#i’m also so sleepy so if it’s worded badly i am sorry

[jounosparticles]

you’re telling me tetchou is the only person that sees that jouno is one who protects the weak? you’re telling me tetchou was willing to put saving the world from the vampire pandemic aside in order to protect jouno because he knows jouno is good and wants him to be safe before anything? you’re telling me tetchou sees through the cold exterior jouno puts up and will defend him against anyone? you’re telling me that tetchou put his extremely strong sense of justice, which is one of the core parts of his personality, aside to save jouno?

tetchou is the only person that looks past everything and sees a good person in jouno. he is willing to look past everything for him. i genuinely believe they’re soulmates that were destined to meet; tetchou can be the one to assure jouno that he’s a good person despite the fact he was only made a hunting dog to be fukuchi’s pawn.

[rorylovesmatt]

insomnia - Matthew sturniolo

summary: matt is having a hard time sleeping so he calls the only person he knows will help.

word count: 532

a/n: i don’t know what to write next 💔 if you have any request send them my way! also the lyrics don’t really match but it’s okay…

Matt laid in bed staring at the ceiling. The clock on his nightstand flashed 2:37 AM. The bright numbers were a harsh reminder of how late it had become. He sighed turning over for what felt like the hundredth time that night, but no position seemed comfortable. His mind was a whirl of thoughts. None of which seemed to settle down enough to let him sleep

He knew this feeling all too well. Nights when his brain just wouldn’t shut off, when every little worry and thought increased in the silence. But tonight felt different, heavier, and he knew there was only one person who could help him through it

Reaching for his phone he hesitated for a moment. He didn’t want to wake her up but he needed her… badly. With a deep breath he scrolled to her name in his contacts and hit call

The phone rang twice before he heard her sleepy voice on the other end. “Matt? Is everything okay?”

The concern in her voice made his chest tighten with guilt but at the same time it was a comfort to hear her. “I’m sorry for waking you up Y/n” he said softly. “I just... I can’t sleep”

There was a pause and he could almost see her sitting up in bed rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Is something on your mind?” she asked gently

“I don’t even know” he admitted, frustration creeping into his voice. “I just feel agitated. Like I can’t shut my brain off”

Y/n was quiet for a moment, then she spoke, her voice soothing. “Do you want to talk about it? Or would you rather just hear my voice?”

Matt felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth despite everything. She always knew just what he needed. “I think I just need you” he said. His voice barely above a whisper

“Okay” she replied softly, “I’m here. Why don’t you close your eyes and try to relax?”

He did as she said, closing his eyes and focusing on the sound of her voice. She started talking about their day, the little things they’d done together, the way she’d laughed at one of his bad jokes, and the plans they had for the weekend

As she talked he could feel the tension in his body slowly melting away. It was as if her voice was wrapping around him, comforting him in a way that nothing else could. He didn’t need to respond, she knew that just hearing her was enough

Minutes passed and Matt felt himself slipping into a calm, peaceful state. Her voice became softer, almost like a lullaby, and before he knew it, his breathing had evened out, his mind finally quiet

“Are you feeling better?” she asked after a while, her voice barely a murmur

“Yeah,” he whispered back, his words slurred with sleep. “Thank you Y/n. I love you”

“I love you too Matt” she replied softly. “Get some rest now”

With her voice still echoing in his ears Matt finally drifted off. knowing that no matter what, she would always be there to help him. Even if it was in the middle of the night

[littledollll]

hey sweetheart :'3 I was wondering if you were taking request. If you are would you be open to do a Lucifer x little angel reader. I just love your little fic if these and I'm always looking for more if them. I think I've read them all tho. So my idea was that maybe Lucifer and reader could have a fight I'll let you decide why. Then reader decide to go hide from Lucy and our favorite god starts panicking and all. Over all just really cute stuff 😊😊💖 Thank you for reading and have a nice day bby💕

The Gardens

Lucifer Morningstars x Little!angel!reader

A/n: man i just hope this is half decent. Got a little motivated to write about this idea when I got the request which made me very excited! I rarely let us see when R isn’t regressed which is kinda the point? But I think insights like this are really fun to write! (May 6)

A/n pt 2.: finishing this July 21 at 3am, where did I go wrong? I’m so sorry I took so damn long it’s insane bc i don’t even notice time passing. I was looking back at my old fics and noticed I’m always writing R going to sleep? I love that cuz some of my friends actually call me “sleepy” because apparently I’m always tired. (I am)

Warnings: a little arguing, Lucifer says some hurtful things, not much else. Just some sweet fluff after the hurt.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

“Im the judge here. I alone decide the punishments and how souls will be handled. You might be my partner but you hold no power over me or hell. These are not your decisions to make or have a say on.” It was an angry spew of words. Lucifer doesn’t like having their authority challenged and you were the one person who could do that. For the first time, your own opinions were voiced in their work, and Lucifer didn’t seem willing to listen or like it at all.

Never in your time living in hell had you and Lucifer clashed about something so much.. it hurt, not to be ironic but it hurt like hell. Lucifer had never spoken to you in such a way. Never before had they used their intimidation tactics on you.

Lucifer being unnecessarily stubborn didn’t help at all, as they refused to actually listen to your opinion or swallow their pride and compromise. Or simply speak to you like an equal. Their words almost stung. “You have no power here.” That’s what they meant. And you couldn’t bear to listen anymore or even respond after that.

After a certain point you just gave up and walked away, leaving whatever they were about to spit back, in the dust, mid-sentence, and then ending up with a confused shocked expression. No one gets to just walk away from The Devil.

The worst part was that you wanted to run to them. As if words and a voice laced with venom hadn’t just been thrown in your face. As if they’d protect you even from their own self. They’ve always been your safe space, your comfort.. but you couldn’t, not today, not after your argument.

At first they were fine with you just walking away. They admit to being stubborn and hard to talk to.. everyone needs a little space to think sometimes, right? But then hours and more hours passed and you still refused to show.. it’s like you were hiding from them. There’s nothing Lucifer hated more than the thought of that. Did they really mess up that badly? That you, the most forgiving and lovely being they’ve ever met, simply refused them?

They couldn’t possibly leave it like that. Let you believe they think regularly of you, like you aren’t the most important being in their life, like you aren’t their special angel. So settling their pride aside accompanied with a bit of anxiety, they set out to find you.

You had gone to your safe space.. hiding away physically and mentally, letting your much calmer but also a lot sadder, little self take control.

Lucifer searched high and low for you, all around the palace, going as far as to actually ask for help looking. And thankfully it occurred in their mind that there was always one place you went when you seek comfort, and that was the little hidden gardens of the palace.

And there you were. Quietly sitting by their most recently planted flowers, daisies in fact. They always claimed those flowers suited you perfectly, not just the look, but the meaning. Which included purity, innocence, new beginnings, joy and cheerfulness. All things they saw in you. All things they loved about you. But of course there’s more, so much more that they love.

“My angel..” their voice was a complete contrast to their earlier attitude. Cautious as they approached you but still with a rush to have you close. Lucifer was unsure you’d ever forgive them, but there was no way you could possibly resent them, maybe you should have, but it wasn’t in your heart to reject them, so you let them approach without scurrying away.

Lucifer got down to your level, kneeling down on the floor and holding their hands out for you, which you immediately took, being pulled into a tight hug, their wings wrapping around you, effectively hiding you from the world just because they knew you loved it so much. They pressed a kiss to your forehead before hugging you close again. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, my sweet angel…”

Not knowing how to respond, you nodded just a little as you nuzzled close to their shoulder, basking in the warmth and comfort of their hug. “I should’ve never said that.. never. And I promise you I didn’t mean a single word of it. I’m.. I’m in no way excusing myself, and my awfully hurtful words- but I’m just not used to this, angel..”

You could understand that.. there’s no being of higher power here in hell, even in the universe actually, no one but them and the very God that created and banished them. They’re not used to being challenged or disagreed with, and ever the sinner they are also quite prideful, even as an angel. “I’ve done this alone for so long.. of course there’s other lords.. and Mazikeen. But not even they step in when it comes to my decisions, and when you did- I felt questioned. Which I recognize should be much more frequent than it is, but it’s a new thing, and I responded very wrongly to it.”

Not for a moment did the soft tone leave their voice, a mere whisper as they hugged you and refused to let go. They’d apologize for eternity if you so requested it. But even in your headspace you could appreciate them taking accountability, and recognizing that it was wrong. Not just that it caused a bad reaction from you. “I’m working on it, I promise. Your opinion does matter to me, In whatever situation, your voice matters to me.”

It hurt, of course it hurt. But Lucifer is always sincere in their word, and they were willing to work together, that’s all that mattered to you. So you quite adorably mumbled out a little, ‘I forgive’, as you rest your chin on their shoulder. And Lucifer couldn’t be happier. “Thank you, my sweet angel.. but also, you can’t hide away from me like that, tiny. You had me running all over the palace looking for you like a maniac!” They said in a more playfully, less serious tone as they chuckled.

“Let’s make a deal, yeah?.. if anything of the sort ever happens again, can I trust that you’ll be in your little room? Even if we’re a little upset at each other I always want to know that you’re safe. I understand needing a moment to decompress and think, that certainly helped me a lot today. But I’d just like to know you’re safe and that we can talk when we’re ready to, how does that sound?” You giggled as their voice took a more playful tone and you nodded, moving away a little to look at them, an adorable little smile painted on your face. “Deals!!” You said, rather excited despite the topic.

Of course you were aware that it was indeed quite possible to run into more arguments and disagreements like this, and even more that you’d slip. But knowing how much they care for you and love you, how much they worry and want you to be safe was quite reassuring that no matter what problems you ran into there wasn’t a thing you couldn’t surpass with just a little talking and cuddles.

They nodded, placing a soft kiss on your temple and deciding just then to take a moment and sit outside with you, which was rare, for reasons neither you or they could quite place. “It’s a deal then..” they replied with a soft tone, and you could hear their smile as they spoke. It was surprisingly quiet, oddly peaceful being out here with you. They scolded themselves for not doing this sooner and made a mental note for next times.

Of course your regression was still a secret and hell can be a dangerous place but the gardens are safe enough, specially with Lucifer and your hound friend who always stayed near. After a few moments, your voice interrupted their train of thought. “luci likes birdies?” The question seemingly came out of nowhere which made them chuckle a bit. “I do. What’s going on in that cute little mind of yours to ask me that, sweet one?” Their tone was obviously amused.

“No birdies in hell! Want one.. like morphi!” It seems your mind was running elsewhere, curiosity of things you always wanted to question but didn’t. “You could have one.. how about a dove? Just like you are my little dove.” Lucifer smiled and placed a little kiss on the tip of your nose, making you giggle and shy away. You were quick to nod and respond with a slight tone of awe. “Dovs pretty!”

“As are you!” Lucifer was never one to make spur of the moment decisions.. well- not at least until you came along. But how could they ever say no to you? The little angel wants a hound and a dove, so let’s get them a hound and a dove. Lucifer sighed, not in an upset manner nor exhaustion. More so in content, amused with themselves for being so susceptible to you. “Well then. Looks like my little dove is getting their own..”

[luvsellie]

DATING DRUIG WOULD INCLUDE...

pairing druig x fem!reader | wc 0.9k | requested ? yes | note he <3

• is the biggest flirt known to mankind

• now, ik we already are aware of that but JUST IN CASE YOU WEREN'T !!

• “you wanna kiss me so badly, don’t you?”

• teases you endlessly, both physically and verbally

• exhibit a - leans in as if he’s gonna kiss you and then looks down at you like you’re crazy because you’re just standing there waiting for his lips to fall on yours

• PLEASE I'M LAUGHING JUST THINKING ABOUT IT

• you’d open your eyes like 🙂 ??

• and druig would be the exact definition of 🤨

• exhibit b - “you have to stop doing that” “what?” “saying things that make me want to kiss you” *cue your face going hot and turning away with wide eyes*

• *sigh* the things he does to you (he's more aware of it than you are my dear)

• so, of course, he uses that to his advantage, much to your displeasure :')

• i don't think he's super big on pda, but, as seen in the movie, i think he'd hold you close, a hand on your waist, or even give you a quick kiss on the cheek when either of you has to leave for a period of time

• now, he may be a huge flirt and tease, BUT WHEN YOU DO IT BACK-

• mans has no clue how to act

• possibly the embodiment of 😶 and 🧍

• it’d just be a simple compliment too and he’d feel absolutely jittery inside

• like, you could be playing with his hands or something and say “your hands are really nice” with a small sigh and smile and he will somehow fall even more in love with you than he was five seconds ago

• okay back to him being a fucking flirt bc idk about you but i live for the oneshots and hc’s of him flirting/teasing the living shit out of the reader bc it makes me scream into my pillow before i continue reading 👍

• anyways. so in the scene in the flashback where he threatens to tell ajak abt makkari stealing the artifact ?? (praying to god i’m not just making something up rn)

• WELL

• let’s replace it w/ you two at a table in the corner, probably just sipping on something and talking when druig somehow turns the lovely conversation into him shamelessly flirting with you

• “i scratch and bite, i don’t need someone watching over me 24/7” you’d snap back at a random remark he made, taking a sip from your cup, sure there’s no way he could do more with that

• this mf deadass goes “you’ll crawl and beg too, darling”

• *chokes on drink*

• dw i did too it’s okay

• y’all need to start writing more smuts w him using mind control pls i am begging

• k sorry for the slight detour back to regular programming

• BUT THIS MAN IS SO SWEET

• when the two of you go on walks you bet your ass he’s the type of lover to randomly pick flowers and give them to you :(

• he’ll even do that whole cliche thing where he puts it behind your ear UGHHAVSUANAI

• oh my god he’d trace words on your back too

• like, when it’s the middle of the night (or even the morning) and you can’t sleep, he’d just talk to you and trace things with his finger ☹️☹️

• going off of that little scenario, that is most likely how he told you he loved you for the first time; you had to guess what he was saying and obv it was 'i love you'

• but but but HIS ACCENT !!!!! PLUS HIS VOICE WHEN HE’S SLEEPY !!!!! 💥💳💥💳💥💳💥💳

• i could go on and on abt him, good lord

• alright onto the nsfw 😏 (guys i swear i use that emoji ironically)

• and i am apologizing in advance bc i am in fact a lesbian so the only things i am referencing while writing hetero sex are other nsfw ff’s bc i have no clue what im doing 💀

• n e way i think he’s a dom 100% no questions asked

• also prefers to give rather than receive, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t enjoy a good bj every once in awhile

• totally wouldn’t mind using his power on you (only if you consent to it tho !!)

• probs into overstimulation and toying with you - he enjoys the faces you make when he takes away your release 😩

• alright that’s honestly all i can say nsfw wise IM SORRY I HAVE NO CLUE WHAT IM DOING 😭

• but back to him being the best bf ever 🤲

• WOULD GIVE YOU RANDOM KISSES !!

• for example, when your busy and he suddenly craves your affection, he’d just walk up to you, wrap his arms around your middle, and press a kiss to your temple

• ugh the compulsory heterosexuality i have for this man ☝️☝️

• okay, best for last, but i also am a firm believer that he’s not afraid to flirt w you around others (even tho he’s not super big on pda)

• i mean, he’s gotta let people know you're his somehow, right?

• oh OH OH HES REALLY BIG ON THE PET NAMES "doll," "dear," "love," "beautiful," and "darling" !!

• and has a thing for putting the word "my" in front of your name or whenever he's referring to you - he always makes sure to relate you back to him :')

[tootiredmotel]

on the correlation between weariness and bravery

to finish off my follower celebration! free space bonus day! based on @faithroad 's prompt "sleepy" which I turned into dean pining. mid to late seasons, no empty deal, happy ending.

2.5k words — read on ao3 or below

Dean kinda regrets not making Sam drive. Kinda.

Sam is the one who insisted on hauling ass and making it back home tonight. Sam is not the one with the fucked-up ankle. He's the one who should be sitting at the wheel at 3 am, struggling to keep his eyes open, instead of sprawled out in the backseat snoring like a damn tractor.

But no. It’s Dean driving. And it’s 'cause he wanted to sit next to Cas. 'Cause the hunt was bad and the wolves were good, and one of them had Cas by the neck at one point, and Dean–

Well, that werewolf is dead now. And Cas is fine. But Dean just… needs him close. At least ‘til they get home.

(He's also the one driving 'cause he's the best damn big brother on the face of the Earth, okay?)

If he’s being honest with himself, Dean always wants to sit next to Cas. But they have a routine by now; Dean drives, Sam sits shotgun, Cas in the back. Dean usually doesn’t fight it. Enforces it, actually.

Tonight he let that change. He asked Sam to sit in the back. There's more to it than just the close call though, and if Dean let himself think about it for more than a second, he'd know why. Deep down, he does know why.

Dean is scared. He's scared of losing Cas and he's sick of almost losing him, of the constant scares now that his grace is low and he's not as invincible as he used to be. If something were to happen to Cas (again), and Dean didn't spend every second with him that he could…

He doesn't want to think about it. He's too tired for that right now.

In fact, that’s probably all it is. Yeah, that's it. The hunt was long and crappy and they've barely slept, and Dean is too exhausted to hold himself back. Too sleepy to force his desires down, to pretend that he doesn’t want…

That he doesn’t want.

He allows himself a glance in Cas’s direction. He's looking out the window, laying his head on his trench coat which is bundled up against the door, his right arm tucked underneath. His suit jacket and tie are on his lap and he’s holding them there with his left hand. Dean wants, so badly, to reach over and take it, interlock their fingers without a word, as if that were a normal thing for them to do.

As sleepy as he is, Dean still has half a mind not to. His fingers flex on the wheel.

He drives for another half hour.

---

When Dean finally stops the car and shuts off the ignition, Sam feels it. He jolts awake and steps out in silence. Ungrateful bitch.

He didn't even say it out loud, but Dean takes that back. It was such a long hunt.

