and his men and laugh about her? At her? Is it all a bit of fun to him?

Y/N gets too in her head, and then the idea of seeing him again is revolting. She doesn't know him -- she can't say whether her thoughts are crazy or valid. She doesn't know the kind of person he really is -- despite the rumours. 

But though she goes through these motions, Y/N pushes them to the back of her head and gets on with it. She puts on her smile, and she dances. 

Azriel tends to book her out for an hour at a time, sometimes two hours if he's feeling extra needy or he has the time. And he's generous with his money, too. Typically, he pays double for her time, which is a month's rent for Y/N but pocket change for him.

It makes her feel dirty, but she has to remind herself that actually, this is her job and he does have the money and means to pay for her time.

That's all he's doing -- paying for her time. For her. Like some sort of cheap and easy prostitute that he can go to whenever he needs a fix. And she never touches him (not under his clothes), but it still makes her feel dirty.

Y/N knows what the other girls do in the private rooms; the type of shows that they offer. She doesn't judge them, she could never. They're all in the same or similar boats: broke and trying to make a living, to make ends meet. But none of them dance for the owner. None of them are ever requested by him. 

Y/N takes a deep breath and composes herself. She can't look in the mirror for a moment longer because if she does, she'll start seeing every flaw she has, and she'll never leave the damn dressing room. 

The club is busy, it always is on a Friday night. There's a party in the upper left tier, a few dancers that have been hired for the night and Y/N is more than pleased that she wasn't booked for it. It's a bunch of frat boys celebrating one of their friend's birthdays, and from Y/N's place on the lower deck, she can already recognise a few familiar faces from her classes.

The last thing she needs is for people to know she's an erotic dancer at one of the most elite, secret clubs. 

She doesn't bother questioning how the younger men know about the place. 

Y/N makes her way toward the private booths, and the one to the far right has its curtains closed. She takes a deep breath, knows he's sitting behind it, waiting for her.

She doesn't give herself any time to hype herself up or change her mind, because she's pushing through the red velvet curtain and closing it behind her. 

The booths are all the same. Dim lighting and velvet cushioned seats. The walls are deep, silky pink, the furniture all an intoxicating shade of red, and in the centre of the rounded chair, Azriel sits. 

His legs are spread wide, dressed to the nines in a slick black suit, and his bulging arms are outstretched across the back of the chair. 

He's shed his blazer, has it hanging on the side, his shirt sleeves folded up to his elbows, swirls of black ink coating his dark complexion. Everything about his attire screams power and sex, and Y/N hasn't even looked at his face yet. 

"There’s my pretty girl."

Her eyes dart up, his lips are parted. There's a knowing smirk on his pink mouth, and Azriel's eyes are a glimmering caramel under the dim light. Y/N thinks he's never looked more handsome, but that's always her thought whenever she sees him.

She can't help the contagiously shy smile that tugs on the corners of her plump lips. 

"Little late tonight," she mentions quietly. 

He doesn't say anything, and his eyes are too busy taking in her appearance. He hasn't seen this outfit before; a lilac cami bodysuit, entirely of lace. The chest of it is plunged yet lifted, and her supple breasts look the most inviting they've ever been.

Azriel struggles to wrap his head around the sight of her -- he always does. Always thinks she looks even prettier every time he sees her.

Azriel finally shrugs his shoulders. "I'm a busy man, Angel. Thought you knew that by now." He doesn't take his eyes off her, he can't.

Completely fucking mesmerised.

Y/N shrugs. "Must've been extra busy to be this late." She tells him.

Y/N is making her way closer, her hips swaying with every small step and Azriel's sure he can feel his cock twitch in his pants from anticipation.

"I was starting to think you weren't going to come."

He raises a brow as she settles herself in his lap, his scarred hands–that she’s never shown any distaste to–slowly yet respectfully finding her waist.

"Oh, I always come, baby."

She knows there's a double meaning to his statement — can tell by the smirk on his lips and the tone of his voice. Always a smooth talker.

Y/N decides that if he can play, so can she. 

"I wouldn't know."

Azriel's the one to stop her hips from moving on top of his, and he chases her gaze to lock eyes. She's deadpanning -- void of emotion on her pretty little face and Azriel thinks this newfound side of her is the sexiest thing he's witnessed in a long time.

He cocks a brow. "Playing like that tonight, are we?" He asks, his thumbs pressing into the fleshy skin of her side.

Y/N shrugs her shoulders, plays coy. "I don't know. Are we?"

She twists the question, unsure where this surge of confidence is coming from, but she isn't about to back down from it, from him.

She wants more than just a lap dance. She thinks Azriel does too.

Azriel stays quiet for a moment or two like he's toying with the idea of having his way with her -- of letting her have him.

He squints and tries to look for an ounce of uncertainty or hesitancy. He comes empty, finding nothing short of confidence and desire. But has she thought it all through?

Has she thought about what this could mean? Has she accepted the fact that they may never see each other again -- something so silly because Azriel quite likes the girl, but if he kisses her, touches her -- what if it inherently puts her in danger?

She senses his dismay and offers an ultimatum; one that she knows she'll win. 

"Because either we are, or you need to find a new dancer."  

The threat awakens something in him. Something primal — animalistic. His eyes flash, darker and darker until his swelling pupils almost completely drown out the honey in his eyes.

His grip on her hips tighten, and Azriel forces her closer; lace-clad chest bumping against his clothed one. "I don't want a new dancer." He tells her. His voice is firm, tone even and stable. He knows what he wants, and now, she knows it's her.

Y/N lets her fingers reach for the longer curls on the nape of his neck. She intertwines her fingers around them, generously tugging, so his head pulls back just enough for her to use her other hand to grip his chin. Azriel's lips are parted, eyes hooded. He can feel her breath fan across his face as she brings hers closer.

"But that's all I am to you, right? Just a dancer?"

He isn't sure what she's doing -- whether she's fishing for something more or if she's about to walk out of the booth and leave him panting and painfully hard.

He plays into it, though. Let's see where this is going.

"More than just a dancer, baby." He promises.

Y/N ghosts her plump lips over his. "Yeah?" She breathes, her voice an airy whisper and Azriels got the perfect fucking sight of her cleavage. Reckons he wants nothing more than to bury his face between her pert tits.

He nods. "Mhm, you're my Angel." He tells her.

Azriel's hands reach around for her ass, grabbing handfuls and pulling her cheeks taut. He removes his hand and strikes it back down on her warm, fleshy skin. Y/N jolts into his body, teeth gnawing painfully on her lower lip to bite back her desperate pleads and whines.

Azriel gropes her again, massaging her cheeks and grabbing fistfuls. "My Angel."

His. She's all fucking his.

Her breathing is laboured as she takes in his words. Y/N tries not to let him see how riled up they make her, but she knows Azriel can see straight through any facade she tries to hide behind.

"Well, if I'm an angel, that must make you the devil."

Y/N's words echo through his mind, and his grip on her waist tightens in a squeeze before it loosens. His eyes find her chest, lip taut between his teeth.

"Maybe I am. Tell me, Angel… are you really ready to be corrupted?"

His eyes find hers, low and hooded and full of so much excitement and darkness, he gets lost in the way she pulls him in. Y/N's hands find his on her waist, her fingers gripping over his and his hold tightens again.

She rolls her hips against his crotch. "Maybe that's exactly what I want," she whispers, her lips trailing over the shell of his ear and her warm breath fans across his neck. "Maybe I'm already a little wicked."

She pulls away, nose brushing past his but he doesn't let her put any more distance between them. He wants her close, likes the feel of her warm breath on his face, likes the sweet scent of vanilla and coconut that's splattered on her skin and lingers in his mind.

Her lips are parted, as is Azriel's, and he can see the little peek of her glistening tongue, teetering between her teeth. His own does the same, subconsciously matching her teasing and his length throbs beneath her; something they both feel but neither say.

"If we do this, there's no going back. You're not just a fuck to me."

Y/N's heart skips, her heat quivering and chills run down her spine. So she is more to him... but what will this mean after?

"If I'm not just a fuck, then what am I?" She pries.

Azriel nudges the tip of his nose with hers. A smirk ghosts on the corners of her lips as they brush against hers. "My Angel," he whispers. "My only Angel."

Y/N envelopes Azriel's lips in hers, fingers reaching for the back of his head and they tug at the curls on the nape of his neck. It's hot, fiery. She can feel her soul ignite in bursts of white flames, and Azriel's no better at controlling himself.

His mind is foggy, judgement clouded, but he knows he never wants to live a day without feeling her pillowy lips on his. So he kisses her harder, grips her hips with such force they both know she'll bruise by morning. But she loves it, loves the idea of having him mark her and the animalistic part of Azriel craves it too.

"I'm not gonna go easy on you." He warns her breathlessly through the smacking of lips, but Y/N rolls more rigid atop him; pulls his hair that little bit eager.

"Good," she pants, pulling away. "I want it hard."

Y/N stands between his thick, parted thighs. She lets her mouth water as her gaze takes him in. Azriel's no better. His cock is leaping eagerly in his pants at the sight of her. Perfect body in a perfect set, lips swollen and eyes wholly fucked. Her hair is a mess, lipstick smudged and fuck, does he want to shove her face into his silk pillows and ram her little pussy from behind until she can't breathe.

"You're gonna kill me, Angel." He chokes out through his lust-filled daydream, chest heaving in anticipation.

Then she starts to sink to her knees and rubs her palms up his inner thighs, and Azriel about loses it. He shakes his head, breathing hard through gritted teeth and his hands find her wrists, halting her movements.

He shakes his head as he pulls Y/N to her feet, dragging closer until she's straddling him again. Azriel's hands cup her jaw, fingers tangled in her hair. "Gonna take my time with you, have you squirming beneath me until you beg me to stop." His promise has her drooping eyes flutter close, and her lips parting. Thinks she's the sexiest thing he's ever laid eyes on.

His nose bumps hers, lips touching but they don't kiss. "But right now, I need you to be a good girl and turn around." 

Azriel's voice is stern, commanding. It makes her pussy throb and clench and gush, and he knows it. She nods and moves on trembling legs, turning so her back is to him, and Azriel's hands find their home on the swell of her ass.

There's something about him being so strong and dominant to her that has Y/N a puddle of arousal and submission.

She bites back a squeak as he smacks a palm down on her cheek, her eyes squinted closed while Azriel licks his lips at the way her flesh moves with the force of his strike. "Perfect fucking ass."

Y/N gnaws on her bottom lip, teeth piercing the skin but the slight sting of pain only spurs her on -- makes her even more eager for him. She sways her hips, ass a perfect peach shape as she does so and Azriel grips her hips and forces her on his crotch.

Her arousal is sticky against the lace of her panties as she can feel the thick outline of Azriel's cock when she gets seated over his clothed centre.

"Holy shit," she gulps.

Y/N has heard the rumours, the ones that are whispered in the shadows of the night -- of the one that's half man, half something else.

Now she can feel him directly beneath her, and Y/N's mind is heavy and clouded. "Feel how hard you make me?"

His lips are ghosting across her ear; teeth nibbling hauntingly on the shell of it which sends shivers down her spine.

Y/N nods, breathless and wanton. She can't make sense of anything, but she knows she wants this -- needs this.

"Use your words."

She swallows, shaky whimper teetering on the tip of her tongue. "Yes, I can feel you."

Azriel's sick behind her; full of himself as she strokes his ever-growing ego. There's something about hearing her so vocally express how much she wants him, how much she can feel him that has Azriel seeing stars. He isn't blind, he can see just how desperate and hungry the woman is, but a little verbal confirmation never hurt anyone.

His hands rest upon the globes of her ass again, swatting and smoothing however he pleases. The hits have her jolting and shrieking — they have tears stinging at her eyes but fuck, she wants more. She needs it harder.

"Please," she coos softly.

Her voice is cracking and unsteady like she's walking on eggshells.

"Please." Azriel mimics, voice high and childish, one that has her squirming in his lap.

He spanks her again. "Please, what?"

There's a pause of silence as Y/N attempts to catch her breath. She knows what this man can do to her, how he can make her feel. She knows he'll be far from vanilla, and maybe that's exactly what she wants and needs.

"Please, sir." She breathes. "Fuck me."

Smack!

A shrill shriek tears through her chest, and Azriel strikes his palm back down on her skin. His other busies with his belt, tugging it open and popping the button of his pants. He drags down the zip, a sound that echoes through her ears and sends shivers down her spine.

Y/N looks back over her shoulder, her hands steadying herself on Azriel's parted knees when she sees him. Thick, long... oozing with his sweet arousal that she wants to suckle up and swallow down her throat.

His cock stands tall, smacking against his lower stomach and he's big -- better than anything Y/N's ever had before. Her mouth waters at the sight. She can feel her cunt pulsing when his scarred hand wraps around his length and tugs deliciously at himself.

She whines, eager and needy. Azriel's eyes are on her ass, hasn't even realised that she's looking back at him.

He toys with the lace of her panties that disappears between her cheeks. Looping his pointer finger under the fabric at the top of her ass, he lifts it and bunches the lace in a fist, effectively tugging friction across her cunt as he gets a better view of her ass.

She's glistening, he can see. Y/N's pussy is swollen, and the sides of her lips threaten to spill out of the fabric that barely covers her.

"I'll fuck you, baby." He tells her.

Azriel tugs the lace to the side, her pussy soaked and perfect. He swipes a thumb through her wetness, swirling around her tight hole and bringing his thumb to his mouth as he suckles her arousal.

Sweet. So fucking sweet.

He grasps his cock in his hand again, pumping a few ample times before holding himself at the base and lining up with her sopping cunt. Azriel teases her for a moment, smacking the ruddy head of his prick against her pussy and she whines, rolls closer to him.

With a sick grin, Azriel massages his tip against her hole, jutting softly as he pushes in just enough to get comfortable. A low whine echoes through the room, but neither of them knows who it belongs to.

His hands find her hips, squeezing at her flesh. "But you won't be dancing on that pole for a few days."

Lifting his hips and pulling her down by hers, Azriel sheathes into her at once. Her frantic gasp tears through her lips, and her eyes are wide and watering with complete bliss and pain.

Azriel's gritting his teeth, sharp breath spitting through between them. He can't believe how fucking tight she is, and Y/N is fairly confident she can feel him so deep in her fucking stomach.

"Such a tight fucking cunt, Angel." Azriel's mind is in turmoil, can't quite fucking believe a cunt can feel this good.

Y/N is no better; she's a quivering mess on top of him, her grip on his clothed knees surely carving half-moons upon his skin but if it's causing Azriel any pain or discomfort, he seems to love it.

"So big, feel so full," she whines out.

Her ass is nestled in his lap, the coarse hairs of his pubic bone tickling at her supple skin and Y/N rolls her hips experimentally against his. He's still gripping her hips as she moves, her cunt clenching deliciously around his length and he's positively amazed by just how fucking tight she is.

"Yeah? Feel me in your tummy, Angel?" 

She's nodding, whining filthily, and she can't comprehend how sex can feel this good. One hand of Azriel's snakes around her body, tips of his fore and middle finger massaging tight circles on her clit.

Y/N's cunt is on fire, swelling and pulsing and fucking gushing all over the thickness of Azriel's entire dick. He's a mess below her, though. He can't believe how well she's taking the entirety of him.

She's snug, tight — warm and fucking soaked. The feeling of her swallowing him up is completely euphoric; has Azriel's eyes rolling to the back of his head.

His rhythm on her clit is furious; strong, tight circles that have filthy cries and moans slipping past her flawlessly painted lips. Y/N's still gripping his knees, hips rolling and pussy squelching.

"Yeah, right in my tummy. God, it's so good. Don't stop, Azzy... please don't stop."

Y/N is a blubbering mess, eyes squeezed shut and jaw slack. She bounces quickly on top of him, feeling every vein and ridge of his thick cock as it pounds into her and tears her apart. Her walls are slick around him, desperate to milk him dry and take his sticky cum.

Azriel lets his eyes focus on her ass, the way it's spread just a little and how the imprint of his ringed hands are starting to bloom on her supple cheeks. Azriel's eyes divert lower when he sees it, sees her take him.

Her lips are swollen, clinging to his length as she comes off him. The base of his cock is soaked, the start of a creamy ring forming around him and Azriel can't get enough. He relents his assault on her clit, makes for her ass instead and pulls her cheeks as far apart as he can. 

His hands massage her skin, saliva welling on his tongue and parting his gritted teeth for a split second, he spits down on her puckering hole and rubs the lubricant across her ass.

Y/N keens at the touch -- the welcomed intrusion -- and bounces faster. Azriel's thumbing at her hole, teasingly rubbing the tip of his thumb around her but it has her a quivering and desperate mess.

"Please, please." She pants out, head falling back and eyes tightly shut.

Azriel gnaws on his lower lip, biting back a smirk, but his hooded eyes are a dead giveaway he's having the time of his life. "Yeah?" He rasps. "Want me in both your holes, Princess?" He baits. He knows it's exactly what she wants.

Y/N nods quickly, crying and pleading for something. He knows precisely the effect he's got on her right now, the power Azriel holds over her, (not that he sees it that way, but knowing she's in such a besotted state from him playing with her ass a little, is feeding Azriel's ego tremendously.)

"Now that's not very Angel-like of you, is it? Angel?"

A shriek leaves her lips as the tip of his finger pushes through, immediately enveloped in warmth and softness. She's blubbering, can't make sense of fucking anything and it feels so damn good.

Azriel never anticipated such a reaction from her, but he's got it, and he fucking loves it.

"Who would've thought," he pants, feet firm on the ground as he fucks up into her cunt, completely obliterating her soul, "that my Angel likes having her sweet little ass stuffed?"

A borderline pornographic cry teeters past her silky tongue, and Azriel's mind is keening. She's still as she hovers over his crotch, letting him fuck her however he damn well pleases. His pace is fast, cock brushing every overwhelming part it reaches as he pushes his thumb deeper into her ass.

"Your Angel," she whimpers out, eyes watering and thighs spasming. "I'm yours, all yours. Only want you stuffing me this good."

Her words are drawled in a matted string of barely comprehendible syllables, but Azriel can understand what she's saying.

"Yeah? Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum, sweetheart."

"Cum! Please, cum in me, wanna feel it."

Azriel curses silently behind her, can't believe how fucking perfect this woman is. His balls feel tight, can feel her squeezing him harder and he knows she's about to come too.

"Yeah? It's gonna be a lot baby," he warns. "Think you can handle it? Think you can take my cum, Angel?"

Y/N nods quickly, vigorously. "I can take it! Please, I promise."

She's despondent, like a child. The need in her voice spurs Azriel to his edge, and as his cock bloats and shoots his arousal across her walls, she reaches her own high of euphoria.

They're both panting, grunting and moaning and whining. Y/N's gushing around his cock, creating a decent spillage on the base of him but even as he softens, he's still quite hard.

Azriel doesn't move, no. He makes no endeavour of pushing her off him. Instead, Azriel slowly pulls his fingers from her ass and cooing at the winces and whimpers that resound through the private booth. He shelters his arms around her waist to pull her back flush to his chest.

They both whimper, bodies spent, and eyes hooded. The back of Y/N's head is lounging on his shoulder when Azriel finally gets a glimpse at her face.

Totally fucked.

A wheezing laugh rumbles deep in her chest, and he reaches for her face, cupping the side of her jaw and guiding her lips to meet his in a messy, wet kiss. She pulses around him.

"You're fucking phenomenal."

Another breathy snicker falls past her lips to his. Azriel pinches her hips. "How are you feeling?"

Y/N puffs, eyes fluttering as she slowly raises, bites back the whine she wants to pout at the hollow feeling of him slipping from her cunt.

"The big bad Mob boss wants to know how I'm feeling?" She tantalises.

Azriel watches her make quick work of pulling her panties back over her cunt, halting his cum from leaking out and down her thighs, but he makes no effort to tuck his softening, yet still majestic, length back in his pants.

He lies back with his arms outstretched across the back of the oval couch. "He does," he agrees. "Cares about you, if you didn't already recognise that."

Azriel doesn't miss how she shies away from his gaze, turning her back to him to alter her outfit and to take a moment to compose herself. He takes the opportunity to fix himself too, before he's right behind her, nosing at her hair.

"I meant what I said, Angel," he murmurs. "You're not just a fuck to me."

Y/N turns, chin raised as she eyes him. Her shoulders are strained back, and Azriel knows she's making this posture move to assert confidence, and he doesn't doubt her one bit.

"Then what am I? And don't say your Angel."

"You're a strong, elegant, smart, badass, sexy, intelligent, confident woman," he begins, his hands finding her hips. "And I want you. I want you all to myself."

She peeps, her heart thumping sporadically in her chest. For a moment, it's like the mind-blowing sex from just seconds ago has been utterly omitted.

"You trust me enough for that?" She asks, and Azriel knows precisely what she's asking.

Does he trust her with who he is and what he does? Does he have trust that she will keep her mouth shut and not see him differently when she learns what he's truly capable of? Does he trust that she's all about him?

Azriel quirks a brow. "Do you trust me?"

Does she trust him with her life, because that's what it boils down to? Does she trust him enough to put her life in perpetual danger? Does she trust that he will only desire her, that he will put her before his work? Does she trust that he will never harm her?

Y/N nods. "I trust you."

Azriel drops his head, face closer to hers and the tips of their noses brush.

"Then I advise you to get your things and let me take you back to my place. Because you're in for a long fucking night, Angel."

Thank you for reading!! If you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a reblog and leaving some feedback!! <3

[pulsar-1919]

Really wish I had not made my winx club OCs so connected to the specific world of the series that its impossible to separate them and have them become their own thing without copyright problems

[junkissed]

leaning on the everlasting arms

member — childhood best friend! pastor's son!joshua x f reader genre — angst, smut, some fluff, bible college au word count — 10.3k (my first fic over 10k wowie!!) synopsis — as kids growing up in the same church, you and joshua were inseperable, until you got to an age where it was considered immoral for girls and boys to be friends. when you find him again just before graduation, he's different than you remember; but so are you. content warnings — female reader, she/her, reader is implied to be smaller (i'm sorry), discussion of gender roles & religion, no religion is mentioned by name but it's heavily implied to be a form of christianity, reader & shua are both seniors in college, reader wears skirts/dresses but not really by choice, this whole thing is pretty blasphemous oops smut warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, virgin!joshua x virgin!reader, mutual masturbation, phone sex, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (reader receiving), hints of a voice kink, size kink, praise, begging, really vanilla missionary but it's hot, nicknames (sweetheart, baby, angel) notes — although i am no longer religious, this is partially based off of my own experiences with the extremely traditional christian church i was raised in. however, please keep in mind that this is fiction and does not reflect my beliefs nor joshua's beliefs so don't take the plot too seriously. this piece is not meant to discuss whether certain religions are "right" or "wrong" so please do not comment/send me asks trying to start a debate! we're all just here for a little sexy time with shua it's not that deep note #2 — for those who aren't familiar, the title is the name of a hymn and i thought it was funny bc joshua big sexy arms hehehe

as far back as you could remember, joshua was your closest friend.

his father was the pastor of the church your family went to, and as luck would have it you were both in the same grade, so it wasn’t long before you became inseparable. you saw him at minimum three times a week: sunday morning, sunday evening, wednesday evening.

you spent most of your childhood together. sitting next to each other at every service, sharing your bibles with each other whenever one of you left them at home, sneaking donuts away from the box at the table outside the sermon hall that was supposed to only be for the adults.

you did everything together, and told each other everything. that is, until you reached middle school. boys and girls weren’t allowed to sit in the same services anymore, and you had to stay in separate buildings for every church camp and conference. 

the worst part was you didn’t even understand why. what did they think you were gonna do with him? kiss him? no amount of money in the world could get you to do that! joshua was your best friend. who else were you supposed to climb trees and build forts and sneak donuts with? kissing was stupid.

when you asked your mom about it, she told you the same thing everyone else did: about how men of god had a different path and needed to hear different messages in order to grow up to lead their own churches one day. you thought it was stupid. what if a woman wanted to lead a church, why are men the ones that have to do it? but she would just shake her head and tell you it's just the way things work in the church, you'll understand when you're older.

you were allowed near him less and less until the only time you were able to see him was at the after-service brunch with his family, and even then that began to happen less and less as the years went on.

and of course it was church rules, so there was no arguing with them because that would mean arguing with god, and who were you to question his authority? there would be no special exception for you, no matter how much you protested to your mom that you would never, ever think about joshua like that. in a fit of anger one day you blew up at her, shouting that she had had friends of the opposite gender when she was in high school, so why couldn’t you? it wasn’t fair. but she had just sighed and stared out the window, clearly ending the conversation. many years passed before she finally told you about her life before she came to church, recalling all the times she had been hurt by men she had loved and trusted. you understood then why she had wanted to keep you sheltered and safe, but you still didn’t agree. but then again, if you had been allowed to do what you wanted then maybe things would never have ended up the way they did. perhaps you have her to thank.

back then, all you could do was hold on to the little time you had with him until eventually you stopped seeing him altogether. 

more summers passed and you started spending all of your time memorizing bible verses with your fellow “women of christ”, missing the way you used to spend your time with your best friend.

but then you went off to bible college like had always been planned for you, and everything changed. instead of continuing to follow the strict schedule that was laid out for you, you finally got a little taste of freedom, and you realized what you’d been missing all this time. everything that you’d been taught was sinful, evil, wicked, was what brought you more pleasure than you’d ever known was possible.

you still had to pretend to be a good girl for the people around you, who, for reasons you couldn’t comprehend, were still dedicated to their life of purity. or at least they acted like it. maybe everyone was secretly just like you, hiding their sins behind a friendly smile and a firm handshake every sunday morning.

you weren’t hurting anyone with the things you did in private, and the feeling of rebellion was a kind of satisfaction you didn’t know you were allowed to feel. you were an adult, making your own choices now and facing whatever consequences that came with them.

there was only one consequence. for some reason, all the impure thoughts you had always centered around joshua. no matter what dirty books you read or videos you watched, the man you always pictured giving it to you was joshua.

you hated that after all these years, everything still came back to him. you fought it, tried imagining actors or celebrities in his place instead; characters from your books and movies and shows, anyone but him. you wanted to save whatever memories you had left of him, think of him in a good light like you used to when you were younger, but the way he plagued your mind was worse than the ones in the book of exodus.

but now, in your final year of college, you thought you had finally gotten yourself under control.

that is, until you were leaving one of your bible lectures and all the control you’d convinced yourself that you had crumbled away in mere seconds when you saw a startlingly familiar face standing by the door. a face you hadn’t seen in far too long. 

“joshua?”

“hey,” he says with a smile, like no time has passed at all. like it’s been hours since you’ve seen each other, not years. 

there are so many things you want to say, so many things you want to ask him, but you’re frozen in place. why is he here? where has he been? how did he find you again?

“it’s been a while,” he says with an awkward laugh when you don’t say anything.

you nod, still in a daze. “yeah. quite a while.”

he smiles. “well, anyway, i’ve got a meeting to go to in a bit, but… i just wanted to see you.”

“oh,” you say. what else is there to say? what can you say to make up for the years lost that you’ll never get back?

he looks at his watch, the conversation clearly coming to an end.

“can i give you my phone number?” he says. a deep shade of pink creeps into his cheeks but he either doesn’t notice or purposely doesn’t acknowledge it. “maybe we can talk sometime, catch up.”

“i– yeah,” you manage. god, it’s so good seeing him again. “yeah, that would be really nice.”

you’ve given up on homework for the night, spending your entire afternoon in a daze since you ran into joshua.

so many years, yet you still can’t get his smile out of your head.

you close your eyes, hand dipping below the waistband of your pajama pants automatically. it’s frightening how easily you’re able to bring up a picture of him in your mind, so much clearer than before now that you’ve seen what he looks like all grown up.

and grown up, he has. you had been too stunned to get a good look at him while he was in front of you, but the way he’d changed was immediately apparent and the image in your brain now feels almost unreal. 

his hair was a little longer and a little darker, and he was much taller, with broad shoulders that looked way too perfect in a suit jacket. but his face hadn’t changed a bit. maybe his jaw was a little bit sharper and his smile lines were a little bit deeper, but his eyes were the same ones you had always known. 

your hand slips lower and lower until you’re gently running the tips of your fingers over the panel of your underwear covering your pussy, moaning quietly when you feel how wet you are already.

no wonder it’s been so hard for you to focus all day. you’ve been too busy pushing away thoughts of joshua burying his fingers in your tight, wet cunt, cooing about how good you’re being for him and how long he’s waited for you.

automatically you feel your other hand grabbing for your phone, desperate to hear his voice again. you hadn’t said more than a few sentences to him earlier, but you feel like you’ll go crazy if you don’t hear him while you’re in this state. so needy for him and only him, and he doesn’t even know it.

your fingers shake as you press the buttons, knowing you’re about to get yourself into a whole world of trouble but not being able to stop yourself.

“hey.” he answers on the second ring. his tone is deep and husky, and your breath catches in your throat for a second, not used to hearing him talk like that; the last time you heard his voice was long before puberty, and you’re still navigating how to talk to this older, sexier joshua.

your first thought is to wonder if his morning voice sounds equally as sexy, but you’re immediately pushing it out of your head when you hear what sounds like him stifling a yawn.