He lets his eyes close and drops his head back. He feels heavy. His whole body aches. He doesn’t realize how quickly he’s drifting off until he’s startled by Cas’s voice, soft, a gentle melody in the quiet space of the garage.

“Dean, you should get to bed.”

Cas, in his weird part-angel part-not state, doesn’t really need to sleep. Dean looks at him; the right side of his hair is sticking up in all directions, his eyes are smiling at him though his lips are not, the top of his dress shirt is unbuttoned–

Dean looks away. Swallows.

He lays his head back again. "Not like I've never slept in Baby before, Cas."

“Dean, I’m sorry.”

That makes Dean’s head turn, brows knitted together.

“What for?”

Cas looks genuinely regretful, facing Dean but not making eye contact. Instead, he looks downward, to Dean's legs. “Your ankle. If my grace were–”

“Don’t.”

It’s not a scold. There’s no bite in it. Dean just hates it when Cas blames himself, and how goddamn often he does. Cas meets his eyes.

“Just don’t, man,” Dean pleads.

Then he smiles at him, and Cas smiles back.

“Alright,” Cas says, gathering his things, “But you are not sleeping in the car, Dean. I'll help you, it's the least I can do."

And there he goes again, belittling himself. Dean doesn’t really have it in him to argue any further; he'll get it through Cas's thick head one day that he's worth more than what he can do. One day.

(Right now, Dean does kinda wanna get to his bed. It's been a while and he hopes it still remembers him.)

Dean pulls himself up and out of the car with effort, wincing when his right ankle– the fucked-up one– gets a bit too much weight put on it. Cas walks over to his side of the car, putting on his layers again on the way.

He'd never admit it, but Dean's skin is buzzing in anticipation, waiting. Cas will hold him up by his waist. Dean’s arm will be around Cas’s shoulders. Maybe Cas will grab his hand as he helps him walk to the–

Nope. None of that happens.

Instead, Dean gets swept off his feet, and then Cas is carrying him. Bridal style.

Dean tends to forget that the guy still has his strength.

In any other circumstance, Dean would probably be embarrassed. But there’s no one around, he’s utterly exhausted, and in Cas’s arms, he feels weightless. He settles, wrapping his arms around Cas’s neck.

Mistake. It brings their faces so much closer together, and now Dean can't look away. The curls behind Cas's ear, the slope of his cheekbone, his perpetual stubble… he's so close, and Dean is shamelessly drinking him in. If he surged forward a couple of inches, his nose would touch Cas's jaw. That's how close he is, and when is Dean ever going to get any closer? He rests his head, getting comfortable.

Cas looks straight ahead, weaving through the bunker halls with practiced ease, and he's blissfully unaware of Dean's staring. This is probably creepy, Dean realizes, so he closes his eyes.

---

The next moment Dean consciously registers is when his head hits the pillow.

"I tried not to wake you."

Dean fully opens his eyes and Cas is by his bed, still standing only half upright. There's a sheepish smile on his face as he straightens up.

"'S alright." Dean rubs his face and sits up to at least take his shoes off, and Cas takes a single step back. "Thanks," he says, and he feels like it's nowhere near enough for what Cas just did, but he can't think of anything better so it'll have to do.

Cas just smiles, tight-lipped.

"What're you gonna do?" Dean asks, unlacing his boots, and looking up at him. He's still at arm's length. Always at arm's length.

"I don't know." Cas puts his hands in his coat pockets. Dean wishes he'd let himself be comfortable. This is his home too. "Read. Maybe watch something on the Netflix."

Dean chuckles. He still calls it that after the one phone call they had when Dean told him to step away from it.

"Something funny?"

It's a genuine question. Dean pulls off the second boot and stands. Still with a smile on his face, he says "it's nothin'."

And then they're just standing there. Dean thinks maybe he wasn't being that creepy earlier, after all, ‘cause this? This is normal for them. Staring at each other in silence as if the silence will speak for them. Like, perhaps, if he looks at Cas long enough, at his eyes, his lips… Cas will know what Dean wants. Or maybe Dean's wants will vanish.

Dean will take either. He hopes for both just as strongly.

Cas breaks his gaze and says "I should go. Get some rest, Dean."

In that split second, as Cas turns to leave, Dean realizes two things.

One, neither of the things he's hoping for are going to happen. Cas isn't going to magically know what Dean wants, and this yearning, this constant clench deep in Dean's chest whenever he's around Cas, isn't just going away on its own.

Two, extreme exhaustion doesn't just weaken the physical and cognitive defenses. It also shatters the emotional ones into a million pieces.

He's never been so tired and he's never felt so brave.

Before he can stop it, Dean's hand darts out and grabs Cas's forearm.

Cas looks down at it, then up at Dean, then back down. "What's wrong?" He asks, worried.

"Nothin', just…"

Dean's mouth is dry, and he's fighting his eyelids to stay open. He knows what he wants to say and fuck he wants to go to sleep. So he just gets it over with.

"You don't have to go."

Cas looks back up at him, confused.

"You can stay if you want. Here."

Cas squints. "I'm not planning on leaving the bunker, Dean."

"No, I–"

Dean smiles and hangs his head because he can't help it. Because Cas just being Cas makes him smile, and he can't ever help it, much less now that he's completely given up. He lets his hand slide lower and lower down Cas's arm until he's lazily holding on to his fingers.

"I mean, here here. With me."

"Why?" Cas looks down at their entangled fingers and he's so confused. Jeez, this couldn't be any more difficult. "What do you need?"

"Nothin', fuck, Cas, I just want you to. I– I want you –" Dean steps closer, taking Cas's hand in full, interlocking their fingers like he wanted to do back in the car and since always. "–to take off that stupid coat, and that stupid jacket, and those stupid shoes, and anything else that you want–"

Cas looks less confused by the second, thank fuck. Dean feels like he's about to collapse on the spot, but he needs Cas to understand.

"–and I want you to lay down in that goddamn bed."

Dean is pleading at this point. He's about to fall over, and Cas firmly holding onto both his hand and his gaze feels like the only thing keeping him upright.

Cas stares at him with an expression that Dean can't quite decipher, but the confusion is gone. "With you," Cas says. Not asking. It's like he's completing Dean's sentence, and in a way, he is.

"With me," Dean says, for good measure.

He's not expecting much. He's not even expecting Cas to say yes. The way Cas keeps looking and looking and looking at him with that squint, chapped lips parted and brows furrowed, Dean isn't sure if he's trying to make up his mind, or read Dean's. The longer he does it though, the more Dean is convinced he's going to walk out that door and not talk to him for at least a month.

Dean starts to let go of his hand and is about to tell him that the choice is his, because of course it is.

Cas doesn't let him. He pulls Dean to him by that same hand and whatever short distance remained between them is gone.

Dean's brain is lagging. Buffering and loading like a desktop in '98. But when the bar finally fills up all the way, he wraps his arms around Cas's waist, and kisses him back. Cas's hands are on his face, snaking their way up to Dean's hair, and fuck that's heaven. Better than.

As many times as Dean has imagined and even dreamt of this, there's one thing he never could've foreseen: how hungry Cas is. His lips move like they're running out of time (they're not), he pulls Dean ever closer like he's going to float away (he's not), and his tongue explores so eagerly, like this is the only time he'll ever kiss Dean (it's not, if Dean can help it).

Hell, they're gonna have to do this again, 'cause right now Dean is running on fumes. He just doesn't have it in him to return all of Cas's fervor and enthusiasm and passion, to kiss him the way he deserves. Cas seems to pick up on that, how hard Dean is trying and probably failing miserably.

"You're tired," he says, barely pulling away, forehead to forehead and nuzzling his nose against Dean's.

Dean drops his head on Cas's shoulder, buries his face in the crook of his neck. "Yeah. 'm sorry," he mumbles into it.

"No, don't be."

Cas wraps his arms around Dean's shoulders and hugs him, holds him, stroking the hair at the back of his neck with his fingertips. Dean leaves a soft kiss on Cas's neck and hugs him even tighter, arms wrapped around him, under the stupid coat and jacket. He inhales deeply; Cas smells like honey and a thunderstorm, and Dean fucking loves it.

He feels himself drifting off again and pushes himself off of Cas. He needs to change. He needs to fall into bed. He needs to sleep for at least a week.

But there's one thing he wants, more than anything.

"Stay, Cas. Please."

Dean doesn't think he's ever seen Cas smile at him so bright.

"Of course, Dean."

---

Dean wakes up the next morning– well, day – and Cas is still here, on the right side of the bed. Dean is half laying on top of him, actually, arm around his torso and head on top of his chest. Cas has one arm underneath Dean and wrapped around him, his hand on Dean's left shoulder, where it belongs. He's drawing circles on it with his thumb.

He's playing that candy matching game on his phone with the other hand.

"Mornin'."

"Afternoon," Cas corrects him. "It's 3:27 pm."

Dean chuckles, rubbing his eye with the back of his hand. "Shit."

"You needed it." Cas locks his phone and sets it down on the nightstand. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, did you–" Dean finally looks at Cas, propping himself up on his elbow. The hand that was on Dean's shoulder, Cas puts under his head. His arm flexes. He looks content. Blissful. He's not wearing a shirt, just the sweatpants that Dean gave him the night before (which is slowly coming back to Dean now). His hair is even messier than usual, and shit he looks good. Really good.

…What was Dean gonna say.

"Um–" right, he gulps, "–did you stay here the whole time?"

"Yes."

"Playing that game?"

"And some others."

"And you never left?"

"Of course not."

Cas smiles, and Dean's heart skips a beat. Then Cas licks his lips and those electric blue eyes give Dean a once-over, and Dean wonders how the fuck he's even still breathing.

Then Cas's smile falters, and he gets that confused look again, searching Dean's expression. "Do you... want me to le–"

"Never," Dean answers instantly.

Cas's smile is back. He reaches up, cupping Dean's face, and Dean shuts his eyes as he leans into it. When he opens his eyes again, Cas is looking at him like he can't get enough, like he's waited forever for this. Dean knows the feeling.

"I'm not going anywhere, Dean," Cas says softly.

And that's when Dean finally kisses Cas, kisses him like he deserves, with the endless bounds of love and desire that, for years now, he's been holding back and pushing down with all he's got.

Now he puts all he's got into showing Cas how much he's worth, and they don't leave Dean's room for the rest of the afternoon.

---

fic taglist: ask to be added or removed! <3

@doyouhearthedestielsing // @all-or-nothing-baby // @the-boy-kings-crown // @the-moon-loves-the-sea // @casismymrdarcy // @youcaneven // @zorelle // @spooky-floral-cas // @emeraldcas // @lilcasx // @oh-in-italics // @theehauntedhusbands // @knifelesbianjo // @shakespeareintellectualbadass // @stressedtaco // @aniridescentdreamer // @mishacase2003 // @spookymixtape // @hauntedrederadean // @ciderdean // @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie // @autumncastiel // @pumpkinspicedeancas // @one-more-offbeat-anthem // @wormstacheangel // @spookydestielnightandwine // @spoookycastiel // @deanolantern // @ghostlynatural // @heres-to-evil-skanks // @evermoredeancas // @ghostfacersnatural // @fanged-cas // @hauntpdf // @justcastiel

[thebiggestfan1]

Are you in town? - Matthew Tkachuk (part 3)

part one here

part two here

This is the last part of this mini-series and I hope you enjoyed it! Requests are open btw, so don’t be afraid to ask for an imagine with any NHL player :))

Word count: 1464 words

TW: mentions of sex, language

...

The thing that woke you up was the bright light shining through the windows.

Shit. What time was it? You probably should have been already working - for hours.

As you looked around yourself, you started realizing this wasn’t your apartment. Everything here looked so blank and expensive and then you remembered that-

That you kisssed Matthew while he was drunk. That you fucked Matthew while he was drunk.

You groaned silently, still too sleepy to actually cry. What had you done?

You thought you were okay with staying just friends. But here I am, you thought to yourself as you climbed out of the bed.

Your body felt sore and relaxed at the same time. It was a long time since you slept with someone and actually enjoyed it like this. And even though you should be ashamed of yourself, you let yourself enjoy that feeling.

Just then you realized that the other side of Matt’s huge bed was already empty and cold. There was no sign of him in the living room or in the kitchen - he probably left a long time ago, maybe already preparing for his upcoming game.

But the smell of him lingered on the sheets like a distant memory, bringing back the thoughts of yesterday's events. His hot skin touching yours, his warm breath caressing your breasts...

Shit.

Just... shit.

And so you put on your yesterday’s clothes, write a quick note for Matt and leave his apartment without looking back.

...

It’s been two weeks since you woke up at Matthew’s apartment. Since then, you ignored his calls and texts, pretended you weren’t home when he knocked on your door and worked overtime when he waited for you at the reception.

Yes - it’s not ideal but it worked for 14 whole days. And it gave you some time to think.

As you were leaving your office, thinking only about going to bed, you realized you didn’t check if Matt was waiting for you - but too late. A hand gripped lightly your elbow, making you halt in your tracks.

“Y/N, why the fuck are you avoiding me?”

He sounded a bit angry but mostly tired and hurt. He looked tired, too - those were dark circles under his beautiful eyes.

And you just stood there, trying to come up with a good enough excuse.

Because we fucked, Matthew, you wanted to say. Because I love you and I’m afraid you’re gonna break my heart. Because I don’t want to lose you or our friendship. But wouldn’t avoiding him for a few more weeks destroy your friendship as well?

“You can’t- you can’t just leave, Y/N. What happened happened and if you want to, we can ignore it but you can’t just keep walking around it. You can’t just leave like I did all those years ago. And I’m so so sorry I did so and it’s totally my fault if you feel like I might do that again but you have to trust me that I have no reason to do so.”

Matthew looked... scared. Was it because he was afraid you’d leave him behind? Afraid of tasting his own medicine?

You still didn’t know what to say. You wanted to believe all he was saying but the memory of you crying when he abandoned you was still playing in your head. He did so just because of some stupid promise he told nobody about. What’s stopping him from doing so again?

“I panicked when I came back home that morning - I went shopping because I had no food at the apartment and I wanted to make you a perfect breakfast. And when I came back, you were gone and all you left behind was a note with only one word on it - goodbye. So yeah, I panicked. Of course I panicked. And I know I’m the reason you did it but I have no idea how to make things right. I don’t know how to make you trust me like you once did...” Matthew tugged at his curls, his hair all messy. He let out a sigh, trying to avoid your searching gaze.

"Matt-" you stopped your arm from touching his hair even though you wanted to comfort him so badly. It'd be so easy to let yourself trust him. Too easy; and that scared you more than anything. "I need time. Just- just take me out for dinner or something. We'll take things slowly and then we'll see how that turns out."

He looked at you as you spoke, watching the shape of your lips while nodding slowly. A small smile formed on Matt's lips and he tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. Your cheeks went red a bit as you realized he'd do whatever you needed and won't ever ask for more than you're prepared to give him. The night two weeks ago wasn't your fault; it was yours. Matthew was drunk and never forced you to do what you did. It was you who ruined things.

"Do you have time right now?"

"Yeah, I guess." you answered, smiling up at him.

"Then I'll take you out for dinner."

Hand in hand, you realized it'd be so easy to get used to the feeling of butterflies in your stomach.

...

A month later, Matt took you to a lunch with his family. It was a long time since you've seen any of his siblings so you were super excited - but also super nervous.

You two took things really slow. Matt took you out every day if he had the time and hasn't even kissed you once. Sometimes, you wanted him to do so. Sometimes, it was the only thing you could think of.

The nostalgia hit you as soon as you saw Chesterfield again. You closed your eyes, already knowing where would the car turn on the road. You kind of missed this city - it reminded you of your childhood and of Matthew.

He was sitting next to you, driving the car, one hand on the steering wheel and the second on your thigh, drawing cirles on your jeans.

"Do they remember me?" you asked, your eyes still closed.

"Of course they remember you," Matt murmured and sang a few lines of the song playing on the radio - your song, one from the playlist on the USB that was hidden for years in the time capsule.

After Matt got drafted, you stopped talking to his family. You were mad at all of them even though it was a stupid thing to do. But now as an adult, things would be different. Yeah, you probably could be mad at Matt's dad for all the things Matt wrote you in that letter but... He only wanted his son to be happy - you'd probably do the same.

So, when the car stopped, you got out and greeted his family as nicely as you could. It took you some time to recognise Taryn as she hugged you, because last time you saw her, she was just a kid. And now... She and Brady were both adults.

"Nice to meet you again, Y/N," said their mom, Chantal as you shoot hands. Her husband smiled at you from the table where all of them were already seated and Matthew wrapped one arm around your waist as he pushed back the chair for you.

Everyone talked, laughed and enjoyed the autumn day with bright smiles on their faces. None of them seemed to mind your presence and you felt like a part of this happy family.

Halfway through the lunch, Matt pushed his chair closer to you as he whispered into your ear:

"What are you thinking about?"

You looked at him, at his bright eyes and eased smile. At the way he touched your hand and tucked your hair behind your ear. And you realized how much he cared for you and that there was nothing that could keep you two apart this time.

No more tiptoeing. No more 'taking things slow'.

"I'm thinking about how I trust you more than I trusted anyone in my life. I'm thinking about how I love you more than I loved anyone in my life."

His smile was the most beautiful thing you have ever seen. It was full of love and care and you didn't realized you were crying until Matt wiped the tears off your cheeks.

"You want to know what I'm thinking about?"

You simply nodded.

"I'm thinking about our future and about how happy you make me, Y/N. I'm thinking about how lucky I am that I can call you mine. I love you so much, Y/N." he whispered, taking one of your hand in his and intertwining your fingers.

"I love you too, Matt. And I promise I will never say goodbye to you."