“sorry, did i wake you? it– it’s not important,” you start, ashamed of how needy you are that you’d call him in the middle of the damn night, unprovoked, like some kind of bible group booty call.

the regret is already starting to set in. he probably hasn’t changed as much as you've built him up in your mind, probably still the obedient gentleman he was before. he’s probably already well on his way to being the head of a church, so of course he wouldn’t be thinking about you like that—

“no. it’s fine,” he says, interrupting your thoughts. “always have time for you, sweetheart. what’s up?”

you shove down the butterflies that flutter up in your stomach at the name he calls you, a nickname he always called you when you were kids because he was taught it was always polite to talk sweet to a lady. 

except it feels so much different now. talking sweet to a lady as kids was easy, innocent. but one wrong word now would completely change the meaning behind those pretty words of his, and you aren’t sure how to feel about it.

“i… just– it’s been so long, joshie,” you whisper, surprised at the sudden feeling of tears springing up behind your eyes. you didn’t mean for this to happen— you didn’t mean for any of it to happen. not back then, and certainly not now.

he lets the line go quiet, finally sighing into the phone after a long pause. “i missed you… so much.” he murmurs your name, and the way the rumble in his voice goes straight through you immediately reminds you why you called him in the first place.

your free hand toys with the hem of your underwear again, fighting to keep down the whimper that threatens to escape you. “missed you too,” you breathe out. god, you can’t believe you’re doing this. but for the first time in years, the man you’ve been picturing in your head is right here with you, fulfilling some of your fantasies that you never thought could ever come true.

somewhere deep in your stomach you feel guilty about it, getting off to the thought of him and he doesn’t even know it. would he want to know? would he be okay with it? would he hate you forever if he knew?

he clears his throat, snapping you back to attention and you realize you must’ve been silent for a while, thinking.

“um, so, what are you doing?” you ask, trying to seem casual, but it comes out as anything but. nobody calls anyone this late at night and asks what they’re doing without having a dirty reason for doing so. 

all you can do is hope he’s either too innocent to pick up on it, or that he doesn’t believe you’re the type of person who would call for something like that. you wonder if he still thinks of you as that perfect little obedient church girl he grew up with.

“nothing, just–working on… stuff,” he replies awkwardly. clearly he doesn’t want to go into detail about what he’s doing, and you’re already afraid you’ve interrupted his sleep; you’re mentally kicking yourself for all the blunders you’ve made, and you haven’t even been on the phone for five minutes.

“what are you doing?” he asks back, and you freeze, trying to come up with some excuse, anything. fuck, think of something!

“h-homework,” you sputter out, attempting to hide your unconfident answer with a cough.

apparently it works, because he hums in response, the line falling quiet. you hear the rustling of papers on his end, and you press your fingers harder against your cunt, heartbeat racing in your ears.

your fingers brush against your clit a little rougher than you intend, and a little whine escapes your lips, catching you off guard. you slap a hand over your mouth, hoping it had been too quiet for him to hear and he hadn’t been paying attention.

“are you…?” he asks suddenly, and your cheeks flush, caught red-handed in your sinful act.

you clear your throat, praying (both metaphorically and literally) that he doesn’t notice anything off about you. “am i what?”

his silence on the other end of the phone speaks volumes.

“joshua, oh my god, no, i–”

“what did you just say?”

you freeze. “what… did i say?”

when he speaks again, his tone is even. “don’t you know it’s a sin to take the lord’s name in vain, sweetheart?”

that nickname again, and now you know he’s doing it on purpose. innocent, pretty words, completely changed in a split second.

you let out a short laugh, scrambling to find a cover. “must’ve forgot then.”

he hums. “i remember you spent a whole month trying to memorize the ten commandments. we must’ve been what, eight or nine? you wouldn’t have forgotten. i may not have seen you since we were kids, but i’ve still known you most of my life.”

“it was an accident, you know how it is. just slips out. of course i remember them all.”

he tsks, and it feels like your heart stops. “did you forget that lying is a sin, too? you’re two for two now, wanna try for a third?”

damn him! damn his good memory and damn his stupid witty comebacks and damn the way he so quickly manages to unravel you.

you scowl and don’t respond to his question, your silence enough of an answer for joshua to know he’s right.

“why did you call me tonight?” he asks calmly.

you answer truthfully this time. “just wanted to hear your voice again. i really did miss you.”

the phone goes quiet again, and for a second you’re afraid he’s hung up, but then you hear him exhale. “it’s late. what are you doing?”

“i’m in bed, josh. don’t worry, father, i’m not staying up past my bedtime.”

he chooses to ignore your remark. “in bed doing what?”

you give him a half-suppressed laugh. “in bed laying down. what else would i be doing?”

“well, with the way you were trying to hide your moans earlier, i would’ve figured you were doing something more exciting. but if you’re just laying down, then i don't want to keep you long, might as well hang up…”

“no!” you squeak out, cutting him off. you swallow, trying to collect yourself as you repeat the word. “no. fine, whatever, you caught me. but– please, stay.” you can hear the plea in your voice and you know you should be embarrassed at how pathetic you sound, but you aren't. the only thing you can think about is joshua, joshua, joshua, and how good it feels to talk to him again.

“i’m here,” he says softly, and you let your eyes close with a sigh, relieved he’s not going to chastise you. but as much as you’ve both changed as you grew up, deep down you knew he wouldn’t. you figure you could do just about anything and he wouldn’t try to tell you what to do. he’d always been like that, and it’s what you’d loved about him; he never tried to control you or shame you for not acting like the perfect little angel everybody wanted you to be. 

you couldn’t say the same about others in the church. maybe that’s why you’d started to drift away from them and why joshua’s friendship coming to an end had left you so devastated. he had been the one and only person you could always count on, and they had not.

“are you still there?” he asks gently, and you realize you’ve been quiet for too long thinking.

“yeah,” you say finally.

“are you still touching yourself?”

you pause, stifling a gasp, taken aback by his forwardness. hearing him say it out loud made everything seem so real, the realization setting in about what you’re actually doing. “n– no.”

and it’s true. your hand has long since dropped away from your pajama pants, too nervous about being discovered to continue.

“well, why not?” he says. “don’t stop on my account.”

your mouth falls open. “i–”

“clearly you wanted something from me when you called. what is it, sweetheart? i can’t help you if i don’t know what it is you want.”

your brain practically short circuits at that, and it takes a very long minute for you to collect your thoughts into a coherent sentence. you want a lot of things, but you don’t know what’s okay to say or not or if he even wants to keep going. which is a silly thought, because he wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t want to know. it dawns on you that maybe… maybe he’s curious, maybe he’s thinking about you, too.

“what kind of help?” you ask, still testing the waters. you think you have an idea of what he means, but you ask anyway. you’ve never done anything like this with anyone else, only by yourself; not because you didn’t want to, but because you didn’t want it to be with someone who wasn’t joshua.

“you said you wanted to hear my voice,” he says, and you swear his tone has dropped an octave. “then let me talk to you.”

you whine a little, still holding back but not putting in as much effort to hide it. “m’kay.”

“would it make you feel better if i told you i’m hard right now?”

you suck in a breath. “yeah?”

“yeah,” he says. “just thinking about you.”

you feel a rush of emotion at his admittance. pride? satisfaction? whatever it is, it makes your cunt throb, knowing that just the thought of you can get him going.

finally you dare to slide your hand down your pants again, unsurprised when you find your underwear sticking to you with how wet you are. you’re soaking, and you haven’t even done anything yet.

“hold on,” you manage, putting the call on speaker as you set your phone on the table beside your bed, scrambling to shove your pants and ruined panties off and onto the floor.

once free, you pick up your phone and turn off the speaker, holding it to your ear with shaky hands.

“all ready now?” he asks softly, and it reminds you of what he used to say before you’d play pretend games together. always making sure you were ready. he was hot back then, too, and you mentally curse yourself for never realizing it sooner.

you hum. “mhm. comfortable.”

“good,” he says, and you can almost hear him smiling. “go ahead and do whatever you’d like. but i want you to tell me what you’re thinking about right now.”

you squirm a little on the bed as you start to circle your clit with your fingers. “thinking about you, joshua,” you sigh, finally beginning to feel relief.

“yeah?”

“yeah. you look even better than i thought you would,” you groan, picking up your pace a little as you slip your index finger inside your walls.

he chuckles. “oh, really?”

“mhm. god, i never thought i’d be doing this. especially not with you.”

“and why is that, baby?”

the name makes you shiver. you’d imagined him calling you it many times, but hearing him actually say it is completely different.

“because—” you whimper, losing your train of thought when your brain suddenly pictures his fingers inside you instead of your own. “i’m so close already, please—”

his tone is gentle but firm. “i want you to stop now.”

“but– ah, feels so good, shua,” you say, moans spilling out of you, finally letting him hear everything you’ve been holding back.

you hear him curse in that low voice through the phone, and your hand stills for a split second in shock, your eyes widening. as far as you knew, he never swore. but then again, there were a lot of things he never did that you're discovering about him now. looks like you weren’t the only one who changed over the years.

“that’s not my name.”

you sit up a little in confusion, pushing your phone closer to your ear to make sure you’re hearing him right. “huh?”

“my name is joshua. if you’re gonna moan like a sinner about how good it feels when i tell you how to touch yourself, you better use my name properly.” he sounds almost angry, but it only spurs you on even further.

you let his words sink for a second before responding. “yes, sir.”

“fuck,” he moans, he actually moans, and if you weren’t already so far gone you would’ve stopped to listen closer, to ingrain the noise in your brain so you never again forget how he sounds. “what did i just tell you?”

“what, you don’t like being called ‘sir’? thought you wanted to be a pastor, joshua,” you say with a smirk, and you know he hears the mischief in your voice, daring him to give you what you want.

it’s probably a good thing he’s not physically in the room with you, because there's no way you would have been able to muster up the courage to say something like that to his face. you wouldn’t have dared to even look him in the eyes, but being on the phone gives you a head rush. because with only his voice and not seeing his face, you can convince yourself that he still isn’t real, that this whole phone call and even your meeting earlier had just been an elaborate figment of your horny imagination, your denial being the only thing saving your last shred of dignity.

“didn’t realize you’d grow up to be even more of a brat than you were before,” he scoffs, and your cunt pulses. 

“what are you doing right now?” you say, a little desperately. the change of subject isn’t very subtle but you don’t care. you won’t lie, you’ve been curious since the start of what he’s doing but he’s been so focused on you he hasn’t said anything about himself. you want to know everything about him— how he’s moving his hands, where he puts pressure, what he thinks about to get himself closer and closer.

he grunts unceremoniously. “i’m fucking my hand and pretending it’s you.”

“me too,” you whimper, closing your eyes as you focus on the movement of your fingers.

after a while he stops responding, and you can hear his heavy breaths over the line matching with your own gasps for air as you curl your fingers inside of you. you figure he must be getting close, but you ask him anyway, because you want to hear him say it.

“yeah– fuck, so close,” he chokes out, and the way his voice gets higher as he lets out a whimper is what finally makes you come undone.

with a moan of his name—his full name—you cum, clenching around your fingers as you struggle to keep your hand moving. your wrist is starting to cramp up a little from the position you’ve been in, but the pleasure coursing through you is more than worth it. it’s almost dizzying, more powerful than any orgasm you’ve had before and when you finally remove your fingers from your aching cunt your head is spinning and your heart is pounding.

you can hear a muffled string of curses through the phone and you know he’s right behind you. thoughts of him sitting on his bed run rampant in your head, imagining his stomach covered in milky cum and his pretty, pretty lips parted as he catches his breath.

the silence is heavy as you feel yourself come back down from your high. you struggle to find something to say after… whatever that just was, so you say the only thing that’s on your mind.

“i really did miss you, joshua,” you say quietly. unlike before, there’s not a hint of teasing in the way you say his name now.

and he sighs contentedly, finally hearing his name on your lips like he always wanted to. “i know. i missed you too.”

you both say your goodbyes and good nights quickly, still basking in enough of the remnants of your orgasms to not be too awkward about it. but after you’re settled in bed (for real, this time) and about to fall asleep, you can’t help but wonder if things between you and joshua will ever be anything but awkward.

a memory surfaces: you and joshua running around at the park behind the church after a sunday evening service, no older than kindergarteners, laughing and playing until you collapse on the grass. your mom called for you both to get ready to go home, and no you’re not allowed to have a sleepover because it’s a school night but maybe this weekend if his mom is okay with it. before you ran off, he thrust his pinky out towards you and you shook on it, making a pact to always be best friends, even when you can’t have sleepovers. it didn’t ever occur to either of you that there might come a day where you wouldn’t be best friends.

you don’t remember what prompted him to make the pinky promise, but you know he’s never broken it. and you can only hope that he hasn’t forgotten it.

it’s a few days later at one of your bible study groups when you see him next, and yet again you’re caught off-guard like a deer in headlights.

you’re sitting with a group of other ladies, annotating material for a test you couldn’t care less about when you hear your name called out– a familiar deep voice you can only pray doesn’t belong to who you think it belongs to.

oh, but it does belong to him, alright. it feels like you’ve gotten the wind knocked out of you when you turn around and see joshua standing behind you, a warm smile on his face that makes you doubt anything ever happened. maybe it really was all just a delirious dream, too many years of yearning built up into one intense wet dream.

he puts a hand on your shoulder lightly, turning you away from the rest of the ladies. “hey, can we talk somewhere?”

and oh shit it was definitely not a dream.

your cheeks burn as you excuse yourself from the table, packing up your bible and pens and shoving everything in your bag as quickly as you can. you can almost hear the snickering already, the gossips whispering to each other that you must have done something unspeakable if the top-student, pastor’s son, joshua hong has to speak with you privately. ah, if only they knew.

you only wish you could go back there and wipe the smirks off of all their faces and tell them about what the perfect little gentlemen they all pretend they don’t have crushes on was doing on the phone with you last night. you wouldn’t do that, not in a million years, but just the thought of it is satisfaction enough. 

joshua leads you down the hall to a room that looks like an empty office. he opens the door for you, then closes it softly behind you.

“whose is this?” you ask, glancing around the room. 

“it’s… mine,” he says almost shyly, gesturing idly to a little engraved nameplate on the desk. joshua hong, pastor’s assistant. because of fucking course he would be.

“oh.”

he clears his throat, and in that moment you realize he’s just as nervous as you are. “listen…” he starts, taking a pause. “about the other night–”

“are you gonna kick me out?” you interrupt.

his brows knit together in confusion. “what?”

“are you gonna expel me?”

“no?” he says, still looking at you, baffled. “why would i do that? i don’t even think i have the power to, even if i wanted. which, for the record, i don’t.”

you don’t reply, focusing your gaze on the carpet instead.

he frowns. “is that really how you think of me? that i just go around tattling to my dad? from that… conversation, i thought it was clear i’m not like that anymore.”

the tips of your ears are burning at the memory of all the things you said to each other over the phone. but it never occurred to you that maybe he was just as sinful as you had been.

you stay quiet, the silence stretching on as shame and embarrassment and a hundred other emotions swirl in your mind and you struggle to figure out what to say.

luckily for you he fills the silence himself. he exhales, looking down at a stack of papers on the desk. “god, you… you don’t know how much i missed you. i thought about you all the time.”

“so did i,” you manage to whisper. “in more ways than you know.”

he gives you a teasing smile. “oh, i have a feeling i do know.”

you hold back a cough and look away, focusing your attention on a painting of flowers on the wall. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“if that’s how you wanna play this, fine.”

your curiosity piques, and you look back at him. he motions to the seat in front of the desk, wordlessly asking you to sit. hesitantly you do, and he starts to sit down at the swivel chair behind the desk, but you clear your throat and he glances up.

“can– can you not sit over there?” you ask softly. “feels like i’m being scolded.”

his expression softens a little, and he rolls the chair back into place, opting to sit next to you instead. “of course.”

except maybe you shouldn’t have asked him to do that, because now he’s sitting toe to toe with you and the closeness is overwhelming. at least on the other side of the desk there was enough distance for you to shrink and hide behind, but here, sitting like this, he can see all of you. and you don’t particularly want to be seen right now.

the tension is palpable as he takes his seat, still watching you. you take the moment to study his features: the slope of his nose and the gentle curve of his lips, the way the light catches on his long eyelashes and the way his broad shoulders look in that perfectly tailored sunday morning service suit.

“i always liked you,” he starts, and your gaze shoots up to his eyes. you open your mouth to ask something, but he shakes his head and you immediately fall silent, letting him finish. “i was almost glad when they made us go to different sunday school classes, because i wouldn’t have to sit there and pretend i didn’t have the craziest crush on you.”

“joshua, i–” you trail off, not even knowing what to say.

he pauses, as if debating his next words. “and i know it’s wrong, but i couldn’t get you out of my head when i… y’know.” his cheeks are flushed but he doesn’t look away from you, eyes searching your own for any hesitance or any sign that you don’t want this.

it’s then that you realize that the boldness you had felt hiding behind your phone, he had felt it too. saying words alone in your room at night was easy. sitting in public, in the daylight, and saying those same words to his face was so much scarier. and knowing that you’re both feeling awkward and shy and a little uncertain of how to talk about it gives you the confidence to keep going.

“when you would what?” you pry. you already know the answer but you want to hear it come out of his mouth anyway. you’ve already heard him say it, but something about sitting in his office, in a church, speaking such filth ignites a spark in you that’s completely different from the spark you felt a few nights ago.

he clears his throat and looks you in the eye, maybe gaining a little bit of that confidence, too. “when i would jerk off i would always wish it was your sweet little mouth instead of my own hand.”

you inhale sharply, and that’s when he finally breaks eye contact, his guilt-ridden gaze shifting to the wall behind you as his cheeks burn redder. “i didn’t feel good about it. felt like i was doing it without your permission, and i didn’t want that. i–”

“yes,” you say hurriedly.

he stops short at your interruption, instantly looking back at you. “yes…?”

“yes, you have my permission. whatever you want, joshua, always.”

his eyes narrow, almost imperceptibly, but you recognize it. even after all these years, after so much has changed, you still know his tells. you wonder if he still knows yours.

he murmurs your name in response, almost like a warning. “don’t say stuff like that,” he says, letting out a shaky breath.

“why not?” you ask, feigning innocence. but you know exactly what you’re doing, and you know exactly how you affect him: the same way he affects you.

he looks up at you. “you really are just as much of a brat as you were back then, aren’t you?” he says with just a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“why don’t you find out?”

he groans, leaning back in his chair. “do you know how long i’ve wanted to kiss you?” he says finally.

“probably just as long as i’ve wanted to kiss you,” you counter, and he raises an eyebrow.

you both stand up at the same moment, closing the distance in less than a second. 

you stare at his chest in front of you to avoid his eyes, until he brings up a hand and gently tilts your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“are– you gonna get in trouble?” you breathe, heartbeat pounding in your ears as you stare at his perfect, perfect lips.

he hums, and it sends a shiver down your spine at the close proximity. “are you still giving me permission?” he asks, and you quickly shake your head yes. 

“always.”

he smooths his thumb across your cheek. “then i won’t be in any trouble at all."

and then his hand moves to hold the back of your neck and he's tilting his head and bringing his lips towards yours and then finally, after years of dreaming about it and even more years of denying it, you're finally kissing joshua and there's so many things happening at once that you can't seem to focus on anything because your mind is so full of everything and nothing and joshua and it all just feels so right.

you’re melting in his arms and falling into his touch and enjoying every fucking second of it. your heart speeds up when his hands slide behind your back, wrapping around your body to pull you closer to him, pressed chest to chest.

he pulls away to kiss you again, and again, and again, and you decide you’d be content to be like this forever, standing in his office in the church building making out like you’re the only two people on earth. 

but finally his lips leave yours, and he takes a tiny step backwards, heaving out a shaky breath as he looks you in the eyes. “what are we gonna do now?”

your heart plummets, doubts racing through your mind. did he not like it? does he not like you? did you really just ruin everything? why did he stop? why did he ask that—

but all your questions are answered in an instant when he coughs and you look down, finally noticing the prominent bulge in his dress pants. oh. that.

when you look back up at him his cheeks are flushed bright red, and he immediately begins to apologize.

“shua,” you call out to him, repeating his name the way you know he likes. “joshua. don’t worry about it. it’s fine.”

in fact, you find it incredibly flattering, that just a few kisses and gentle touches could get him this worked up. maybe it really has been you all along.

with a surge of confidence, you step back towards him, wrapping your arms around him and leaning to kiss him. “are you busy today?” you murmur, your cheek brushing against his.

he shudders, hands automatically finding your waist and pushing your hips against his own. “no. are you?”

you sigh, kissing the corner of his mouth. “not anymore.”

“fuck,” he curses, his grip on your body tightening “you really want to…?” he asks, almost shyly, as if he’s in denial this is really happening.

“absolutely,” you say, and you’ve never meant anything more in your life.

in a second he’s got you shoved against his desk, sending papers flying to the floor as he lifts you by your ass to sit you down on top of it. your kisses turn rougher and needier, your hands grabbing at anything you can reach to ground yourself: his hair, his shoulders, his back.

finally he breaks free, dropping to his knees in front of the desk. “please, let me eat you out.”

you moan out loud, probably too loudly for the thin walls of the office. but the visual of him on his knees to do anything other than pray drives you mad, and you need more of him, desperately. “joshua, please.”

he pushes your skirt up your thighs, moving it out of his way so he can stare eye to eye with your pussy. you whimper and instinctively try to hide your face in embarrassment, but something tells you he wouldn’t like that, so you resist, keeping your hands firmly planted on the edge of the desk.

“fuck, you’re soaking,” he says, his voice broken. “you’re so perfect.”

his hands reach up to tug at the hem of your underwear, and he looks up at you, silently asking for permission to continue. you nod eagerly, lifting your hips off the desk so he can slide them off of you, revealing your glistening entrance.

he whines at the sight, pretty lips parted in shock? awe? as if he can’t wait to taste you. he pushes his face into your pussy, gently at first, but when you moan and bring your hand up to his hair he dives deeper.

the moment he attaches his mouth to your clit, you jump, gasping as you try to shut your legs around his head but his large hands keep you held open. his tongue explores every inch of you, moving back and forth, up and down, mapping out your cunt with his mouth. 

“fuck, never dreamed you’d taste so good,” he sighs against your pussy, leaning away to take a breath after what feels like forever.

your legs are shaking and your cunt is throbbing as you also try to catch your breath. you’re not used to being touched like this and you’re definitely not used to being touched by joshua. so many thoughts running through your head and not a single one of them coherent enough to put into words. all you can do is weakly whine out joshua’s name and tug on his hair, pleading for him to keep going. you need release, and you don’t want it from anyone but him.

he stands up, his pants wrinkled from kneeling on the floor but still tented with a bulge so uncomfortably large you feel dizzy just thinking about it. you don’t even know if he’s going to fuck you or even if he wants to, but god you want to see his cock so bad. too many restless nights spent thinking about it, and now you might finally have the chance to see it in front of your face.

your mouth waters at the thought, and you start to slide off the desk, but joshua stops you. “what are you…?”

you look up at him, eyes blown wide with lust and you don’t even attempt to hide your eagerness. “please let me suck your dick. joshua, please.”

he whines, running a hand through his hair. “god, i want that so bad, but… i don’t think i can last if you do, and i was really hoping to fuck you.”

you close your eyes and roll your head back, moaning at his vulgar confession. but he sighs, and he sounds almost defeated, and you look back at him quickly, afraid he’s suddenly changed his mind.

“i’m not—prepared,” he admits, and you tilt your head in confusion before it sinks in what he means.

“ah. don’t suppose you would have any condoms lying around, would you, mr. pastor’s assistant?” you ask playfully, and he shoots you a glare.

“brat,” he mutters under his breath, but you hear it, and your walls clench in response. “no, i don’t have any. not interested in anybody else, so… no reason to.” he looks like he has more to say, more serious things to say, but he keeps his mouth shut, his eyes searching your face nervously.

your stomach flips at his words, feeling your cheeks heating up. you hadn’t thought you would ever get this far, and especially not with him. because of the kind of school you were at, it wasn’t like the people here were doing the kind of things you’ve been doing—at least not publicly. even if you’d wanted to hook up with somebody (which you didn’t), everyone in your vicinity would shame you for even bringing it up. you may have experience with yourself, but anything with anyone else is completely new territory for you.

you fall silent, not sure how to continue the conversation as all your newfound confidence begins to crumble. what were you thinking? caught up in the heat of the moment, saying things you weren’t sure you meant. you were in love with him: that much you were sure of. but everything that comes after that is too new, too scary, at least for right now. you can barely even comprehend that he just went down on you, but you know you enjoyed it and honestly, you’d give anything for him to do it again. but there’s too much going on inside your head for you to even begin to process that right now.

he calls your name and you blink, looking back at him anxiously. “we… don’t have to. right now, or even at all,” he says gently. the tips of his ears are burning red but his voice is calm and steady.

“joshua, i want to,” you start, clasping your hands tightly together in your lap to give you something to focus on other than the way he’s watching you so intently. “but i– don’t know how.”

“neither do i, baby,” he says. the nickname makes you shiver; even though it’s not the first time he’s called you that, especially after the other night, you’re still not used to it. but somehow it’s comforting, and it makes you relax knowing that he’s still the same person you grew up with, the same person that knows almost everything about you. you’ve both changed so much, but deep down you haven’t changed at all.

he pauses when you don’t say anything back. “we’ll wait, then,” he says and wraps his arms around you, lightly at first but then squeezing when you don’t try to pull away. “we have all the time in the world. no need to rush.”

“we… do?” your voice is laced with uncertainty.

he smiles. “of course. i let you go once already, i’m not letting it happen again. never again.”

you turn your head away from him and hide your face, flustered by how sincere he sounds. he hums, and you can hear the pout in his tone so you fight your embarrassment and turn back towards him to ask the question that’s been weighing on your mind since you first saw him days ago. “this is gonna sound so stupid, but… shua, what are we?”

first you were childhood friends, you were best friends, and then you were nothing. right place, wrong time? and then you were… doing something on the phone together, whatever you could call that. and now you were just sitting on top of his desk, sweating from having almost had sex. how do you even begin to put a label on this?

“well, i’d like to be yours,” he says shyly, and just like that all your questions are answered with six small words. you realize it doesn’t matter what label you have; as long as you have him, that’s all that matters.

“yes,” you breathe, lifting your eyes to finally meet his and you see all the love in his eyes threatening to spill over.

he reaches up to brush a piece of your hair out of your face. “i’m just glad i finally have you back,” he says with a soft smile as he watches you. “we’ll go slow, we’ll wait— whatever you want. whatever it takes not to lose you again.”

you bury your face in his chest with a whine. you’re hiding again, but even the uncomfortable scratchiness of his dress shirt can’t pull you away from him.

“besides, i don’t want our first time together to be in my stupid little office,” he chuckles and holds you tighter against him, pressing a kiss to the top of your head that makes your heart flutter. “you deserve better than that.”

you stay there for a long moment, hugging him like it's the last time you'll ever see him. but this time you know it won't be the last. it's the first, the first of hopefully many, many more.

when you feel like you've been standing there too long, you clear your throat and lean your head back to look at him. "so, um… now what?"

he pauses, those pretty lips turned up in a smile. "do you have plans for lunch?"

"no, i just had that study group you pulled me from. i'm free for the rest of the day."

his smile widens. "perfect. you still like grilled cheese, or did you grow out of that, too?"

you laugh, putting your chin on his shoulder as you hug him. "i haven't changed that much, shua."

after taking a while to collect yourselves (waiting for his erection to go back down so you can leave together without looking suspicious), you walk out of joshua’s office the happiest you've felt in years.

he'd wanted to hold your hand, too, but you were still anxious about anyone seeing you together that you'd refused him until you made it to his car. you were probably just being paranoid and no one would care about two responsible adults talking to each other, but all the time you'd spent hiding from your peers had put you on edge.

so, it wasn't until you were safely out of the church parking lot and in the driveway of his apartment complex that you let him touch you, kissing you over the cupholders with his hands gently holding your neck.

it took everything in you not to climb over the center console and sit on his lap in the driver's seat and kiss him as hard and as deeply as you really wanted, but you knew once you started you wouldn't be able to stop. and besides, he still didn't have any condoms. it didn't bother you either way, since you'd been taking birth control since high school to help with your periods, but if it was what he wanted you'd be more than fine with it.

you don't know what you'd been expecting the inside his apartment to look like; probably some tacky cross-stitch bible verses or a wooden cross hanging on the wall, but his apartment just looked like… a normal apartment. a very clean apartment, actually, though you weren't surprised. he'd always been a neat, organized kid, and it looked like that was one thing he hadn't grow out of.

you watch as he puts his keys on a hook by the door, following him into the kitchen and sitting at one of the chairs.

he grins at you as he opens his refrigerator, pulling out the ingredients for your lunch before taking out a pan.

"shua…" you interrupt him, standing up and walking towards him slowly. "you're not— really thinking about grilled cheese sandwiches right now, are you?"

he hums, eyes following your every movement as the pan sits cold and abandoned on the stove. "there are… other things on my mind, yeah."

"so why are you still trying to make grilled cheese sandwiches?"

by now you're close enough to stand toe to toe with him, and you're sure he can feel the heat radiating off your body when he wraps his hands around your waist, backing you against the kitchen counter. "because i wanna make you lunch. maybe i just wanna spoil my girl a little bit."

a shiver runs down your spine at the new name he calls you. never in a million years did you think this is where you'd end up.

"i think you have all the time in the world to spoil me later, joshua," you mumble, leaning in closer and closer until your lips touch.

in a flash he's hoisting you up and sitting you on the counter. his mouth never leaves yours as you slide your legs around his hips to drag him closer, kisses growing deeper and more desperate now that you can finally be alone together.

his hands slide down your body, tugging at the hem of your shirt and only breaking apart for a second to slide it over your head before his lips are crashing against yours again. 

your hands find his hips, experimentally tugging on his belt to see his reaction. immediately he pulls away from you, 

cheeks flushed and breathing heavily. "sweetheart, i still don't have any condoms. if you really want to now, then we gotta run to the store first."

“i’m on the pill,” you burst out, hoping he gets the message. maybe he has some other reason for wanting to, but you're too impatient to wait for who knows how long it'll take to go to the store, and you don't think you'll be able to keep your hands off him for that long. you don't think you'll be able to keep your hands off of him for even a few seconds.

his face goes blank as he processes your words, struggling to understand if you’re saying what he thinks you’re saying. “you’d let me…?”

you grab onto his arms, a desperate attempt to pull him closer, to feel more of him. “raw, yes, joshua. just—please, i need you,” you beg him, cunt throbbing with neglect as you wait for him to answer. 

he buries his face in your shoulder with a groan, gripping his hands underneath your thighs and sliding you off the counter.

with a shriek you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, holding on tightly as he starts to walk out of the kitchen carrying you. "joshua! what the hell are you doing?"

his face is still pressed against your shoulder, and you can feel his lips tickling your bare skin as he speaks. "i'll fuck you on my kitchen counter any day of the week, baby, but i want to have you for the first time in my bed, please?"

his voice is low and whiny, just as desperate for you as you are for him and it makes you moan with excitement. 

he finds his way into his room, stumbling a little when he accidentally runs you into the wall instead of through the doorway, but you just giggle and kiss him harder until he finally drops you on his bed, immediately unbuttoning his shirt.

you run your hands along his chest as he leans over you, feeling the toned muscle that feels almost wrong to be seeing. his physical changes are much more obvious to you now that he's like this, and you know the image will fuel your fantasies for weeks.

your hands move to his belt again and this time he allows it, letting you unbuckle it and toss it away before slowly lowering the zipper. he's already hard again, and your heart races when you put a little bit of pressure on the seam and he lets out a guttural groan in response.

his arms flex as he reaches down to slide your skirt off, and you help him and kick the fabric away, leaving both of you in nothing but your underwear.

joshua pauses, letting his gaze wander your body as you look away shyly. he hums and you look back at him in confusion. "don't hide from me, sweetheart, please," he says, but it comes out more like a whine; not like he's asking, but like he's begging. it's honestly the hottest thing you've ever heard, and even with your nerves he makes it hard to resist.

"dreamt about this for fucking years. years," he moans as he leans over to kiss your chest, reaching behind your body to undo your bra and let it fall away. you whimper when he brings his hands up to cup your breasts, wrapping his mouth around one of your nipples as he starts to slowly grind against your clothed pussy. you can already feel yourself soaking through your panties, and you're sure he can feel it, too.

his hands are like nothing you've ever felt, and you roll your head back against his pillows, arching into him as he massages your breasts with his large hands. you'd noticed them before, but you hadn't realized just how big they were until they were on top of you and made your body seem almost tiny beneath his massive palms.

"shua…" you breathe, tentative hands reaching up to touch his shoulders.

he looks up at you, mouth covered in spit. "yes, angel?"

you whimper at the nickname. no angel you'd ever learned about in sunday school had acted like you are right now, begging a man to fuck you. and on top of that it was before marriage, too; surely if there was a god they would be extremely disappointed in you. but right now you didn't care if the entire universe was disappointed in you, as long as joshua hong wasn't.

it takes you a few more seconds to build up your courage, but finally you open your mouth and tell him, "joshua, please— fuck me."

he slides forward to kiss you again, before sitting back and repositioning himself between your legs. "anything you want, sweetheart."

he lines his cock up at your entrance, and just before you think he's about to push into you, he looks up at you instead. 

"i love you, so much," he says, and you have to fight the urge to hide your face as you grin and giggle like a fucking schoolgirl; like the past version of you would have, if she'd had any sense and figured everything out sooner.

and, like always, he asks, "ready?", and you nod, and it's better than you could've ever imagined.

the whines that leave his mouth drive you close to the edge already as he begins to thrust into you, slowly, gently, just a little bit at a time but it still leaves you gasping from his size.

he keeps moving at a snail's pace until you reach up, fumbling to grab at his bicep as tears nearly spill out of your eyes and beg him, "joshua, more, please."

he leans over you, pressing his body flat against yours as he starts to rock his hips faster, and you cry out from so much pleasure and so much emotion hitting all at once.

"wanted you so fucking bad, for so long, and now you're finally here," he whispers, his thrusts never faltering despite how close in proximity he is to your face.

you whine as your hands claw at his back, digging in as you struggle to hold on and he curses again, pushing into you harder.

"you said i was better than you imagined," he groans, one hand coming up to caress your cheek. "but you're even better than i imagined. you're a fucking angel, so fucking beautiful."

you gasp his name, falling into your orgasm from his words alone as you clench impossibly tight around him. you always thought of him as the nice kid, the rule follower, but here he is, fucking you through the hardest orgasm of your life and saying such filthy things in between praises and compliments.

"jo-oshua, please!" is all you can manage, still struggling to recover before he crests into his own high with a whimper. his eyes scrunch up as he releases inside you, eyelashes fluttering and sweat dripping down his temples, and you think it's the most beautiful sight you've ever seen. 

a constant stream of curses fall from his lips and you swallow them with yours, kissing him as if you're afraid he might disappear into thin air if you don't hold onto him tight enough.

his breaths are shallow when his mouth falls away from you, resting his forehead on your shoulder with a long exhale.

"god…" he starts, then stops and laughs, and you have to tug on his hair to make him face you again.

"what are you laughing at?" you say, cheeks growing hot when he looks at you with droopy, hooded eyes and a lopsided smile.

"nothing," he laughs. "just god. what a funny word."

"and why is that, baby?" you say as you try to hold back a smile, testing out the nickname.

he grins. "because it gave me you. or maybe it didn't. who knows?"

you finally laugh along with him, remembering what he'd said to you on the phone that feels like years ago. "don’t you know it’s a sin to take the lord’s name in vain, sweetheart?”

the church is humming with activity as you make your way to the front pew, carrying two donuts in your hand. people greet you as they mingle about the hall, talking and laughing. some wave excitedly when they see you, others simply smile and offer their hand for you to shake with a friendly “good morning and god bless!”

being a pastor’s wife isn’t something you ever imagined yourself doing, but then again, a lot of things in your life you never imagined doing. you never imagined seeing joshua again, and you never imagined marrying him, either. you certainly didn’t imagine taking over your father-in-law’s church when he retired and decided it was time for joshua to take his place as head of the church. you always knew he would someday, whether he wanted to or not, but you’d be happy to spend the rest of your life by his side no matter where he was or what job he had.

you’d been almost nervous when you decided it was finally time to tell your parents you had been seeing each other, but to your surprise they had been overjoyed at the news. both his family and yours were “just so glad when it happened to be you!”, saying things like “we’d always known it would happen, back since you were children!”, and “so when are we going to get some beautiful little grandchildren to take to sunday school!”

it had been five long and happy years since that very first phone call, and every minute you spend with joshua has been the best of your life.

you walk up the steps to the stage where your husband is waiting, flipping through his notes for the morning’s sermon. you hand him his donut with a grin, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. he smirks at you, imperceptible to everyone else but you can tell what it truly means.

everybody in the congregation always talks you’re the perfect example of a happy, god-loving couple. such nice looking people, so well put together. but behind closed doors, they’d be horrified by the things you say and do together. wolf in sheep’s clothing, as is your husband’s favorite parable to preach.

it’s not the life you imagined, but it’s perfect to you and him.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging with tags or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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[angelbarelywrites]

♡ slashers scenarios | first meeting (part 2)

♡ fandoms; Friday the 13th, House of Wax, Black Christmas, Scream (kinda)/ Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Jason Vorhees, Bo Sinclair, Danny Johnson, Billy Lenz, Bubba Sawyer

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; Billy Lenz, mentions of violence and general slasher activity, kidnapping, stalking

♡ notes; i didn’t include Bubba last time, so i slipped him in with the pt 2 team :v

also for ghostface i went with Danny over Billy + Stu, just because i’m more comfortable writing older characters tbh. and he’s very attractive to me. maybe i can do a college au fic of them in the future?

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Jason Vorhees

> you were lost

> utterly, hopelessly lost without a map, compass, or even your backpack

> you were out camping with a couple of new friends when you wandered off to pick flowers

> well, acquaintances more like- they weren’t particularly nice to you, but you knew one from your home town

> before you knew the sun was starting to set and you had no clue which way to go

> you’re kicking yourself for being so dumb but try to make the best of it, continuing to collect flowers and pretty rocks

> soon enough you find yourself on the edge of a lake

> that couldn’t have been good- there weren’t any lakes near the campsite at all

> maybe this was that old summer camp they’d mentioned?

> either way you turn around and try your best to retrace your steps

> but even with a full moon it’s just too dark and too dense and you’re exhausted

> holding in tears, you find a small meadow and finally sit to rest

> you’re still sniffling and rubbing your eyes when someone walks up to you

> you were so oblivious that Jason was able to get a few feet in front of you before you noticed

> he seems…perplexed to find you there

> he thought he’d gotten all of the campers

> and you didn’t really look like you belonged with those fornicators

> (or at least that’s what he told himself to justify leaving you alive)

> he’s holding his machete and soaked with your companions’ blood, but you don’t seem to notice

> “…can you take me back to my friends?”

> well he most certainly cannot do that, not if he wants you to like him- though he’s not sure why that matters

> he’s still staring so you, exhausted, do the only thing you can think to

> “…do you want a flower? I picked a lot”

> he’s delighted and takes it before finally gesturing for you to follow him

> you can’t keep up, so eventually he picks you up

> and like that you’re nearly dozing off

> you don’t even notice he’s taking you back the way you came from

> and he’s glad- he wasn’t going to give you much of an option anyway

Bo Sinclair

> single travelers are so much easier to deal with

> so when Lester gives him the call that some college kid was stuck on the road, he’s eager for an easy catch

> you take your sweet ass time getting to the station- even though Lester drove you most of the way you let him drop you off just outside of town

> the smell of the truck was really getting to you, and you’re happy to let the dog lead you

> when he strides out you’re cooing over Jonesy and giving her a belly rub for her troubles

> he’s seen his fair share of attractive victims

> men, women, and folks that didn’t fit either category

> and he’s slept with most of them

> but you… there’s something extra special about you

> he decides right there he’s not taking care of you without at least getting a taste

> you’re not too impressed by his flirting- or at least you try and act like it

> but he catches your pink cheeks and quiet giggles as he takes you on a walk

> because of course he’s got the part down the road at his place

> by the time you get there he’s decided he’s marrying you - or maybe keeping you tied up, beggars can’t be choosers

> he’s impulsive but he’s never wanted to keep anyone before

> “hey sugar-“ god your face heats up just hearing him call you that “turns out I don’t have that part you need. It should be in by tomorrow, if you can stay the night?”

> you say yes before you can think critically- he’s good at getting folks wrapped around his finger like that

> “Good. Cause I’m just dying to show you some real southern hospitality…”

Danny Johnson

> he knows you long before you know him

> he’s a natural nosy guy- he’s a journalist after all

> and a serial killer, of course stalking is on his to do list

> originally you were going to be a victim

> you’d make a good story, a young person taken tragically early

> but you were too cute to die just yet- he had to at least meet you, just once

> if you were a dick no one would say anything nice for your article, right?

> so he just happens to bump into you outside your work one day

> literally bump

> when you spill coffee all over yourself he smoothly apologizes and offers to help clean you up

> “What a mess- I’m so sorry sweets. Let me take care of all this”

> and you fall for it, hook line and sinker

> he’s a handsome guy, he’s used to that but he’s smug anyways

> he gives you a spare shirt of his, though you still skip work

> he buys you another coffee and you sit in his car chatting

> you’re innocent enough to trust him like that- to get in a vehicle with a strange man?

> a strange man that’d been stalking you, no less

> it’s adorable- if he wasn’t so attached he could kill you right there

> but you’re just so damn sweet, and genuine

> and you’re so fascinated by these Ghost Face killings…

> maybe you’re worth keeping around for a bit

> just a bit

> that’s what he says to himself anyways

> when you meet him as Ghost Face, it’s after you’ve already got him all figured out

> and he’s lucky that you like a bad boy

Billy Lenz

> it’s a given that you first meet him over the phone

> you’re renting out a spare room from Mrs Mac, not in the sorority but a good enough tenant that she keeps you around

> you get along well with the girls and cook them meals, run study sessions and help clean

> it’s almost parental at times, even if you’re not far off in age

> Billy hates you at first, for taking such good care of ‘filthy piggy whores’

> he tells you just as much over the phone, but you’re not bothered

> you never seem to be bothered by his calls

> and that pisses him off more

> but you’re so so cute… it quickly becomes an obsession

> he’s in your walls constantly, watching you

> and the calls from the moaner start coming more and more frequently at times you’re home alone

> one day you just start giggling at him, tipsy “you know, you scare the girls,”

> “good i—“

> “but your voice is sooo nice. that’s why i pick up so much”

> you didn’t mean to confess that , and you hope he takes it as an awkward joke

> when he hangs up you think that maybe he did take it that way

> its not until late that night that you realize that he knew he was sincere

> before you can register that there’s anything wrong he’s covering your mouth and pinning you to your bed

> “hi there, baby doll,”

> his grin gets huge when your still horrified face goes bright red

> he always knew you were perfect

Bubba Sawyer

> you pick up Nubbins hitchhiking one day, and he’s just dumbfounded by you

> you’re nonplussed by his rambling and you don’t squirm at his yucky pictures. you don’t even kick him out, just drop him off at the gas station.

> you’re not really his type, but you’re fascinating

> he’s gotta get you home to meet his brothers

> so he pops your tires when you go inside- all four

> when you come back out Drayton is cursing him out and smacking him upside the head

> he makes him take you back to the house to rest up while he gets you tires

> of course he intends for Bubba to kill you

> but Nubbins doesn’t pass the message along, because he’s Nubbins

> “Here Bubba! I made us a new friend!”

> you shyly greet him, but he’s an oddly calming presence

> let’s be honest you’ve gotta be okay with a lot fast to like the Sawyers

> so maybe you’re just in denial about the material

> but you tell him you like his mask- and you do

> he obviously worked really hard on getting the makeup just right- and it compliments his suit

> he stares at you a long while before taking your hand and giving you a grand tour

> well, more a tour of his favorite spots

> the chicken coup, a patch of wildflowers out back, and his room full of trinkets collected from victims

> you’re strangely enamored by this big, quiet man

> and you don’t get the sense you’re allowed to leave

> especially when Drayton comes home and goes on and on about witnesses

> but you didn’t really even have an end goal in mind on your road trip anyways

> and now you’ve got Bubba to protect you

> maybe it’s not so bad, stuck with those weirdos

[bvbygrl-writes]

Season of The Witch (1)

Pairing: Jacob Black x Witch!Reader x Edward Cullen

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: (Y/n) (L/n) is 19 and still trying to figure out the world. She isn't sure of a lot of things but she is sure of one: she's gonna have her cake and eat it too.

A/N: I recently watched the Twilight Saga for the first time and fell in love with it but I noticed there's not a lot of recent fics so I decided to make them! This doesn't follow the twilight series exactly but the elements and settings are still the same. Everyone is aged up (I mean does Edward really need to be tbf). If this gets enough feedback in my inbox and comments I will continue but this is mainly a tester to see how it does!

Warnings: N/A but it will be 18+ at some point most likely. Minors and blanks dni.

Everyone always talks about how hard it is moving in the middle of the school year. But, what they never talk about is how hard it is to move once you’ve just graduated. Friend groups are already established and due to college, no one is looking to meet anyone new until they’re off to whichever university they’ve decided to attend.

You, however, weren’t off to university. You knew it wasn’t right from you. Your parents supported your decision. In fact, they were thrilled…but not for the reasons you originally thought. Your dad wanted to move back to his home town of Forks, Washington and your mom, being a lover of nature, thought it was the perfect change of scenery. According to the conversation they had with you, it wasn’t a spur of the moment decision either. Your dad had gotten a job as head surgeon and your mom had bought a space to turn into the bakery she had dreamed of owning for years. It was something they had been wanting to do for years but due to the fact you were doing so well in school, they hadn’t wanted to rip you away from that. 

Part of you, the part of you that didn’t want to admit it to yourself, wish that they had. Maybe then you’d have a better chance at your 20s not being so lonely in a town that so far on the drive from the airport, seemed to be desolate and void of any youth. But, it wasn’t all bad. With all the greenery and nature, you’d be able to focus on growing your powers more.

You came from a long lineage filled with powerful and strong witches, your mother being one of them. On your thirteenth birthday, your powers finally presented themselves and everything began to make sense for you. You had always felt different from your peers and having the confirmation that you were healed something in you. Your mom had been mentoring you and through her, you had learned so much over the years. As your eyes gazed out the rain littered car window, focusing on the ocean of trees that passed in a blur, one thing she had said stuck out to you the most. ‘A witch is at her strongest when surrounded by nature’. 

Every weekend, she used to drive 6 hours there and back to a small patch of woods outside of the city. But now, you had access to the forest in any direction you looked.

“I’m thinking of starting a garden in the yard, (Y/n/n), what do ya think?” your mom asked, causing your head to turn in her direction. Her body was turned back to face you, the small wrinkles near her mouth creasing as she grinned. She always had an air of vibrancy and brightness to her that made you question if you were even related sometimes. It was like you could practically feel her emotions buzzing off of her and piercing into your heart. You hummed mulling over your response, turning your attention back to your window, watching as the trees slowly began to turn into homes the further you drove into town.

“Sounds good.” you responded. Your limited word choice was something you had gotten from your father. He wasn’t as introverted as you were, but he only spoke when he found the conversation particularly interesting. And when it came to his wife, he found everything interesting.

“I think that’s a great idea, honey! There’s a lot of space at the house and I know if anyone can make it magical, it’s you.” You watched in the rear view mirror as his eyes flickered towards your mom, full of admiration. Your mom giggled at his small joke, shoving his shoulder in a playful manner. “Maybe in the spring, you could get some fruit growing, use it in your bakery.”

“Why wait till spring? I could do it now with the flick of a finger.” she mused, holding out her palm. Golden sparks hovered above it, swirling in a circular motion. Your dad smiled at her, shaking his head as he pulled into a driveway which you assumed was your new home. Sticking your head out the window, you looked up at it in awe.

In the city, your house was a lot smaller. Lots of identical homes sandwiched far too close together for your liking. But this house, it had character. Faded green framework, a bay window, and a semi wrap-around porch. You noticed a window on the second story, a small balcony attached to it. In your mind you had already claimed it. The slamming of the van door broke you out of your brewing daydream. Looking on the lawn, you internally groaned as you saw people. Just what you wanted to see after a 7 hour car ride. Before you could duck down and pretend you couldn’t exist, your dad turned his head, shaking it as if he could predict what you were about to do.

“(Y/n), come meet my friends!” he called to you. Sighing, you pulled your cardigan closer to your body before hopping out the back seat, stretching your arms as the snap, crackled, and popped. You were finally able to get a good look at the people on your lawn. An older white man with brunette hair, and a thick mustache. Another in a wheelchair, with long, thick black hair, a cowboy hat perched on his head. You recognized them from the pictures from your dad’s office. “These are my old buddies, Billy Black and Charlie Swan. We grew up together!” he explained. Putting on your best smile, you stuck your hand out, shaking each of their respective hands.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you both after hearing dad talk my ears off about you for years.” You joked, causing both men to chuckle. 

“If it makes you feel any better, your dad’s always bragging about ya, kid.” Charlie said. You smile slightly at your dad as he tells you that. Your dad has never been a stranger of telling you how proud he is of you, so it doesn’t shock you that much but it’s still nice to hear it.

“Enough chatting, how’s bout I grab some beers from the cooler and we can start unpacking this uhaul? We’ve got some time but let me tell ya’, the Mrs. does not pack light.” Your dad speaks over his shoulder as he makes his way to the trunk. You hear the sound of ice shuffling as he grabs a few beers out, cracking them open on the side of the car.

“Everything has value, David! You’ll be thanking me when it saves you the money!” Your mom says from the open door, huffling as she grabs another box from the porch, carrying it further into the house. Shaking your head, you smile some. At least some things haven’t changed.

After a while, you finally got all of your boxes into your new room. The one with the balcony as you had hoped. All your heavier furniture was still on the lawn as Mr.Black had informed you his son would be coming soon to bring it up for you. In the meantime, you had time to put your other things up. Standing in the middle of the room, you close your eyes, focusing your mind for a bit as your body begins to levitate, just barely hitting the high ceilings. Waving your hand, your rolled up rug unfolds placing itself in the middle of your room. You squint your eyes until you’re able to locate the box labeled ‘books’, hovering your hand in their direction. You move it to the built-in bookshelves on the wall, all of your books organizing themselves perfectly. Magic has its perks. 

You decide to go for the books next until there’s a knock on your door startling you. You fall to the ground with a loud thud, groaning as the door swings open. Looking up, your body grows warm at the sight in front of you. There’s a taller boy around your age, shirtless with your mattress under one of his arms. Due to his lack of shirt, you’re able to take in every inch of his chiseled chest and the tattoo on his arm. You recognized the symbol from one of the spellbooks your mother showed you but couldn’t recall the meaning. As you pry your eyes away from his torso, you’re able to focus on his face which is somehow even better than what you were just looking at. Gorgeous brown eyes, thick brows, and pretty pink lips. He was somehow rugged and cute at the same time but you had no time to focus on that as he dropped your mattress on the ground, pulling you up with ease.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a concerned tone. You looked away in embarrassment, clearing your throat as you backed away from his hold.

“Fine. Just tripped over this stupid rug.” You mumbled. He looks you up and down, laughing as he returns to the mattress, lifting it with ease. Almost too much. He leans it against the wall furthest from you before returning to the doorway. He smiles at you, throwing you a subtle wink.

“Just in case. I’ll be back with the rest, try not to hurt yourself in the meantime.” He teases, gone just as quickly as he came. You stand frozen in place, listening as he makes his way down the stairs, the sounds of his steps fading. Once you were sure he was gone, you walk over to the balcony doors, stepping out into the chilly fall air. You let out a groan as you lean over it, playing with the idea of jumping off. At least you wouldn’t be able to embarrass yourself any further. 

2

[ladytauria]

actually, I'll give you something cute

Jason and Tim gotta pretend to be a married couple in a suburb or smth, specifically thinking they adopt like a dog/or cat while there (and then keep them obv)

but yeah playing happy married couple while totally not pining after each other

this is so messy i’m sorry lmao

mutual pining is one of my absolute favorite tropes <3 & you know i love a good undercover + identity shenanigans fic

I don’t have a lot of clear, defined ideas for the set up (I find casefics so hard to conceptualize for some reason???? Sigh.) But. I have a few thoughts— first, I don’t want them going undercover together to have been the original plan. Second, I kind of want to have originally been Jason’s case? Bc I kind of want there to be an opening thread of like. Jason’s such a planner that having his plans over turned is always upsetting for him—he’s adaptable, it rarely ever affects his actual work, but he still gets grumpy about it :/ So him reaching out for Tim’s help isn’t like. A Big Deal but it isn’t Not a Deal at all, you know? Like it means something that he’s asking Tim to come in for… SO many reasons.

Alternatively I suppose it could be something they were assigned to do by Bruce or Babs or asked to do by Steph, even, ‘cause it’s someone else’s case & they need intel but also more freedom to do stuff?? I dunnoooo. ALSO thinking that maybe Tim & Jason are the obv choice for such an assignment bc Jason is still legally dead & doesn’t have much of a civilian life that anyone knows about, and Tim is no longer involved with WE or doesn’t have to do much with the company so his free time is also… very open.

I’m also torn on like. WHERE I would want them to be. In a Gotham suburb? Or outside of Gotham completely? Like, say, Metropolis? There’s something appealing about the latter bc like. They’re already undercover, posing as different people, but NOW they’re also someWHERE else so it feels even more like this is a distant dream they can never have. However, if it’s in Gotham you could have that underlying “we could have been this if life had been different.” (You can kind of get that with the former too, but.)

Also thinking that as much as I love the gendefuckery of crossdressing / going undercover as a woman, AND as much as I love the idea of genderqueer/fluid/trans Tim, I want them to be going undercover as an MM couple? (Although, now I’m thinking about a similar situation where Tim, who doesn’t oft explore the femme side of himself in depth, actually would get to… hm.) ANYWAY. But yeah for this one, they’re going undercover as husband & husband.

Tim’s undercover persona… I’m split between something with tech or working as a mechanic. (Hush.) Jason… hmm. College TA or going for a college degree, so he’s mostly the stay at home/house husband type. Or maybe one or both of them should have a career that calls for traveling a lot?? Hm.

Both of them expect themselves and/or the other to kind of struggle with it. For multiple reasons! The first being that they have feelings for the other—there’s a part of me that actually wants to make one of them (probably Tim) oblivious to their own feelings until a week or so into the charade & have a sudden realization? But also I like the idea of both of them going into it knowing that they like each other and resolving not to let it affect things. They both also expect to miss vigilante work, because while they’re able to go out occasionally it’s not like either of them are used to.

And while it’s definitely difficult to find things to occupy their time with at first… it’s not as hard as they expect.

Thinking they adopt an animal fairly early on (thinking it should be a stray they start feeding & fall in love w). I’m leaning hard on the idea of a cat but a dog could be fun too lmao. There’s a lot of joking arguments about post-case custody but then those peter off as they start letting their roles bleed over into their lives.

And then. The case ends. They get the intel they needed, bust the operation, and it’s time for Tim & Jason to quietly pack up and leave.

Thinking the last couple of days they spend as their fake identities are awkward. They can’t find the ease they had before because they know they’re about to leave, so when they’re not actively performing for their neighbors… they’re more withdrawn.

And then they both go to their separate homes. Thinking Jason got primary custody of their dog or cat? But I could be convinced for Tim as well. Anyway. Both of them feel a little hollow; like they’re missing something. They cant stop thinking about their life together, how *real* it felt & how much they miss waking up to the other. How much they miss even the idiosyncrasies they used to argue over. (Even if at least half of those idiosyncrasies were made up for the persona. They still know each other well enough to know which ones were real and which were fake… & they find themselves wondering which parts of their private lives they left out, good and bad, what living together would *really* be like.)

Eventually one of them makes an excuse to go see the other—to check in on the cat/dog, obviously. And maybe there’s an awkward invitation to keep visiting, and a sort of. Ambiguous/open ending with an obvious/hopeful slant for them to be a couple in the future.

And then maybe an epilogue / one shot sequel set a few months in the future with a look at their established life <3333

[ send me an AU & i’ll give you at least 5 things i would include in it ]

[aziraphales-library]

hello!! i love you all so much (platonic) and appreciate the work you do. do you have any recs where one/both of the ineffable husbands/wives is getting out of a relationship and goes to the other for comfort and maybe realizes they've been in love with them the whole time? thanks so much <333333

Here are some break-up friends-to-lovers fics for you...

I'm All Yours by FeralTuxedo (E)

Anthony J. Crowley knew he looked like a walking mid-life crisis. The tight jeans, half-up bun and sunglasses positively screamed ‘I left my wife for the babysitter and bought a vintage car just to feel alive again.’ In an adaptation of his life, he’d be played by Hugh Grant. He looked like a divorcee desperate for action, and it didn’t help that he was currently standing outside a nightclub surrounded by drunk twenty-year-olds. But Crowley wasn’t here for a good time tonight. He was on a rescue mission. Crowley has been rescuing his friend Aziraphale over and over again for a decade. Hopelessly in love, ready to jump at a moment’s notice when he was needed. When Aziraphale finally breaks up with his partner, Crowley is there to help him through what’s looking to be one hell of a mid-life crisis. Things could finally change. If he manages not to mess it up again. A human AU with a whole forest’s worth of pining squeezed into a single day.

…And They Were Roommates by Mimsynims (E)

“You know… I just remembered that Richard and I were going away for a few days next month.” Something devious came over him. “Richard paid for it, but the booking is in my name.” Crowley quickly caught on to what he was getting at. “Ooh, I see. That’s convenient.” He grinned. “For us." When Aziraphale's boyfriend Richard (Dick) breaks up with him, he and his roommate Crowley hijacks an intended couples' vacation and uses it for themselves. Lines that had started to blur even before their trip gets even more blurry - which perhaps isn't the best thing when both are hiding a crush on the other (and communication isn't their strong suit).