[spacecasewriter13]

When the Lights Go On Again by @spacecasewriter13

Story Summary: It is May of 1946, over a year after his fall from the Hydra train and losing his left arm, and James "Bucky" Barnes is struggling to adjust. Working as an analyst at the New York City SSR branch, Bucky tries to put the war and all of its sorted memories behind him. However, try as he might he is plagued by thoughts of Magdalene "Maggie" Ramirez, a Women's Army Corps (WAC) Corporal he met in London and hasn't spoken to since before his fall in January of 1945. Little does he know that Maggie, in her struggle to put the war behind her, has moved to the city and looking for a job with the New York Bell Telephone Company as a switchboard operator. Now, by sheer dumb luck, they are reunited as they both fight come to terms with what they were to one another during the war, and work to figure out how to move forward in a world that was unprepared to deal with the consequences of war in the unsteady peace.

Chapter 10: A Chance for Understanding

Chapter Summary: Bucky and Maggie return to the library for one more conversation, this time with more favorable results.

Excerpt:

The work week was quiet and, unfortunately, seemed to drag on forever.

Maggie knew she ought to be grateful—glad even for the reprieve and the pleasant and comfortable descent into mundanity.

Yet, it felt like a curse of sorts as she struggled, fighting tooth and nail to decide what she wanted out of her next conversation with James Barnes. How was she supposed to balance what Daniel had told her with her own emotions on the matter? Yes, there were incredible depths that she hadn’t even considered regarding James, his amputation, and how he might be dealing with these changes. However, there was also the fact that he had hurt her. How exactly she was supposed to reconcile the two was beyond her.

She found she vacillated wildly at any given moment. Sometimes, at her most vindictive and cruel, she wanted him to grovel and beg for her forgiveness. At other moments, usually late at night, she imagined falling back into step as though nothing had happened, as though this was January 1945.

Neither was realistic, and neither touched on the truth of the thing. They had both approached their last conversation from two very different contexts. Both parties were in pain and dealing with things badly and were likely to continue on this way until they had an honest conversation.

Above all, Maggie knew that she didn’t want just an apology. ‘Sorry’ could only go so far. Instead, she wanted him to acknowledge that what he had done had hurt her—even if he had done so for somewhat understandable reasons. And she wanted a fuller explanation of those reasons, their circumstances, and everything that had brought them to that horrible confrontation on the steps last Saturday.

Eventually, Saturday came. Maggie rose before her alarm, dressed, styled her hair, applied makeup, ate breakfast, and was just cleaning up when Daniel emerged from his bedroom still wearing PJs and a sleepy expression.

“You off?” He asked as he appeared in the kitchen doorway.

“I am.” She nodded.

“Should I wish you luck?” Daniel continued as he rubbed at his face with his free hand, trying to get the sleep out of his eyes as he surveyed her.

“I’m not sure.”

“You know what you’re after?”

Maggie paused, tapping her chin with mock thoughtfulness. “Well, I suppose—I suppose I hope not to want to punch his lights out at the end of this conversation. Nor do I want to come home and put any silly ideas in your head about sending me back to Taunton.”

Daniel’s expression constricted, contorting a moment somewhere between concern and regret. “I’m not—” He began.

“I know. I know, Daniel,” Maggie interjected, unwilling to torture her brother any more than just a moment. “But I’m never going to let you forget that.”

He sighed, nodding gravely. “I understand.”

“And now to answer your question with a real answer.” She paused, contemplating her words a moment before continuing slowly. “I just want to find a way forward, whatever that might mean now.”

Daniel nodded, “Well. I’m here if you need backup.”

“I appreciate that. There is coffee on the stove. I will see you this afternoon.”

“Roger that.”

Maggie smiled. Collecting her things and giving Daniel a quick hug, she swept from the apartment and started off to the library.

It always felt like a journey—an adventure, like she was on a secret quest. Silly—she knew, but she did enjoy the anonymity of the big city, better than the small town paradigm of everyone knowing you and your business. Ironically, had all of this played out in Taunton—well, that was just the thing, it wouldn’t have.

Maggie got off at the Bryant Park Station and made the short walk across the lawn to the front steps of the public library. She stopped at the foot of the stairs, her heart racing as she found that the steps were empty.

To Continue Reading Please Visit Ao3

[corpsedaydream]

dreamlike

just sleepy/comfy vibes

lmk what u think

word count: 1.4k

_______________________________

dreamlike

You were fighting sleep and it was beginning to show. Your eyes had become glassy, you couldn’t go two minutes without yawning, your words were starting to slow, you’d gone from sitting up on the couch to slowly slouching down until you were laying down and you’d just dropped your phone on your face for the second time.

“Ow.” You whined out. And after rubbing over your face, your tired eyes found your boyfriends eyes looking back at you from his spot on the couch.

“Just go to sleep, baby, you’re so tired.” Corpse spoke as his hand rubbed over your leg that was draped over his lap. He’d told you about his plans for a 3am stream and you offered to be by his side in case he became anxious in the earliest hours of the morning, he was looking forward to you being with him for it until he saw how badly you were struggling to stay awake. Usually you were a bit of a night owl - perhaps not to the same extent as your boyfriend - but this morning you’d had to wake up extra early and it really messed with your plan to stay awake with Corpse.

“I’m okay.”

“You know you’ll wind up with a headache if you force yourself to stay awake.”

“I’m fine, I’m watching my show, it’ll keep me awake.”

“Tell me what’s happened in the last five minutes.” He was testing you because he knew damn well that when you watched anything half asleep, you weren’t ever paying enough attention. You had a habit of forcing yourself to stay awake for the last episode or two of a season when you were doing a binge watch of something, only to find yourself rewatching them the next day anyway, because you couldn’t really remember what happened with a sleepy mind.

“Well,” You looked at the television to look for some kind of clue, only to find that it had been paused. “It’s paused.”

“You didn’t even notice I paused it?”

“No...well, I mean, I did now.”

“(Y/N),” Corpse sighed, and he reached his other hand out to your face to hold your face gently around your jaw, turning your head back to face his. “Let me take you to bed, you need some sleep.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“I know you will be, but you’ll be a lot better not being exhausted.”

You knew what he was saying was right but it was already 1:30am, you kept telling yourself you could make another hour and a half for his stream to start. “I told you I’d stay awake with you.”

“You don’t have to worry about me.”

“But I do.”

“I know, and I worry about you, too, which is why I want you to be sleeping right now.” Corpse ended the brief back and forth. But you didn’t really have it in you to argue seeing as though you really were tired. It had been a pretty big day for you, it was just bad timing that it had been the same day before Corpse’s all nighter stream. You sighed and pouted out your bottom lip, to which Corpse smiled at you and his index finger flicked your bottom lip down further before letting it spring back up and you both giggled lazily.

“I am really tired.” You confirmed.

“I know.”

"Are you sure you don’t want me to stay up with you?”

“Not if it’s this much of a struggle for you.”

“You won’t be mad at me?”

“I will be furious.” Suddenly his grip tightened on your jaw and your eyes went wide for a moment. To which Corpse laughed, you always were so gullible when tired. “Baby, I’m kidding, of course I won’t be mad.”

Your eyes relaxed back into their tired state and his hand moved up the side of your face to rub along your cheek. You turned your head briefly in order to leave a soft kiss against the inside of his palm.

“You’ll be okay?” You asked him.

“Yes.”

“Come lay down with me while I fall asleep?”

With a confirmation from him, you’d made your way to bed, and Corpse had come to lay with you, but it seemed that you pretty much fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. Proving just how tired you were. But he stayed with you for as long as he could, enjoying the serenity that came with you being in your most peaceful state. His heart warmed that you trusted him to be present with you in what was also a vulnerable state and how he’d swear he’d do all he could to protect you when he saw you like this, no other sound audible other than the quiet breaths that fell from your slightly parted lips. As he looked at your closed eyelids, he imagined what you would be dreaming about, how he wished that when he ever so carefully traced his fingertips around your relaxed features he could be grated access to your dreamland.

Suddenly, an alarm sounded from Corpse’s phone. “Fuck-” He hissed quietly, reaching for his phone to shut it off, not wanting it to disturb you. It was his reminder that he had to go and stream soon. Looking back to you, he noticed your eyebrows had furrowed ever so slightly, a threat that you were close to being awoken by the alarm. “Sorry, baby.” He whispered so hushed that even if you were awake, you probably wouldn’t have heard it. As things remained silent once more, he saw you visibly relax again and he knew that as he cautiously got up from the bed to make his way to his computer, you were venturing back to your dreams.

-

By the time Corpse’s stream had finished, the sun had woken up, it was officially daylight. He was feeling a little strange with the timing, and he felt as if he should be going to be sleep with the end of a stream, but he knew he most likely wouldn’t. However, there was something about going to bed that he had been looking forward to, it had remained in the back of his thoughts throughout the stream and that was the idea of crawling into bed beside you. Opening the bedroom door, a smile was present on his face as you were still there and still so serene. Your complete current energy of calm also bringing Corpse peace. He’d seen you in this sleeping state only hours earlier in the moonlight, but there was something about the early hours of morning daylight seeping in through the curtains that made you look so warm.

After discarding his clothes, he crept into bed as heedfully as he could in an effort to not disturb you. However, as he settled in beside you, he heard you sigh and let out a sleepy groan. Briefly, you opened one eye before quickly shutting it upon feeling the morning sun attack your just-woken-up eyesight.

“Good morning, baby.” Corpse had caught your eye that had quickly peeked open.

“Mm, mornin’.” You greeted him back, your voice croaky with sleep.

“Sorry for waking you up.” Corpse apologised, however, selfishly he was a little happy you had stirred awake, because he took the opportunity to twist his arms around you and pull you in against him, giving into his want to cuddle you close.

“S’okay.” You weren’t annoyed at all, in fact, you were so happy to have him back in bed with you. His arms coming around you were more than welcomed by you and you nuzzled in even closer to rest your face under his chin and against his neck. “Missed you.” You mumbled against his skin. Sleeping with Corpse by your side had become such a comfort for you. Much like how someone misses their bed when staying somewhere else, you now missed having him with you. In a response, he tightened his hold around you.

“Missed you, too.” He could already feel your breath evening out again, a sign you were falling back asleep, not quite ready to begin your day. But that was okay with Corpse, he would so happily wait like this. Now that his stream was over, he could just simply lay here with you, his hand that had snuck under your shirt rubbing mindless strokes and shapes against the skin of your back.

He shut his own eyes too, because if there ever was a time for him to reach sleep, it would be when your peace radiated right into him so selflessly. But even if he wasn’t able to reach his own dreamland, he was happy right there, because being there with you, once again, in this serene state was so dreamlike on its own.

[xiao-cafe]

drabble game — prompt 67

pairing: diluc x gn!reader

prompt: “If you don’t want to talk about it then say so. Don’t lie and pretend to be fine when you clearly aren’t.”

tags: fluff, grumpy diluc, healer!reader

wc: 1.3k

notes: in the part with the chest i don’t mean like a female chest but like a normal human chest that’s up to your interpretation ^^ also thank you to @spoiledmoras​ for requesting this! i rushed the ending bc if i went on it would’ve become a full-fledged fic and im not ready for that kind of commitment

The moon hung high and bright in the sky as Diluc limped his way back to Mondstadt. With each step forward, the next step became harder as his legs threatened to give way beneath him.

It wasn’t like him to be injured so badly while protecting Mondstadt in the middle of the night but simple recklessness took a hold of him and he had rashly put himself in danger for the sake of intercepting a few Abyss Mages and the hordes of hilichurls they led.

Granted, his injury was merely a result of his rashness that led to him falling off the cliff after swinging his claymore too widely, making such a rookie mistake weighed heavily on him as he recalled why he had been so agitated in the first place.

Exhaling heavily, Diluc cast a withering glare at the steps leading up to the Cathedral. He had always been one up for some light exercise but his bones ached at the thought of dragging himself all the way up to get some medical help.

“I should’ve gone back to the Winery…” The red-headed man muttered to himself. He glanced back at the route he had taken, the gears spun in his head as he calculated his chances of making it back to the Winery before daybreak or even surviving the night.

But his thoughts were interrupted as you appeared before him, like an angel in the dark.

“Y/N.” He greeted smoothly as he attempted to stand up straighter. The sight of Mondstadt’s newest healer was a welcoming one for Diluc.

Your eyes were as wide as saucers as you observed Diluc looking dishevelled and nothing alike the refined gentleman he always appeared to be.

“Master Diluc.” You responded, eyes roving from his face to his feet. “You’re injured.” You gasped, pointing at his knees.

The man nodded quietly, refusing to explain any further.

One of the things Diluc disliked about you was your unnatural ability to pinpoint when something was up with a person. Your questioning gaze searched his face for answers but Diluc remained stone-faced as you guided him to the fountain by the plaza.

“I know this isn’t the most comfortable of places but I don’t think I could carry you all the way back to the Cathedral.” You said to the man as you helped him move into a seated position with his legs outstretched.

“It’s fine,” He answered, grimacing slightly as pain flared in his legs.

“Pardon me,” You whispered as you rolled up his pants, your face bore no emotion as you assessed the extent of his injuries. Your hands were cool to the touch as your fingers brushed against his skin lightly. As much as he’d hate to admit it, your touch calmed him down and the simmering rage that burned within him seemed to dissipate.

“You’ve been getting hurt more frequently as of late, is something on your mind?” You asked him, unaware that a pair of scarlet eyes were trying to burn a hole into your face for asking a simple question.

“It’s nothing.” Diluc answered stiffly, crossing his arms as he spoke.

The man wondered how much longer you’d take to fix him up and how many more intrusive questions would you ask during that time.

“You sure?”

Diluc sighed deeply, causing you to look up from your work in concern.

“I am. Fine.” He stated quietly, an underlying tone of anger laced his voice as he directed a steely glare at you.

Nevertheless, you were undisturbed by his grumpiness.

“If you don’t want to talk about it then say so.” You told him, a reassuring smile donned your lips as you continued, “Don’t lie and pretend to be fine when you clearly aren’t.” 

Were you… giving him advice?

An unknown emotion erupted in Diluc‘s chest as he glared at you as you worked, your hands hovered above his wounds as you healed him with your powers.

“I have no need to disclose personal matters with you.” Diluc said, breaking the silence.

“I know.”

Diluc gritted his teeth, why would you ask if you had known in the first place?

“I just wanted to know if there was anything I could do to help,” You stated, answering his unspoken question.

“You’re always coming back to the city this late in the night, injured, and as someone who’s been healing you for the past few weeks I’ve just been feeling a little worried that’s all.”

It was true. Diluc knew he wasn’t being himself, throwing himself at monsters every chance he got. And the fact that you always happened to be around when he needed a healer was something he greatly appreciated. 

Perhaps he had been too harsh…

“Klee’s always saying that you never smile and I guess that’s true!” You laughed pointing at him.

Even without a mirror, Diluc knew exactly what you had meant and your laughter only served as oil to be added to the growing flames.

As time passed, the pressure on his brow lifted and the quiet anger quickly turned into approval (and a hint of admiration) while you finished up the healing process, unfurling his pant leg to signify that you were done.

“I’ve done as much as I could but you should definitely follow me to the Cathedral so you can receive proper treatment.” You stated, perspiration coated your forehead which you promptly wiped away with your sleeve.

“I’ll be fine on my own.” Diluc answered, refusing your outstretched hand in offer. 

“Oh, but I’ve only alleviated the pain, the injury is still-” Your words were interrupted as the red-haired man attempted to stand up, only to fall forward and into your arms.

You let out a yelp as Diluc’s weight sent the both of you crashing into the cobbled floors.

“Are you okay?!” Your voice was high as you lifted Diluc’s face from your chest.

“I’m so sorry, I couldn’t support your weight.” You blurted out and continued to apologize profusely even as Diluc lifted himself off of you with his arms and rolled over.

“Your face is red, do you have a fever!?” You pressed your palm to Diluc’s cheek, “You’re burning up!”

Diluc remained composed despite his flushed cheeks, his face felt warm and the way you touched him in such an unrestrained manner didn’t seem to bother him at all. In fact, he wanted more.

You were a rambling mess as you fussed over him, checking his temperature and if his injury had worsened.

Diluc narrowed his eyes at you as he let you help him sit up, he wasn’t sure why he felt the need to hold you. But he let you press your body next to his as his arm slung around your shoulders and you lifted him from the floor.

“Don’t worry, I’m prepared to support you this time!” You assured him, to which Diluc responded with a low unconvinced hum.

Yet, a hint of a smile was evident on his lips as you walked with him up the many stairs, until the both of you reached the Cathedral, out of breath.

“We’re… Here…” You panted, your legs complained with each step you took but you ignored the limits of your body and focused on getting Diluc some much needed medical help.

In truth, Diluc had already gotten used to the initial soreness in his legs. With the pain gone, he could still walk even though he was certain the bone within hasn’t mended but the man wasn’t about to tell you that.

In his eyes, you were strange, asked many invasive questions, yet you stirred something deep in his heart and he would rather compliment Kaeya than to say what was on his mind.

Even as you called for Barbara, you stayed by his side. Making sure he was comfortable and assisting Barbara whenever you could.

Although, the blush on his face still wouldn’t go away.

end.

end notes: this was also unedited bc its 1am and im sleepy lmao

[howisavedtheworld]

enough | hanamaki takahiro

genre: heavy angst to fluff, a *lil* bittersweet lmao, timeskip!hanamaki takahiro x fem!reader/gn!reader, established relationship

warnings pls pls read: money problems, cursing littered in a lot of places, mentions of feelings like depression, exhaustion, loneliness, crying, etc., blood mentioned *once* (it’s from a callus, it is nothing extreme but i want to state it explicitly anyways) if there’s anything else brought to my attention ill fix accordingly

a/n: hi!!!! it’s been like two weeks since i’ve posted, i’ve been in a slump, but i’m going to genuinely try to be more consistent and kind to myself abt wat i create! also every thing i’ve ever written on here is ib my personal experiences

heads up tho, i havent read the manga and this is just my dramatized take on his life post-time skip and certain things may be inaccurate 

enjoy!

also proofread at 4 am lol

wc: 1385

PLS GIVE THIS FIC A CHANCE ITS NOT ALL SAD I PROMISE

                                               -

if hanamaki takahiro were to say he’s “tired,” one would deem it a grave understatement.

he’s not just tired.

he’s drained.

for starters, he’s worked three back to back shifts and it was barely reaching wednesday. monday at the deli was tough, considering he spent twelve straight hours packaging and stocking prosciutto and mozzarella sandwiches and arranging bags of kettle-cooked chips by flavor across the aisles of the store.

tuesday was even harder, the double shift at the restaurant hitting his already fatigued body like a brick. it was tiring enough to run around speedily clearing dishes and wiping down tables for six hours but it was absolute overkill to then spend the entire night cleaning the restaurant and prepping it for the morning crew.