Ezra at the Wedding by tenandi (E)

Ezra's ex is moving on but he's determined to stop the wedding. With his handsome neighbor masquerading as his new love interest, will he win back his true love and rewrite the happy ending he deserves? - Crowley was leaning against the doorframe, obviously hungover and running on about two hours of sleep. A ripped t-shirt hung off one shoulder over a pair of boxers with devil ducks printed all over them. To top it all off, he was wearing black velvet slippers embroidered with his monogram. In any other instance, Ezra would have laughed but he was too busy being wrapped up in his anguish. “What do you want, Crowley?” Ezra fumed. “I am having a moment here!”

You are HoMe (Half of Me) by angelsnuffbox (T)

Aziraphale had gotten dumped, plain and simple. But that small detail wasn’t nearly as important as all the things that happened after he’d gotten dumped - such as coming to a few realisations about his best friend of sixteen years.

Hooped Earrings by OfEden (E)

After 29 years Azira comes out. While her family and ex boyfriend don't support her, her life long best friend is there by her side every step of the way.

Crawling Back To You by madrabbitwrites (NR)

College-age Aziraphale pushed his closest friend away and moved out of town with his married Literature professor in a panicked attempt at escaping his family’s rampant homophobia. Years later, devastated by a dreadful break-up, he’s returned to his small hometown to live with his brother and attempt to heal his broken heart (and broken life, if he were being honest with himself). What he didn’t count on was his old friend Crawley- now calling himself Crowley and looking dashing as ever- to have returned as well. Crawley’s wounds from their last argument are deep and Aziraphale may never be able to regain what they once had, but he’d certainly like to try. The two of them need to have an actual conversation, but that’s not really how these plots go, is it?

- Mod D

[bqstqnbruin]

The Party's Over, Go Home

Hello hello here I am with my fic for @wyattjohnston's winter fic exchange!

I had the pleasure of writing for @sc0tters I hope you like it!

Shoutout to @kat-hearts @matthewtkachuk and @raysofcrosby for reading through this and getting mad at me :)

This is inspired by Intrusive Thoughts by Natalie Jane, Deserve by Jake Clark, and the Gilmore Girl's episode from season 5 called The Party's Over

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, family financial issues, this is angst, the spacebar on my computer is starting to break so typos (I tried)

WC: 11k

__________________________________

“We should do something tonight.”

“I was going to go to bed early, actually.”

“You do that every night.”

“What, are you stalking me now?”

“No,” Kendyl draws out. “You stop texting me by like, 8:30 every night. Your phone is on do not disturb half an hour later. Either you’re asleep early, or you’re ignoring everyone by then.”

Ellie narrows her eyes at her coworker. They still weren’t close enough that she felt she could comfortably hang out with the people she worked with outside of the workday. She had only been at her new job for a month, still getting the hang of things, trying to get to know people and figure everything out. Spending time outside her apartment with people who were practically strangers when she could be in her warm bed with her flannel sheets that she loved more than anything on this planet? “I don’t like that you picked up on that.” 

“Well, too bad,” Kendyl says, sitting down on Ellie’s desk. “A bunch of us are going out tonight, so why not?” Ellie hesitates to answer. “If it sucks, you can go home at ten. You’ll be in bed by 10:30, two hours later than normal. And it’s Friday, we don’t have work tomorrow for you to use that as an excuse as to why you have to get up early, and you already told me that the only thing you planned on doing this weekend was laundry and cleaning.”

Ellie let out a long sigh. Maybe Kendyl did know her well enough to be able to call her out on her shit already. “God.”

“I don’t know if you’re religious or not to know if that’s a yes.”

“Fine,” she says, shuddering at Kendyl’s squeal of excitement. “But you’re buying at least one round and I get to leave at 9:30 if I want to.” 

“Deal.” 

Ellie’s day was full of dread, from spending the rest of work distracted about having to go out with seemingly everyone at her job, so the stress involved with getting ready and trying to look like someone who was actually 24, not the ‘1980’s power boss bitch without the hair and shoulder pads’ as Kendyl had described her multiple times, even down to walking to the bar that Kendyl had picked that felt way too conveniently down the street from her apartment. 

“I’m surprised you even had someone convince you to go out,” her younger brother, Alex, says on the other end of their phone call. As soon as he saw Ellie leaving her apartment on Find My Friends, he called her panicked that something was wrong. “You never went out in college. I had to beg you to go to that one party the time I visited you.”

“That’s because you were still seventeen and Mom would have killed me if she found out you went.”

“She knew I was going to try anyway.”

“I’m going out because I was promised free drinks and the prospect of going home early if I want to. It’s not like I’m being forced to go out against my will.” 

“I promised you free drinks.” 

“Alexander.”

“Eleanor. Just be safe, ok? Let me know when you get home.”

“You sound like Mom.”

“If I were Mom, I would be yelling at you for not wearing a jacket.”

“How do you know I’m not wearing a jacket?”

“You never wear a jacket. Mom has been yelling at you about that since you were five.” 

Ellie lets out a laugh, a sudden chill coursing through her when she realizes she can see her breath. “How is Mom, have you checked in on her?’

“Yes, Ellie.”

“In person?”

“Yes, Ellie. She’s good. At least, she says she is.” 

The two of them stay on the phone in silence for a moment, knowing what he really means. Ellie and Alex hated the topic of how their mom was doing, but if they didn’t talk about it with each other, who else did they have? Their mom and Alex still live in the same area even if Alex was away at college and living in a dorm rather than with her. Ellie was on the other side of the continent now, for a job that she barely had any friends at, in a city she still barely knew, surrounded by things she wasn’t used to. 

“Hey, I’m outside the bar now, I’ll talk to you later?” she ends the call, taking in one last deep breath before heading into what she was sure was going to be 

“You came!” Kendyl yells once Ellie finally manages to get into the bar. “Here’s the first drink.”

Before Ellie could even tell Kendyl she wasn’t ready yet to start drinking, the drink was pressed to her chest and nearly spilled down the front of her. Despite it being early enough in the night that no one should be drunk by now, Kendyl and the rest of her coworkers seemed to be well on their way with Ellie needing more drinks than she could count to catch up. 

The night goes by slowly, the drinks going away fast, and Ellie sitting in the corner while her coworkers, who are obviously close, talk about a bunch of inside jokes from before she was hired that Ellie was unable to participate in.

“Remember when he ordered the wrong cake?” Wesley slurs, punching Doug in the shoulder.

“I swear she told me to say, ‘Happy Retirement,’” Douglas defends himself.

“It was my 28th birthday, not my retirement?” Hazel says, everyone except Ellie bursting into a fit of laughter.

“What about when Sammy dialed 911 during the meeting?” Kendyl adds through wheezes, the remains of her drink nearly spilling on Ellie’s shirt, again.

“It fell out of my pocket and bounced weird!”

“How does a bouncing phone dial 911?”

“That’s the set up to a bad pick up line.”

“More like the setup to a story that makes no sense,” Ellie mutters, thankful that her coworker's howling laughter was too loud to hear her.

She gets up from the table, draining her drink on her way to the bar. It was only 9:15. She promised Kendyl 15 more minutes. The least she could do was down another drink in that time before pulling her classic Irish exit to go home and get in bed. 

“Rum and coke?” she asks once she gets up to the bar, the sticky wooden counter acting as anything but inviting for her to lean on. 

“Me, too, and put it on my tab,” someone says behind her, Ellie’s face immediately turning sour at the thought of some guy buying her a drink to probably get her to hook up with him.

“My friend is paying for it, actually,” she turns to him, surprised to find a seemingly innocent-looking guy around her age and not the middle-aged gross man she thought he would be. Anything was possible, and looks can be deceiving.

“Which friend, the one who almost spilled her drink on you or the one of the ones who have been ignoring you the entire night and letting you sit in silence while they have a good time around you?”

“I already don’t like you.” 

“My friends pointed you out and said you were me when they drag me out to bars.”

“So you’re the friend who they barely know and who they only invited out of pity?”

“That’s dark. But also, kinda hot,” he says, the pink rushing to his cheeks as he turns away out of embarrassment. “Sorry, um. I’m going to go sit down now.”

“You haven’t gotten your drink yet,” Ellie points out, his sudden bashfulness making Ellie soften for him. “I just moved here. I don’t really know any of them too well.”

“I know what that’s like,” he tells her, leaning against the bar. 

“You’re not from here, either?”

He shakes his head. “Born in Orlando, moved to Boston, then moved to Toronto, and kept going from there.” 

“That sounds unstable,” she says, passing one of the newly appeared glasses of alcohol to the guy in front of her.

He shrugs, lifting the drink to his lips. “Well, they say you are a product of your environment.” 

Ellie lets out a laugh, the first one that she had let out all night. “That’s dark. But also, kinda hot,” she repeats, the pink returning to his cheeks again.

“I’m never gonna live that down, am I?”

“Depends on how long we keep talking.”

“Hopefully it lasts past tonight.”

“It can’t if you don’t tell me your name. I’m Ellie.”

“I’m Quinn.”

Ellie loses count of how many drinks Quinn gets her, how long they’re talking, and when all of her coworkers leave the bar, not even telling her that they were leaving without her. 

She could feel the warmth of the alcohol coursing through her body, the bar getting busier the longer she and Quinn stood there. Someone shoves in between Ellie and whoever is behind her, pushing her into Quinn’s arms without her being able to catch her balance. His hand falls to the small of her back, spreading out to hold her steady. They stood there in silence, the rest of the bar a world away from them. 

“Are you ok?” Quinn whispers in her ear, his breath tickling her skin. 

Ellie stammers for a second, trying to process what just happened. The alcohol was making everything foggy, and the room starting to spin slightly around her as if Quinn was rocking her back and forth. “Um, I, yes?”

His eyes flickered down to her lips, the distance between them closing with each additional person, he was so close to kissing her. 

“I should go home,” Ellie says before he can, knowing that kissing him now would not be a good idea for either of them. 

His grip on her doesn’t relax, the disappointment Ellie expected to show up on his face not there at all. “I’m walking you home,” he tells her, slipping his hand into hers before she can protest. 

“You don’t have to do that.” 

“I want to.” 

The difference in temperature between the bar and outside hit Ellie faster than she could process it, her lack of jacket her brother had scolded her for earlier biting her in the ass harder than the cold was in the moment.

Ellie didn’t even process Quinn taking off his own coat, the one she didn’t even realize he had been wearing the entire time, and putting it around her shoulders before wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close. 

She was on autopilot, unsure how she managed to navigate her way to her apartment when her mind was on Quinn’s body pressed against hers. She just met him. She didn’t know much about him. She didn’t even know what he did for work and only knew that he had two brothers who lived in New Jersey even though that wasn’t one of the places that he mentioned living before. 

“Here,” Ellie barely gets out, surprised with herself for managing to get back to the right place. 

“Do you want me to walk you to your door?” Quinn asks, shoving his hands in his pockets when he finally lets go of her. 

“No, it’s fine.” 

Ellie goes to take off the jacket and give it back to him, the warmth something her drunk self quickly realized she was going to miss. “No, keep it. It looks better on you anyway,” Quinn tells her, pulling his things out of his pockets before turning away to head off.

She stands there for a few seconds, trying to process what had happened that night. 

“Wait, no,” Quinn says, appearing again in front of her. “I can’t leave without getting your number first.” 

“I couldn’t even tell you what my number is right now,” she admits, handing him her phone instead.

Quinn laughs, putting his number in. “I want to see you again, Ellie.”

She smirks at him. “We’ll see, Quinn.” 

___________________

“What do you mean you’re not bringing anyone?”

“No one said I had to bring anyone.” 

“Everyone brings someone. You have to bring a date to the holiday party.”

“Then why was one of the options on the RSVP ‘no’ to the question ‘will a guest be accompanying you?’”

Kendyl whines, earning a cringy look from Ellie. “You have no one you can bring?” 

Ellie rolls her eyes, leaning back in her desk chair. “Let’s see, I’ve been here for like, what, two months? I knew no one when I got here, I hate going out and don’t have anywhere to meet anyone, and somehow none of you here know anyone either. Who would I bring?”

“What about that guy you met at the bar that one time? I see his name popping up on your phone all the time.”

Ellie snatches her phone from her desk and holds it against her chest as Kendyl cranes her neck to see that her statement is actually fact, three messages from Quinn, a fourth appearing while they were talking. “You need to learn what a boundary is.”

“And you need to learn what the Focus feature is on your phone when you’re showing me things because his name always shows up.” 

She couldn’t invite Quinn to the party. She barely knew him, she couldn’t throw him into the party with a bunch of her coworkers who she also barely knew, putting her phone back on the desk without thinking. “He’s probably busy.”

Kendyl rolls her eyes, snatching Ellie’s phone from her desk before she can protest, fiddling with it while Ellie tries to process what could possibly be happening in front of her. “He’s not.”

“What?”

“He’s not busy.” 

“Ken, what did you do?” Kendyl hands Ellie back her phone, a quick conversation with Quinn on her screen, ‘Ellie’ asks him what he was doing the night of the holiday party and he immediately answers that he is free. “Why are you like this?” 

Kendyl shrugs, slowly backing away from Ellie’s desk. “You had fun talking to him at the bar, enough fun that he responded to you within seconds of being asked if he was free.” 

Ellie looks back at her phone as Kendyl finally leaves her alone. The whole idea of having to bring a date seemed archaic in a way that Ellie couldn’t quite put her finger on. Why did she have to bring someone she barely knew to a party with more people she barely knew?

But she really did know Quinn better than she was letting on. She still didn’t know what he did with his life, him weirdly making her promise not to look him up, which made Ellie immediately question if he was a serial killer. He wasn’t, allegedly, but that still didn’t make sense. 

She knew that he was from the States, went to school there until he left early for whatever job he had. He has two younger brothers, and apparently is known amongst his friends for looking like he was having a nonstop existential crisis, while also being nicknamed ‘Huggy Bear.’ She also knew that he was sweet, and listened to her when she went off on a tangent about something, him following right along and matching the energy she had. She knew that she wanted to see him again every night since she had met him that first time, and that he wanted the same thing.

His name came up on her phone, a call from him. “Hi, sorry, it’s easier to talk than text right now.”

“Why are you out of breath?”

“Workout.” Must be nice to have a job where he can just go and work out in the middle of the day, Ellie thinks to herself. “So, the 18th?”

“Yeah,” Ellie lets out, suddenly nervous. It felt like she was asking him for something much more serious than just going with her to an office party. “It’s the holiday party for my company, and apparently everyone needs to bring a date.”

“And you want me to find you one?”

Ellie’s jaw drops at his comment. “No, idiot, I wanted to bring you.” 

“Oh, thank god. I was running through my friends who would go and none of them are good enough for you.”

Ellie could feel the heat rushing to her cheeks at his comment. Did he consider this a date? Was it a date? Was it bad if she considered it a date and he didn’t? What if he didn’t? Why was her mind running at a mile a minute while Quinn was there on the other end of her phone waiting for her to say something else? “So that’s a yes?”

“Of course, it’s a yes. It’s one of the few nights I have off, I want to spend it with you.”

The next days went by in a blur, Ellie freaking out over everything from what she was going to wear, texting and calling Quinn even more, wishing that they could see each other sooner.

“It’s not obsessive, is it?” she asks Kendyl, staring at herself in the mirror. Kendyl insisted on coming over to Ellie’s place to get ready, telling her that her roommate had their partner over that night and the last thing she needed to do was try to use the bathroom to get rid when they had a habit of taking it over for more than a few hours.

“No, El, you just like him. I think it becomes obsessive when you start to stalk him and you show up to where he works unprovoked.” 

“Why do you say that like you’ve either done that or you’ve had that happen to you?”

“I’ll let you decide which one is better. What time is Quinn coming?”

“He’s supposed to get here in ten minutes.” 

“Just breathe, El. You’re going to have fun.” Kendyl left her to finish getting herself ready, her date already waiting outside to take her to the party. They could have all gone together, as pointed out by Kendyl, but it was better to not throw Quinn directly into the fire that was her closest coworker. 

Ellie’s phone starts ringing, not checking but expecting it to be Quinn calling to tell her he was early. She pops out of her seat to head to the door, picking up the phone and answering with an excited “Hi!”

“Eleanor?” 

Ellie stops in her tracks, her mom’s voice coming over her phone speaker. “Mom?”

“Sweetie, can you do me a favor?” 

Ellie felt her heart drop to her stomach, already knowing what her mom was going to ask her. It was the same thing that her mom always asked since she first got a job when she was in high school, every time she answered the phone while she was getting her degree, no matter where Ellie was in her life, it was never a call that a mother should have to make to one of her children this often. “Mom,” she lets out, knowing that she couldn’t say no.

“Please, Eleanor. I need the money. I, I-” 

“Mom, you promised,” Ellie cuts her off, not wanting to hear anymore even though she knew her mom would keep going.

“I thought I would get a raise before they sent the eviction notice this time.”

“Mom,” Ellie says, more exasperated this time. “You have to stop doing this. You do this to me every time.” 

“Alexander can’t help this time.”

Ellie heard a knock at her door, not even processing the fact that she should be looking through the peephole to make sure it wasn’t a murderer, opening it, and letting whoever it was in. Thankfully, it was Quinn, waving him in and motioning to give her a moment.

“Alex is still in college, already struggling because you’re no help. He shouldn’t have to give you anything in the first place.”

Quinn stands there, clearly uneasy at listening to only Ellie’s end of the conversation but following Ellie into her room regardless. He stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed while he watches Ellie continue to get ready. 

“But you said last time that I couldn’t ask you again.”

“I didn’t mean for you to ask my little brother.”

“Eleanor, please. He’ll have nowhere to come home to. I’ll have nowhere to go home to.”

“What happened to everything you had last time I asked you?”

“It went towards all of the other bills, I promise. I’ll send you every confirmation for every bill I have.” 

“You’re not lying to me this time?”

“I’m not, I swear!”

“How many months did Alex cover?”

“Only half of one month.”

“How many months are you behind?”

“I swear I used everything I had to pay-”

“Mom, how many months are you behind?” Ellie knew she was raising her voice, forgetting that Quinn was even behind her. She stopped putting her makeup on at this point, knowing that the tears that were about to fall were going to ruin what she had already on, anyway. 

“Four.”

“Fuck, Mom.”

“Please?” her mom’s voice comes through, small and on the brink of breaking. “I know I’m still paying you back from last time. But what else am I supposed to do?’

“I’m sending it now,” she tells her, hanging up before her mother could say anything else. Ellie forgot Quinn was standing there in her doorway, putting her phone down on her vanity and putting her face in her hands. This couldn’t be happening again. Not again.

Quinn clears his throat, causing Ellie to jump. “Should I go?” he asks, creeping into her room.

Ellie wipes the tears from her cheeks, cursing herself mentally for now having to redo the makeup she already took too long to do the first time. “Uh,” she stammers, “No, no. I’ll be ready in a second.”

“Ellie,” Quinn kneels on the floor next to her, gently placing his hand on her thigh. “We don’t have to go to this.” 

“No, it’s fine, I’m fine.”

“El.” 

Ellie finally turned to him, the genuine concern on his face causing her to burst into tears. He reached up and pulled her close to him, his one hand on her back, the other holding her head on his shoulder, letting her cry on his white shirt. She hears him let out a quiet shushing noise, trying to comfort her in the way she had needed for so long. She cried for so long that she didn’t know how much time passed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he whispers when she finally stops crying, not moving from their position. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She never told anyone about the stuff with her mom. Ellie had been holding it in for years, going from friend to friend, place to place, never letting this out with anyone who wasn’t her younger brother, the one person who would understand and who she knew also understood what it was like. 

But there was something about Quinn. She thought she could trust him, for whatever reason. She never told her ex-boyfriends in college or high school, despite the fact that this had been going on since then. 

Ellie takes in a deep breath. “The only people who know this are me, my mom, and my brother, do you understand?” she asks him, watching him nod. “It started, I think, when my dad left. I was probably 10? Alex was 6, maybe?  I don’t even remember, honestly. This probably started before Dad left, Alex and I think it’s why he left. But our mother is absolutely shit when it comes to money. Like, put us in debt every few months that then somehow fell to us as her children to bail her out.” 

“God,” Quinn lets out, Ellie continuing over him.

“I think we realized it was getting bad when she told us we were moving somewhere smaller right before I was starting high school, out of the blue, when we had already moved to ‘somewhere smaller’ three times in four years. Normally she said she had been planning it because we, of course, needed somewhere to live, and she didn’t like where we were, but that was weird. I didn’t realize it was because we had been evicted every single time until I found the seven eviction notices my second year of high school from the last three times and a notice that we were getting evicted that year, too.”

“Ellie, I’m so sorry,” he tells her, pulling her back in for a hug. 

She sighed, knowing that there was nothing more he could say. “At this point it’s normal, it’s just still frustrating when she tells me and Alex that she’s fine and that she has the money for everything, and then out of nowhere, tells us she hasn’t paid the rent for her current place in four months. Like, do you know what it’s like to have your mother owe you nearly a hundred thousand dollars because of how much she keeps needing?”

“I can’t even imagine.” The two of them sit in silence for a moment, neither of them sure what to do next. 

“I’m glad you can’t. It fucking sucks,” she says, turning back to her vanity mirror. “God, I don’t even want to go to this stupid party anymore.” 

“Hey, we don’t have to go if you don’t want to. We can stay here, we can go to my place, we can go somewhere else, we can do anything.”

“We?”

“I don’t want to leave you, Ellie. I came tonight because I wanted to spend time with you,” Quinn tells her, taking her hand in his. “If you’ll let me, I’ll take you wherever you want.” 

“You don’t have to.”

“Ellie, I want to be with you.” 

___________________

“Kendyl, I told you, I’m hanging out with Quinn and the rest of the guys tonight.” 

“Can I please come?”

“Absolutely not.” 

“But you’re dating the captain of the fucking Vancouver Canucks. You have to bring your best friend along with you.” 

“Alexander can’t come tonight either.”

“Ok, rude.”

Ellie was already nervous about meeting Quinn's teammates. It had taken a while for her to wrap her head around that he was not only a hockey player, but a professional one, and the actual captain of the team. Honestly, she didn’t see it coming. She had heard so much about Elias and Brock that she felt like she knew them at this point. She hadn’t even met them. As close as she had gotten to Kendyl in the last six months she spent at her job, and as much time as they spent together outside of work when she wasn’t with Quinn, she didn’t need Kendyl mixed into the group. 

“Let me meet them first, then we can talk about you meeting them, ok?” she tries to assure her, hearing a knock at her door. “I’ve gotta go, Quinn is here.”

She hangs up on Kendyl before she can protest, slightly worried that she would use the ‘Find my friends’ feature to just stalk the house they were going to and end up on the doorstep uninvited. 

“Hi,” she opens the door, stopping for a second to take him in. God, she hated how hard she fell for him in a short amount of time. He was perfect to her at that moment. 

He pulled her in for a kiss, one that made her wish they were staying in rather than heading to spend time with his friends. “Hi,” he whispers, kissing her again before pulling away. “You look amazing, as always.”

“I’m wearing jeans and a sweater,” she counters.

“And?” He could say anything to her with that stupid smile on his face and make her swoon. “Ready?”

They head out to his car, Ellie’s heart racing as they get closer and closer to Thatcher’s house. She wasn’t great with meeting large groups of people all at once, despite being in a new school nearly every year of her awkward teenage years and being forced to interact with new people every time. 

“Hey,” Quinn says, resting his hand on her thigh as he drives down the highway, giving her a gentle squeeze to try to calm her down. “You’re going to like the guys. And they’re going to love you.”

“Yeah?” she says, her voice shaking slightly. 

“How could they not?” he asks, taking her hand and bringing to his lips, his eyes glued to the road in front of them so he couldn’t see her melting at his words and his touch. “You’ll get along great with Elias.”

“He’s the one from Sweden?”

“Yeah,” Quinn tells her, pulling into the driveway of a house so massive Ellie wasn’t sure people could actually live in it. It was certainly bigger than anything she could have ever dreamed of being near, let alone being invited to. “He’s got kind of a dry humor. You’ll like him.”

Ellie takes in a deep breath, feeling incredibly inadequate just getting out of his car and standing on the pavement of a place like Thatcher’s house. Maybe she should have invited Kendyl. 

Quinn takes her hand, pulling her along to the door when everything inside her was telling her to turn around and just run. There was no way she was good enough to be in this house, not with everything in her life, not when Quinn and his teammates had everything they could possibly want at the tips of their fingers. 

He stops at the door, pulling her close to him, dropping her hand, and cupping her face to kiss her again, calming her immediately. “Hi,” he breathes when he pulls away.

“Hi again. What was that for?” she asked, his hands slipping down to her waist, sending a shiver through her entire body as he traced her sides. 

“I’m going to want to do that so many times tonight, but I know the guys will tease us for it. I’ve gotta do what I can now.” 

That shouldn’t have made her feel the way it did. He could say or do anything at this point and she would melt. 

They go inside, the house loud and full of people despite Quinn telling her that it was just supposed to be a ‘small get-together.’ Everything in the house looked expensive, Ellie’s anxiety immediately spiking. She followed Quinn blindly through the house, all of his teammates talking to him and him introducing her to all of them while she stood there nearly mute over the sheer stimulus overload that was all around her. She barely noticed the drinks that found their way in hers and Quinn's hands, drinking once she saw Quinn drinking it, as well. 

“Elias is right over here,” he whispers in her ear, his hand still in hers and giving her a reassuring squeeze as he leads her off into one of the side rooms. The room was quieter, the lights dimmer, and had a lot less people than any of the other rooms. 

“You got here half an hour ago and you’re just making it in here?” one of the guys asks as she and Quinn sit next to each other on the couch. “Ellie, you have to get him to go faster through the greetings next time. I cannot be left alone with Brock for this long.”

She looks at Quinn, confused as to how they already know her name. 

“You know I have to say hi to everyone, I’m captain.”

“As captain, you should be able to do one big greeting and let that be it so you can seclude yourself in a separate room where you don’t have to talk to everyone else,” one of the other guys said.

“Every time you talk, Brock, you add more to the long list of why you would make a horrible captain.”

“I would be a great captain.” 

“Elias, Brock, jeez.” 

“You know you can’t leave us alone for too long.” 

Ellie gets lost in their conversation, not even being able to contribute to what they were saying because their verbal sparring is so fast and so specific to their history with each other, she wouldn’t even know where to begin. Quinn puts his arm around her, pulling her closer to him by her waist. He looks at her while Brock and Elias continue bickering, smiling at her and giving her a soft kiss on her forehead. 

The guys interrupt them, jeering and teasing them to the point where Ellie has her face buried in Quinn’s shoulder, trying to hide from the embarrassment. “So, Ellie, what do you see in El Capitan here?” Brock asks, giving the most obnoxious facial expression possible.

“You do not have to answer that,” Elias tells her. “Brock has no idea how to interact with anyone, just ignore him.”

“That’s not true.” 

“You thought a good pick up line to use on a girl was ‘you dropped something, my jaw,’ the other night and then were shocked when she just turned and walked away,” Elias says, earning a laugh from Ellie and Quinn.

“You have definitely taken a girl out on a date and then talked about yourself the entire time,” Quinn adds, Brock shrinking further into his seat. 

“You look like the kind of guy that would go to a bookstore and pretend to look lost to see if a girl would talk to you,” Ellie adds, sending the guys into a frenzy. 

“He wouldn’t have to pretend to be lost,” Elias says, poking a pouting Brock in the leg. “You should come around more, Ellie.”

“She’s spent too much time with Quinn already,” Brock whines, Quinn pulling her so she’s practically in his lap, kissing her cheek.

“I told you,” he whispers, just loud enough for only her to hear. “I need you to come around more, too.” Ellie turns to him, her cheeks burning before they both burst out laughing. “That sounded horrible.”

The four of them fall into an easy conversation, the three boys doing everything they can to make Ellie feel included, not shying away from teasing her like they were each other earlier. She felt comfortable. 

Ellie eventually excused herself to go to the bathroom and get more drinks for her and Quinn, the alcohol finally hitting her. She barely finds her way back to the room the guys were in, Thatcher’s house seeming much bigger now that she wasn’t sober and much harder to navigate without Quinn taking her around.

She didn’t mean to listen to their conversation, standing on other side of the opening without them seeing her.

“Brock, I swear, if brains were dynamite, you wouldn’t be able to blow your fucking nose,” she hears Elias say, stiffling a laugh as Brock mumbles something about not meaning to spill his drink on Elias.

“Anyway,” Quinn grunts, sounding like he was getting off the floor.

“Ellie is awesome, by the way,” Elias says, Ellie sure she missed some sort of segue that could have led the conversation from Brock to Ellie.

“She’s snarky,” Brock adds, Ellie hearing a smack and Brock letting out a cough. “That’s not a bad thing.” 

“I met her by accident but I cannot think about what it would be like without her now,” she hears Quinn say, Ellie trying to figure out if she actually heard him right. That sounded like he was much more serious about her than she thought he was. 

“Woah, Quinn,” Elias says. “You met her a few months ago.”

“God, I know,” she hears Quinn let out. “But you know how you just know sometimes? You run into this person one day and they just make your life better?”

“You guys made my life worse since I met you,” Brock mutters. “I say goodnight to her every night and I can’t wait until I can say good morning to her the next day.” 

“You’re a simp.”

“Can you blame me? She’s perfect.”

Ellie finally enters the room, trying her best to pretend that she didn’t just hear everything Quinn told his friends, the ones he told her he would trust with anything. It had to mean something that they already knew who she was before coming and that he could tell them those things unprovoked.

Quinn lights up at the sight of her, giving her another kiss and wrapping his arms around her when she sits down. “You took a bit,” he comments. 

“This house is confusing,” she lies.

Elias and Brock continue to bicker while ignoring Ellie and Quinn. Ellie eventually finishes her drink, along with the third one that Brock had managed to hand off to her at some point, sinking down so her head was in Quinn’s lap.

“How often do you think about the future?”

“I mean, I’m normally thinking about what I’m making for my next meal once I finish the one I’m eating.”

Ellie groans, their hands intertwined and in constant movement, suddenly regretting how much they had both had to drink. She looks up at him, a smile on her face despite the look on his that told her he had absolutely no thoughts behind those eyes. “Like, us in the future. Our future.”

“Huh,” Quinn starts, “I don’t know. I like us right now where we are.” 

Ellie nods, trying to hide the disappointment that she felt. Why could he tell Elias and Brock what he thought about her, but not tell her? He hadn’t even called her his girlfriend to her face, yet. Were they even boyfriend and girlfriend yet? Was it too early to even ask, or should she even ask at all?

They were staying over at Thatcher’s house at this point, neither of them in the position to drive, Elias and Brock electing to stay on the couches. Quinn pulls her up and kisses her, a yawn escaping her after he pulls away. “Want to head to bed? Thatch said we can snag one of the guest rooms.”

Ellie nodded, Quinns hand in hers as he lead her down the hallway. She should be nervous, the first night they were spending together completely unplanned and in one of his teammates house instead of somewhere special. 

But it was with Quinn.

She was fine.  

___________________

“When are you going to be ready?” 

“When I am.”

“You’re taking way too long.” 

“I am not taking too long, you got ready too quickly.”

“Kendyl, I took an hour to get ready to meet Quinn and his friends, and you started getting ready before I got here,” Ellie groans, lying down on Kendyl’s bed. The group chat Ellie had with Quinn and the guys was blowing up, asking where Ellie and Kendyl were. After meeting Kendyl a while back, Quinn was convinced she would be the person to set Brock straight. Ellie wasn’t convinced, but what was the harm of introducing them?

“I’m meeting a Canuck, tonight, El, I have to look good.”

Ellie sits up, looking at Kendyl in her mirror. She knew her friend was nervous. No matter what she could say, nothing would change. “I promise you, you could wear nothing more than a trash bag and Brock would be drooling over you.” 

Kendyl took a deep breath. “Are you sure?”

“Ken, you’re beautiful. You’re funny. You can verbally spar with anyone to get what you want at any time. If you decide you want something to happen with Brock, there’s no way he wouldn’t agree to it.”

Kendyl nods, finally getting up and grabbing Ellie’s hand and her coat to drag her out the door. 

“Are we sure we’re going to have fun?” Kendyl asks, the shaking in her voice something Ellie had never heard before.

“You sound like me now.” It was still winter in Vancouver, the below freezing temperatures combined with the warmest bar appropriate outfits they had not enough to actually keep them warm as they walked through the city to meet all of the guys. 

“What are they like? I only know Quinn.”

Ellie has to stop and think for a moment. How did she even begin to describe them? “I think you just have to wait and see. Quinn is nothing like them.” 

“Oh, my god, you hate your boyfriend's friends.”

“No, what?” Ellie asks, unable to hide her laughter. “I really like his friends. I’m getting closer with Elias and Brock is definitely good for a laugh when you need it.” 

Kendyl nods, both of them shivering as they walk. Quinn had such a warm jacket, Ellie thought back to the night the two of them met. She wouldn’t have been able to see herlife with Quinn coming. She thought Kendyl was just an annoying coworker, Quinn would be just a hook up, and that she would end up having to move home because of her mom and Alex. She never thought it would be this. 

They get to the bar after feeling like they were walking forever, Quinn making a beeline to Ellie as soon as they made eye contact. “God, I’m happy you’re here,” he slurs, planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

“Wow, you’re already drunk,” she points out, trying to push him away slightly. Quinn had told her they were going into a break in the season, so getting drunk was necessary. She had seen him a little drunk, more tipsy than anything, but never like this, and never in public. “Let’s get you some water, babe.”

Quinn lets out a giggle, slinging his arm around Ellie while she focuses on him instead of getting Kendyl over to Brock. She looks around the bar for her friend, or at least one of the guys to hopefully help her make sure he doesn’t go much farther than he already was with the alcohol. 

“Ellie, right?” she hears from behind her as she sets Quinn down at the booth in the back where the rest of the guys were seated. She turns around, one of the new guys in the office standing behind her, glass of beer in hand. 

“Uh, yeah, hey. Dylan, right?”

“Declan, actually,” he corrects her, a quick apology escaping her lips. “Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt, I just saw Kendyl over by the bar and she mentioned you were here. I wanted to say hi.”

Even though it was darker in the bar, Ellie swears she saw him blushing, fidgeting and acting nervous in front of her. The guys didn’t seem to notice she was even standing there, but Declan seemed to be trying to take in everything about her. 

“Are you here with anyone?” she asks, feeling Quinn pull her into his lap, Ellie falling without an ounce of grace down towards him. “Sorry, this is my boyfriend, Quinn, and some of his friends.”

“Uh, hi,” he says, Ellie feeling Quinns arms wrap tighter around her as Declan talks, “I’m here with my roommate, but I lost him about half an hour ago.” 

“You should join us then,” Quinn says, moving him and Ellie further into the booth to make room for Declan. The tone in his voice told her he really didn’t want to do that. 

Kendyl finally comes back with drinks, Quinn taking the beer that was meant for Ellie and downing it much faster than he should have. Brock was already captivated by Kendyl as soon as she sat down, Elias rolling his eyes as he was making a fool of himself, Kendyl finding it weirdly endearing.

“So, Deacon,” Quinn starts, much louder than he should have been. “How do you know my girlfriend?”

“Uh,” Declan says, as caught off guard by Quinn’s sudden shift in mood as Ellie is, “I work with her. Just started about a month ago.”

Quinn nods. “What did you do before this?”

“I was a nurse in the ICU at Vancouver General.” 

“Couldn’t handle it, Derek?” 

“Quinn, what?” Ellie scoffs. 

Declan coughs, clearly getting uncomfortable fast. “It was a lot, so no. I liked helping people, but seeing traumatic thing after traumatic thing takes a toll on you really fast. So I went back to school and ended up with Ellie and Kendyl.” 

“Ah, a college degree.” 

“Quinn,” Ellie hissed. She didn’t like where this was going, Quinn holding on to Ellie like he was marking his territory. 

“I actually don’t have my degree, yet.”

“Interesting thing to brag about?” Declan says, nervously sipping on his beer. 

“Well, it’s hard to finish when you get called up to play with the Canucks, you know?”

Declan shrugs. “Is that the CFL team? I don’t follow sports.”

Ellie gets off Quinns lap, pushing Declan aside and dragging Quinn along with her. She didn’t need to hear what Quinn was going to say next. He was starting to act like a jackass and she didn’t want to see more. 

The two of them end up outside, the cold hitting Ellie like a slap in face. “What is wrong with you? He wasn’t doing anything for you to act like that to him.”

“I don’t like him,” Quinn pouts.

“You just met him.”

“I don’t like people who are trying to take my girl.”

Ellie can’t help but scoff. “‘Take your girl?’ What, am I your property? Did you get a good dowry? How many sheep did you have to give my family in exchange for your hand?”

Quinn rolls his eyes. “Come on, Ellie.”

“No, Quinn, you come on. He wasn’t hitting on me. He doesn’t even know me to like me.”

“Of course he likes you, Ellie, look at you.” Quinn takes a step closer to her, suddenly getting softer towards her. “You’re so pretty. You’re so smart. You know what to do with everything.” 

“If he likes me, that doesn’t matter,” Ellie snaps, still annoyed with him. “I don’t like him. I like you. I’m dating you. That should be enough for you to not act like an asshole towards him.”

Quinn hangs his head. “I’m sorry.” 

“You should be saying that to him.”

The two of them stand there in the cold in silence, Ellie not wanting to budge and Quinn wanting her to go with him. “Come with me?”

Ellie bites her lip, her mood ruined because of him in just a short amount of time. “I think I’m going to go home. I’m tired, anyway.”

“Let me walk you?” Just like the night they met.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll let you know when I’m back.”

They stand there for another moment, Quinn making the first move to pull Ellie in for a kiss. “I love you, Ellie.”

Ellie hadn’t been thinking about love with him yet. She wasn’t there yet. “Goodnight, Quinn,” she told him, turning and walking away, leaving him there on the sidewalk.

___________________

“Have you ever loved anyone?” 

“Uh, you.”

“Not that kind of love, idiot.”

“Oh, um. I was in love with Tess Virtue for a while there.”

“While I get that, I still don’t mean that kind of love, Alex.” 

Alex laughs on the other end of the call, Ellie getting ready for work while he got ready for class. “El, you’re the older sister here, aren’t I supposed to be asking you this?”

Ellie and Quinn were in a weird place since Ellie left that night. She had hoped that Quinn was too drunk to remember that he had told her loved her and Ellie’s response was just to walk away. She didn’t know if she was in love with him. She knew she wanted to be with him. She didn’t know if she loved him.

“I mean,” Ellie starts, not sure where to go. 

“Are you and Quinn ok?” Ellie tells her brother everything that happened, Alex staying silent for a few seconds after she finished. “Ellie, you did this last time.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Not to go psychology major on you,” Alex says, earning a groan from his sister, “But I think you’re more messed up from Dad leaving than you like to admit you are. You have what sounds like a solid relationship with this guy but you’re afraid that if you let him love you and you let yourself love him, that he’s going to leave just like Dad did. He left us with Mom and we never got that love back.” 

Ellie takes a deep breath. “Jesus. At least I know your degree is worth it.” 

“I could be wrong. I’m only six semesters into this degree, after all.”

“I hate you.” 

“I love you, too, El.” 

Everything goes back to her parents. There’s no reason she couldn’t love Quinn. 

She was in a daze on her commute to the office. Does she love him? Regardless of Alex’s psychoanalysis, even if their dad leaving them with their mom made her think anyone who would love her would leave, is she able to love him?

She wanted to be with him, but she didn’t know what it was like to love him.

“You look horrible,” Kendyl says, Declan trying not to make eye contact with her at their little desk clump, probably trying to not agree. 

“Thank you, for that,” Ellie huffs, dropping her bag on the floor before she falls into her chair. “I just had a weird morning. Don’t really want to talk about it.” 

The morning passes by in a blur, the menial tasks of her job at least giving Ellie something to take her mind off Quinn. Anytime her mind would start to wander, anytime she thought about him in any way, she would just switch back to work mode and force herself to do whatever it is she needed to do.

“Hey,” Ellie thinks she hears from behind her, someone sounding just like Quinn. She ignored it, figuring it was just her imagination and her officially losing her mind over what was going on in her relationship. “Babe?”

Ellie jumps, thoroughly surprised that Quinn was actually standing behind her. “I thought you were leaving for Florida today.”

Quinn pulls her up, kissing her hello, a soft look on his face that told Ellie that everything was ok. “We leave in a few hours, so I wanted to come by and surprise you. Do you have a minute?”

Ellie nods, following Quinn down to the lobby of the building. She knew that if she went somewhere in the office, Kendyl would probably have her ear glued to the other side of the wall of whatever room they were in to try to listen to their conversation. 

“So, you don’t love me,” Quinn lets out slowly, pausing a little between each word, breaking Ellie’s heart each time.

“God,” she lets out.

“It’s ok.” They stand in silence, what they had with each other when they first met already somehow dying off between them. “I’m ok.”

“I want to love you. You know I have other things going on that are messing with my mind. You know me.” 

Quinn rolls his eyes, Ellie taking a step back. “What, the stuff with your mom?” Ellie gives him a small nod. “You can’t keep using that as an excuse, Ellie,” he snaps.

Ellie recoils at his words, the person in front of her not the same one who told her would always be there for her when she needed him, that he would help if she would let him and that he wanted to be there, for her and with her, for everything. This was someone who wouldn’t do any of that. “It’s not an excuse. It’s my life, Quinn. You grew up never having to worry about coming home from school and learning that the lights were turned off, or getting scared that the heat would get cut off in the middle of the winter, or that you were two days away from living in a car,” she nearly yells at him, catching him off guard. “I’m sorry that it messed me up and I’m trying to fix it and at least be honest with you about it because I want to be with you.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, you idiot. I want to be with you. But I don’t know what it’s like to be loved by someone who stays. I don’t know what it’s like to love someone who wants to stay. I think I love you, but I don’t think that my work is the place to figure it out.” 

Quinn smiles at her, hugging her and holding her tight, every part of her relaxing as he does so. “That’s all I need. That’s all I want.” 

___________________

“Ok, if we have to stay all night, then we’re ordering food.” 

“I never agreed to staying all night.” 

“Ellie, we have to get this done before we go home.”

“Yeah, but I have plans tonight. I’m not staying all night, extra pay or not.”

Declan groans, a stupid smile on his face. “Are you driving to these plans tonight?”

Ellie gets a bad feeling in her stomach, one that puts a smile on her face regardless. This project had forced them together much more often than Quinn probably would have liked if he found out. The client was demanding it be done three weeks faster than anticipated,which meant they had to get it done before Monday. “Nope. Why?” Declan gets up from the table the two of them and Kendyl are sitting at in the conference room to give them more space to spread out, running over to his desk and yanking one of the drawers open. “Dex, what are you doing?” Ellie calls.

The three of them had already been in the office much longer than everyone else, the rest of their colleagues having left early for the weekend while the three of them stayed behind.

Ellie had plans with Quinn that night for the first time in a while.

“Getting this,” Declan says, pulling her out of the spiraling thoughts she was having about her relationship.

He holds up three plastic red cups and a bottle of rum, the one alcohol that Ellie could stomach without any mixer, a sociopathic tendency as Kendyl would call it. “Why is that there?” Kendyl asks.

Declan shrugs, popping open the bottle with ease and pouring way more than a single shot into each of the cups. “One of the clients gave it to me as a thank you.”

“We never get alcohol as a thank you,” Ellie scoffs, Kendyl agreeing.

“Men,” Kendyl rolls her eyes.

Declan laughs, raising his cup to Ellie and clinking it against hers, downing it in a few seconds as he watches Ellie do the same. Both of them cough, the liquid burning down their throats much more than they were expecting, neither of them breaking eye contact with each other while forgetting Kendyl was there with them. “Alright, we work until we’re done. We refill when we need to.”

Ellie smiles at him, the warmth of the alcohol already coursing through her. Her phone starts buzzing, a call coming in from someone whose contact she can’t quite make out. “No phones.”

The three of them get to work, the sun setting without them realizing it as their phones keep buzzing over and over again. They weren’t even entirely sure what the project was that their boss was asking of them, but then again, when were they ever?

They had to have been working for at least two hours straight without moving, feeling like they hadn’t even made a dent in the amount of tasks they had for the project. “I need to go home,” Kendyl groans, rubbing her hands over her face.

“We need to finish this,” Ellie points out.

“We need more alcohol.” Declan gets up, already somehow emptying the bottle into their three cups. He winks at Ellie, yet again ignoring Kendyl and sending a chill down Ellie’s spine before heading back out of the conference room without another word. 

Kendyl squeals once he’s out of earshot, shaking Ellie’s arm. “Oh, my god, he is so obsessed with you.”

“He is not,” Ellie insists, the heat running to her cheeks at the thought of her coworker liking her. She’s dating Quinn. Dating a coworker is out of the question. Dating Delcan isn’t even a thought.

“Ellie, I’m not even here when he’s around. You two are flirting so much.”

“I’m not sure you know what flirting is.”

“What about Quinn?”

Ellie’s stomach churned at his name. “Quinn and I are fine,” she tells Kendyl, trying to ignore how high her voice got involuntarily. 

“El.”

“Ken.”

“You’re lying to me.” Ellie bites her lip, hating that Kendyl knew her well enough to tell. “What’s going on with you two? You were off last time I saw you together.”

Ellie sees Declan out of the corner of her eye shifting around the desks outside the conference room. “I have no idea.” Kendyl stays silent, Ellie feeling like she has to fill the space. “We see each other less and less now, part of it because of both our jobs right now.”

“Well, that makes sense, that happens.”

“But when we do spend time together, we don’t say anything. We barely talk anymore at all. It’s like we ran out of things to say.”

“Who has nothing to say?” Declan interrupts, plopping down in his chair with another bottle of rum.

“Ellie and Quinn. Why do you have another bottle?” Kendyl asks.

“I have many bottles. Who’s Quinn?” 

“Ellie’s boyfriend.” 

Declan just nods, giving Ellie an uneasy feeling as they both take a sip of their drinks again, the eye contact between them mixed with the alcohol making her mind spin. “We’re just going through a weird phase right now. We’ll get through it.”

Kendyl recaps what Ellie told her, unprompted, to Declan, who infuriatingly just sits there, the alcohol making him look way too attractive for Ellie’s liking. “You don’t want my opinion, do you?” he asks.

“Kendyl gives me hers all the time when I don’t want it, you might as well give yours.”

“You’re both busy. That happens.”

“See?” Ellie prods Kendyl. 

“But,” Declan starts again, Kendyl sticking her tongue out at Ellie like a child, “Being busy could also mean not being willing to make time for each other.” 

Ellie took in a deep breath, hating what he was saying. It wasn’t like he said that much, but he said enough. The room suddenly felt too small, the work too overwhelming, the alcohol hitting her all at once. “I’m going to go to the bathroom,” she says, practically running out of the room. 

Are she and Quinn not making enough time for each other? Are they just ending their relationship without saying that it’s over? She didn’t think she wanted to break up with him, but at this point, what was staying with him doing for her? 

Ellie looks at herself in the mirror. She didn’t know if it was the alcohol distorting her perception of herself or if it was the mirror that probably hadn’t been cleaned in a while, but she didn’t look like herself. She looked off. She had felt off for a while, but she had no idea why. 

Was it because of Quinn? Ellie had heard that to be loved was to be changed, but what happens when you don’t like how you’ve changed? How much should she fight to get things back to the way there were when they first started seeing each other? What has to happen for her to just give up instead?

“Hey, sorry,” Declan startles Ellie, causing her to lose her balance and stumble against the sink. “I’m sorry that I upset you.”

“No, uh,” Ellie starts, wiping a tear from her cheek she didn’t even know had fallen, “You didn’t upset me.”

“Can I ask you something?” Declan’s voice is gentle as he takes a step closer to you, waiting for her to nod. “If you aren’t happy, why are you still with him?”

Ellie shrugs, not wanting to look at him. If she looks, she’ll fall apart. “I love him. I do. He knows me better than anyone. I’ve told him things I haven’t told anyone outside of my family, not even Kendyl. But sometimes,” she takes in a breath, her voice shaking. “Sometimes I wonder if it was all for nothing. We have no time for each other anymore. I see Kendyl more than I see him.”

“Ellie,” he says, his voice low as he steps closer to her. She was sure he could hear her heart racing. 

She was dating Quinn.

Quinn.

“Oh, fuck,” Ellie practically yells. “What time is it?”

“Uh, 8:30.”

“Quinn was picking me up at 8:15.” Ellie runs from the bathroom, leaving Declan calling after her. She grabs her stuff from the conference room without saying a word to Kendyl. 

She hears Declan in the background, calling after her as she runs down the stairs, dropping things in the stairwell that she doesn’t bother to pick up. She was rattled, Quinn already waiting for what had now become twenty minutes without her so much as texting him back the entire time.

Declan catches up to her, everything she’s dropped in his hands when she bursts through the front door of the building, Quinn’s car at the curb with him leaning against it scrolling on his phone. He looks up, his eyes going between his disheveled girlfriend and the one guy that she talked to that he was worried about, equally out of breath and carrying her things, both of them looking panicked.

He could tell Ellie was drunk. He knew she was drinking with him.

“What is this, Ellie?” he asks, trying to keep a calm tone in his voice as best as he can.

Ellie starts stammering, the alcohol not helping her at all. “We were doing that project I told you about, we lost track of time. I know I’m late but I wasn’t looking at my phone so we could finish as fast as possible.”

Quinn takes in a deep breath, looking up to the sky so he didn’t have to see her reaction to what he was about to say. “Ellie, I know he likes you. I told you likes you the night I met him. And, I know you like him, even if you don’t realize it yet. What am I doing here?”

Ellie steps toward him, her legs starting to shake as she tried to process what he was saying. “Quinn, you’re taking me out. You said we were meeting the guys tonight.”

“No, Ellie. I am. You’re gonna stay here.You’re gonna finish the project. You’re going to spend the night with Declan. You should be with someone who has time for you.”

“Quinn.” 

“We’ve both been busy. We’ve both had way too many things going on to focus on each other. We deserve better. You deserve better.”

“Quinn,” she repeats, standing right in front of him. She reaches up to his cheek, him leaning into her touch as he finally looks at her. “What are you saying?”

“You know, Ellie.” 

They stand there, forgetting Declan behind them and ignoring the world around them. Quinn cups her cheeks, kissing her like he did the very first time. “Bye, Eleanor.”

“Bye, Quinn,” Ellie whispers, not wanting to let go. 

Everything happened so fast. Ellie stood on the curb, wanting to drop her things right on the sidewalk and chase after him as he got in his car and drove away. She didn’t move as Declan came up behind her, gently putting his arm around her to try to comfort her. She didn’t hear him say that he wanted to get her back inside so that Kendyl could be with her, so that she’d have someone she trusted to talk to after what just happened.

She just stood there. 

___________________

Quinn was miserable. The guys were all with their partners, while Quinn sat in the middle with no one by his side. All he had was the beer in front of him that he didn’t even want to drink. 

He should be happy. They were already having a great season. They had already secured a playoff spot. The team was playing to have fun and winning was coming because of it. 

Brock comes up to him with Kendyl, the two of them still going strong. Quinn liked Kendyl, but seeing her still reminded him of Ellie, even if the two of them didn’t work together anymore. 

“Come on, buck up. There are plenty of girls here that you could at least talk to,” Brock tries to encourage him.

Quinn just shrugs him off, slowly turning the glass of beer around on the table. He wasn’t in the mood to be there, but there was no way the guys would let him leave this early. 

Brock leaves to get another round of drinks, Kendyl staying behind. “She’s doing ok, you know,” she says, barely above a whisper. 

Quinn sighs. “I miss her.” 

Kendyl puts her hand on his shoulder, giving him a sympathetic smile. “I know.”

They sit for a moment, both of them unsure what to say next. What do you say to someone who was still broken over something that should have never shattered in the first place?

“Hey, isn’t that that Dexter guy you work with?” Elias comes over and asks, pointing to the other side of the bar. 

Quinn feels the air escape his lungs, Ellie and Declan together, Declan holding on to her as a guy moved past them, pressing their bodies against each other. She didn’t hesitate to take the opportunity to drape her arms on his shoulders, getting up on her toes to kiss him, their foreheads pressed together when they pull away while they looked at each other like they were the only people in the world. 

“She’s happy,” Kendyl says. 

“She’s happier,” Quinn corrects her, his heart breaking at the fact that he couldn’t do that for her. 

[arminsbf]

My Own Summer

pairing: bsf!armin arlert x m!reader

summary: staying at armin's lake house over the summer has been nice, but tonight, neither of you can sleep. maybe you can help each other out?

cw: smut 18+, oral (armin receiving), masturbation (reader), NO penetration, porn with a little bit of plot, no use of y/n, a lot of awkwardness, pining/yearning, reader is anxious/overthinks some things, armin has glasses, college au i guess, armin says he gets off to reader all the time

word count: 5.4k

title: “my own summer (shove it)” by deftones

a/n: finally done… i procrastinated a lot working on this 😭 was supposed to be done last week but. here we are. this is my first fic i’ve ever written so give me some grace… i’m terrified to post this!!!!!

tags: @shepnicolo

You can’t sleep. You squirm on the couch, unable to get comfortable. It’s too hot under the blanket. Makes sense, it’s the middle of summer. It's also too cold without them… because the AC is blasting. The moonlight shines in from the skylight and irritates you further. You press your face into your pillow, trying to hide from your awareness, but now it’s too dark. It messes with your vestibular system, for some reason, and now you’re all dizzy. You sit up.

This living room is nice. The gibbous moon helps you to see, as you squint your eyes to look out the patio door. You can kind of see the lake from here. But it’s hard to make it out in the darkness. Really, this whole house is nice. Armin’s grandparents must be rich rich. But this couch isn’t really made for sleeping on.

The beds weren’t, either. Clearly, Armin’s grandparents don’t spend any of their time here. The beds were usable — twin-sized mattresses and rickety wood frames. But, you doubt either of you could even fit on those beds if you lied straight. And on top, there were those faded quilts that must’ve been a century old. Usable. But not quite fit for the sweltering heat.

So, you and Armin opted for the sectional couch in the living room. It’s big enough to fit the both of you — one on each side — and the pillows from the bedroom and the few blankets from the linen closet worked well enough. The big skylight is pretty, you can see all the stars in the sky, and the patio is nice. The fabric of the couch doesn’t complement sunburn, though.

Armin knows this better than you do. Forgetting to put sunscreen on his face just once got him this stupid sunburn. It’s not debilitating, and the aloe vera helped. But the rough texture of the couch against his face, when he moves just a bit too low on his pillow, reminds him that sunscreen is very important. Besides, he can hear you shifting around, and it’s not putting him at ease. He at least wants you to be able to sleep. He sits up and sees that you’ve already done the same.

“Can’t sleep?” He asks, and you jump, startled. You hadn’t heard him at all. “Yeah. Sorry, did I wake you up?” You reply, and try to make eye contact in the darkness. You can see him pretty clearly, and he’s definitely looking at your face — but he’s also definitely not making eye contact with you. You look to his left and you think you can see his glasses on the end table. Of course, why would he be wearing them to bed?

“No, no, it’s fine.” You watch him try to rub his face, and then he flinches. “Sunburn.” He points at his face as if you didn’t already know. He shakes his head. “I’m tired,” he breathes. “Me too,” you nod, laughing to yourself at his dysfunctional state. You yawn, and stretch, but immediately regret moving your arms away from your body. The AC is definitely too high. You shiver slightly. “It’s cold as hell,” you mumble, and he looks around, searching for the thermostat. He struggles to see much of anything in the darkness. Been nearsighted his whole life.

“It’s fine, Min, don’t worry about it. It’s better than outside.” You say, after watching him look around the room for a few moments. He turns back to you and smiles gently, but you can see the goosebumps on his skin. He’s shirtless, wearing a pair of sweatpants. You’re wearing about the opposite, an old sleep shirt and cotton boxers. “Sorry that I can’t turn it down some, Grandpa set it up before we came. He said that it was really finicky and told me not to mess with it at all.” He mumbles, shifting slightly. “I’m sure that we could just turn it down, but… he seemed pretty serious about it.” He adds. You barely register what he’s said, staring at his bare skin and the way his chest rises and falls subtly as he breathes.

You’re glad he’s not wearing his glasses. You look back into his eyes and it doesn’t seem like he noticed your staring. God, he looks so good — his hair is messy from sleep, and his blue eyes reflect the moonlight like diamonds. You watch him shiver, and then he shifts again. He seems nervous. “It’s okay, not your fault. I wouldn’t wanna do anything if he said not to.” You respond, a bit late. He nods. You’re not sure if he’s really paying attention to what you’ve said either.

Armin thinks back to a night a few months ago, after one of Connie’s parties. You had told Armin that you didn’t feel like being by yourself, and he offered to let you stay the night. Originally, you were going to sleep on the couch, but after a few restless hours, you wordlessly crawled into Armin’s bed. He was going to ask what you were doing — not that he minded at all, (secretly, he was a mess, you were curled up against him in his bed!) — but you really did look tired. Like you needed the sleep. Like you couldn’t sleep without him. So, he didn’t say anything. Just a few minutes later, he could hear your breathing evening out.

He’s sure that now, the situation would be similar. That if you lie with him, you would be able to sleep. And, it’s cold. He could help keep you warm. That’s all there is to it. He has no other reasons to want to lie with you. He convinces himself of this, that he only wants to sleep with you in his arms because you might appreciate it. That’s all it is. Definitely not because he wants to feel you, your breathing, your heartbeat. Hear your blinking and the quiet noises you make in your sleep. Run his fingers along your arms, your back, your legs. He definitely doesn’t want to do any of that.

“Well, um… I could lie with you, if you wanted. Just because it’s cold — and I know that…” A pause. “…know that you have trouble sleeping by yourself sometimes.” He suggests, and your stomach fills with butterflies. You can’t really read him. He sounds nervous. But, he’s clearly thinking something, and you have no idea what.