6:39 am.

that was when takahiro finally left the restaurant, forcing his sluggish sore limbs to make the trek to the train station for the long ride back home.

in truth, the word “tired” barely even scratched the surface.

but he needed the money.

he needed it badly.

bills were always lingering on the brim of takahiro’s mind: the rent, the light bill, the water, the electricity. it left with him the constant urge to move, to work, to always be on the lookout for his next paycheck.

and of course, this wasn’t the best arrangement nor was it the life he’d hoped for.

of course, regret encompassed him, bound itself to his very being.

he wished he went pro after his glory days at aoba johsai, that he’d tried a little harder to be something. maybe then he’d have the opportunity to play in argentina, to travel the world, or to get signed by a sports brand just for the sake of it.

of course, he always felt a pang of jealousy for the ones that made it big.

even the ones who didn’t.

the ones with stable incomes, who could sustain themselves with only one job, who owned compact sized cars, who could actually save a single dime with hopes of eventually going on vacation.

deep down, he was jealous of them, too.

and he wondered, as he finally stepped foot on the train heading north, feeling the ache in his heels settle, if this would ever feel like enough.

if working two jobs back to back would ever amount to any feeling of satisfaction, if it was okay that he would only ever be remembered as the guy who didn’t go pro, who never got his degree, who was barely getting by.

he really didn’t think so.

because how could it be enough?

how could he have nothing to show for the life he lived?

sometimes, takahiro felt almost as if he was cursed. that life had dealt him the worst of cards just to see him crack underneath the pressure.

a lot of times, he did.

he had his fair share of low moments: the time he found himself shedding tears in the back of the deli, hiding behind loaves of rye bread and cold cuts hoping nobody would catch him.

or the time he bandaged his own bleeding foot by himself at the restaurant because his calluses broke open and everyone else was simply too busy to help.

in these moments, hanamaki felt so alone.

as if the world had forgotten him, had continued to spin on its axis, leaving him alone to figure out its rotation.

in these moments, he really just wanted to run away from it all.

to quit his jobs and just disappear for some time.

but he couldn’t.

because hanamaki takahiro had also learned that in every shitty day or moment, there was a flip side.

there had to be a sliver of hope in the midst of darkness.

7:32 am. 

that was when hanamaki got home.

he stood for a moment, fumbling with various receipts and trinkets in his pocket before he finding his keys and opening the door.

it was quiet. 

he could only hear the whirr of the shaky air conditioner and the hum of morning birds outside the bay windows of the living room. he took one step inside, wincing at the ache in his legs and sharp jab of pain up his spine.

locking the door behind him, he slipped off his shoes before the silence was broken.

“baby?” your soft sleepy voice rang through the apartment, making his body jump.

he was sure you’d be sleeping by now.

“hey, babe.” he let out a exhale of relief that you were the source of noise. “sorry if i woke you.” 

you sat up from your position laying on the couch, shaking your head incessantly while wiping the grog from your eyes.

“no,” you quickly spoke. “i was waiting for you.”

his heart skipped a beat looking at you, your eyes half-lidded from exhaustion with dark circles underneath them, your hair completely disheveled from your awkward sleeping position on the couch, and you wore his old seijoh jersey that was too large and slipped down your shoulders, the hem falling just above your knees.

you looked at him, offering a soft smile before beckoning him over to you. “work must’ve fucking sucked, c’mere.”

and you were so right.

it was awful.

he took lengthy strides over to you before dropping onto the couch, his head finding its way to your lap.

your fingers instinctively reached to stroke his soft locks and he sighed, leaning into your touch.

“are you hungry?” you murmured. “i made udon earlier. it’s cold now so you’ll have to warm it up.”

he was hungry, desperately so after not having a moment to get even a small snack in at work, but he wanted to stay here for just a little longer, pressed into you, feeling the pads of your fingers against his scalp, smelling your conditioner and listening to the softness of your voice.

he shook his head, and you laughed, knowingly nodding. “okay, you can eat it later.”

“how was work for you?” he questioned, eyes fluttering closed at serenity of the moment.

you hummed, fingers still locked into his hair. “shitty. you know, usual bullshit with customers. but i think with my next paycheck, we’ll make the rent.”

his eyes snapped open to look up at you, and you were staring down at him, an excited smile on your face when you locked eyes.

and takahiro knew you had hopes and dreams, that you wanted to go back to school and get your degree and have a normal job, and eventually buy a house and car, and maybe have kids, but you always said that part wearily, claiming you both should start off the family off with a pet first.

he knew you wanted something different. you’d told him.

but even now, in this moment as he stared up at you, saddened by the fact that the future you hoped for was nowhere in sight, there was no inkling of disappointment in your eyes, no what-if, no questioning of if it was enough.

you looked at him like the life you had was all you’d ever asked for.

as if of course it was enough.

before he knew it, a single tear rolled down his cheek.

your eyes widened and you moved a hand to his cheek, wiping the tear away.

“i love you.” he stated, a few more lone tears sliding down his face.

your face softened before you squeezed his cheek with your hand.

“hey.” you beckoned him to sit up.

he followed, sitting up to face your frame on the couch. “don’t cry ‘cus we made the rent. there’s always other bills you can pay. if that’s what you’re worried about.”

and he laughed, nodding while tears spilled over his irises and he watched you through bleary eyes, wipe each one away and pull him into an embrace.

“i love you. you know that, right? i’ll always love you.”

hanamaki takahiro realized that in this lifetime, he doesn’t need a sports deal, or a compact car, or trips to argentina. even if life were to always be this hard, if he was always teetering on the in-between, if this was all the universe had to offer him, that was okay.

because it had granted him you.

and you, alone, were more than enough.

[writings-of-a-british-fangirl]

A Lesson In Touch [Din Djarin x Reader]

Title: A Lesson In Touch Summary: You want nothing more to say your feelings for Din out loud, but words don't come to you or Din easy... Maybe you can express your love in another way. Warnings: A little bit of angst and description of injury, but that's about it Request: N/A

A/N: This is the third and final instalment of "a lesson in" series! ((unless i get inspired to write another part)) Let me know if you have any requests for Din in general!!

A/N 2: Here is a list of people that said they wanted to be tagged for this fic! Hope you like it

@elphabaforpresidentofgallifrey @the-fae-child @zoleea-exultant @captainwanderlust78​ @ihavemyownissuess​

PART 1: A Lesson In Mando’a PART 2: A Lesson In Tradition PART 3: A Lesson In Touch

Din Djarin~A Lesson In Touch

Din hadn't quite mastered the art of subtlety when it came to you. He was very thankful for his beskar, specifically his helmet, otherwise he was sure you would've noticed his outright staring. In no way was he trying to make you feel uncomfortable or offend you, but he just felt mesmerised by you in a way that no other being in the galaxy had. Well, apart from his little green son. But, this... This was something different.

        You were something different.

        Ever since you had bought that necklace, the way he felt about you had only intensified. It was scaring him in ways he didn't even want to confront. Thoughts of a relationship, of a family with you began to stir within him. It wasn't realistic- definitely just a day dream. Kriff, he hadn't even been in a romantic relationship before: how was he ever going to treat you right? Sure, he'd dabbled in a few flings here and there... Some he was less than proud of. Although he'd never broken his Creed, he had certainly bent the rules a handful of times; in his defence, he was young, and stupid... And, touch starved. In truth: he probably still was.

        It had been a long while since anyone had touched him with any other intent than to kill him. He was used to the roughness of touch that came with combat: the way his fists hit another, and he was in turn hit, but your soft lingering touches were enough to distract him for the whole day.

        He began to crave them: any excuse to be close to you.

        If only the Mandalorian knew that he wasn't being as subtle as he thought. Even with the helmet disguising his eyes, you could feel his vision on you. At first, you felt self conscious under his gaze. You interpreted it as him glaring at you: maybe you had done something wrong with the kid? Or maybe you had offended him, and he just wasn't saying anything? But, slowly, you got better at reading his body language. It was tough at first, as Din revealed very little personal information about himself. Coupled this with the fact he was usually clad head to toe in beskar armour, you made slow progress. However, over time, you began to pick up on little cues. Soft, small hints that he wasn't glaring... He was looking at you: you'd caught him staring.  

        You were going to confront him about it, initially; maybe even make a light joke of it. You had quickly gone off of that idea. Soon, you decided you liked the Mandalorians eyes on you; you even let yourself believe that he might only have eyes for you.

        And soon, just as he craved you, you wanted more than just his eyes on you.

~~~

The universe had a fucking funny way of answering your inner desires. When you said, you had wanted to feel him, feel his skin on your own, when you had said you wanted to feel his touch, this wasn't what you meant. Kriff. This was getting bad. Din was bleeding badly.

        What had initially meant to be a pretty simple bounty had turned into a rather difficult one. The location Din was sent initially was inaccurate, and then when he arrived at the actual, correct location, it was a trap. His target had friends, and it soon became an ambush. The Mandalorian was still capable of taking them down, but they put up a pretty good fight, and before knocking out all of them, one had managed to stab Din in his side.

        Which lead you to now.

        Din was in your arms. He had stumbled into the Razor Crest, clutching his side with one arm and dragging the quarry with the other. You'd almost lost control in that moment, but you knew you had to stay calm for him. You rushed up to him, and quickly aided him in throwing the bounty into carbonite. Then, you made quick work of laying him down on your make shift medical bench, and asking him where the pain was coming from. Your eyes were wide with panic: he could probably tell. You were terrible at hiding emotions when it came to him, and you'd never exactly done this before. Sure, you'd patched yourself up more times than you can count: but someone else? Someone you cared about? Now that was something else entirely.

        "Din," you cooed gently, trying not to make his pain worse, "I'm going to need to remove some of your armour. Is that okay? Is... Is that breaking your Creed?"

        "I- No," Din huffed out, trying to be kind to you despite his situation.

        "Okay, good... Good... I need you to lay as still as you can okay. I'm just going to..."

        You don't know why you start narrating what you're doing. Maybe you thought it would put him at ease if he knew what was going on. Maybe it was making things worse.

        Gently, you peeled away his armour from his torso, and observed the large cut down his side. You pressed your hand against him, and Din winced in pain. Your hand retracted quickly, and you ran to the first aid kit kept in the Crest. You opened the bag, and began searching around for the bacta patch and disinfectant that you needed. Your heart was beating really quickly, and you could feel Din's pulse getting weaker. His breathing shallowed. You steadied your shaking hands as you brought the disinfectant up to his wound.

        "Din," you murmur, "Are you still with me? Din... I'm sorry this is going to hurt."

        You saw his head nod slowly, and you began cleaning the wound as carefully as you can. He winced in pain and his hand shot up; he grabbed out to you, and his hand was wrapped around your upper arm before you knew what was happening. Despite the situation, his touch (even through his glove) surprised you. Your heart rate began to increase, and your face felt hot.

        "I'm nearly done now," you promise him, "I'm just putting on the bacta patch and then you can rest."

        "T-Thank you, cyar'ika," Din replied, his grip on your arm faltering before letting go.

        You took his hand and squeezed it gently. Din was weak now but at least his wound has been tended to and he wasn't losing anymore blood. It was only now that the worst of it was over, that you took note of the blood across the ship. This would be one hell of a clean up. First, you washed your hands, and then you gently removed the remainders of Din's armour, save his helmet (of course). You unbuttoned his tunic and swapped it out for one that wasn't covered in blood- and one that didn't have a large hole in it. You like to think that he'd appreciate it.

        With the ship finally cleaned, and Din safe, you crawled into your cot beside the child. Your eyes felt heavy as you held the child close to you: you took one last look at your Mandalorian, before finally falling asleep.

~~~

Din Djarin woke up startled. His hand went to his side, at first, and then across his chest, before ending up resting on his helmet. His eyes scanned the room before settling upon you. His eyes softened; in your arms lay his little womp rat. He was safe, and so were you. Din sighed, relieved that you were both still okay.

        His eyes cast down to the pile of armour beside him: you must've removed it after he'd passed out. He recognised that he was now wearing a new black shirt, and that his old, bloodied one was nowhere to be found. His mind didn't have time to wonder where you'd put it, as the sound of him moving off of the make shift medical bench had caused you to begin to awaken. Your eye sight was blurry for a second, before focusing in on Din. He was up.

        He was up!

        "Din! You're awake!" you exclaim, shaking off any sleepy feeling that still remained.

        "Are you alright?" Din asks, stepping towards you.

        "Am I alright?" you repeat back to him, now also finding your feet, "You get stabbed, come home bloody to me -barely standing I might add- and you ask me if I'm okay?"

        Din shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

        "Never mind me: how are you feeling?"

        "I'm... I'm okay. Better now, thanks to you," Din reassured, reaching over to take the child from you now that he had woken up from his nap.

        "Well, I have been told I have an excellent bed side manor," you tease.

        "Oh yeah?" Din plays along.

        "Really! If it wasn't for this whole bounty hunting gig, I definitely would've been a nurse," you assure confidently; although truthfully at this point in time, you have no interest in taking care of anyone else besides your small found family.

        "You would've made an excellent nurse," Din chuckles.

        It warms your heart: hearing him laugh.

        "I thought you were going to pass out quicker than me at certain points, though," Din continues, "But I'm not dead so you must've done something right."

        "Hey now, Mandalorian: in my defence, I was not expecting you to come back covered in blood and barely conscious. Forgive me if I was a little rusty."

        You hadn't realised how close the two of you had become until now. His body was so close that you could almost feel the heat coming from his body. Or maybe it was yours. You weren't honestly sure at this point, but it was making your face heat up. You shyly looked away from his gaze. Seeing him like this almost felt unnatural. You were so use to him fully covered in armour, that seeing him without all the beskar felt like you were seeing him naked. Despite this, you enjoyed seeing him like this: he felt more human to you now. If he was feeling vulnerable at all, he didn't show it. If you didn't know any better, you'd almost say he enjoyed this new layer of vulnerability because it meant he could feel closer... Closer to you.

        "You're forgiven," he murmurs, his voice low, "Am I forgiven, cyar'ika?"

        "Hm..." you hesitate, teasing him for a second, "I will have to think about that-"

        "-Mesh'la, please," he pretends to beg you, smiling under his helmet; Din's eyes remain on you, almost transfixed as you pretend to ponder the status of his forgiveness.

       "Only if you tell me what m- me- mesh'la means," you whisper in a hushed tone, "Or agree to teach me Mando'a. I have to know what you are saying about me."

       "Only good things," Din replies in the same quiet tone, "Beautiful."

       "Beautiful," you repeat back to him, your heart swelling, "Din you are... Me- mesh'la too."

       You expect him to reply: correct your pronunciation, or joke back with you but the Mandalorian has gone silent. Not an uncomfortable wooden silence. No, it was a warm silence. It felt right, and after a second, you adjusted to the new quietness. You imagine neither of you have had a moment like this in a long time. The silences you were use to only echoed with your hollowness, reflecting your loneliness. But this: this felt right.

       Gently, Din leaned his head on your own. Due to the presence of his helmet, he was careful not to be too forceful, but you soon accepted the gesture, and kept your forehead on his.

       A keldabe kiss.

       That's what you would come to know that as. Although it originally started as slang for a headbutt, it soon became a sign of affection among Mandalorians. Affectionate moments with the Creed felt few and far between, so this was a way around that. And, it was one you quiet enjoyed. Even if you couldn't always touch your Mandalorian in the ways you wanted to, in these moments it didn't seem to matter. Despite the Creed, despite everything, there was no true barrier that could separate you and Din Djarin.

       Your foreheads stay together for a moment longer, before separating. You look up at him, and you know -even without words, even without touch- he is yours, and your are his.

[ppersonna]

tempestuous - kth | m

tem·pes·tu·ous - adjective - characterized by strong and turbulent or conflicting emotion

↳ summary- There’s no one who riles you up more than Kim Taehyung, your best friend’s brother.  He knows exactly how to make you fly off the handle.

↳ rating- explicit / 18+

↳ word count- 6.8k

↳ pairing- taehyung x reader

↳ genre- smut, minor angst i guess in the form of fighting, this is one big pile of smut, there’s some fluff too

↳ warnings- yikes where to begin.  angry sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don’t be like dis), slapping, spanking, pain kink, dom/sub elements, facefucking, really rough sex, finger sucking, derogatory names, uhhh name calling, hate sex, tae is fuckin nasty yall im thriving

↳ a/n- I HAD TO REUPLOAD bc tumblr sucks lol well folks. here we are.  i was given a prompt by @ladyartemesia​ so i blame her.  as for tae, he really came for me this week and completely wrecked me, love that for me. i really popped off here and it’s only edited by me so i’m SORRY if there’s a lot of mistakes.  fun fact i actually wrote almost 10k of another version of this but it frustrated me so badly i scrapped it lmao  🤡 HERE WE GO! Enjoy!  feel free to send in your requests and i promise to try and get it done for you! 

Kim Taehyung could only be described in a few words.

Infuriating, bothersome, vexing.

Gorgeous, breathtaking, suave.

Absolutely, inherently maddening.