He isn’t nervous that you’re going to say no. He knows that you’ll agree with him — he isn’t worried about getting rejected. He’s just worried you’ll get the wrong idea. You’ll think it’s because he wants to get close to you, wants to hold you, wants to kiss your skin and tell you that he loves you. The wrong idea. He’s only offering because he knows it’ll help you sleep. Right?

“I — yeah. Yeah, that would be great. Thanks.” You murmur a reply, failing miserably to hide your embarrassment. Of course, you want it. That would be the most amazing thing in the world. You just can’t believe he asked. And he was so normal about it, too. Sure, he seemed a little nervous, but he asked about it like it was no big deal. Your face warms just thinking about it — about lying with him, feeling his warmth. Maybe he would run his fingers through your hair.

Or, maybe you’re making it a bigger deal than it actually is. Maybe he just means that he’ll lie next to you and that you’ll face opposite directions. You pray that he doesn’t mean that. You hope he means he’ll hold you close, as close as he can. That he’ll keep you warm and kiss your hair.

He stands and walks towards your section of the couch. You sit there awkwardly, not sure what to do. He lies down, his head now on your pillow. He looks up at you expectantly. You notice how good he looks, his blonde hair splayed out across the pillow like that. Looking up at you with those pretty blue eyes and pouty lips. You blink, trying to refocus.

You realize that you two do not fit on this couch at all. It’s already a bit cramped for one person to sleep, and Armin completely takes up the whole section. You shift, unsure of what to do. You could lie on him, but… that’s probably not what he means. You stare at his chest — a lot more obvious than you think you are — and wonder if you should do it.

He parts his lips to speak, but you make up your mind, and he closes his mouth again. You rest your head on his chest, your arm across his torso. You sling one of your legs over his hips, now mostly lying on top of him. You feel his breath hitch, but he doesn’t say anything. He squirms slightly to get more comfortable, then pulls you a bit closer. It’s now that you understand how much trouble you’re in.

He smells so nice. Like cedar and vanilla. Like he’s been out in the sun. Your stomach flips, thinking about how his bed and his clothes smell like him too. You want to sleep in his bed with him when you get back. Okay, wow. You’re getting ahead of yourself. But he does have his hand on your lower back, and you’re pretty sure you’re going to flatline right now. His skin is so warm, and you can hear his heartbeat — slow and steady. It’s putting you to sleep. You never want to leave here.

But, you will yourself to stay awake. Yeah, you wanna sleep… but there’s no way you could waste this opportunity by falling asleep and having to get up and forget about it in the morning. He has freckles all across his arms and chest, all over his skin. You trace your fingertips over them without even thinking about it. He’s so pretty, and you want to memorize everything about his body. He shivers under your touch and you pull away, realizing what you’re doing. “Sorry,” you mumble, hiding your face in his skin, knowing that he must be looking at you.

“No, it’s — it’s fine,” he breathes. He sounds a lot less confident than he means to. You can feel his breathing speed up, but he keeps his hand on your back. His fingers tighten and grip your shirt slightly. Like he doesn’t want you to leave. Armin stares at the ceiling. He keeps himself from looking at you. Even though he’s the one who suggested this, he knows he might do something he regrets if he looks down at you — sees your head on his chest, your pretty hands, your long legs, beautiful eyes… He shouldn’t look.

The silence stretches on. Armin is almost completely still, like he’s scared to move — scared to disturb you. You squirm on top of him, suddenly wanting to be closer. You’re embarrassed about it, you’re already so close to him, you literally have your head on his chest… and yet, you want to be closer. You feel a familiar warmth in your stomach and you want to run, and scream, you want to go home and get away from this man that has completely captured you.

You shut your eyes tight and try to ignore it. You try to push away the thoughts filling your head, about what he could do to you, how you could make him sound. You think of his hands and his mouth, and his cock, and now you’re really embarrassed — you’re sure he can feel your heartbeat and your breathing pick up, how your face warms… how your thighs shift slightly. He must know.

Unbeknownst to you, Armin has barely noticed your state. He’s too busy thinking about how you feel against him, the warmth of your skin, and the fidgety touch of your hands. He’s trying to ignore his thoughts, too, thoughts about kissing you and making you feel good. He moves his hand, rubbing your back soothingly. He can feel that you’re still awake, and he just wants you to be comfortable and be able to sleep. He hears you whimper quietly and he finally turns his attention back to you, looking away from the ceiling and towards your face.

He says your name softly, seeing your small squirming and labored breath. “You alright?” He asks in a low voice, not wanting to be too loud. He is genuinely concerned, worried that you might be uncomfortable. You sit up, your hand on his chest. You’re basically sitting on his thigh. You part your lips to speak, but you don’t say anything. He blinks up at you, seeing your flushed face and blown pupils.

Even in the low light, you watch his face start to turn red. His eyes trail down your body, slowly, as if trying to make sure he’s not seeing anything. He notices your body language, how your hips shift ever so slightly, and he really can’t believe what he’s seeing. You’re turned on? Why? Did he do something? But, really, he can’t imagine you being turned on by him for any reason. Not even because he has low self-esteem or something, just that… it’s you. He knows you aren’t straight, but, there’s no way that he’s your type.

He thinks this until you look at him with fuck-me eyes, and he starts to reconsider. Seeing you looking at him like that, his self-control flies out the window. You two stay like this for a moment. You sit there, far too nervous to make a move or say anything — you’re already mortified that Armin is seeing you like this.

Until he places a hand on your waist. He reaches up with his right hand and cradles your face in his palm. He says your name again, in a way you’ve never heard him say before. So tender, so sweet, like you’re something to be worshipped. Your stomach flips when he starts to pull you closer — pull you down to him. “C’mere,” he murmurs, pulling your face even closer to his own. You close your eyes at the same time as him and he presses his lips to yours.

You must be dreaming. This can’t be real. Armin is actually kissing you. Your neck hurts slightly from leaning over like this, so you move off from on top of him. You lie on your side, your back against the back of the couch, and he turns onto his side as well. He keeps kissing you, and he moves the hand that was on your face into your hair. You wrap your arms around his neck and he sighs against you, running his tongue over your bottom lip. 

You start to open your mouth, wanting more, wanting all of him. But, he suddenly freezes, pulling away. He keeps his hands where they are. His breathing is fast as he stares at you, and you pout, wondering what happened. Did you do something? Were you reading this all wrong? Does he not want you? Is he mad? Your mind spirals as he continues to stare at you, and now you feel sick.

“I — I’m sorry,” he finally says, and he has this look of guilt on his face that makes you want to cry. “I don’t know why I…” He trails off, looking back at your lips again, then quickly back to your eyes. He parts his lips to speak again, and you don’t want to hear it anymore — him apologizing for kissing you. You’ve been wanting this ever since you met him, and he’s apologizing. You might have to kill him.

You kiss him again before he can say anything else. He seems to forget his guilt because he pulls you closer, his leg slotting between yours. You don’t even think about it — grinding your hips lightly against his thigh. You harden embarrassingly fast, and hope he doesn’t notice. You gasp softly from the small, muted pleasure, and he takes the opportunity, sliding his tongue into your mouth. You reciprocate, and move one hand up his neck into his hair, tugging slightly. He moans. You pull away to breathe for a moment, and you’ve never been more mad to be out of breath. “Armin,” you whisper, and he nods, his eyes glazed over. “Mhm,” he responds, pulling you back in.

You can feel him, semi-hard in those stupid gray sweatpants that have been driving you crazy since you got here. You keep kissing him, unhooking an arm from around his neck. You reach down, palming him through his sweatpants. He groans, and you feel him harden under your touch. His hips jerk slightly as you run your fingers up and down the outline of his dick against his thigh. He’s fully hard now and his grip on your waist is almost painful.

Reluctantly, you pull away from the kiss. You dip your head down and press your lips against the warm skin of his neck. He shivers, hand cradling the back of your head. You press open-mouth kisses along the column of his throat, sucking lightly, but careful not to leave any marks. You move lower, to his collarbones, along his shoulder.

He says your name softly, pulling his leg out from between yours. He reaches for the waistband of your boxers — he felt your grinding earlier and knows you’re just as hard as he is. He hooks his fingers under the elastic, but you grab his wrist, lifting your head to look at him.

He looks at you, unsure of what's happening. He doesn’t know what to say — can’t tell how you’re feeling. He doesn’t want to say the wrong thing. You, on the other hand, know exactly how you feel, but you struggle to find any words to describe the way you want him.

“I — I wanna suck you off,” you eventually blurt out, giving up on trying to find some more graceful way to say it. Of course, you want him to touch you, but now isn’t the time. You need to make him feel good. It’s all you’ve ever dreamed about since you first saw him. It’s not about you. And, you hope that after this, there’ll be plenty more opportunities for him to help you. Just not now.

“Okay,” he laughs, but you can still hear the same heat in his voice. You untangle your limbs from each other, and he sits up, waiting to see what you want to do. You get up from the couch, kneeling on the floor in front of him. He sits back, his legs spread wide enough for you to have enough room. You reach up to try to tug at his sweatpants, but he stops you. “Wait,” he says, looking like he just remembered something.

He stands from the couch, practically stepping over you. He walks back over to the other section of the couch where he had been previously sleeping — and grabs his glasses from the end table. He walks back over, quickly resituating himself. He puts his glasses back on and looks down at you, motioning for you to continue. “Sorry. Wanna see you,” he says lowly, with a soft smile.

You smile back, meekly, and tug on his sweatpants again. You hook your fingers under the elastic, along with his boxers, and pull them down, letting them pool at his ankles. His cock springs free, hitting his stomach. You’re so ardent that you almost feel sick — you’ve been waiting so long to finally have Armin like this. And he’s here, now, tanned from the sun and hair messy from sleep, his skin bare for you. He’s hard for you.

You spit into your hand, and reach up, wrapping your fingers around him and pumping him lightly — feeling the slight thrum of his pulse under your palm. You smooth your thumb over his reddened tip, smearing a sticky bead of his pre over his slit. He hisses, limbs tightening and then relaxing slightly. You scoot forward a bit, moving your hand up and down loosely. He sighs quietly, his fingers twitching at his sides.

You press your lips tentatively to his tip, making your way down with feather-light kisses. He says your name, almost whiney, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes. He doesn’t say anything more, but from the way you can feel him pulsing in your hand, you understand that he’s impatient.

You kitten-lick at the tip before pulling your hand away, running your tongue along the bottom of his shaft, feeling the vein there. He groans softly, his hand coming to cup your cheek. “C’mon,” he says gently. And you thought you were the impatient one.

You bring your hand back, wrapping your fingers around the base. No way you’re fitting all of him. You finally wrap your lips around his tip, sucking lightly, before relaxing your throat, moving down further. He gasps quietly, and you can feel him resist the urge to buck his hips into your mouth.

You reach about as far as you can go without gagging and embarrassing yourself, so you work the rest of him with your hand. You pull your head back up slowly, swirling your tongue around his length. He groans, moving his hand to the top of your head. He slides his fingers into your hair gently, massaging your scalp lightly.

You continue this, bobbing your head up and down, and he whines, his head slumping back against the couch. His hips jerk slightly and he pushes himself further into your mouth. You force down the gag that builds in the back of your throat. “Sorry, I — fuck,” he gasps, his fingers tightening in your hair slightly. He’s sure you’re trying to suck the life out of him. “You look so good.” He breathes, another moan falling from his lips. “Feels amazing,” he adds, looking down at you with bleary eyes.

You keep going, hollowing your cheeks, determined to make him feel even better. God, he makes the prettiest noises. With another moan from Armin, louder than you thought he would be, his hips thrust up into your mouth. He hits the back of your throat and you gag around him. His fingers comb through your hair as if trying to soothe you. Despite the burn in your lungs, you don’t stop.

You grow increasingly distracted by your own problem — that you’re still just as hard as he is, leaking and staining your boxers. You can feel your pre-cum against your thigh, sticky and uncomfortable. Reluctantly, you lift your head, pulling off him. You keep using your hand, slick from your saliva. You try to catch your breath, and he tries to catch his. He has a small pout on his face, probably disheartened that you stopped. 

You pull yourself through the fly in your boxers, not the most comfortable — but you don’t really feel like getting up and taking them off. You spit into your hand like you did for Armin earlier, and you stroke yourself at about the same speed as you do him. You feel relief almost instantly, biting your lip at the respite. Feels a lot better than sitting there shifting your thighs. Your eyes flutter shut and you rest your head against his thigh, your breathing finally slowing.

“You okay?” He asks gently, running his fingers through your hair. He sounds just as winded as you. “Mhm,” you nod, kissing up his shaft again. You sit back up, resuming your ministrations with your mouth — and you swear he’s harder than before, if it’s even possible.

You keep your gaze locked on his eyes, but you notice he isn’t making eye contact with you. He stares between your legs — watching as you touch yourself — and you squirm. This is so embarrassing. He moans again, and he sounds like heaven. He must notice your embarrassment.

“You know, I — I’ve wanted you since Eren introduced us,” he breathes, head tilting back. “Well, maybe I shouldn’t say this, but—” his hips jerk again and he moans, interrupting himself. His fingers tighten more in your hair, and it hurts a little, but you don’t mind. You know he can’t help it. “Fuck… I’ve been… getting off to you — all the… all the time, I — do you… do you too? Have you been?” He gasps, and he looks like he regrets saying anything. You’re embarrassed to admit it, but of course you have. You’re sure you do it more than he does. Kind of humiliating, even thinking about yourself doing that. How desperate have you gotten?

Even so, he just admitted that he does it too, and you never thought you’d even get to be here. Giving Armin a blowjob.

Well — not really. You have thought about it. Probably too many times, touching yourself in the dead of night, thinking about your best friend and all the things you could do to him. All the things he could do to you. Moaning his name into your pillow just to see him the next day and act like nothing happened.

You whimper around him, having no other way to truly communicate. The sound sends vibrations up and down his shaft and he whines. He looks into your eyes, his gaze so tender you feel like crying. You try your best to smile up at him, and nod a little, even with your mouth occupied. You swear he whimpers as he stares down at you, cupping your face with one hand and keeping the other in your hair. “Yeah?” He asks, eyebrows pinching together, just as embarrassed as you are.

He laughs to himself, his muscles tensing. “Glad to know it’s not just me,” he laughs, his voice strained. You watch his stomach tighten, his thighs closing slightly. He hiccups out a moan, tugging on your hair. “Wait,” he gasps, as you run your tongue up the side of his length. “I’m—“ He cuts himself off with a groan, his head hitting the back of the couch with a quiet thump. “Wait, wait,” he moans, with a mumble of your name.

He must be close. You watch him shut his eyes tight as he continues to pull on your hair, probably without even realizing it. You try to relax your throat as much as possible, hoping to bring him closer to the edge. You speed up your own hand — making sure that you’re just as close as he is. It’s a lot, and your hips jerk away from the stimulation. It’s too much, you can barely make yourself keep up the pace, but you have to. There’s no way he finishes before you.

His jaw clenches and then goes slack, his mouth hanging open slightly. He’s quiet now, his body so tense that it looks painful. He moans, just once, and he gasps your name, and you swear you see his back arch ever so slightly as he comes without much warning. You swallow harshly on instinct, and, while it’s not a lot, you assumed it would be a few more minutes.

Nothing against him, he looks absolutely amazing above you — chest heaving and face somehow even redder than his sunburn. His hair is a bit mussed up, but, maybe it’s always been like that. And his glasses are slightly crooked.

But, so much for finishing before him.

You pull off of him with a quiet pop, and you bring your now free hand to rest on his thigh. You continue to chase your own high, and you bite your lip, not wanting to make any embarrassing sounds now that he’s done. You rest your cheek against his other thigh like you had before, whining quietly, your hips bucking into your hand. Armin’s still out of it, his eyes shut. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything better than this — your best friend, all fucked out. Because of you.

With a few last touches, you finally reach your own peak, after what felt like hours. You feel electricity shoot through you as you, thankfully, release into the palm of your hand. If you had stained the rug it might’ve been the death of you. You moan from the overwhelming pleasure, all of it much faster than you’re used to. Usually, you take as much time as you need with this — in the comfort of your own bed in the middle of the night. Alone. And, now, here you are, having made yourself come, in maybe 5 minutes, on your knees, in front of your best friend. Not the most familiar.

You take some time to catch your breath, eventually sitting back up and quickly pulling yourself back into your boxers. You stay there awkwardly with your hand all soiled, wondering what’s next. He opens his eyes, coming down from his high. He looks down at you and smiles. “Wow. Oh my god,” he laughs, still panting. You nod, laughing with him. You get up, feeling a bit of an ache in your legs from having stayed in the same position for so long. “Um… let me…” You mumble, embarrassed, gesturing to your messy hand. He nods, getting what you mean.

You quickly head to the bathroom, washing your hands thoroughly to get rid of any evidence of your encounter. You look at yourself in the mirror. Your hair is all a mess from Armin pulling and running his fingers through it. Your face is still flushed, lips a little swollen. You splash some cold water on your face, hoping to get a grip, because you’re not sure what happens next.

Are things gonna be weird? Maybe he’ll have some post-nut clarity and never want to talk to you again. Maybe he was straight this whole time and will think you’re weird for wanting to do it. Maybe he’ll tell everyone about how bad you are at giving head.

Or, maybe not. You’re overthinking this. Armin’s not like that. Maybe he’ll say he likes you just as much as you like him. Hopefully, you’ll get together and finally get to be with the man you’ve been so in love with. You’re pretty sure things will be normal.

You head back to the living room, feeling cold again now that he’s not with you. You had forgotten about the AC. You regret splashing cold water on your face. But, you’re pretty sure it’s really because Armin was so warm and now you’re not with him. Yes, it’s cold, but it’s not that cold. You walk a little quicker to get back to him. This house is too big.

You get back, seeing him sprawled out on your side of the couch. He’s pulled his boxers and sweatpants back on, and he’s taken his glasses off. He opens his eyes at the sound of your footsteps and sees you standing there awkwardly. He smiles, gesturing for you to come closer.

You walk up to him, unsure what to do.

“C’mere, lie down.” He urges quietly, sounding tired. You smile back and climb over him, lying your head on his chest like you’d done before. You melt into him — he’s so warm. So comfortable. He scratches your back gently, and you sigh contentedly, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck.

You know you should talk. Figure out what all this means. Are you still friends… or something more? And figure out if he actually likes you, because you were always convinced he was straight.

But, he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. You realize how tired you are, limbs exhausted from swimming all day, every day, since you got here. And you’ve been getting mediocre sleep, just enough to feel like enough. And, well, you just came a few minutes ago. So did Armin. He’s just as tired as you are.

So you won’t talk about it right now. You can talk in the morning when you’re both well-rested and in your right mind. But, for now, you can let your eyes flutter shut, let your muscles relax, and let yourself sink into Armin’s embrace. Just before you fall asleep, you’re sure that you’ll get to have many more nights with Armin like this.

[sensitiveheartless]

...Somethin' please!

Hiya, thanks for the ask! :D This is the fic which I started writing a while back and then completely forgot about (the non-descriptive title I gave it did not help lol) — but basically it's a very silly college AU where Albatross comes up with a very stupid plan for Chuuya to get kissed for the first time at a dorm party. (Dazai has known Chuuya since they were both fifteen and is internally Seething over the entire situation)

Here's a rather long snippet to give the proper vibe:

---

Chuuya sighed, and thumped his head back against the wall of the closet.

Worse than the indignity of it all was how boring it was. Time felt like it crawled by even slower when he couldn’t even check the time on his phone.

Like anyone was going to come in, anyway. What kind of weirdo would be desperate enough to kiss someone who was blindfolded? And to kiss Chuuya, no less. He wasn’t exactly known for his sunny disposition. They’d probably be too afraid of him kicking them.

Chuuya shifted restlessly. He could just leave, he knew. Ditch the entire party. It seemed pretty lame so far, and it wasn’t like Chuuya wanted to be kissed…

Much.

…Alright, maybe he was a little curious, just to see what all the fuss was about.

But only a little. It was just that he hadn't ever gotten a chance to fool around during his high school years, not with how quickly everything went to shit—and even after Adam found him and things began to look up, Chuuya had been far too busy trying to put his life back together to bother with dating.

Still, this seemed like a pretty stupid way to lose his first kiss. Why the hell had Albatross thought this was a good idea?

Ugh. Whatever. He would give it another couple of minutes, and then he’d leave. Yeah. No one was gonna come in, anyway.

Of course, at that exact moment, the closet door creaked open.

Chuuya stiffened, glowering even though the other person wouldn't be able to see it. Raucous sounds from the party outside filtered in with the mystery person, at least until the closet door latched shut once again with a gentle click.

…So there were people desperate and weird enough to do this?!

“Hey,” Chuuya said, just to break the silence. He could hear the other person breathing, hushed and a little fast. Were they nervous? “Come to take a shot at it? Honestly, I think this whole thing is stupid as hell, but I’m not gonna stop ya.”

The other person’s breathing did something funny, but they didn’t move. They had to be standing quite close to Chuuya, considering how small the closet was, but the two of them weren’t touching at all.

After a moment of expectant silence, Chuuya frowned. “Oi, are you really just gonna stand there?” he asked, blindly reaching forward. “Who are you, anyw—?”

Before he could get out the last word, Chuuya found himself pulled abruptly into the person’s arms. Contrary to his expectations, however, he was not kissed—instead, he was crushed against the other’s chest, his cheek squished against what he guessed to be their collar bone.

Chuuya blinked behind the darkness of his blindfold.

This person had snuck in here, just to…hug him?

If it could even be called a hug, because it certainly wasn’t like any embrace Chuuya had received before. Nothing like the brisk but warm hugs he got from Adam, or the awkward one-armed hugs from Shirase, or the enthusiastic bone-crushing squeezes from Albatross whenever his friend got overexcited.

If anything, this grip was possessive, and seemed almost desperate with the way the person’s fingers dug into the curve of Chuuya’s spine, keeping the two of them plastered together. They were quite a bit taller than Chuuya, and their embrace was so tight that he could barely keep his toes on the ground.

It was annoying, but also kind of…interesting.

Chuuya tried to focus on the feeling of the fabric pressed against his cheek. Knitted, slightly scratchy material—with cables? A wool sweater?

It was certainly warm. Chuuya felt like he was burning up.

…He had really never been held like this before. Like the other person couldn’t bear to let him go. For the life of him, Chuuya didn’t know what to make of it.

After a few stunned moments, Chuuya squirmed a little. The arms around him loosened at once, allowing him to move his own hands up between them and brace himself against the mystery person’s chest.

Chuuya raised his chin towards where the other person’s face must be, and cocked his head to the side challengingly. “What? Was this all you wanted?” he asked, tapping a finger against the person’s chest. “Maybe you misunderstood the game, hmm? I thought you were supposed to ki—”

[audrey-carr1]

The Heiress and the Lady of the House (part 1)

Author's note: Due to a lack of Hetty x reader fics I decided to fix that. This will more than likely be a series! For future writings, I will take requests as well! Please don't be too upset with how i write because I'm still learning how to write for Hetty. We all know she's a simple yet complex lady. We learn as we go. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

warnings: fem!reader, hettyxreader

It was an accident when I stumbled upon the "Woodstone B&B "hiring ad". As a child visiting my grandmother, I remember riding my bike past the mansion. My grandmother used to take me trick or treating there, and the older woman who lived at the manor always gave the children king-sized candy bars.

After a near-death experience as a teen, I've been able to see ghosts. It began to happen on occasion before it became an everyday thing. I would pretend it wasn’t real and ignore every ghost I encountered. Unless they looked sorely out of place, I couldn't really tell if they weren't living anyway. Ignoring all of them had worked...at least up until I walked into the Woodstone B&B.

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

“So is there a history convention in town or something?” I ask Sam teaches me the basics of the B&B website.

“Um no, why do you ask?” Sam questions nervously

“Because of the people in costume? Do you not see the Viking and Revolutionary officer in front of us?”

Sam gasps, “ Oh my gosh You can see them!?”

“She can see us?!” The two men ask.

“Am I not supposed to?” I asks

Sam quickly takes my hand and leads me into the living room. She has me sit and takes a seat in the spot next to me.

“What I’m about to say is going to seem absolutely insane,”

“Okay?” I say unsure of where Sam is taking this.

“This place is haunted, and everyone you see besides me and Jay are dead,” Sam explains

I didn’t mean to burst into laughter, but I did. How could something so absurd be true?

“My word what is all of this laughter about? Can you plebians be joyous outside of my napping hours,” a voice says

I turn to see a red-headed Victorian woman descend the main staircase. We both lock eyes and I feel as if time has stood still. My heart starts to beat a little faster and are my palms sweating? I could be mistaken but is that blush on the other woman's cheeks? "Can ghosts blush?" I ask myself

The redhead quirks and eyebrow before breaking the silence, “You can see me?”

Suddenly unable to speak I nod still looking into blue eyes.

“Hetty, this is (y/n). She is our new employee,”

“And she can see us? She’s not dead? How can you see us?”

Finally finding my words I reply, “I can see you, I’m not dead, and I’m not sure as to why I can see you but I can,”

“Did young girl fall and hit head like Sam?” The Viking asks

“I don’t remember falling recently,” I reply

“Have you always been able to see ghosts,” Sam turns and asks me.

“It’s a long complicated story, I’d rather not get into,” I say.

The redhead purses her lips not enthused by my answer. Soon I hear whispering of what I assume are the other ghosts.

“It’s okay guys, you can come out,” I say not sure of what could happen next.

Entering the room is a flapper, the Viking, the war officer, a hippie, an oversized Boy Scout, and a man without pants. My mind is filled with questions, but mainly I'm wondering why that man doesn’t have on pants. Before I can question his attire, Sam begins introducing everyone.

“There is one more of the main 8, his name is Sassapis, but we call him Sass. He’s out on a walk with Crash, our occasional headless ghost.”

“I see, well it’s nice to meet you all,” I say to them.

“Well go on tell us about your little cute self,” Alberta says “We want to know everything,”

“Well okay I’ve graduated college with a (insert major) degree, and my grandmother recently passed and left me with more money than I know what to do with. Which means I'm technically a heiress. I’m not sure I want to go into my field of work yet, that probably has something to do with my imposter syndrome. I’m an only child, my parents passed away when I was 19. Oh, I love jazz! I actually play piano and know almost all of the Jazz standards, my favorite pizza is pepperoni, and after reading a dystopian novel series I got into archery but that didn’t last long. Let’s see what else,” As I try to recall information I notice the redhead Victorian woman, Hetty looking at you. I begin to blush as I start my next sentence, “I was crowned queen at my senior prom, I love playing vintage Super Mario Brothers in my spare time, My favorite fish to cook is cod, I have a stuffed teddy bear named Daisy, and my favorite musical of all time is Hamilton,”

Isaac, the revolutionary war officer, scoffs and throws his hands up in exasperation while Hetty pats his shoulder while holding back a smirk.

“What about the juicy stuff, like do you have a significant other and have you ever killed someone?” Alberta asks.

“Oh well," I say a little overwhelmed, "I do not have a significant other, I haven’t even had my first kiss yet. To answer your other question, I have not participated in a murder at least not to my knowledge,”

“Sam you have to keep her! She’s perfect for the job,” Flower says

“Except for the Hamilton thing,” Isaac says off the side.

“Plus she’s incredibly hot,” Trevor says. “Not like Tara Reid hot but she’s almost at your level Sam,”

Everyone rolls their eyes at his comment, “I find it best if you ignore his comments. He’s harmless ” The victorian woman who's the name I've learned is, Hetty, whispers in my ear and I try to ignore the sudden butterflies in my stomach. I don’t need to add attracted to a ghost to my resume.

“Well it seems like everyone is on board with you being here even though you were already hired. Why don’t we go back and get some training done,” Sam says heading back to the front desk.

I go to follow her, but I trip over my untied shoelace. Before I can hit the floor, I find myself caught by a pair of soft hands.

Everyone gasps, and I can tell it wasn’t from the fall.

“Did Hetty just catch a living?”

-end-

A/N: Oh I hope y'all don't hate it! This is the first fanfic I've written in about 11 years, so I'm a little rusty. As I said before this is the first part of this many-part series. I may even add this to AO3. Tell me what you think! Until later!

[spookyscarydemonbabe]

Just Friends

A/N- i didn’t realize how long it’s been since i’ve posted a fic with all the boys in it!! i really miss getting to write for all of them 🥹

Summary- During a catch up with the boys after summer break, they learn of the unfortunate reason why you broke up with your most recent ex.

Genre- Fluff (?)

Warnings- Bad boyfriends doing bad boyfriend things 🙃

Tag List- @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @munsonology

(my tag list is always open, let me know if you’d like to be added 🖤)

Word Count- 2.1k

The first summer after high school always felt like a weird one.

Wether you had college waiting for you at the end of August or a job lined up for some quick work, catching up with the people you knew best was always so refreshing. Especially after not seeing them for nearly two months.

You walked into the bar you’d snuck into for one of their shows so many times before. You were grateful the owner let it slide whenever he caught you sneaking beers, especially when you stayed after to help clean after a set. Your eyes scanned the room, searching around for them and smiling once you saw Jeff waving his hand for you.

The boys were all smiles, and as you quickly made your way to the table they stood up one by one to give you a long awaited and much needed hug.

“Hi!” You exclaimed excitedly, “It feels like it’s been forever.”

“Two months is forever.” Jeff said with a smile as you hugged one another, Grant standing up after him.

“Why’d you leave us here to fend for ourselves?” Grant laughed as his arms went around you.

“It’s not my fault my family decided the reunion was gonna be out of state,” You rolled your eyes, “if it was my decision, we wouldn’t have had a reunion at all.”

“Reunion?” Eddie said as he stood to take Grants place, “So we’re not family anymore?”

“You shush.” You smiled, “My family’s cool with us smelling like weed and watching horror movies in the basement, my EXTENDED family is not.”

“Well it sounds like they don’t know how to have a good time.” Gareth was last up, laughing to himself.

“Clearly!” You agreed, sitting down in the empty chair they had left for you and grabbing the one still-capped bottle of beer. “Enough about me, how was it up here without me? Anything change with you guys?”

Eddie spoke up first after a sip from his bottle,

“I got that job at the body shop a few miles outside the park.” He said with a smile, shrugging it off as if it was no big deal, “Pays been pretty good, and it’s full time too.”

“That’s awesome!” You cheered, “I’m happy for you Eds, i know you’ve been checking that place out for a while.”

“Yeah, it just sucks when it cuts into stuff for the band, y’know?”

“Well yeah, but that’s just how grown up jobs work.” You shrugged, taking a sip from the bottle in your hand.

“True.” He shrugged, taking another sip before Jeff cut into the conversation.

“Me and Gareth were able to get some classes in at that local community college. They’re supposed to start next Monday.”

“That’s great! Are you just trying to get the gen-ed’s done, or do you think you’ll stick around?” You asked them.

“I’ll definitely be sticking around.” Gareth chuckled, “Mr. Honor Roll over there wants to get the gen-ed’s done so he can get into state.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a community college degree, i just want to make sure that i get the required stuff out of the way IF i go off to state.” Jeff said to Gareth, “And the only reason i said i’d go to state in the first place was because my parents were listening. If the choice was mine i’d stay here.”

“Still, it’s good that you guys were able to get in there. Do you know what you’re majoring in?”

“I’m going undecided for right now,” Jeff said after a sip from his bottle, “but i think Gareth is going for History?”

“Yep, U.S. history.” Gareth nodded with a smile, “I mean i think it’s already pretty interesting, i might as well get a degree in it.”

“Good idea. Good for you guys though, i might see if they have any classes open to get a few more credits while i’m at work. Grant?” You looked over to him across the table, “You said your dad was able to get a good word in for you with his union, did you hear anything back about that?”

“Yeah! I actually started all the training and schooling for it last month,” He said with a smile, “in another two months i’ll be an iron worker.”

“That’s great! I’m so happy for all you guys, it sounds like it’s been pretty eventful without me here.”

“What about you, (y/n)?” Gareth asked, “Anything interesting happen for you?”

“Not really.” You smiled and shrugged, thinking back over the last two months, “Same old, same old. I’m still gonna be working with my mom at the office, it’s been pretty stable thus far and if i make it to a year they make it fairly easy to move up so i’ll probably stick with that for a while. And while i was at the reunion a few people were asking about you guys.”

“Really?” Eddie asked, “Who asked about us?”

“A lot of the younger cousins. They wanted to hear all about my friends and their super cool band. And i showed some pictures to grandparents and aunts and uncles, they said we look like a pretty happy bunch. Oh! And i almost forgot, you guys remember my cousin Carlee and her shithead boyfriend?”

They nodded in unison, remembering how you always told them the stories of her boyfriend being anything but.

Never taking her out on dates, never buying her flowers, and of course who can forget the time he said he didn’t have enough money for their water bill but he absolutely had enough money to buy himself a whole new stereo system for his car.

“He proposed. And she said yes.”

They all groaned,

“Really?! Does this girl have no self respect?” Jeff said before you all tipped back your bottles. After something like that, a drink was definitely needed.

“Guess not.” You laughed, “Oh well, not my circus, not my monkeys.”

You all drank from your bottles, and you were about to mention how at the reunion her boyfriend couldn’t stop eyeballing a few of the other cousins all while Carlee was attached at his hip, but Gareth beat you to it,

“What about that guy you told us about a few months ago?” He asked, quickly jogging your memory to the guy you’d been talking to for only a few weeks at the time, “What’s his name?”

“I think it’s Randy, or Roger, or something?” Eddie asked, “Definitely something with an R.”

“Russel?” You said.

“Yes! How’s he doing?” Eddie asked as they all moved to listen about how you and this new guy were doing, especially when they weren’t around to hear all the juicy relationship details.

You smiled to yourself and stifled back a little laugh,

“Oh, he’s long gone.”

“What?!” Jeff exclaimed, “I thought everything was going good with that guy? I remember we met him one time after a show, he seemed like a nice guy.”

“Yeah, seemed like it to me too.” You said with an eye roll, taking the last swig from your bottle before setting the empty onto the table.

“What happened?” Grant asked.

You sighed and thought back to that final day seeing Russel,

“Well, because he was my boyfriend at the time, my parents said he could come along with us to the reunion. He drove me up there with him and everything seemed normal, we were talking just fine, and then we got to a truck stop close by and i saw a payphone and i remembered i had to call you guys…” You cleared your throat, sitting up as the boys were on the edge of their seats. They may be boys, but no one loves gossip like they do, “And as soon as i told him i wanted to call and check in with you guys he just seemed kind of… off? We got to my aunts house for the reunion and he pulled me off to the side and said he really didn’t like how close i was with you guys.”

“Really?” Eddie questioned.

“I’m not finished.” You smiled, “He said that he knows how guy friends are. That all you guys were hoping for was to see me naked, you didn’t actually care about me, and he would know because he said he’s only been friends with girls to try and hook up with them.”

The collective gasps of the boys only made you giggle more.

“That asshole!” Jeff shook his head.

“He said that if i wanted to keep seeing him then i had to stop being friends with you guys. So i told him he can go fuck himself and have a safe drive home.”

“You made him drive all the way back?!” Gareth laughed.

“Absolutely! I’m not going to let some guy tell me who i can and can’t be friends with, and he’s lucky i didn’t put sugar in his gas tank and leave him stranded there.”

Grant laughed, finishing off the last of the beer in his bottle,

“Fuck, well i’m sorry we got in between that.”

“What’s there to apologize for?” You asked, “You guys didn’t do anything wrong. If i date a guy who can’t understand that i’m JUST FRIENDS with all of you, and you’re cool with that, then that’s their problem and not ours. Besides, i’m not going to cut off every guy i know just for some loser.” You giggled with an eye roll.

“I don’t know,” Eddie shrugged, “I just think it’s funny that he said that after we met him. He kept trying to turn the conversation into talking about you? Like he was baiting us into saying something we shouldn’t about you.”

“Did he?” This was news to you, “What did he say? And why did you not tell me?!”

“I remember me and Jeff talking to him and he kept turning and looking at you while you were with Eddie and Grant and he kept trying to get us to look at your ass.” Gareth said with an uncomfortable look on his face.

“And he also kept trying to pry information out of us, and he seemed irritated that we didn’t have anything to tell him.” Jeff said.

“Information like what?” You asked all of them, seeing them exchange glances with one another.

“He asked us if we ever… did anything with you.” Grant said, leaning in and quietly saying the end of his sentence to keep it private from the other patrons in the bar.

“Yeah, he said something really weird to me.” Eddie got the shivers as he remembered the conversation, “He was saying something about you two, definitely not going into detail, but alluding to some mature thing you guys were doing, and he asked if we ever got to experience that side of you instead of this front you put on.”

“Front?” You questioned, getting more and more irritated with your ex the longer this conversation went on, “What did he mean by that?”

“I think he also assumed that since you were friends with us that meant you had… intentions.”

You groaned and leaned back in your chair, not being able to help the laugh that rose up from your lungs,

“What an asshole! And why didn’t you guys tell me?”

“You seemed like you really liked the guy!” Eddie argued.

“We didn’t want to ruin your chances with him,” Jeff said, “You we’re telling us all about how nice he was and when we met him we figured it was just him having word vomit cause he was nervous meeting us.”

You sighed and smiled to yourself, holding your face in your hands.

“Ok, fine, i’ll cut you some slack. But if you guys ever meet anyone i date, or i have the potential to date, and they’re doing weird stuff like that i want you to tell me. Deal?”

“Deal!” They said in unison, the rest of the boys finishing off what was left of the beer in their bottles and placing the empties onto the table.

“Alright, we’ve had our drink,” Eddie stood, stretching his arms over his head, “you guys wanna come back to the trailer and hang? I know Wayne would be happy to see you after so long (y/n).”

“Yeah! It’ll be like old times.” You stood with the boys and smiled, walking out with them as they wandered off to their cars in the lot.

Seeing the boys after so long felt like such a breath of fresh air, and it was nice to know that they always had your best intentions in mind. Even when guys you brought around them were being a little strange.

No matter what, no man could replace those boys’ places in your heart.

[oddinary4bts]

The Forgotten Spaces | ch 6 (jjk)

☆summary: you've been dancing on the same dance crew since your teenage years, and you finally have an important role in it. It feels like life is taunting you when your rival comes back after disappearing for a year, ready to tease you every chance he gets. Will the teasing turn into more, or are you going to take him down with you?

☆pairing: photographer and dancer!Jungkook x dancer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there is mature content in previous/later chapters)

☆genre: slow (SLOW) burn enemies to lovers, college!au, slice of life!au, angst (oop), smut and fluff

☆warnings: mentions of sex/hot tub scene. hickey. angst (oops), might be a curse somewhere in there?

☆word count: 5.8k

☆series masterpost here

☆a/n: I am very sorry for all the angst that is to follow. Please don't hate me and please enjoy reading still haha! Thank you to @moonleeai for her beta reading on this fic, I won't ever thank you enough, you're the best <3

☆Read What Was Hidden here, the fic that inspired this whole story, written by @daechwitatamic, one of my fav human beings on this app <3 It follows the story of Jo and Taehyung before The Forgotten Spaces

☆☆☆☆☆

For this meeting of our end of the world

It's with you that I want to sing

On the threshold of the memories the dead of today

Them that breathe for us

The forgotten spaces

Je t'écris - Gaston Miron (rough translation by me)

☆☆☆☆☆

Sunday, July 8th

                Waking up next to Jungkook feels weird. You reckon it might be because you haven’t slept a lot, and people are already moving around the cottage. You’ve refused to open your eyes so far, just because you’ve heard Jiho and Hobi whispering about you and Jungkook and you feel too much of a coward to admit you probably fucked things up with him already.

You think Jiho has taken a picture. Knowing her, she definitely has, and you wish you could just disappear for a time. You eventually force yourself to get up though, before Jungkook who is still dead asleep when you move to the kitchen. You suffer through Jiho’s questioning, but she quickly notices that you’re shut off, lost in thought and maybe even dabbling in a little regret too.

From there she shuts down everyone that asks questions, and by the time Jungkook gets up, everyone is just pretending they haven’t noticed that something definitely happened between the two of you.

Jungkook doesn’t really look at you. He eats breakfast chatting with Taehyung and Jin, avoiding you like the plague. You can tell you’ve hurt him, but you don’t know how to fix it. After all, you’ve never really been acquainted with feelings yourself. Especially not after your parents’ divorce.

The day feels heavy. It’s still warm outside, far too much, and a veil of dark clouds is looming over the horizon by the time you have to leave the cottage. Your mood imitates the weather, and you find yourself brooding more than you usually do.

You haven’t been able to talk to Jungkook yet. Mostly because he’s been avoiding you, yes. But also because you don’t know what to tell him.

“Hey, I’m shit at relationships and feelings, yesterday felt too real” sounds like too much of a confession. Even though it is the truth, you’re a coward, through and through.

Jiho’s been trying to get your mind off things. Texting you random stupid things, sending you memes as Hobi drives the four of you home. Heather is riding with Chaeyeon, Lance and Bridget this time around, so there’s a space between you and Jungkook. This time, when he falls asleep, he falls asleep with his head resting against the window, and not on your shoulder.

It starts raining halfway home, and Hobi drives slower, windshield wiper going on full blast. Jiho sends you yet another meme – something absurd you can’t bring yourself to find funny. It earns you a frown from your best friend, and a second later your phone vibrates in your hand.

[1:23 pm] Jiho❣️: u’re supposed to laugh☹️ [1:23 pm] You: i want to talk to Jungkook but idk what to tell him🫠 [1:25 pm] Jiho❣️: what really happened yesterday? i wanna help but it’s hard if idk [1:26 pm] You: we made out in the hot tub then fucked when we were supposed to sleep🤡 [1:26 pm] Jiho❣️: bruh i wish i had a make-out session in the hot tub [1:27 pm] You: 🙄🙄 [1:27 pm] Jiho❣️: sorry [1:27 pm] Jiho❣️: pretty sure more than just fucking happened considering both of you are upset [1:30 pm] You: i told him we shouldn’t have fucked after and he got upset [1:31 pm] Jiho❣️: bitch he’s into u ofc he’ll be upset [1:31 pm] You: u’re not helping [1:32 pm] Jiho❣️: are u into him?

You don’t know the answer. You ask yourself that question for the rest of the day, and you reckon you really don’t know. A lot changed between you and Jungkook over the weekend, but it’s hard to ignore the fact you have never really liked him. Because he was a dick and a bully to you for years.

It’s not something you think you can just forget because you’ve had sex with him once. And you don’t even know if you’d be interested in a relationship with him anyway. You’ve never been in a relationship before at all, and the thought of it terrifies you.

The thought of Jungkook being upset with you terrifies you in equal measures, but you refuse to admit it to yourself. Maybe because you’re trying to protect yourself. It’s hard to tell. You feel like you won’t be able to go through your feelings by yourself – they’re overwhelming, all of them.

Thinking about Jungkook is overwhelming. Thinking about dancing under the stars, about his scar, about the way he held onto you after he finished. Everything is overwhelming, and it makes you anxious. Jumpy, even, as you’re sitting in your room in your mother’s empty house later at night.

You’re halfway through a Studio Ghibli movie that was supposed to help you relax when you decide to text your therapist to schedule an appointment this week. It feels like the right thing to do – you know Mary has always been able to help you sort through your thoughts, even though you haven’t seen her in months.

You don’t expect her to reply tonight considering it’s late in the evening, but you linger on your messaging app. You can’t resist but scroll down a little, down to where Jungkook’s name lies on the screen. You click on the conversation, rereading the last messages he sent you from when he was drunk a little over a week ago. It makes your heart squeeze in your chest a little, and you scroll all the way up to the first time he texted you in April. You haven’t talked much at all, so it’s not like there’s a lot, but you can’t help yourself. You reread everything, entirely ignoring the movie playing on your laptop.

When you’re done reading, you find yourself typing a text even though you don’t know what to say. It seems your fingers know, because a moment later you find yourself staring at a fully formed sentence. It looks as if it’s taunting you, and you reread it so many times the words start to lose their meaning.

[9:47 pm] You: hey, i really enjoyed the weekend with u and i’m genuinely really sorry about yesterday…

It takes you all the courage your body can conjure up to press send. You immediately turn off your phone to focus on your laptop and on the movie, though it doesn’t really work at all. The anxiety the message has brought up in you makes the story of Totoro way too hard to follow, and you’re merely watching the scenes, barely even blinking.

When the movie ends, you get ready for bed. You haven’t dared check your phone yet, but a little bit of anticipation has been steadily building inside of you. Because you hope he’ll answer. You hope you won’t have to explain why you are the way that you are for things to go back to normal with him. Maybe because offering him your vulnerability feels like too much of a commitment for someone that doesn’t do commitments at all.

You know you’ll hate yourself at your internship the next day, but you can’t really sleep after you’ve settled under the comforter in your bed. It’s way past midnight when you finally gather the courage to look at your phone, teeth worrying at your bottom lip.

Your empty notification screen stares back at you, as if to say ‘you really thought that would change anything?’

You sigh, putting your phone away on your night table before turning on your side, grabbing a pillow to hold. It’s still raining outside, and your brain focuses on the splattering of rain on the panes of the window. You think maybe Jungkook went to bed early, considering you didn’t get a lot of sleep in the last two days. Maybe he’s asleep and will reply tomorrow…

You cling onto that hope as the sound of the rain finally lulls you to a troubled sleep.

Tuesday, July 10th

                Jungkook has been in a shit mood. He knows why, and it’s strange to think that it’s not his leg for once. What makes it worse is that everyone around him knows too, thanks to the hickey on his neck.

And it’s only worse when you don’t show up to dance practice. Jiho mentions something about you being stuck at your internship, but Jungkook doesn’t ask. He feels like maybe he could text you to make sure you’re okay. His heart wants him to do it, but his mind is stronger.

And his mind has been winning the war against his heart so far. He won’t cave in now. But he’s still in a shit mood when he gets home after practice. It feels even worse when he sees Taehyung and Jo cuddled up on the couch, and Jimin sprawled up on the floor.

Jimin’s texting away on his phone, and Taehyung meets Jungkook’s gaze where he stopped by the door.

“Practice is already done?” Taehyung asks.

It brings Jimin and Jo’s attention to Jungkook. He just stands there for a time, not knowing what to say.

Not wanting to admit he wrapped dance practice earlier because he was pissed that you weren’t there.

“Yeah,” Jungkook lets out flatly. He finally starts moving again, aiming straight to the kitchen.

He misses the way Jo and Taehyung exchange a concerned look when he passes in front of them, or maybe he just ignores it. He’s been ignoring Jo since the weekend, because it feels like too much pressure to admit that her plan worked and failed in the same night.

Yes, he got to sleep with you, but he’d take it back if he could. Just so it wouldn’t lead to where you’re standing now. Because he’s never replied to your text on Sunday night. Maybe because it was too early, and seeing it just pissed him off more.

Or maybe he’s just trying to preserve himself because he’s realized being with you might be a lot more complicated than previously thought.

He’s pouring cereal in a bowl when he receives a text. He fears that he’s conjured you up for a few seconds, but then he reads the name at the head of the notification. Laura. He furrows his brows, reading her text a few times over to make sure he’s read well. On his fifth reading he reckons the words won’t change even if he keeps glaring at them.

And Laura doesn’t deserve him being upset with her too. Actually, he realizes she might be just what he needs – a distraction, perhaps. Because all he wants is to forget how it felt to be with you last Saturday. And it’s not even about the sex. No, the part that’s been sticking with him is the moment between the hot tub and the sex. When he laid his heart on the table for you.

Had he known you were going to step on it a little under an hour later, Jungkook knows he would have never asked you to dance. It was a stupid request, one that made everything too real.

He can’t really blame you for getting scared. Because he knows that’s what it is. You got scared when he told you you should have slept together before, and he’s been embarrassed since then. Because he said the words in the heat of the action, and even though he meant them – means them – he’d rather not have told you.

Because now when he thinks of you he’s embarrassed, upset, and of course he’s pissed. He’s been in a shit mood after all.

He sighs, pushing his hair back before moving to the fridge to grab the milk. He pours some in the bowl, before grabbing a spoon in the drawer and making his way to the table, where he sits to eat the cereals. He’s halfway through his bowl when he finally decides to open his phone and reply to Laura.

[9:01 pm] Laura: Hey, I gotta admit… I’d like to see you sometime this week? If you’re up for it ofc [9:08 pm] Jungkook: yes ofc! i’m free tmrw evening if u want😌

He doesn’t even know if he actually wants to see her. It makes him think of when he helped her with her camera last week. Laura is sweet. Cute and shy. She’s his type, he can’t deny it. But she’s nice, and he doesn’t think she deserves him using her as a distraction.

He reckons he’s a mess. You’ve been messing with his head far too much, and he doesn’t like that you have that power over him. He doesn’t want anyone to have that power over him.

Yet it’s relieving that for once his mind isn’t clouded with dark thoughts related to the accident. Because he can’t really think about the accident when you’re there whenever he closes his eyes. When he can almost feel your warmth lingering under his fingers, along his body. When he thinks he can still smell your shampoo, and feel your soft skin.

The way that he feels disgusts him. It makes him scoff, and he’s frowning as he finishes eating his cereals. The frown only relaxes when Laura texts him again.

[9:12 pm] Laura: I’m available too! There’s a restaurant I’ve been wanting to try? Is that something you’d like to do?

The way that she texts sounds formal. It makes him laugh, and he finds himself replying,

[9:13 pm] Jungkook: wait, so then it’s a date date uh? [9:16 pm] Laura: Maybe?☺️ [9:17 pm] Jungkook: is 7 o’clock good for u?

He doesn’t really know what he’s doing. He doesn’t usually do real dates, preferring hanging out at the girl’s place or inviting her over for one of the many parties they usually host. But he needs the distraction, right?

And when he’s texting Laura, he realizes he’s not thinking about you as much. It’s relieving after the last few days, and really, maybe he should just give her a chance.

Wednesday, July 11th

                Your therapist works in a building that’s surprisingly not too far from your internship. You were able to schedule an appointment for tonight, which is a relief.

You’ve been thinking about this weekend so much you haven’t been able to focus at the internship. So much so that you were stuck at the office later yesterday. You didn’t mind having to skip the dance practice though – you were glad you didn’t have to see Jungkook.

But now, it’s time for you to sort out your thoughts about the whole situation. As much as pretending that everything is fine can be fun, you also hate the way your mind wanders every night. Especially considering Jungkook never replied to your text last Sunday.

You feel like he’s slipping through your fingers. And maybe he is, and maybe all of this will be for nothing.

Well, not necessarily nothing, since it’s always good to get a grip of yourself.

You sigh, and you walk into the building right before a rain shower starts. You’re relieved you were able to avoid getting wet, and you walk to the front desk to give your name to the lady. She puts you in the computer and then tells you to sit in the waiting room. You thank her, and you’ve barely had time to sit when Mary comes to get you.

Mary’s office hasn’t changed one bit since the last time you sought her help in February. You sit on the same couch, and she offers you a glass of water as she greets you. And then she asks what brings you there.

At that you still. You freeze, like a deer in headlights, because for a moment you’re terrified of having to say the words aloud. Terrified to admit you felt something last Saturday, and you think you’ve already screwed it all up. She listens to you intently, and you watch her scribble on her pad as you do so. You’re tempted to read what she’s written; you’ve always wondered what it is that therapists write on that notebook of theirs.

Is she piecing out your soul the way that you feel like she is?

You tell her everything. You tell her about how Jungkook came back into your life, differently this time. You tell her about the dance practices, and about your internship too. You tell her about last weekend, and you reveal every little dirty thought your brain dared to think. Mary doesn’t judge, and when you’re done, the only thing she says is, “You’re really good at psycho-analyzing yourself”.

You reckon she’s right. Because you know exactly why you acted the way that you did – with the example your parents gave you of love growing up, it’s hard to actually love. It’s even harder to deconstruct it, to deconstruct the fear until you can build yourself back into someone that can love.

It’s not that you think you can’t. You love Jiho, Jisung and their family plenty. But it’s different when it’s love with a big L. It’s always been, and you’ve never once really wanted to change it.

But now you do. You’ve been using your fears to protect yourself from others for far too long.

Mary makes a plan with you. Nothing too big, but she does suggest scheduling another appointment next week. Because you knowing what you need to do is half of the work, yes, but you still need to put it into practice. You agree with her, and you leave her office feeling lighter than you’ve felt in days.

The plan is for you to ask Jungkook if you can talk. You have the option to wait until tomorrow at dance practice, or to text him tonight, just so he knows in advance that you want to talk to him. Mary favoured the latter, saying that it’d give him time to prepare if he has things to tell you too.

You have no idea if he does, but the moment on Saturday felt heavy. You doubt there’s been nothing on his mind since then… because you were there. You know how it felt like, under the stars and after that. And the whole weekend, if you’re honest to yourself. You doubt he was immune to it.

You decide to wait a little before you text him. Just to make sure you really are going to do this. Because it feels like you’re standing at the top of a cliff, and you’ve never been a cliff diver. No, you’re far too afraid of heights. But the fact that you haven’t been able to get Jungkook off your mind tells you enough: you’d jump off the highest cliff for him.

Because if you don’t risk it, what is there to win?

So it’s later that night, when you’re rewatching your favourite anime, that you find yourself pausing the show. You go to your messaging app, and heart beating out of your chest you type a message. Something simple, something straight to the point. Because the fact he ignored your last message says enough: Jungkook won’t cave in for apologies, especially not over text.

You settle on,

[9:31 pm] You: hey jk! can we talk tmrw after practice?😌

You press send before you can convince yourself that this is not a good idea, and anxiety blooms in every inch of you. It’s a foreign feeling: you’ve never been so anxious when it came to someone else before in your life.

Watching your favourite anime after that has never been so hard.

Thursday, July 12th

                You don’t want to go to practice. Everything feels like it’s going too fast and too slow at the same time: waiting for Jungkook to reply is excruciatingly long, and having to head to the dance studio is coming far too quickly.

Jungkook hasn’t replied. You texted Mary about it – she said to see in person if Jungkook wants to talk, but to also respect it if he doesn’t. It makes you far less hopeful than you were when you got out of her office yesterday, but you know she is right.

If this is his way of setting a boundary, you will have to respect. No matter how much it upsets you.

So it’s in an anxious state of mind that you make your way to the studio. You run into Jiho on the way, and you’re worrying at your bottom lip when she asks, “What’s wrong?”

Your steps falter a little, and you throw her a side glance. “Uh?”

“What’s wrong with you?” she asks.

She knows that you used to see a therapist. But telling her that you saw Mary again about Jungkook feels like too big of a confession. It gives him too much power, and you’re not sure you’re ready for that. But you can tell some parts of the truth, can you?

“I’m going to try and talk to Jungkook tonight.”

Jiho remains suspiciously silent for a time. “Are you sure you want to talk to him?”

“I guess,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. “I just feel bad about this weekend.” Jiho offers you a sad smile, as your eyes fall to the concrete in front of you. “It’s just like, I don’t know, I liked where last weekend was going and I don’t want it to go back to the way things were before.” You pause, already feeling a little lighter now that you’ve started talking to your best friend. “Like I know I got scared and all, but he’s actually pretty decent?”

Now, Jiho’s smile has turned knowing, and she nudges you with her elbow. “I think I saw that coming from miles away but I didn’t want you to kill me.”

“Uh?” you let out, feeling a little confused.

“Everyone always thought you two were into each other,” she admits, and she laughs loudly when you push her. “Exactly why I didn’t want to tell you,” she says when her laughter subsides as you offer her a fake glare, lips jutting out in a small pout.

“I mean, I don’t even know if that’s where things are going,” you say. Your fear returns, and you’re back to nibbling on your lower lip. “Like, maybe I just fucked up too bad?”

“Did you talk since then?” Jiho asks.

You refuse to look at her when you reply. “No. He ignored my texts.”

From the corner of your eyes you see Jiho wince. Because she knows just as well as you what it probably means, and you don’t want to hear her say it.

“What did you tell him?”

You shrug your shoulders, trying to act as indifferent as possible. “Sunday I said that I was sorry, and I asked him if we could talk after dance practice yesterday.”

“And he said nothing?”

It’s rhetorical, so you remain silent. You’re reaching the bridge, and you know the conversation will soon come to an obligated end anyway.

“Babe…”  Jiho lets out carefully. “Maybe you shouldn’t talk to him.”

It makes you scoff. “I’ll be chill, don’t worry.”

“I’m not saying you won’t be,” Jiho says. She grabs your arm to make you stop. “Maybe he just doesn’t want to talk.”

You free your arm from her grip, though she was already letting you go. “I’ll ask. We’ll see. I just want to clear the air.”

Jiho holds your defiant gaze for a while, before nodding once. “Alright. Sounds good. You let me know what he says.” She pauses for a few seconds, before adding, “And we’re still on for Thirsty Thursdays after that.”

Of course you are, and of course you’ll tell her. She’s your best friend after all, and you don’t remember a time when you really hid anything from her.

It doesn’t stop your heart from aching in your chest as you near the studio.

*****

                Dance practice feels weird. You can’t help your eyes from diverting to Jungkook where he’s standing, next to the mirrors. He’s good at pretending he doesn’t feel your gaze on him, yet more than once you catch him already looking.

He looks good. He’s in paler clothes than his usual today – light blue jeans with an oversized white t-shirt – and his hair is ruffled by the way he keeps running his hands through it. He looks like he doesn’t care, almost. Because you can tell he’s anxious about something whenever you catch him pulling at his piercing, eyebrows slightly furrowed over his eyes.

You don’t know when you started being able to read him so well, but you surely can now.

He calls dance practice off earlier than his usual, and he still hasn’t really looked at you. You’re pretty sure everyone has noticed by now, especially considering the fact Jiho hasn’t really been subtle about it. She’s glaring at Jungkook most of the time, and he just shrugs his shoulders to her.

It’s weird. Something is off, but if you’re going to do this, you’ll do it, right?

It’s in that anxious state of mind that you approach him as everyone filters out. His hands are buried in his pockets and he’s leaning against the mirror. It’s like he’s waiting for you, and you figure maybe he did read your message after all.

The first few seconds of standing in front of him are far more awkward than anything you’ve ever experienced in your entire life. You don’t know what to say, don’t know where to start, and Jungkook’s head is hanging too low for you to be able to catch his gaze without invading his personal space. So you stay rooted in your spot, and you wait for him to look at you. It takes a while, but he eventually looks up.