And you hate how much you absolutely melt underneath his gaze, the way your heart leaps into your throat with a single word.  Your body, the ultimate betrayer, opens up to him as your brain screams to abort, reverse, go back to start and do not pass go.

Kim Taehyung is not just the bane of your existence, no.  He’s the little brother of your best friend, Kim Namjoon.   Joonie had been in your life since you were in first grade and he in second.  Taehyung was your age, but you hit it off with the older boy and haven’t separated since.  Your mothers joked that you would get married one day and continue on the Kim line.  Until they found out that Namjoon was 1) bisexual and 2) hopelessly in love with, ironically, a man named Kim Seokjin.   He reasoned to his parents that they would at least carry on the Kim name.  

Where Namjoon was sweet, caring, and deeply compassionate towards you, Taehyung was his alter.  Taehyung was brash, cocky and relished in watching you squirm, whether it be out of fury or the god forsaken sexual tension.  All growing up, he was the one to pull your pigtails, trip you into puddles of mud, and tease you in front of your friends. Namjoon, ever the faithful companion, was always there to pick up the pieces of what Taehyung broke.

It’s been that way with Taehyung ever since. A constant tug of war with each other, both unwilling to give a single inch to the opponent.  

Your relationship with Namjoon remained steadfast as ever.  Namjoon eventually moved in with his now-husband, Seokjin, who easily settled into your life as an additional partner in crime.  You spent most of your days and nights settled into the couch, snuggled somehow in between or next to one of the two men you cherished most.  You had the two best friends you could ask for and a happy life, blissfully Taehyung-free.

Until it wasn’t.

A loud knock wakes you from an unexpected nap on Namjoon’s couch.  Your eyes crack open against the glare of the sunlight streaming through the windows.  It takes a moment to gather your surroundings.  You recognize that you’re in Namjoon and Seokjin’s apartment, and judging by the silence, you’re definitely alone there.  As you reach for your phone, the screen lights up the time.  5:34 pm.  Well, shit. You remember eating brunch and drinking mimosas at noon with your best friends and then lying on the couch to watch Netflix.  How had you fallen asleep for five hours?  How did you not wake? What the fuck did Jin put in his mimosas?

The knock is insistent again, louder this time.

“Joon! Jin! it’s me! Open up!”

The voice sounds familiar in your sleep-addled mind, but not quite enough to pinpoint it.   You push your limp body off the couch and wince at the feeling of sore muscles.  Couch sleeping isn’t all it’s cracked up to be once you’re past the age of 25.

“Sorry, Namjoon isn’t here-,” You open the door to explain to the guest and you’re cut off.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

You rub at your sleepy eyes and allow your vision to focus, only to feel your blood stand still in your veins.

Kim Taehyung.  Of fucking course.

“What do you mean, why am I here? I’m always here,” you tut as you fold your arms to your chest.  “What are you doing here?”

He rolls his eyes and holds up his hands, two suitcases clutched in each.  Who the fuck carries 4 suitcases up three flights of stairs? Kim annoying ass Taehyung does, apparently.

“I’m moving in.”  He pushes past you and into the living room.  

Your mouth gapes open.  Namjoon certainly didn’t tell you this.  Taehyung looks back at chuckles at your reaction.

“I’m guessing your best friend didn’t tell you the happy news?”

You shut your mouth, quickly jumping back into composure.  “No, he failed to mention that,” you sniff.  “I thought you lived with your girlfriend in Gangnam?  What was her name? Rose or whatever?”

Tae stiffens, just slightly for a moment, before he plasters back on the bravado.  “Obviously not anymore.  We broke up, she kept the apartment.  Got tired of moping at my mom’s house and I told Namjoon I wanted to come back to the city.”

You feel a slight tug at your stomach, guilt, perhaps?  You clear your throat.  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

He laughs as he sits on the couch, instantly throwing his feet onto the coffee table, like a heathen.  “No, you’re not.”  

“What do you mean, no I’m not? God, sorry for being polite!”

This, you reason, is why you can’t sustain longer than 5 minutes of civilized conversation with your best friend’s younger brother.  He’s impossible.

He just smirks, and you know he loves the rise he gets out of you.

“Because I know you, and I know you don’t give a fuck about my love life.”

Au contraire. If only he knew just how much you gave a fuck.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t be nice to you!” you nearly stamp your foot in frustration but hold yourself back. That would be too good of ammo for him to use against you.

“Okay, fine,” he acquiesces. “Whatever helps you feel you’re a good person.”

You’re seeing red and you know you want to continue screaming at him but you will not stoop to his level.

“Christ, I haven’t seen you in months and you’re still an asshole,” you say as you grab your keys and shoes. “And also, Jin will kill you if he sees your feet on his coffee table.”

You whip yourself around and open the door to leave and hear him call over your shoulder.

“Good to see you too, doll! Love the hairstyle, by the way.”

You close the door with a growl leaving your throat.  The absolute audacity of that man.

You stomp towards the elevator to take yourself to the ground level, when you catch your reflection in the shiny metal. Your hair is in what you can only lovingly call a complete hornet’s nest. It’s ratted and sticking out in places and you feel your cheeks burn.  Your first reintroduction with Taehyung is with a fight AND with you looking like a fool.

This would not do. No, sir.

“Kim Namjoon!” you shriek into your cell phone.  You’re awkwardly pressing it against your ear with your shoulder as you walk out of the convenience store under your apartment building with 3 bottles of soju and a six-pack of beer. You needed to drown your shame and sorrow, and fast.

“Hello, love of my life and moon of my stars,” your best friend replies and you can hear Seokjin chuckle in the background.

“No!” You chide, already cracking a beer open as you storm into your apartment building. “Don’t you Khal Drogo me, mister! Why the fuck didn’t you tell me your fucking asshole brother was moving in with you?!”

Namjoon is silent and you can tell he’s wincing on the other end of the phone. “Oops?” He offers.

“Yeah, big oops! A heads up would have been nice! Like, ‘hey best friend, your worst enemy of all time is moving in today. Maybe you shouldn’t fall asleep on my couch and wake up looking like Frankenstein’s ugly wife. Oh, and also my handsome boyfriend and I will just happen to not be there when he arrives’.”

By this time, you can tell Namjoon has put you on speakerphone because you can hear their rich laughter loud and clear. Rude bitches.

You stab your key code into your door and lock yourself in, chugging as much of the beer as you could handle.

“At least, even in her rants she thinks I’m handsome,” Jin gloats.

“I’m sorry babe,” Namjoon sighs as he finally calms down. “I didn’t know he would be there today. I just found out about it last night.”

You nibbled at your bottom lip, the annoying pit in your stomach feeling simultaneously guilty that he went through a breakup, unbridled joy that something brought him down a peg, and just a dash of excitement that he’s single now.

You let out a breath. “It’s okay, Joon.  It just surprised me to see him.”

Jin butts in, “And because you have a big, fat, unresolved crush on him.”

“Jin!” You admonish. The couple laughs again and you roll your eyes, asking yourself why you put up with the two. “I do not!”

They both hum a non-committal answer, implying they don’t believe you in the slightest.

“Whatever.  What are you guys doing, anyway?”

“We just got home from shopping.  God, Jin looked so good in these jeans he tried on.  I was actually just about to suck his coc-,”

“Kim Namjoon, do not finish that sentence! I do not wish to hear it!” You try to remain firm, but dissolve into giggles with the pair.

You could never stay mad at Namjoon long, even if his brother was the devil incarnate.

“Darling,” Jin calls through the phone.  “I still expect to see you at our place tonight for our sleepover.”

Christ, you had forgotten all about your scheduled sleepover night.  It was tradition and one of your favorite parts of your friendship with the couple.  Jin, a literal chef, prepared a five star meal along with dessert for you while you binge watched Netflix and talked incessantly.

But you also usually slept in their spare bedroom.  The exact one that Taehyung would be occupying.

“Fuck, while he’s there?”

“Oh suck it up,” Jin chides, like he’s your mother. “He’s probably not even going to leave his room.  You’re not getting out of this.  I’m making strawberry cheesecake.”

Your mouth waters at the idea of Jin’s famous cheesecake.  

“Fine, but I get to lick the bowl and not Namjoon.  Those are my terms.”

Namjoon squawked in defiance as Jin laughed.  “I agree to your terms.  Be at our place by 8.”

As you hung up the phone, you checked the time.  6:40.  God, he hadn’t left you with much time to get ready, did he?

And you definitely needed to get ready.  There was no way you were entering a room where Kim Taehyung exists looking like booboo the fool, not again.

Your fingers press the 6 digit passcode to Namjoon and Seokjin’s apartment, arms heavy laden with your bag of toiletries and pajamas, and a bag full of wine.

“Honey, I’m home!” You announce as you toe off your shoes and slide into the combined kitchen and living room.

You receive no reply, but greeted with the amused face of none other than the object of your filthiest dreams, Taehyung.

“Pet names already?  We’re moving pretty fast, wouldn’t you say?” He asks you as he lounges at the kitchen table.  He watches you open the fridge to set the wine, as comfortable in their home as you are in yours.

“Fuck off,” you grumble. “Where’s your brother?”

Tae seemed absolutely tickled by your disgruntlement.  “I think they mentioned something about taking a shower.  That was 20 minutes ago, though.”

“Great,” you sigh. “Those fucking horn dogs act as if they’re still newlyweds.  We’ll be waiting awhile.”  

You tug off your sweater, leaving you to remain in a fitted tank top and yoga pants.  You tried to maintain a comfortable look as you dressed for the evening, while keeping in mind which leggings hugged your ass and showed off your toned thighs, and a tank top that dipped low to your cleavage.  Okay, so maybe you had ulterior motives. You wanted to make up for your dreadful appearance earlier and make him squirm, payback for the years of him doing it to you.

You watch him as he lets his eyes roam your body, eying you like he wants to ravage you completely. You feel victorious… and also turned on. Fuck, you played yourself.

You flop onto the couch in a huff and Tae snorts before joining you.

“What’s so funny?” You eye him suspiciously.

“Nothing,” his smile feigns innocence. “I’m not allowed to laugh?”

You sniff in annoyance, not eager to fall for his tricks. “You’re allowed to do whatever you want, your highness.”  Sarcasm drips from your voice and Tae finds it even more humorous.

“I see you’re still a sassy bitch.”

You gasp, audibly startled by his language and rise from the couch, fists clenched.

“I see you’re still a conceited dick!”

He rises to meet you where you stand, eyes boring into your own with his stupid sexy grin on his face.  “I see you’re still not one to back down from a fight.”

You step closer, close enough to feel his breath on your face.  Idly, you note it smells like peppermint and you move closer on reflex.

“Yeah? I see you’re still not one to avoid starting a fight in the first place!” you huff.

“Oh, I started it?”  

“Yeah, you started it! You called me a bitch!”

You can’t believe this is happening.  You feel as if you’re 6 again and fighting with him over a toy.

“A sassy bitch, actually,” he corrects, taking another step forward, bodies touching.

“Fuck you!”

“Only if you say please,” he quips before he closes the distance and presses his lips to yours in a scorching hot kiss.

There’s not even a moment of hesitation on your end, immediately pulling him even closer and wrapping your arms around his neck and allowing his tongue entrance to your mouth.  Your body reacts to his instantly, as if it’s wired to respond to him and him only. Your mind was blank of anything except Tae, only Tae please, and you acted purely on instinct alone.  And instinct was pulling him closer and begging, more, anything he could give.

The sound of laughter coming from the hallway pulls you apart, neither of you wanting to get caught by Namjoon or Jin.  You stare at him, his lips are cherry red and slightly swollen and the image burns into your retinas.  He has such pretty lips after you’ve kissed him.

“Oh hey! What’s going on here?” Namjoon asks as he notices the intense eye-battle you’re engaged in with his younger brother.

It shakes you out of the spell, eye contact broken and hypnosis halted.  

“Just, errrr,” you falter to find the right words to explain the situation.

“Just getting reacquainted.”  Tae sounds completely unaffected, as if the passionate kiss you shared with him seconds ago was but a distant memory.  Asshole.

“I’m surprised you two haven’t thrown anything at each other yet,” Jin laughs. “Or thrown yourselves at each other.”

Both you and Taehyung whip to look directly at Jin.

“Her!?” Tae is incredulous. “Gross.”

You’ll never admit out loud that his words wound you.

“You’re an asshole, Taehyung,” you punctuate your words by turning away from him and towards Namjoon, who appears amused as ever.

“Ah, I love when my best friend and my little brother are screaming at each other.  Feels like old times.  Can one of you cry now to complete the moment?”

Taehyung grumbles under his breath, something you can’t catch, and stalks off to his room.  The slam of his door reverberates in the apartment and Jin jumps and turns to yell down the hall at his brother-in-law.

“Yah! Don’t break my apartment! I still owe money on this!”

Despite Taehyung’s appearance every so often in the kitchen or living room, the rest of the night goes on with no annoying disturbances.

Jin spoils you and his husband with expensive food, and the best cheesecake you’ve ever eaten in your life.  Plus, you’re given the bowl to lick clean despite a desperately adorable pout from Namjoon you were sure would persuade Jin.

You’re settled on the couch, snuggling in the middle of the couple as an action movie flickers across the big screen tv.  Truthfully, you haven’t paid attention to a single thing happening, your thoughts entirely too absorbed in Taehyung and that deliciously infuriating kiss.  

Why did he do it?  You couldn’t comprehend his reasoning.  Perhaps he was doing it to piss you off.  He’s never angered you with that level of intimacy before, but you didn’t put it past him.

You’re surprised when the credits of the movie start rolling and Jin and Namjoon fake loud yawns.

“Oh man, I’m beat,” Namjoon lies.

Jin is quick to join. “Me too, I think I’ll pass out the moment I hit the pillow.”

You roll your eyes at the men. “Will you two please go fuck already, I know that’s what you’re going to do.”

Namjoon blanches, but Jin laughs and kisses your cheek. “Ah, my smart, beautiful and chaotic child,” he coos. He leans in to your ear, voice low to keep his husband from listening. “I don’t think I’m the only one in this house who’s going to get pounded into a mattress.”  

He pulls back and winks at you, deftly ignores Namjoon’s confusion and sadness of being left out, and drags him to their bedroom with a loud ‘goodnight’.

You’re left to stew in your own emotions, which is never a good thing.  Was the tension that obvious? You always assumed it had been one-sided, but the kiss befuddled you more than you’d like to admit.

It finally snapped in your mind, all the dots connecting. That’s why he did it.  

He kissed you so you’d stew and simmer and eventually erupt, like you’re doing now.  Taehyung knows you too well for your comfort.

You grab your bag of clothes and storm towards the bathroom to change, promising yourself to forget about the kiss and not give Taehyung what he wants.

Except you’re not very good at promises, especially to yourself.

You can’t say you’re excited to sleep on the couch again.  While it’s a nice couch, it’s definitely not a bed and your back will pay the price tomorrow.  You supposed it was better than the floor, but not by much.

After dressing in your pajamas, a purposefully picked out combination of tiny shorts and a sports bra in case Taehyung happens upon you, you return to your bed for the night in the living room.

Namjoon graciously left blankets and a pillow out for you, and you’re complaining internally about Taehyung the whole time you make yourself a spot to sleep.  If it wasn’t for stupid Taehyung and his stupid existence, you’d be sleeping like a baby on the guest bed that you loved.  But no, they relegated you to the couch like an animal.

Sleep was not in the cards tonight, it seems.  You toss and turn and try to press at the cushions to move a lump around and get comfortable, but it’s all for naught.  You’re wide awake and very, very uncomfortable.  You didn’t understand how you fell asleep on this very couch earlier in the day.  Maybe the mimosas you had at brunch with the couple had been helpful.

A thought crosses your mind. Alcohol.  Maybe a nice glass of wine would help tuck you into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.  A nightcap. Of course.  You were angry at yourself for not thinking of it hours ago.  

You slipped out of your disagreeable bed and into the kitchen, trying not to make a sound.  Jin’s beloved kitchen was also an echo chamber of noise, even the slightest sound bouncing off its walls and amplifying it through the whole house.  You still remember the way you jumped five feet in the air when Jin accidentally broke a plate.  It sounded like a bomb explosion.

You bite your lip as you carefully pry the cabinet of wine glasses open, careful to not even allow a squeak of a hinge.  You silently beg to stay silent and not wake anyone in the house.  You didn’t want to be caught drinking wine at 2 am in the dark, that’s difficult to explain without looking like an alcoholic.

With glass in hand, you tiptoe the fridge to pull out the bottle of merlot, thinking the heavy red wine would be the best to get you sleepy and quick.  

You tug the cork from the bottle and pour a healthy amount into the stemware with a smile.  Liquid sleep.  And you had done it without making a single sound. Perfection. The smell of the alcohol permeates through your nose as you lift the glass, placing it to your lips to take a sip.

“Wine at this hour?” the unexpected voice of Taehyung echos through the kitchen, making you yelp and jolting you hard enough that you drop the hard-earned glass of wine to the tile floor, red wine splashing as the sound of glass shattering is reverberating off the walls.

“Fuck!” You screech at the intruder.  Taehyung doubles over, laughing as if he’s seen nothing funnier than what just transpired.  “You asshole!”

You listen past Taehyung’s incessant laughter to ensure the owners of the apartment hadn’t awoken during the ruckus. You definitely did not want to face a tired and agitated Jin to tell him you shattered one of his Tiffany crystal goblets.

Beyond Tae, the house is silent and you’re thanking whatever god is listening for keeping your best friends asleep.

The wine is everywhere, spilling into the cracks of the tile and splattered on the walls.  The crystal stemware is too; it shattered with such force that you see flecks of the shrapnel in all four corners of the room.

Tae wipes a tear from his face and you square a tempestuous look at him.  

“Fucking help me!  You made me drop it!”

Through snorts, he replies. “I didn’t make you do anything.  You did that on your own.”  Although he is arguing with you, he’s gingerly stepping into the kitchen and kneeling to pick up shards of glass.

“I wouldn’t have dropped it if you had come into the room like a fucking normal person,” you grit.

He collects the glass, the delighted grin on his face now permanent.  He’s relishing in your annoyance, you know he is, and it burns you from the inside out.

“It’s not my fault you didn’t hear me.”

“You could have turned on the light! Why were you in the dark like a freak?”  You’re grasping at straws, anything to pin this all on him.  It would quell the fire in your belly to push it all onto him, make you feel as if you’ve won.

Taehyung levels a look at you.  “And you weren’t also in the dark? Pouring a gallon of wine for yourself?”

Your cheeks flare red. Fuck, he definitely caught you there.  You’re playing verbal poker with him and the hand you’re dealt falls flat compared to his royal flush.  He grins, knowing he has you.

“Fuck you,” you snark, you go to insult when you’re backed into a corner.

“Ah, doll,” he winks.  “We talked about that.  Be careful what you wish for.”

The fire inside you is roaring to an inferno now, flames licking to your core. It’s a complicated mixture of anger and sexual energy. It’s infuriating that he’s able to make you feel every single emotion to the extreme. You hate that arguing with him turns you on, like it’s some perverse foreplay.  

You moisten your lips with your tongue as you process his words, and Tae’s eyes hungrily track the appendage as it glides over your lips.

“Fuck. You.” You emphasize perfunctorily.

All thoughts of wiping up the mess are forgotten as Tae drags both you and himself off the floor and steers you to the living room, lips feverish against your own.  He pushes you into the couch and tugs his shirt off, before replacing his lips to yours.  

“Fuck, you’re so fucking hot when you’re a bitch,” he groans as he snaps the strap of your sports bra. “Seeing you get all worked up makes me so hard.”

He’s not wrong. You can see through his mesh basketball shorts that he’s sporting an impressive package, rock hard in its clothed prison.

“Yeah?” You bite at his lip.

“Hell yeah.”  His hands work to the elastic band under your bust and tugs the offending material off, tits springing free as he throws it to the floor.  

“Holy shit,” Taehyung breathes as he gets a good look at your chest.

You shake them gently, grinning as he watches them jiggle.  “You like what you see?”

He smirks and pinches a nipple, wiping the coy smile off your face and turning it into a moan.  “I like when you’re mouthy, but don’t push it.”  

He lowers his head to the nipple he’s still pinching in his fingers, licking at it and replacing his fingers with his mouth.  He’s moaning around the nipple, and you’re gasping for more.  His hot mouth sucks at you, teeth nibbling and pulling it until you’re whimpering in delicious pain.

“Fuck!” He cries as he pops away from your nipple.  “You’re so fucking hot.”

Your body warms at his words, arousal pooling between your legs.  You’re sure that your thighs are drenched in your essence.

He slurps your neglected breast into his mouth, ensuring your nipples are equally abused.  His tongue is skilled but his mouth is messy, saliva dripping all around your tit and it’s the hottest fucking sight you’ve ever seen.

He’s pulling away again and pinching both nipples with his hands simultaneously. “And you’re so fucking annoying.”

You’re pleading for more or to stop, you’re not sure.  He continues.

“Mm, I’m gonna fuck you until you’re a good little bitch for me. Listening to every fucking thing I say.”

He releases your nipples, and you finally find the ability to focus again, staring directly at him.

“Oh, you think you’re that good?” you sass as you attempt to catch your breath.  “Put your money where your mouth is.”

Tae grips your chin roughly, face inches away from yours with a sadistic grin. “You’re going to regret those words, baby.”

Instantly, he’s standing up and tugging his shorts down to let his cock spring free.  Your brain misfires as you visually measure his cock and your mouth goes dry. He’s thick and long. The bulbous head is dripping pre-cum, begging you to slurp it up.

“How about I put my money where your mouth is,” he suggests as he grabs a fistful of your hair.  

He teasingly rubs his cock on your lips and cheeks, makes you whimper with need. Your tongue is sticking out, desperate for him to lay it on you.

“Already so fucking greedy,” he grunts and in one motion, directs his dick into your open mouth. “I’ll fuck your throat, yeah? Greedy bitches love getting face fucked.”  He is still for a beat more, eyes searching yours for consent and you nod with his cock still in your mouth. He winks, then begins a rapid pace, his cock fucking into your mouth and throat.

You’re sure you look like a goddamn mess with saliva dripping from your mouth as Taehyung punishes your throat with his thrusts.  You gag and moan around him, and he tightens his grip in your hair as you see stars.

It’s indescribable. Never have you felt such pleasure from sucking cock, but Tae commands your entire body, willing you to drip with anticipation.

“My little fuck toy, god you feel so fucking good,” he hisses. “You’re gonna swallow my cum, baby.”  

His hips are stuttering, he’s close, and you’re sucking him harder, cheeks pulling in harder to vacuum him in. The pressure makes him groan out loud.

“So good, so fucking good. Get ready for your prize, baby,” his voice cuts off in a gasp, as his cock twitches violently. His legs shake and he doesn’t hold back the moans of his orgasm, gasping as he feels rope after rope spill down your hot throat.

Your big doll eyes are twinkling up at him, lips still wrapped around his cock. Taehyung is sure it’s the hottest thing he’ll ever see in his lifetime.  You on your knees, subservient to him and thriving for it.

“Mmm, I like it when your mouth is full like this,” he slowly pulls out of your mouth, albeit reluctantly. “Can’t talk back to me when you’re sucking my cock like a whore.”

You smile and stick out your tongue, pleased to show him you happily accepted his cum.

“Good fucking girl,” he coos as he grips your chin again. “Did you like my cum?”

You nod, brain fried from the heat of the room.

“Use your words,” he grits and grips your jaw harder. It’s enough to shock you into compliance.

“Y-yes! Fuck, I love your cum, Tae.”  Your words are breathy and raspy, throat raw from his barrage.

“I knew you would, filthy slut.  Sit on the couch.” He orders and you’re quick to scurry and sit on the makeshift bed you made.

His hands are tugging down your shorts quickly. No teasing or seduction here, not now. You lift your hips, and he throws them aside. Your legs close on reflex, making him growl.

“Do not hide yourself from me.” His tone is dark and you can’t help but shiver as you open yourself up to him. You want to talk back, want to fight and bite at him, but you’re quickly losing the ability to even speak, and you’re aching for him.

“Where’s my mouthy little bitch? You’re awfully quiet. Did I finally break you?” He teases, pressing your legs upward, knees to your ears. It’s pornographic how on display you are for him, soaking wet cunt front and center.

“The great Taehyung thinks he can break me with his cock,” you mewl, mustering all the false confidence you can. You’re lying through your fucking teeth and you both know it, but you continue. “You’ll have to do more than that.”

Your pussy is quaking with need now, desperate for a single touch. His hands maintain purchase on the backs of your thighs, holding them up.

“There she is,” he bites at the flesh of your leg closest to him which makes you jerk in his hold. “Gonna fuck the brat right out of you.”

He removes a hand from your thigh and you’re quick to pick up the slack, holding the thigh in place to maintain his open show of your pussy.

“Try me,” you murmur, and you’re instantly regretting your words as a harsh slap descends and lands square on your cunt.

You nearly scream, pain flooding your wanton pussy, before turning into delicious pleasure that stings and tingles right at your clit. It sizzles, and warmth blooms where his hand was.

“That’s for not believing me.”  His eyes are feral and you want to bottle this memory forever.  

Another slap has your legs trembling, eyes rolling back as the burn turns to a low heat.  You’re dripping your wetness down onto the couch and Jin will kill you, but you don’t care.

“That was for calling me a dick,” he smirks.

Smack.

Tears spring in your eyes as the slap brings more pleasure than pain, desperately close to your edge.

“Look at you, you could cum just from this, couldn’t you?”

“F-fuck! Yes, please, I need more, please!” Your cunt is clenching around nothing, desperate for friction and leaking out of you like a faucet. Taehyung marvels at you, legs spread so far, with a cunt weeping with arousal for more. He can’t wait to dive in there, but he’s not finished with you yet.

“More? I don’t know if you deserve more, baby, you’ve been awfully mean to me,” he tsks, breathing hot air on your clit, making you whine.

“P-please! I’m sorry!” You’re sure you will black out with how desperately you need him. You need him more than you need oxygen.

“Beg.”

You’re quick to submit. Thoughts of fighting back are long gone, you’re his wanton little slut now.

“Please, please! Pleaseeeee, make me cum! I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” He asks with an arch of his eyebrow.

You’re nodding wildly, gazing at him with desperate, watery eyes.

“Anything, I need you so f-fucking bad it hurts!”

By the time the words leave your lips, he’s thrusting two fingers into your cunt viciously, fingering you ferociously. He arches them, rubbing against your spongy g-spot and making you scream. He knows you’re close, knows you only need one little push off the edge. He plays your body like a skilled practitioner.

“Cum on my fingers, baby. Let me see my greedy little bitch milk my fingers.”

Your body and mind react accordingly, deep down you know your body is owned completely by him, all his.  Your orgasm explodes and you think you actually scream, your vision is black and your hearing goes silent for a moment as you cum harder than you have in your life.  You’re squeezing his fingers with your pussy so tight and Taehyung is gently licking all the juices from his hand with his fingers still inside you.

It takes time to descend from the separate plane of existence Taehyung sent you too, but you come back and watch as he laps at the liquid of your cunt and on his hand like it’s a vital necessity. His fingers remain in your walls, and he refuses to break eye contact with you. You’re positive you could cum again from the sight.

“My little cockslut tastes so good, just how I like,” he tells you tenderly. “Like cherries, so sweet.  My little cherry.”

Your cunt is aching and warming back to life as he pulls his fingers out of you. The loss is immense and you’re whimpering for more.

“Ah, ah,” he hushes you. “No whining. You’ll take what I give you.  Suck my fingers clean. Taste yourself.”

He presses his fingers into your mouth, earning him a sigh, the taste of you filling your mouth. You swirl your tongue around his fingers and suckle each one to ensure your tongue laves the entire surface.

“Fuck,” he whispers and it’s his first crack in his steel reserve. “Needy.”

He pulls his fingers from your mouth and presses against you to kiss. It’s gentle, sweet, and nothing compared to the man assailing your pussy with slaps moments ago. It thrills you just the same and you return in kind, threading your hands in his wavy hair.

He pulls away and presses his forehead against yours, a moment of gentleness you actively welcome.

“This little cunt ready for me?” He whispers and you’re whimpering your reply.

“Please, fuck me. I need you to fuck me until I can’t walk.”

He grins and presses a kiss to your lips again, sweet and chaste, before he pulls away and slides down to attach those same sinful lips to your pussy.

It’s so unexpected you flinch and manage a cry as his tongue slurps up more of your delicious essence and his mouth moves to suckle on your clit. You’re not sure where the fuck he learned these tricks, but you know now you will never let him go.

“Taehyung!” You cry at the sensation. “Fuck!”

After receiving the reaction he was desperate for, he slips his tongue into your walls deep and gathers as much of you as he can, before he’s pulling back and swallowing you down.

“I couldn’t resist. Your cunt was made for me to devour.”

He doesn’t allow for a response as he throws your legs over his shoulders and lines himself up at your core.

“Condom?” He asks you, and you level a quick look at him.

“I don’t live here! I don’t have any!”  You’re savage, terrified he’ll pull his cock away when all you want and can think about is the way he’ll feel pounding into you.

“Don’t be rude, baby,” he reminds you with a swat to your ass. “I’m clean, promise. You?”

You nod quickly, reveling in the spank’s tingle. “Same. I have an IUD too,” you sigh. Thank god for medical birth control implants.

“Good. You’re the only pussy I’m gonna fuck from now on,” he promises. You know you must talk about this later, when you’re thinking rationally and not with your aching pussy.  

Your heart stutters and leaps into your throat but all is forgotten as he plunges into your tight heat.

“Ohhhhh shit, ahhh,” he gasps. “Baby, you’re so fucking tight and wet.”  He’s on the verge of whining, becoming just as needy and greedy as you.  He wastes no time in setting a pace.

His cock fills you completely, his angle allowing him to go as deep as he can, pressing the beginning of your cervix.  This is surely what heaven feels like.  It feels like the completeness you feel with Taehyung fully sheathed inside you.

It comes alive with flames and explosions as he fucks you, hips pistoning to plunge in and out of you with tenacity.  He fucks you like he laces every single thrust with more, more than just sex. He fucks you with purpose.

You’re moaning like a pornstar now, high pitch wails and gasps and breathy moans are all you can manage. “Taehyung, yes! Feel so g-g-good!”

“That’s right baby, scream my fucking name. Make sure all the neighbors know who fucking ruined you,” he nearly spits, cock thrusting into your core at an impossible speed. “I want you to tell all of Korea who owns you. Who owns this tiny little cunt?”

The wind leaves you, and you’re gasping for air, gaping mouth open as you try to reply. It takes him fucking into you harder a few times before you feel it rush back into you.

“You, Taehyung!  You!  Fuck, I love your cock!”

His thumb rubs at your engorged clit, allowing it the friction it seeks.  He bends forward and wraps his other hand around your throat, squeezing.  

Losing air combined with the friction on your clit has you keening, so close to the edge. You try to babble his name but nothing comes out.

“Look at my pretty little slut taking my cock so well,” he praises.  “You have the greediest pussy, don’t you? You need my cock daily, baby. Need to put my mouthy bitch in her place, remind her who’s in charge.”

He slows his pace but his thrusts are punishing, fucking into you as hard as he can. Your orgasm is climbing so impossibly high.

“F-fuck!” You gasp as he releases his grip on your neck. “Gonna cum! Please let me cum!”  

“Yeah baby, cum for me.  Cream your greedy pussy all over my cock.”

The world stops spinning as you hit the height of your climax and plunge down.  Your vision goes black and your body is quivering and convulsing nearly as hard as your cunt is. Taehyung hisses at your walls sucking him in, as if you’re begging for his cum, begging for more.

“Fuck, good girl, baby, holy shit,” he’s breathless and so close.

You’re overstimulated, boneless, but he wrought two of the best orgasms you’ve ever felt in your life and you’ll be damned if you leave him high and dry.  You bite your lip as you move with him, hips pounding against each other. His face is scrunched up and you know he’s close when he’s stuttering on his words.  You take over for him.

“Please cum in me baby, please.  Fill me up. I’m yours, baby, mark my little cunt as yours.”  You don’t know where it’s coming from, but you keep it going. It feels as natural as fucking him does. “Please, Taehyung!”

At the sound of his name leaving you in a whine, he spirals down his own completion. He feels his cock pulse as he empties his load into you, your walls still reverently beckoning for him. He’s calling out your name, grasping at your tits as he finishes and you’re smiling from ear to ear. Your pussy is warm with his seed and you’re positive it’s the way you want to feel every single night.

“Holy fuck,” Taehyung rasps as he pulls his cock out of you. He thrills as he watches his cum follow, slipping out your folds and down your thigh. “I definitely marked you.”

You hum in reply, finally allowing yourself to soak in the haze of orgasmic bliss. Tae presses his head to yours again, kissing you sweetly.

“Come sleep in my bed?” He asks. He means more behind it. He wants to ask you to sleep in his bed every night, stay with him every day, be the one he grows old with. He knows there’s still more to talk about, wounds of the past to heal, but now you’re with him, and he knows he’ll work through anything.

You nod, and kiss him again, understanding his hidden meaning laced in his words.

A sly smile spreads across his face. “Last one to bed has to take the blame for the wineglass,” he teases. Your head spins as if you’ve got whiplash.  He can switch from dominating to sensitive to the little shit he is so quick.

“Hey! No fucking fair! You fucked my ability to run out of me!”

“Shouldn’t have been such a sassy bitch,” he winks before he tears away towards his room.

“Taehyung, you’re an asshole!” You call as you limp your way behind him.

From behind Joon and Jin’s door, a critical voice bellows, “YAH! I’ll kill you if you got your jizz on my couch! And what is this I heard about my glass!!? HEY!  Those are TIFFANY. CRYSTAL. THE DISRESPECT!”

You slip into Taehyung’s bed and wrap yourself around him, the two of you gasping with mischievous giggles.

Kim Taehyung will always be the one who knows how to drive you wild. He’ll always aggravate and infuriate you, send you reeling.

But now you didn’t think you minded it at all.

© ppersonna - 2020 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

Prompt # 19: Addiction  

@sicktember Alternate prompt #4: Stay

Title: Unexpected Developments Part 2

Fandom: Pride and Prejudice

Find Part 1 under prompt # 8. Mr. Darcy is sick in bed and miserable. Elizabeth is trying to look after him, but his bad mood gets the better of him and tempers flare. Will sweetness or stubbornness win out in the end?

Elizabeth Bennett was the only guest at Netherfield who wasn't in bed with a cold. The virus Jane had caught riding to attend luncheon with Caroline had spread around the whole house, but it seemed Eliza was immune. Mr. Darcy had been the last to fall ill, and Lizzie had discovered him sneezing in a corner over a day ago while she remained perfectly healthy. It was fortunate she had discovered him though, for the servants were rushing hither and yon at the beck and call of their ill master and his sister, and poor Mr. Darcy would have been overlooked completely if Lizzie hadn't taken him under her care. 

Lizzie, for her part, was glad Jane's cold was much improved from the days prior. Since Jane needed little tending now, she had given Lizzie her blessing to give most of her attention to Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy, for his part, was very accustomed to having a houseful of servants to do his bidding, and was little accustomed to being ill, strong and virile as he was. Because of these things, he was not the easiest patient, though he truly tried to make an effort to curb his frustration and not take his misery out on Elizabeth. Her lack of symptoms clearly perturbed him, however.

"How is it you are still in perfect health while I and everyone else are laid up with this beastly chest cold?" he griped that afternoon while Lizzie fussed around, tidying up dishes and rags from his bedside. If Lizzie wasn't accustomed to his voice by now, she would have had trouble understanding him, for his nose was stopped tight with congestion, and his voice raw and weak from coughing, rendering him nigh unintelligible. 