You’re taken aback by the bitter annoyance his features hold. “What?”

You’ve written in your notes app what you wanted to say. You’ve even practiced it, but now you don’t remember a single word.

His eyes are sad. It’s the only thing that feels different on his features. The rest is all annoyed: his eyebrows are furrowed, the corners of his lips are pointing downwards. His shoulders are low, defeated, and he seems to realize it because he straightens and folds his arms on his chest.

“Uh,” you choke out against the anxiety that’s building up inside of you. “I just…”

“If you want to apologize again, I received your message last Sunday.”

You brush a strand of your hair behind your ear, before folding your arms on your chest too. “Why did you ignore me?”

He shrugs, shaking his head a little as he looks away. “I have nothing to tell you.”

“Jungkook, can you please not? We’re adults.”

“Yeah, and I’m choosing to not be talking with you. I’m sure you can respect that?”

You can. You definitely can. But at the same time you can’t. Not when he says it like that, like it’s some sort of an insult.

“Why are you overreacting like that?”

“Because I’m fucking embarrassed about last weekend!” he bursts. “I wish it never happened.”

It hurts. It stings and burns, and you hold your arms tighter against you. “You’re embarrassed? Is that why you said you wished we did it earlier?”

His gaze turns vicious, like he’s a viper waiting to strike. “See, that’s exactly why I do not want to talk to you. I don’t think we can be friends either. We’ve never been friends, like you oh so kindly reminded me, and that won’t change.”

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath to relax, because this is not where you want this conversation to be going. “Listen,” you say after a few seconds of silence, “I really don’t want to be fighting with you. I just want to clear the air.”

“The air is cleared,” he says as you open your eyes to meet his fiery gaze again. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to do.”

You’re struck then. You feel like you either have the choice to confess or to stick to your anger. And you try to confess, you really do. It’s not like with Jiho – Jungkook was part of the moment Saturday, he was there with you under the stars. So it shouldn’t be too hard to tell him, to say you got scared.

You open your mouth to say the words, and shut it immediately as he scoffs.

“See, I don’t even think we should be speaking at all,” he says. There’s a fraction of a second when you’re convinced you can read pain in his gaze before he continues, “I’m actually seeing Laura, and I don’t want to fuck that up.”

Every word you’ve ever known vanishes from your mind. You just stand there for a moment, mouth hanging open, ears ringing as you look at him. You feel like you’re falling, or maybe you’re getting crushed. It’s hard to tell. It’s equally as hard to breathe, and your lungs burn as oxygen fills them.

“What?”

“I went on a date with Laura and I actually like the girl, I don’t want to fuck things up by talking to you,” he says, slowly, as if he needs to hammer every word into your head.

Laura? The girl from his class?

“Isn’t that the girl you told me you don’t care about?”

Your voice is somehow flat. Empty of the emotions it held just a few seconds ago.

“I went on a date with her and I like her,” he repeats as if you’re stupid and didn’t understand the first time around. As if your heart is not breaking in your chest, infinitely so.

You didn’t know how big your heart is until this moment, when every beat just breaks a little more, and all you can think to do is hold yourself tighter. As if it’ll stop the breaking.

“When?”

“Why do you want to know?” he asks, and his eyes fall shut as he pinches the bridge of his nose. You really do feel stupid then, stupid and foolish and everything in between. Like you’re a five-years-old that keeps messing her right from her left.

“I… how the fuck did you go on a date with her already, it’s been four days?”

“A lot can change in four days, Y/n,” he drawls.

You think your nails might be digging in your palms from how hard you’re clenching your fists. “Wow.”

The studio falls silent. It’s heavy, and maybe the silence is what’s been crushing you. Because you were expecting it – the moment you and Jungkook wouldn’t have anything else to tell each other. Because for everything you were willing to confess, now there’s just an empty spot inside of you.

You hold his gaze. He doesn’t look all that infuriated anymore. Defeated, yes, and maybe a little deflated. He looks like he didn’t expect the conversation to go there.

But you were right. Turns out you were right and you are too late. You can’t help but hate him for it.

“You don’t waste your time, do you?” you ask, and you scoff bitterly. “You fuck one girl and then another in just a few days. Suits you well.”

He rolls his eyes. “As I said, I wish we didn’t sleep together. If I could take last weekend back I would.” He shrugs then, shaking his head a little. “I’m sure you understand.”

You purse your lips, trying to keep them from trembling as you feel a lump form in your throat. “I can’t believe you’re already fucking some other girl.”

“Okay, Y/n, as if that’s going to change anything.”

You nod, and you find yourself fleeing his gaze. Because you don’t want him to see how you’re breaking inside. How every piece of you turns inside out, until you’re bleeding out standing there in front of him.

“Just…”

You think about the stars. You think about the way he led you in that dance, the way his eyes shone as he looked at you.

Jungkook is cataclysmic. He really is. And cataclysms are rarely good, are they? They can create, yes, the way the universe was once created, but they destroy. They destroy and destroy until nothing remains, until you just feel like you’re drowning and burning all at once.

“Save your breath,” he says. You think his gaze is shining again, and you don’t think it’s shining for the same reason that it was under the stars. “And I mean that in the most respectful way.”

“Right. As if that would ever sound respectful.”

He rolls his eyes again. “Yeah, whatever. I’m done here.”

It occurs to you that you’re about to watch someone you care about walk out of your life again. You want to reach out and hold him, to tell him how you feel, to say how everything has started to hurt, but you can’t. You can just look at him, hold his gaze until he makes the decision to go.

He’s gone before you’ve truly assimilated just how bad everything went. Just how far south things went, and how fiercely everything burns. And you stand there for a long time, holding yourself, waiting for the heartbreak to stop. But the thing with heartbreak is that it never fully stops, does it? You just learn to deal with it better.

It’s weird. You never thought you could be cold and burning at the same time. But if this is hell, then hell has frozen over because you’re shivering, just holding yourself.

You feel like you’re sixteen again, like you watched your dad walk out of your life again. Maybe because Jungkook really was the cataclysm to you, and now you’re stuck with the aftermath.

But you don’t cry. No, you hold the tears in. Force them to dry without having rolled on your cheeks, convince them that you don’t care. It’s something you’re good at. Pretending. Because maybe you’ve been pretending you hate Jungkook for a lot longer than you thought. Maybe that’s the reason why it hurts so bad.

But you won’t cry, no. You won’t cry for Jeon Jungkook.

You get home later that night, after having walked through a daze for the whole evening. You’re drunk, and you’re still aching from the inside out. Your phone is in your hand, and you’ve been on Jungkook’s conversation for so long without blinking that your eyes have fully gone dry.

You watch the text you’ve just sent, the only proof that you ever cared about Jungkook.

[2:31 am] You: i reall y wish things ddn’t go so bad

It takes you three days to realize it never delivered.

Friday, July 20th

                It takes Jungkook a little under two weeks to officialise things with Laura. It’s moving quickly, he’s aware of it, but he’s been trying to ignore the way he saw your heart break in your eyes. It seems the best way to do it is to watch feelings swell in someone else’s gaze, and so he asks Laura to be his girlfriend after their third date.

She says yes, beaming like she’s the sun personified.

Still, when Jungkook closes his eyes at night, all he sees is your heart breaking in your eyes.

Prev | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

yeahhhhhhhhhhhhh.. my bad. I really went far with this angst uh? What do we think? What's going to happen next?

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts 2023. Do not copy, repost or translate.

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[the-common-cowgirl]

The Blood of the Dragon

Chapter 1: Alice

Pairings: Aemond x OFC (Alice Strong)

Summary: Alice lives in Westeros in the year 2023 AC running her family bakery in King’s Landing. More like, picking up the pieces of what’s left of her the business as her father was murdered and she was left to take over the business and its failing financial situation since her deadbeat brother slipped off to Essos. Alice is in a bad situation, her father was dealing with unsavory people to keep the business running…and that’s when she meets him.”

Warnings For This Chapter: Strong Language

A/N: I am working to slowly repost an entire fic of mine from AO3. You can go to AO3 and read ahead or tune in twice a week for individual chapters. Please follow fics-by-the-common-cowgirl for updates when I post!

Masterlist

Flea Bottom was booming. The streets were overrun with tourists walking through the gentrified district. Many young couples walked into the store across the street; with the beautiful painted words on its windows, “Le Bookstore.”

How original, Alice thought sarcastically. The businesses in Flea Bottom was booming; every business but her’s, that was. No matter how much Alice marketed, handed out free samples outside her storefront, or opened the doors and let the delicious smells of the bakery waft out into the streets…no one came. Alice had joked with her father when he was alive that the bakery was cursed and that was the reason for poor business.

She wished she could’ve taken that back now.

The bakery was his pride and joy, aside from Alice and her brother Hardin. Oh, the stupid comments she had made to her father about this place, she would take them all back. Her father worked hard to keep food on the table and he did a good job building the business…until that was, the developers came.

The little family bakery couldn’t keep up with the businesses popping up around them. A business that once helped feed the community now watched that community vanish. The bakery persevered, on wobbly legs but it held.

Alice wasn’t sure how, but she did suspect her father had help. She saw the few customers in the bakery the few times she was around in her adult life, forty Gold Dragons in sales a day do not pay the bills, her father had to have help. Alice just never asked, she didn’t want to know how he had afforded her degree, her expensive college in Pentos. She didn’t want to know how Hardin was even able to steal two hundred Gold Dragons from her father every week to spend it on drugs and booze.

She didn’t want to know, but now she had to.

Because now, her father was dead. Murdered, even if the autopsy says “Death by Suicide,” Alice knew that was a lie. Kings Landing is not run by Westeros’ Elected Ruler. The citizens were smarter than that, Alice was smarter than that. Westeros’ Ruler is just a puppet for worse men and Alice feared those men were the ones her father dealt with. Those men had to have been his murderers. This is the only thing that made sense to her. Hardin disagreed.

Alice realized she was reflecting angrily when a couple walked into the bakery and the old mental bell above the door rang out. Quickly righting her expression, she smiled and stood straight behind the counter, preparing for hopefully her first customer of the day.

The woman approached and flipped her big sunglasses off her face, resting on the top of her head and her polished blonde hair, “Hello, I’ve noticed this bakery is not like the rest of the downtown district. May I ask why?”

Alice’s smile faltered a bit at the forward question but she blinked away the failing expression, “Uh, it’s just been in the family for a long time.”

The man spoke up next, “We’re looking for a place downtown to start a new business.” He was tall and had dark hair, polished. He reached into his coat and pulled out a card, extending it to Alice in between his pointer and middle finger.

Alice stared at the card, pristine white. A clean way out of this mess she had inherited.

A way out. A way out. A way out. Her mind repeated over and over again.

Her gaze flicked up toward the man, “No thank you, I’m not interested in selling.” She realized her warm and inviting tone had left her, she sounded much more monotone and serious than she had intended.

The man kept his same polished smile, “Well, take it, in case you change your mind.” His hand still extended with the card between his stupid, manicured hands.

Alice felt the least she could do was take the card, an amends for her earlier coldness. “Thanks,” she muttered grabbing the card and pocketing it quickly.

The woman smiled, “Yep,” and put her hand on the man’s shoulder, guiding him out of the store. Bell ringing to signal their departure and their prowl to the next suffering family-owned shop in Flea Bottom…if there were any left.

“Fucking assholes!” Alice screamed the second they were out of view from the storefront window. She took the polished, pristine white card out of her pocket and crushed it in her fingers, chucking it across the store.

Alice felt her heart beating angrily. “They couldn’t even buy something, those fuckers.” She muttered under her breath more curses as she walked across the store to retrieve the card.

Bending down and grasping the thick parchment, Alice stood in front of the large storefront window with the once-creaseless card in her hands, trying to smooth it back out. She looked outside to the mass of people passing in front of her store, then up, towards the sky that emerged behind the tall Flea Bottom buildings.

Night. It’s fucking nighttime and not a single fucking customer all day.

Alice looked back down to the card. Maybe I’ll have to keep this, she thought.

As soon as she had the thought, the old metal bell above the door rang, signaling a customer. Alice’s head snapped in the direction of the door to look upon the most beautiful person she had ever seen.

Tall. Lithe. Silver blonde hair. Dressed in a long black leather trench coat, black pants, black shoes, even a fucking black eyepatch to top it off. He looked delicious and dangerous. Alice couldn’t help but gawk at him. That was, until he commented on it. “Do you like something you see?” Damn, his voice was even mesmerizing. Low and soft.

Remembering herself, Alice blinked away her stare and made her way quickly back to the counter, “uh, sorry, I uh…” She got behind the counter, “I uh, just haven’t had a customer today.” Laying both of her hands on the counter, she smiled at him like she would to any customer, even the deliciously gorgeous ones. “What can I get you?”

The tall frame of the man took slow and calculated steps it seemed, he’d reach the counter eventually but not without replacing Alice’s foolish embarrassment with something akin to fear. She slowly retracted her hands from the counter and stood straighter, if not leaning a bit backward as he approached. Her warm smile faltered into a nervous smirk and she wasn’t sure where to look as he approached. He seemed to cut her confidence in half with his mere presence; it made her uncomfortable.

Finally, he reached the counter and his scent wafted to her nose. It was alluring, it smelled like the wood stove in her childhood home, just above the bakery. Memories began to flood her mind of the days her father stoked the stove to keep her brother and her warm in the long winters. How he smiled as he read them books in front of the stove. How she fell asleep on the floor in front of the stove, it’s warmth kissing her face like her mother would-

“What do you recommend?” His soft voice pulled her from her thoughts, his remaining eye was intensely on her but stayed kind, soft, warm…blue.

“Uh,” feeling stupid for being at a lack of words, Alice smiled, “I recommend um, the uh…” Her eyes fell to a muffin, “The blueberry muffin’s are amazing.” She looked back up to him with a warm smile, trying to keep everything within her together under his gaze.

He grinned casually, his perfect, delicate lips thinned, but he didn’t reveal his teeth. Alice thought they would be perfect too, “Hmm, then I’ll have a blueberry muffin.”

Alice quickly opened the case and retrieved a bag, grasping the muffin with parchment wrap and putting it swiftly in the bag. “That will be four Gold Dragons. How do you wish to pay?” Alice had already started getting the ancient register rung up, “unfortunately, we do not have the smart phone pay thingy set up yet, we are kind of living in the past here,” she motioned toward 40 year old register, smiling nervously.

“No worries, I seem to live in the past as well.” He extracted a black leather bound wallet, “Here’s five.” He handed her the money, his long skinny fingers made contact with her skin for the briefest of moments but if her eyes were closed, she would have sworn she touched ice.

Alice jerked back involuntarily at his touch but regained composure instantly, putting the money in the register, “Thank you and please come again!” Her smile was warm and genuine. She really did want him to come again, mostly for his business…mostly.

”Thank you, uh, I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name?” He was overly polite, his smile seemed warm and genuine as well so she gave it.

“Alice. My name is Alice Strong.”

He nodded as if he already knew that, “It’s good to meet you Alice Strong.”

“Thanks and you too-uh… well, I didn’t seem to get your name?”

“Aemond.”

“Aemond, who?”

“Just Aemond.” His smile left him and he nodded a goodbye before striding across the bakery shop floor slowly and out of the building. The bell seemed to ring longer than normal to announce his departure.

Just Aemond, she thought as she slowly closed up the bakery. Just Aemond.

Likes, comments, and reblogs are never necessary but always appreciated!

[warabidakihime]

Secret Woes of the Heart

Characters: Geto Suguru x Reader | College AU

Synopsis: In the quiet of the night, beneath the starry canvas, we laid bare our secret woes, uncovering the raw, imperfect beauty of our hearts, and in that vulnerability, we found the strength to love.

Content warning: none

A/N: please accept this peace offering from me for not being able to update my works consistently huhu. it's the last quarter of the year and that means, it's extremely busy at work and it needs my 100% attention and focus. i was also not feeling the best and so i couldn't really bring myself to write. hope you'll like this one. this fic's pretty much self-indulging as i wrote my genuine feelings into this one in hopes of feeling better lol. hopefully soon i can finally update my toji fic and post it as soon as i can.

--

The clock on the wall ticked away the early hours of the morning, casting long shadows across the quiet corridors of Jujutsu High's dormitory. It was a time when most were lost in the embrace of sleep, a time when the world seemed to hold its breath in anticipation of a new day. But for you, this was not a time for rest.

Restlessness had become a familiar companion, and sleep remained elusive. The weight of your own thoughts bore down on your shoulders, an uninvited guest in the solitude of your dorm room. You tossed and turned, unable to escape the grip of your anxious mind.

Desperation led you to a decision—a decision that would take you through the silent halls to a particular door—the door of Suguru Geto, a man known for his night owl tendencies. You hoped his room held the comfort you sought, even if it meant intruding into his world at an ungodly hour.

As you stood before Suguru's dorm room, uncertainty danced in your heart. Would he be awake as usual, or had sleep claimed even the night owl's restless soul? There is only one way to find out.

With a hesitant hand, you gently pushed the door open, the soft creak of the hinges echoing in the stillness of the night.

"Huh? What're you doing here? It's like... 1 AM," Suguru mumbled, the harsh light from outside disturbing his slumber, his voice drowsy with sleep.

You smiled sheepishly. "Sorry... Am I disturbing you? I can go if you want."

Suguru waved you off, "Nah, it's fine. I was just... trying to sleep, that's all. You need something?"

You chuckled sheepishly as you entered his dimly lit dorm room and settled down on the corner of his bed. "Nothing in particular. Just can't sleep, is all. You're always awake at this hour, so I didn't think twice about not going, but I guess this was the day you decided to sleep early. Sorry again."

Suguru raised an eyebrow, looking around his room, slightly puzzled. "Don't worry about it. But, uh, what are you doing just coming into my room?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

You shrugged, trying to play it cool, but it was clear something was bothering you. "It's really nothing, Suguru. It's just my insomnia acting up again."

Suguru sat up, leaning forward, concern etched on his face. "What's wrong? Come on, don't play coy with me. I can tell something's bothering you."

"Look at me," Suguru said sternly, using his assertive voice.

Pouting, you sighed like a child caught red-handed and slowly turned to face him, avoiding eye contact. "What?"

"Look," Suguru repeated, still using his stern voice. He reached out, gently grabbing your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. Suguru gave you a smirk before leaning back. "So... come on. What's been troubling you?"

"It's really nothing, but if you're so itching to know..." You sighed again, allowing yourself to get comfortable on his bed, even going as far as resting your head on his lap before opening up. "I was just thinking about stuff while I was in my dorm room, and one thing led to another. Well... I found myself overthinking stuff again. Like, I love the idea and potential of love, but when it comes to actually being in love with someone and staying in love with them... I can't bring myself to believe that I'm capable of such a thing, especially given my history of exposure to toxic and abusive relationships.That thought terrifies me. I want to be able to love and receive love, but what if I'm bad at it? What if I hurt the person?"

Suguru's face flashed in your mind, as he was your person of interest, but you'd never really acted on it out of fear that you might hurt him. "Never mind. I told you, this isn't something to worry about. It's just me being dramatic and pessimistic. Don't worry about it, Suguru."

Suguru thought for a few moments, his gaze fixed on you. "You know, I never knew you thought about these things. Well, if you really want my opinion, I think you're fine. I don't see it as being dramatic at all. Your feelings are entirely valid, and it's not your fault for having these thoughts, given your experiences." He chuckled softly and patted your head. "But I also know you're someone capable of both. You're a good person, and I'm sure you know how to love."

You chuckled humorlessly, "You're just saying that, Suguru. But thank you; I appreciate the effort." You laid down more comfortably on his lap, finding solace in his warmth. "Talking about this without drinks is so funny and embarrassing. I never thought I'd spew stuff like this sober."

As you lay your head on Suguru's lap, a comfortable silence settled between you. The dim moonlight filtering through the curtains casts a soft glow in the room. Suguru's fingers found their way to your hair, gently combing through the strands as he began to speak.

"Y/N, you underestimate yourself. Love is a complex thing, and it's perfectly normal to have doubts and fears about it. But it's those very doubts that make you human. It's those vulnerabilities that make you capable of the deepest, most genuine love," Suguru said, his voice warm and soothing. "I've watched you from afar, and I've seen the kindness in your heart, the way you care for others, the way you listen. I know you're capable of love." Your eyes met his, and there was something in his gaze, an intensity you couldn't ignore. "I could say the same about you, Suguru. I've seen it in the way you've protected those dear to you and in how you've always been there for me." Your voice trembled slightly as you carried on. "I've admired you for a long time."

Suguru's fingers stilled in your hair, and he looked deep into your eyes. "You've admired me...?" He trailed off, his voice soft but tinged with surprise. You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "Yes, Suguru. More than that, actually, I... I've had feelings for you for a while now. I just never had the courage to admit it, especially when I was convinced that I couldn't love anyone."

A gentle smile crept across Suguru's face, and his fingers resumed their tender motion in your hair. "Y/N, you have no idea how long I've wanted to hear those words from you. I've been harboring these feelings for you, too, afraid that you didn't feel the same way."

Suguru's voice then softened even more, and his gaze held nothing but sincerity. "But please, don't worry about hurting me. I wholeheartedly trust and believe in you. I've seen the kindness and warmth in your heart, and I know that love isn't about one person doing all the work. It takes two to tango."

As you gazed into each other's eyes, the unspoken sentiments between you seemed to hang in the air, a tangible tension filled with anticipation. Suguru's fingers left your hair to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. The kiss that followed was soft and tentative, yet it carried a rush of warmth and a sense of long-awaited fulfillment. If someone stumbled upon the two of you, they'd probably find it adorable—like characters in a movie, finally realizing their feelings. The kiss marked a significant turning point, a sign that this slow-burning romance was finally moving forward.

Suguru eventually pulled away, but his gaze remained locked on yours, emanating warmth and longing. "Y/N, you are more than capable of love, and I want to demonstrate that to you. I want to be the one to prove it."

Your heart swelled with emotion, and you nestled even closer on his lap, burying your face in his chest while mumbling a soft thank you. Suguru's arms wrapped around you protectively, and his voice, already soft, sounded even more loving as he whispered, "You're welcome. It means a lot that you've entrusted your feelings to me."

-

Days turned into weeks, and your journey with Suguru had become a steady progression. You cherished every moment you spent together, learning more about each other and growing closer with each passing day. Your feelings deepened, and you both discovered the joy of sharing love with one another.

One evening, while you sat on Suguru's dorm room floor, surrounded by books and notes, he gently placed a cup of your favorite tea in front of you. You looked up and smiled, touched by his thoughtfulness.

"Y/N, there's something I've been wanting to do," Suguru said, his voice filled with anticipation.

You tilted your head, curious. "What is it?"

He reached for a book and opened it to a marked page. "I thought we could read together," he suggested with a playful glint in his eye. "We can take turns reading out loud. It's a way to share something new."

You nodded, captivated by the idea. "I'd love that."

As the two of you took turns reading, you found yourselves lost in the words of a story, sharing laughs and moments of quiet reflection. It was a simple yet meaningful way to strengthen your bond, and it felt like a promise of many more shared adventures to come.

In the weeks that followed, you both continued to grow as a couple, taking your time one step at a time. You embarked on more shared activities—exploring the city, discovering new cuisines, and even practicing jujutsu techniques together and going on missions together.

One evening, as you lay together on a blanket under the starlit sky, Suguru leaned in for a tender kiss. It was a kiss filled with love, and as you pulled away, he whispered, "I love you, Y/N."

You smiled, your heart full of affection. "I love you too, Suguru."

Suguru's eyes sparkled mischievously, and he couldn't help but tease you gently. "Told you you're more than capable of loving someone."

You chuckled, leaning in to place another soft kiss on his lips. With a playful glint in your eyes, you retorted, "Well, maybe I just needed the right person to come along and prove me wrong."

Suguru's laughter was as sweet as the night air, and he replied, "I'm honored to be that person, Y/N." He leaned in to seal your banter with another affectionate kiss.

It was a trait you'd discovered early in your relationship: Suguru was incredibly clingy and affectionate, and he had no reservations about showing it.

And as the two of you lay there, beneath the vast canvas of stars, you knew that your love story was just beginning.

[fangirlwriting-stories]

How To Cross Lines You're Unaware Exist

Summary: A guide by Maddie and Jack Fenton.

Author's Note: I've written the obligatory vivisection fic! That means I get my fandom gold access card now, right?

...

Danny isn’t sure how he actually made it back here, when he thinks about it.  He can’t walk, and it would take too much energy to turn his tail back into two legs.  He’s floating slowly and shakily down the street, only able to muster the energy to turn invisible whenever he sees someone coming.  But when he looks up, he sees home— his house— Fenton Works— the only place he has to go right now.  Jazz is home from college, there won’t be anyone in her dorm, and there’s no way he could get there anyway.  Sam’s parents hate him too much for that to be an option.  Tucker’s still away at Robotics camp for another week and he— he’s going to need someone to help him.  It’s probably a good thing Jazz is home, in that light.

He musters whatever he can gather up and turns intangible, then pushes himself upwards off the nearest building, straining himself as much as he can bear, which is thankfully enough to get him up and through the wall to his bedroom.  As soon as he makes it inside, he collapses, landing hard on the ground of his room with a loud crash.  He hears a startled yelp from the bedroom down the hall, and then Jazz’s bedroom door opening.

“Danny?” she calls.  “Is that you?”

Before Danny can call out some kind of answer, the sound of a car approaching comes from outside on the street, and a jolt of terror launches him across the room and locks his door.  He slumps down against it, and lets out a couple pained whimpers.  His chest does not like the decision he just made, though it was really an involuntary one.

The door slams open downstairs, and Danny hears his mother’s voice, frustrated and loud.  He hunches over on himself, which his chest doesn’t like either.

—fire his chest is on fire and he’s screaming can’t they hear him screaming why won’t they STOP—

“Jazz?  Danny?” his mother calls a second later.  “We’re going out tonight!  Can you both come down here for a second, please?”

Danny shoves his hands over his ears.  No, no, no no no no.

—he’s long passed the point of being above begging, especially when the GIW brought them in, but they’re not stopping either and the begging is doing NOTHING why is the begging doing nothing they listen when he begs for pizza for dinner how is that more important than this—

“I don’t know if Danny’s home yet, Mom!” Jazz calls, and Danny can hear her moving down the hall and towards the steps.

“Wait, what?  It’s almost midnight, Danny’s not home yet?” comes his father’s voice.

Jazz’s footsteps stop, and Danny hears two sets of footsteps coming up the stairs.

He’s pretty sure he knows what’s coming, so he gulps a couple heaps of air before, a second later, he hears a knock on his door.

“Danny, sweetie, are you in there?” his mom asks from the other side.

—“it really is impressive an impressive mimic,” Mom says, “the screams sound almost real”—

A gentle knock on the door.  “Danny?”

“Y— Ye— Yeah Mom,” Danny manages, somehow.  “I’m here.”

There’s a pause.  “Are you okay, sweetie?”

—“and these organs look almost human,” scientific fascination is abundant in her voice, the same intrigue that’s there when Jazz explains something about psychology or Danny rants to her about the stars—

“I’m f-f-fine,” Danny forces out, biting down on the pained cry that’s trying to escape.  “You s-said you were going out?”

“We were going to,” Mom says.

“The GIW helped us capture Phantom, but then it escaped,” Dad adds.  “We were going to go after it, but are you sure you’re okay, Danno?”

—“Mads, cut a portion of that one off,” Dad says, with all the delight he has when asking for a second brownie.  “The one that looks like a heart.”  A sigh, like how he sounds when Mom says no.  “And then we’ll have to sew it back up.  Ghost or not, it’ll need time to heal if we want to examine it more.”—

“I’m fine,” Danny says through gritted teeth.  “Go, go find him.”

“I can take care of Danny,” Jazz says quickly, and Danny can hear them shuffling towards the steps.  Jazz must be pushing them that direction.  “You shouldn’t leave a ghost to roam free, that could be dangerous!”

“Well, if you’re sure,” Mom says, sounding very much unsure herself.  “But we’ll keep our phones on, okay?  Call us if you need anything?”

—stitches pulling his chest back together, every part of him still on fire, he can feel his heart starting to grow a new valve—

“Of course,” Jazz says, and her voice is harder to hear now.  They’re downstairs.  “And don’t worry, I’ll call you if something happens with Danny.”

“Please do,” Mom says, muffled slightly by the sound of the front door opening.  “I’m not sure how long we’ll be gone, but even if we don’t catch it, we’ll try to be home before morning.  The GIW are out looking too, I’m sure we’ll get somewhere.”

—screaming his way through what little he has left, the scream breaking equipment, opening holes in the walls, pushing his parents back against a table.  Flying, flying, get AWAY—

The front door closes, but Danny doesn’t move.  He’s exhausted, but he’s pretty sure if he relaxes, he’ll pass out, and then he’ll change back, and then he won’t wake up.

There’s a long, long pause, and then the car drives away, and then footsteps start up the stairs.

He hears another knock on his door.

“D-Danny?” Jazz says.  There are tears in her voice.  “We’re… we’re alone in the house now.”

Danny slams his head back against the door and wails.