She giggled to herself. "Well you see, I believe I've already had this cold, for in the week prior to Jane's arrival here, my father, some of my other sisters and myself caught cold. We were envious of Jane's good luck in not falling ill at the time, but it seems it caught up with her in the end."

"Indeed," Mr. Darcy muttered sourly with a slushy sniffle.

"Oh don't be cross. It isn't so terrible lounging in bed all day, being waited on hand and foot is it?" 

"Yet when I find myself miserable in body, I find my mood tends to follow," he groused.

"Hmm." Elizabeth moved to his side, caressing his flushed face gently with the pad of her thumb. "It's just as I thought. You're only irritable like this when your fever is up, and indeed you are overwarm again. Jane's fever wasn't nearly so persistent."

"How fortunate for me," he mumbled to himself. Elizabeth tried to ignore his bad temper as she fetched her basin and rag. She wasn't fond of sarcasm, and his attitude was irking her more than she cared to let on. Tenderly as ever though, she began bathing his face and neck to try to bring down his miserable fever.

The cold water on his face made him gasp slightly, which became a cough, and the coughing only seemed to agitate him more. He usually enjoyed his face being bathed, but today he drew away from the rag. 

“Perhaps we should try another method for treating fever, since this does not seem to be effective,” said the sick man. His speech was curt and tense with foul temper.

Elizabeth gave him a long look, trying to keep her own temper under control. “What would you suggest, sir? We have tried willow bark, which made you feel more ill, and you will not have any other poultices,” she said in a measured, warning way.

“There must be something we haven't done yet. I would do anything to rid myself of this beastly cold, that came from *your* sister, I might add! You just said you already had  this cold. Think of something else to try!”

Elizabeth flew to her feet, tossing down the rag. “Perhaps you should go plunge yourself into an ice bath! That will surely help the fever, and I’m sure it will do wonders for your coughing and sneezing as well! But you can draw it yourself, and you can see to your own meals and entertainment too. You clearly feel my efforts are inadequate, so you can tend to yourself from now on. I am through with smoothing your insufferable pride and being a target for your bad mood. Good day, sir!”

With a whirl of skirts, she was out the door without a glance behind her. Elizabeth went straight to her room and lay down in the cool and quiet, for she was exhausted and careworn from nursing for a week straight. She fell asleep immediately and didn’t wake for several hours. 

She felt much refreshed when she did finally emerge. She first went to look in on Jane, who was overall back to normal, but was getting bored sitting around and eager to go home. On questioning the staff, they learned that Caroline had mostly recovered as well. Mr. Bingley was recovering slower, but getting better all the time. The sisters wished him a speedy recovery by way of the servants, for as soon as he was recovered, they would be able to return home.

After visiting with Jane for some time, Elizabeth desired to find a quiet corner and read. To her chagrin, she realized she had left her book in Mr. Darcy’s room. She did not relish seeing him again so soon after they parted so badly, but she had no choice if she wanted her book back. With a sigh, she made her way to his room with hesitant steps. She knocked softly before entering, which felt odd since she had been coming and going freely for two days prior. His hoarse, weak voice bid her come in.

He was in quite a different state than he had been a few hours before. Where he had previously been fitful and agitated, now he seemed weak and lethargic. Even in the dim light she could see how sweat-matted his hair was, and the dark ring on his pillow. He lifted his head up to see who had entered, and his sleepy eyes flickered with confusion upon seeing her. 

“I only came to get my book. I apologize for disturbing you,” she said stiffly, hardly looking at him. She snatched up the volume from the table where it lay and turned to go back out, intending to say nothing else.

“Wait.” 

She paused, and turned slightly, her good breeding winning over. “Yes?”

He sat up a bit straighter, coughing weakly as he did so. “I am deeply sorry for how I behaved earlier. My treatment of you was inexcusable after all you’ve done for me these past days--” Here he had to pause to press his handkerchief to his dripping nose before he could continue. Elizabeth waited silently. “I was a beast and feel very much like a fool. Please forgive me,” he managed, mumbling through the damp fabric. His eyes shone earnestly above the hand holding the linen in place.

Her face softened. “I accept your apology, and thank you for it. No one acts quite themself when they’re ill, so I gladly forgive you. I’m sorry too for my part in all of it.”

They shared a tiny smile as he tended to his nose with a thick, gurgling blow, and she knew she was forgiven also. Immediately the tension between them was cleared.

Now that they had made up though, she was reluctant to leave him alone again, for he looked so weak and forlorn and in need of care. However, she was a woman of her word. She spoke as she moved to the door, putting her hand on the knob. “You must rest, Mr. Darcy, so I'll leave you be. I truly apologize for waking you.”

“Miss Elizabeth?” 

Once more she turned to meet his eyes.

He held out a shaking hand. “Please… stay.”

She slowly returned to his side. “For what purpose, sir?”

“I… I desire your company… and your aid. You are… a far better caregiver than I, and I was a fool to imply otherwise. It… it won't happen again,” he croaked thickly. 

Seeing the effort he was making to be overly polite softened Eliza's heart further. She let him take her hand in his warm grasp, a smile playing around her lips. “If you insist. I will stay.”

He smiled also as he drew her hand toward himself. "Here, let me show you something," he snuffled. He placed her wrist against his neck, just as she had done many times over the past few days. He sighed softly as their skin made contact.

“Your fever has broken,” she murmured happily. “You are cool at last.”

“Yes.”

“How did you do it?” she asked, withdrawing her hand. “Did you plunge yourself into an ice bath after all?”

He stifled a cough before he could speak. “I… tried willow bark again, as you recommended. I felt worse… at first, but I fell asleep to ease the symptoms. When I woke, the fever had left me, and I felt… much clearer in mind. The fever was causing my foul mood, as you insightfully noted.” Yet another long speech, and now his voice was barely audible as he sniffled furiously and trembled with fatigue. 

“Yet you seem somewhat worse for wear, for you’re completely exhausted, poor man.”

“This illness has left me weary to my bones, it is true. Yet I could not have slept soundly tonight knowing I had offended you. It would be an understatement to say I was very glad when you returned, though I did not expect or deserve a second chance.” His eyes were getting heavier by the moment, and he yawned almost before he finished speaking, reclining back against his pillows once more.

Elizabeth brushed the sweaty curls from his forehead as his eyes drifted closed, then let her hand rest on his cheek for a moment, reassuring herself that his fever was truly gone. He lazily covered her hand with his, a content smile flickering across his face. 

She couldn’t help but smile in response, though he couldn’t see it. “Take some rest, Mr. Darcy. All is forgiven, and I will be here when you wake.” She gently tried to pull her hand away from his face. He quickly interlaced his fingers with hers to prevent this.

“You’ll truly stay?” he murmured sleepily, sniffling.

Leaving her hand on his cheek, she perched on the edge of his bed, so close their hips were almost touching. She saw him smile again as she did so. 

“Of course I will,” she murmured back, her eyes never leaving his face as he peacefully drifted to sleep.

[spencers-renaissance]

dry me off and hold me close

Summary: Derek has finally relented and is bringing his boyfriend Spencer to meet the rest of the team. That means, though, he has to finally tell them about his boyfriend's disability. Terrified that they'll react badly, he puts it off until he can't anymore. Turns out he was worried for nothing.

Tags: so much fluff, protective derek, disabled spencer, caretaker derek, au: spencer is not in the bau, team as family, hurt/comfort, light angst, est. rel, day to day disabled life, physical disability/chronic illness

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 5.7k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Hello! I am nervous to share this one, I won't lie. It's incredibly personal. It was a pain in the arse to write but I love how it turned out and I hope you do, too. Just a note: this may be triggering for some people - there is description of nausea and severe chronic pain, as well as frequent references to ableism towards wheelchair users.

As soon as Rossi brings up the prospect of a fully-catered family dinner at his ‘mansion’ this weekend, Derek’s heart sinks. They’re on their way home from a pretty gruelling case and it’s well-deserved of course, but he knows what comes next, knows what question will be asked of him, and he’s dreading it. There’s only so long he can go on avoiding answering. 

“Please tell me you’ll finally let us meet Spencer, Derek,” JJ asks, levelling him with a look to rival one of Penelope’s. “At this point I’m starting to think you’ve made him up.” 

Spencer is very real. He’s a very real, very sexy, very intelligent man who Derek has no doubt would get on brilliantly with the team. But Spencer also happens to be disabled. And while his boyfriend has had decades to get to terms with broaching such a sensitive, taboo topic, Derek has not. He’s far from ashamed of Spencer — that’s not it at all — he’s just so protective of him, and the idea of others being touchy or patronising or outright rude around him is an idea he’s never been able to get used to, no matter how many times he’s witnessed it.

Derek’s laugh is strained as he rubs his face awkwardly, trying to find the words to politely decline, but the others are pouncing on him before he can speak. 

“You’ve put it off enough times now, Morgan,” Emily says, siding with JJ. “If he’s even half of what you say he is then we’ll love him. Just bring him along. Rossi doesn’t mind.”

“Oh no, I’m dying to meet the man who could finally tie Derek Morgan, ladies man extraordinaire, down,” Rossi chimes in.

“He definitely sounds like my kind of guy,” Alex agrees. “I’m impressed you managed to land such an educated man, Derek.”

He looks sort of desperately towards Hotch who raises his hands guiltily. “I would actually like to meet him, too, Morgan,” he says reluctantly, a rare smile playing across his face.

Derek groans and throws his head back against his plane seat. He can only be glad Penelope isn’t on the flight because she’d be absolutely relentless in such a conversation. 

As hesitant as he is to let his team in, maybe it is time to finally get over himself and bring Spencer to meet them. After all, none of them have ever given him actual cause to be so nervous, and he knows they’d all inevitably fall in love with him almost as quickly as Derek did, so really it’s his own fears and fierce protective instincts keeping Spencer away from his second family. 

“Fine,” he relents, anxious butterflies not easing. “He’s home this weekend, and apart from planning lectures I think he’s free, so I’ll ask him. But I can only promise to ask, I won’t promise he’ll agree.” It’s a pointless caveat; Spencer’s been bugging him to meet the team almost as long as they’ve been bugging him to meet Spencer, he’ll jump at the chance to go to dinner with them. 

“Finally,” JJ groans, pretending to collapse against Emily in relief, who giggles fondly at her antics.

“I’m sure we’ll love him, Derek,” Rossi says reassuringly, a proud fatherly look on his face that has his chest clenching painfully. 

As everyone settles down, his stomach churns anxiously as he stares back out of the jet window. He knows everyone will love Spencer; he just doesn’t know how to tell them what to expect. What if Spencer has a fainting episode or gets nauseous at dinner time? What if he can’t keep his energy up or is too photosensitive to have the lights on? What if meeting that many people at once overwhelms him? Spencer always tells him he worries too much, but he can’t help it — not when the love of his life is involved. 

He’s brought out of his nervous stewing by Hotch. “You know, Morgan, if you really don’t want to bring Spencer, you don’t have to,” he says softly, making him look up to see everyone staring at him guiltily. 

“We didn’t mean to pressure you,” JJ says hesitantly, and the others agree, all clearly having noticed his pensive expression.

He forces himself to take a calming breath and bite the damn bullet already. Spencer would be rolling his eyes at him. “Okay. There’s something I haven’t told you,” he starts carefully. He hasn’t had to introduce the concept of Spencer’s disability to anybody since he told his family. “Spencer is disabled. He has a chronic condition that impairs his mobility along with bringing a whole host of other symptoms, and while he’s had it for most of his adult life, I’m still not used to broaching the topic and I didn’t know how you would react. He already experienced enough difficulties in life, he doesn’t need my co-workers, hypothetically, being patronising or weird about it. So, I put it off.”

It feels like a weight off his chest once it’s out in the air, but the surprised looks on his team’s face make him briefly wonder whether telling them was a mistake after all. “Spencer will really look forward to coming though,” he rushes to continue. “He’s on his own a lot of the time and struggles to make it out of the house except for work if I’m not there, so he can feel quite isolated. It will be nice for him to spend time with other people, and finally meet you guys.”

By the time he’s finished speaking, everyone seems to have mostly recovered from their immediate shock, and look relaxed and intrigued again — far more appreciated expressions on Derek’s end. 

“Well,” Rossi starts, and he feels like holding his breath in anticipation, “will he need any accommodations?” Relief spreads warm and thick across Derek’s chest as he feels himself physically relax. Of course immediate support would be the response from his team; he was stupid to think otherwise. 

“His mobility fluctuates daily. Sometimes he can walk small distances okay, other times — and more frequently — he needs aids like forearm crutches or his wheelchair. Can I text you on the day and let you know?”

“Of course,” Rossi promises, a warm smile on his face, “whatever you and Spencer need.”

“There is one more thing, if Spencer’s coming it will need to be earlier in the evening… think more six rather than eight. He’ll be too exhausted later in the evening and he needs to be home early to get the amount of sleep he needs.”

“That’s fine,” Rossi agrees immediately, “six it is.”

“Sorry for pressuring you, Derek,” JJ says, tilting her head as she looks across the table at him. “But we’ll love Spencer, this won’t change anything.”

“Yeah, fuck you for thinking we’d be assholes about it,” Emily chuckles, punching him softly in the arm. 

Derek grins at her before shaking his head. “I’m just too protective of him,” he explains a little guiltily. “He thinks it’s ridiculous but I can’t help it. We’ve been together nearly five years now and I’ve seen the things he has to go through, professionally and in his day to day life. I just saw an area for potential harm, no matter how slim the chances, and immediately bricked it up in my mind. It’s hard to tear walls down like that.”

“Well, I’m glad you did,” Alex says in her signature gentle tone, smiling at him.

“I can’t wait to meet him,” Hotch agrees and Derek gives them all another quick smile before they settle in for the rest of the flight. 

It’s late by the time Derek unlocks the door to his and Spencer’s home and he knows his boyfriend will already be in bed. It had been a weird adjustment when they’d first started dating, Spencer having to be home by 10pm so Spencer could get at least nine hours of sleep, topped up by regular naps during the day. Now though, he’s completely used to operating around Spencer’s sleep schedule; it’s just routine. 

He makes his way through the house quietly, toeing his shoes off and shedding his coat before dumping his bag in the living room and padding up the stairs. The house is dark but their room is dimly lit by Spencer’s night lamps, there to ease him off to sleep and keep him company when bouts of painful insomnia torment him. There was a time Derek used to mind, but those days seem so long ago now. He climbs carefully onto the mattress, taking off his trousers and socks but not bothering to change into anything new.

As gentle as he is with his movement, Spencer still stirs beside him. “Derek?” He blinks sleepily over at him in the soft light of the bedroom and Derek immediately scoots over and wraps him in a hug. It might be gone midnight but he misses Spencer like crazy when he’s away and physical contact is very much essential business right now.

“Yeah, baby,” he whispers as he relishes the feeling of Spencer’s small frame against his own. “Sorry I woke you.”

“It’s okay. Just glad you’re home. Missed you.”

“I promise I missed you more,” Derek murmurs as the warmth of the room and comforting presence of his boyfriend wrapped around him finally break down the walls he’s been holding back the sleepiness working a 5 day case inevitably brings. 

“Make me pancakes in the morning?” 

Spencer doesn’t need to ask, it’s a tradition for Derek to make pancakes for breakfast the day he gets back from the case, but it makes him smile anyway. “Anything for you, baby boy,” he yawns. “Go back to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

⭐️

Derek waits until dinner the next evening to bring up the subject of the dinner party. It’s just a simple takeaway on the sofa of the house Derek had renovated for them, but even five years into their relationship, every moment shared with Spencer feels like a date. 

“How would you feel about going to a dinner party with the team?” Derek asks when there’s a lull in their conversation. Spencer’s just finished explaining a complicated debate he’s having with one of his colleagues about kinetic particle theory and Derek has no idea how to respond. Moments like these used to make him feel stupid and inadequete when they first got together, but now he just stares fondly at his genius boyfriend and wonders how on earth he got so lucky. 

Spencer lowers his fork. They’re eating chinese but he still hasn’t mastered chopsticks, and it never fails to make Derek smile. “Are you serious?” he says, an excited grin spreading across his face.

“I am.” He quirks an amused eyebrow as he takes in Spencer’s eager expression. God, he’s so fucking in love.

“Well obviously I want to go,” he giggles, “you know that. When is it?”

“Saturday.”

Spencer just launches himself into Derek’s lap in lieu of response, not that he has far to move on their cosy sofa, slotting himself against his body as they melt into one another. “Thank you for finally getting over yourself,” he says with his face buried in Derek’s neck.

Derek’s responding laugh jostles both of them as he wraps his arms around Spencer’s small frame, loving the way he fits in the palms of his hands. “I’m sorry it took me so long, baby,” he says, tone transitioning into sincerity. “But they can’t wait to meet you, and you’re going to love them.”

“I know,” Spencer says drily, pulling back to look him in his eyes. “Why do you think I’ve been pushing to meet them for the last five years?”

Derek answers with a squeeze to Spencer’s waist and a kiss to his shoulder. “Go on,” he says, lifting him off his lap to sit on the sofa next to him. “Finish your dinner.” 

“Mm, I think I’ve had enough,” Spencer hums nonchalantly, busying himself with putting the carton on the coffee table as if Derek doesn’t know him like the back of his hands. 

“This is your favourite dish from your favourite Chinese and you’re expecting me to believe you’ve just had enough,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “What’s wrong, pretty boy?”

“Nothing,” Spencer says, but he sounds winded and Derek isn’t stupid. He levels him with a look. “Okay… I just feel a bit sick is all.”

“Floor, sofa, or bed?” He’s aware of the nausea protocol, and he moves his own dinner aside as he springs into action. 

“Floor.” He’d been surprised the first time his boyfriend had crawled onto the floor and lay curled up until the nausea passed, but it was second-nature now. Apparently, the flat, firm surface was the most comfortable when such intense sickness consumed him.

“Okay, baby, let’s go.” He gently lifts Spencer off the sofa and down onto the floor, taking care not to jostle him too much. His eyes stay closed, face screwed up as he tries to weather the waves of nausea crashing over him. It never fails to make Derek’s heart twist in pain. “Are you actually going to be sick?” The majority of nausea spells usually pass on their own with no vomit to speak of, and Spencer’s usually very good at telling which kind it is.

“No,” he whispers, reaching his hand slowly towards Derek’s and gripping it tightly. He gets the message and lays down next to him, stroking his hair softly as they wait in silence for Spencer’s body to right itself. It only takes about twenty minutes to pass, and when it does, Derek carries him to bed, bringing him his toothbrush and a flannel as they follow another of their set routines that have been established over so many years of being together. 

“I love you so much, Spencer Reid,” Derek murmurs as they lay in bed together that night, the soft light of their bedroom catching on Spencer’s cheekbones.

“I love you more, Derek Morgan,” Spencer whispers back, voice slurred as he cuddles further into the arms of his boyfriend. 

“Not possible,” Derek insists, but Spencer’s already dropping off to sleep. 

⭐️

Spencer wakes up on the day of the dinner party in what Derek can clearly see is nothing short of agony. He doesn’t try to hide it, they’re mostly past that now — although he still sometimes convinces himself he can handle smaller symptoms by himself, no matter how many times Derek insists they’re a team — but he doesn’t say much either. The morning is spent on the sofa, using numerous heated blankets and painkiller combinations until he can at least think straight. 

“How do you feel about this evening?” Derek asks as lunchtime approaches, rubbing Spencer’s good arm gently as he leans against him, legs outstretched on the chaise. 

Spencer hums. “I’m gonna take a nap after lunch,” he decides after a moment of deliberation, “and then decide. I think with meds and the wheelchair, I’ll be okay.” He pauses for a moment as he nibbles nervously on his bottom lip. “Do you think they’ll be weird about the chair?”

“No, baby,” Derek says decisively. Really, he can’t believe he ever thought anything different, but he was scared and fear easily spirals into irrationality. “They won’t even blink. Especially since I warned them about the mobility aids. I think they’d be more surprised if you walked into the Rossi mansion.”

“You sure?”

It hurts Derek’s heart to hear him so anxious and uncertain, and it’s only more painful because he knows it's rooted in experience. He’s had to fight for most of his life to be seen as a competent adult, equal to his peers despite his disability, and people can be cruel. “I’m sure. And even if for some reason they were dicks about it, I’m there, okay? Nobody’s gonna get away with being anything other than an angel towards you when I’m around.”

Spencer giggles at that, turning his head into Derek’s chest. “You turn into the hulk when you’re protecting me.” 

“I do,” he agrees, chuckling at the sound of Spencer’s adorable laugh, “and for good reason. No-one hurts my baby. You know that, and everyone else knows it, too. We’re gonna be just fine, pretty boy.”

Spencer sighs, reassured by Derek’s words. “Love you,” he whispers, twisting a bit to press a kiss to the side of Derek’s neck. 

“I love you more,” Derek promises, lifting a hand to rest on Spencer’s cheek.

“Not possible.”

The rest of the day passes slowly as Spencer takes it easy, deciding that he’s definitely up to it after a decent nap curled up against a reading Derek. They get ready together, Derek helping him shower when his arms hurt too much to wash his hair and getting him dressed in his favourite outfit before dressing himself. 

By the time six thirty rolls around, Spencer’s feeling a little bit better, his meds are hitting the spot and they’ve mastered all the wheelchair adaptations to make his life as easy as possible over the years. His cushions and heated seats connected to the wheelchair’s motor, which he uses to help self-propell at work, ease the pain as much as they can and the built in phone charger always makes him popular whenever they go out with friends. Plus, his cane and crutches connect neatly to the back of the chair, giving him more options, which is especially helpful on nights like this. 

“Comfy?” Derek asks as he pushes him out of the apartment and into the hallway, locking the door behind them. 

Spencer hums in affirmation, wiggling a little as he settles into the warm support of the chair. They have a ground floor apartment for safety reasons: Spencer needs to be able to exit the building if the lifts stop working, but it’s also convenient. They get down to the garage quickly and Derek helps him into the passenger seat before packing the wheelchair in the boot.

He spends the journey in contemplative silence and Derek can’t keep himself from shooting worried looks his way. His hand makes its way onto Spencer’s knee and he rubs his thumb gently against the skin, before stilling the digit, all too conscious of how painful repetitive stimulus can be, especially on days like these. 

“Stop worrying, baby,” he says, ten minutes into the drive when Spencer still hasn’t said a word. His bottom lip is chapped from the worried chewing it has endured for most of the day. “They’re going to love you, I promise.” 

“You really think so?” 

Derek’s about to answer quickly but he looks over and sees how absolutely dead serious Spencer is. He sighs. “Let me tell you exactly why. Alex is a fellow academic with the softest streak of anyone in the BAU field team. Emily and JJ have the ability to befriend literally anyone, and Penelope already is in love with you, just from what I’ve said about you. She’s told me so multiple times. Rossi immediately accommodated you and wasn’t at all fazed when I mentioned your disability. Hotch is a gentle fatherly type when he’s talking to good people and the rest of the team, so he’ll just be interested in you as a person. There’s no-one I’m worried about, okay?”

“Okay,” Spencer whispers eventually, finally sounding like he actually believes him. 

“Besides, you’ve already got one member of this team whipped,” Derek smirks, glancing over at him again. 

He considers it a win when Spencer rolls his eyes, and his grin couldn’t be wider when he hears him mumble, “arrogant asshole” under his breath.

Derek’s grateful Rossi doesn’t have a gravel driveway as he gets Spencer out of the car and into his wheelchair, before pushing him the short way to the front door. They’d battled some tough terrain over the years, and gravel was absolutely his least favourite. As they approach the house, though, he notices that Spencer’s grip on his armrest is tight enough that his knuckles are white, and it hurts Derek’s heart that he’s only this nervous because real people and real experiences have given him genuine reason to be. 

Before he gets to knock, though, the door is thrown open by an uncontainably excited Penelope. “You’re here!” she shouts, and completely bypasses Derek to shake Spencer’s hand. He’s glad she doesn’t crouch, just leans down a little so he doesn't have to reach up so far. “You must be Spencer. I’m Penelope. It is a crime that Derek has kept us apart for so long, but none of that matters now. Would you like me to push you in through to meet the others?”

“Um, it’s nice to finally meet you, Penelope,” he says, smiling at her genuinely. “Would you mind if Derek keeps pushing me, though?”

“Oh, no, that’s fine!” Her smile doesn’t drop a bit. “Come through, everyone’s already in the living room. Oh, and hi Chocolate Thunder.” She sends him a quick wink. 

“Hi, Mama,” he says, rolling his eyes. He’s grinning, though. So far, so good. 

They follow Penelope further into the house after Derek closes the door behind them, and the girls get up first. “Spencer, oh it’s so good to meet you,” Emily says, coming up and shaking his hand. “I’m Emily, this is JJ.”

“Hi,” JJ says, shaking his hand too, giving him a conspiratorial look. “I’m glad we finally bullied Derek into bringing his oh-so-secret beau to meet us.” 

Derek just grins. “What can I say? I’m protective of my baby.” He reaches down and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. 

“Ignore this caveman,” Spencer laughs, and Derek is sure he rolls his eyes again. “I’ve been dying to meet you all, too.”

“Well, it’s our pleasure,” Alex says, coming up for her turn. “I’m Alex. Your paper ‘How Thinking Makes Us Write’ you published a couple of years ago is incredible; I used it in my Psychology of Writing class last year and only just realised it was written by Derek’s top-secret boyfriend! I’d love to talk to you more about that later.”

“That’s so cool, wow, yeah I’d love that.” He smiles at her, clearly feeling a little flattered by the immediate praise of his work. Derek thinks it’s the least he deserves.

“I’m Aaron, but everyone calls me Hotch,” Hotch says as he and Rossi step forward, a warm smile on his face. “Sorry to overwhelm you with all these introductions, but it’s lovely to meet you. It really is a shame Derek’s been so secretive.” 

Spencer smiles up at him. “Are we all going to dunk on Derek all night? Because if that’s the case, I’m glad I came,” he laughs, twisting around slightly to look at Derek. 

“Yeah, yeah, keep talking, pretty boy,” he says, raising a brow. “Two can play at that game.”

“You’re too whipped, I’m not worried,” Spencer dismisses him, before touching his hand lovingly, letting him know that he’s only teasing. 

“I don’t doubt it,” Rossi says. “I’m Dave, or Rossi, whichever you prefer. I actually own this house, despite being the last in line for a formal introduction. I’m sorry I didn’t greet you at the door, Penelope had been waiting on the stairs for half an hour so she could be the first to greet you.”

“That true, baby girl?” Derek chuckles, looking over at her. 

She doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed, but then Derek doesn’t know what else he expected. “This is on you,” she defends herself, “if you hadn’t waited so long to introduce me to baby genius here, I wouldn’t have been so desperate to meet him.” 

Spencer laughs at their interaction, turning his attention back to Rossi. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says. “Derek told me you were really accommodating, so thank you for that.”

He waves the thanks aside with a dismissive hand. “It’s nothing. Speaking of which, though, would you rather eat in your wheelchair or transfer to one of the dining chairs.”

Derek knows what’s about to happen even before he sees Spencer tense up. “Give us one second,” he says, wheeling him out into the hallway. Decisions are really hard for Spencer to make on bad days, especially those that pertain to his health or needs, and being under the eyes of so many people was not about to make that an easy interaction.

“Derek…” Spencer says anxiously, looking at him for help as he feels his mind spiral into fogginess at the question. 

“Okay, it’s okay, baby,” he says soothingly, crouching down in front of him to be at eye level. He takes his hand and kisses it gently. “Do your hips need a break from the chair or would it be more painful to transfer?” 

Phrasing questions like Rossi’s as directly applicable choices is always more digestible for Spencer and he sees him visibly relax at his words. “Hips need a break.”

“Great,” Derek says. “Do you want to go back in or do you need a minute to yourself?”

“No, I’m fine,” Spencer says, and he believes him. He instantly relaxed at having made a decision. “Let’s go back in.”

“As you wish, sweetheart.”

They walk back into a room full of vibrant conversation and laughter. “Oh, Spencer, Spencer,” Emily says, immediately roping him back into the conversation without making a big deal of him having to leave the room, “we’re debating whether Derek’s really the slob Alex insists he is. You need to help us settle it.”

“I shared a room with him once, okay,” she says, “it was a state!”

“I don’t doubt it,” Spencer agrees. “At home, he’s so anal about ‘everything in it’s place’ and won’t even let a mug sit on the counter without being washed up. But whenever we go away, he can’t keep the place clean, it’s the weirdest thing. It’s like his suitcase vomits its contents all over the room.”

“Hey, I didn’t know this dinner was gonna be all about airing my dirty laundry,” Derek laughs.

“Literally,” JJ points out.

“Right,” Rossi says, interrupting the laughter filling the room. “Dinner is ready, so we should eat. Did you come to a decision about seating, Spencer?” Derek’s impressed at how much he knows about accommodating disabilities. He probably has someone close to him who’s been through something similar to Spencer.

“I’ll transfer,” he confirms.

“Great, we can just move your wheelchair to the hall once you’re settled so it’s not in the way, if that’s okay?”

At Spencer’s nod, they all file into the kitchen/dining area and choose their places. Penelope bags the seat to Spencer’s left, Derek sitting to his right, as the other girls sit opposite them. Hotch and Rossi sit at Derek's end of the table. He holds hands with Spencer under the table all through the delicious pasta primavera, helping to ground him, reminding him he’s right there. 

Conversation and laughter flows with the wine Rossi serves, and Derek doesn’t even mind his embarrassing stories being shared with the team, because it’s Spencer, and he’s so far gone for this man that he could slice him open and with his dying breath, Derek would thank him. 

“I love you, really,” Spencer grins up at him, after he’s just revealed his Nina Simone shower concerts to everyone sitting around the table, everyone cracking up as the tough exterior Derek’s built up at work over the years slowly disintegrates, his own boyfriend fuelling the fire. 

“And I love you, baby,” he says, leaning over to kiss him briefly, before pulling back. “Even when you spill my deepest darkest secrets.”

“Well, aren’t you two just the cutest,” Alex says fondly. “You’re a lucky man, Derek.”

“No, I’m the lucky one,” Spencer insists. “Do you know what he said when we first met? We were at the supermarket, and I was reaching for some baby carrots. He said ‘whoa, pretty boy, don’t get those ones. They go off far too quickly. Someone as beautiful as you deserves better than that’. No mention of the wheelchair or bags under my eyes. He didn’t see Disabled Spencer, he just saw Spencer. Asked for my number then and there.”

“You were irresistible,” Derek says fondly, brushing a thumb against his cheek. “I knew right at that moment I would spend the rest of my life with you.” 

“Stop,” Penelope begs, “my heart is literally a puddle on the floor. This world needs more Derek Morgans.”

“I’ll toast to that,” JJ says, her face just as soft as Penelope’s. 

“A real toast,” Hotch says, raising his glass with a happy smile on his face. Derek very rarely sees such a relaxed expression on his face, and as much as they have their disagreements, it’s a nice thing to see. “A toast to Derek and Spencer. May your happiness live long and be as contagious as it is tonight.”

Everyone toasts to his words, and Spencer buries his face in Derek’s shoulder, a little embarrassed at the attention. They sit around the table a little longer, but Spencer slowly sags against his body, finding it painful to keep himself upright. 

Noticing this, Penelope claps her hands. “Shall we move back to the living room? I bought chocolate and Rossi has wine.”

“This is true,” Rossi says as they all get up. He grabs Spencer’s wheelchair from the hall and Derek helps him back into it as they head back to the sofas.

“It’s weird using my chair inside,” Spencer laughs as Derek pulls him into his chest so he doesn’t have to keep himself steady upright, everyone else settling themselves around the room.

“Do you not need it often?” Hotch asks. 

“No, I need it quite a lot. I just don’t usually have to. Derek’s usually fairly insistent on carrying me around our apartment.”

“We’ll never live in a big house,” Derek says, chuckling along with anyone else. “I couldn’t haul this big lug around a Rossi mansion, now could I?”

“Hey!” Spencer smacks his side lightly. 

“You’re 6 foot tall, baby,” Derek defends himself. “You might be tiny but there’s still a lot of you.”

“Fair enough,” Spencer acquiesces, laying his head just under Derek’s chin. 

“Right,” Rossi says, coming back into the room, “I have more of your non-alcoholic wine, Spencer, and more of the real stuff for everyone else. Hand out the chocolates, Penelope, and we’ll have ourselves some satisfied guests.”

“I don’t live here, old man,” Penelope says, raising an eyebrow but getting up from her seat cuddled against Emily and JJ anyway. 

“Hey, you answered the door to pretty much everyone today; you’re co-hosting.”

“Can’t argue with that, Penelope,” Emily says drily, looking on amusedly as she huffs but hands out the chocolates anyway.

Derek discreetly pops two painkillers out in his pocket and hands it to Spencer, who swallows them down with a sip of his non-alcoholic wine, relaxing as they start to take effect. They all chat leisurely for a while, enjoying each other’s company in a non-pressured environment where they’re not surrounded by high profile cases and serial killers. 

Eventually, though, Spencer starts to fall asleep on his chest, clearly feeling relaxed enough in the warm room, pressed up against his boyfriend and surrounded by the reassuring conversation of people he trusts. As soon as Derek notices, though, he knows it’s time to get him home and into bed before any true crisis of pain or fatigue takes place. 

“I think we’ll need to get going, guys,” he says quietly, drawing everyone’s attention to Spencer’s dozing form. He watches as their faces soften and conversation quietens, everyone clearly enamoured with his boyfriend. It occurs to him that he feels no jealousy, only pride that he gets to call this wonderful man his, that he’ll be going home with him tonight, tucking him into bed and cuddling him until he falls asleep. 

He shakes Spencer gently, and the others start to get up, tidying or just moving through to the kitchen so as not to embarrass him when he opens his eyes. “Sorry,” he murmurs sleepily, as he looks up at Derek. “I’m tired.”

“I know, baby,” he says softly, feeling so fond his heart could burst. “Let’s get you home, yeah?”

Everyone’s sad to see him go, gathering at the front door to say their goodbyes. 

“You are invited to every BAU event from hereon in,” Penelope asserts confidently as she leans down for a gentle hug. She whispers, “you’re better company than Derek, anyway.”

“I heard that, Mama,” he says, poking her in the side.

“You were meant to,” she says, sending him a pointed look, before dropping the act and wrapping him in a hug as the others say goodbye to Spencer. 

“It was so nice to finally meet you, Spencer,” Hotch says warmly. “Derek had better not keep us from seeing anymore of you.”

“I’m not sure I could possibly get away with that anymore,” he sighs. “Guess I’ll have to share my baby with you assholes.”

Spencer rolls his eyes at that, stifling a yawn. “Come on, caveman,” he says, rolling his eyes again. “I need to get home.”

“Anything for you, my highness,” he chuckles, before lifting his chin with his knuckle and bending down to kiss him briefly. 

“Bye, lovebirds,” Emily calls as they make their way to their car.

“Drive safely,” JJ shouts, which makes Derek laugh fondly. He does love his team.

“See you on Monday,” he calls back as he helps Spencer into the passenger seat. They drive home in the comforting darkness of night, illuminated by the car and street lights of the city, and satisfaction pools in his stomach as he reflects on such a perfect evening as Spencer falls asleep against the passenger window. It really couldn’t have gone any better, and the relief he feels is staggering: the two most important facets of his life finally integrated after far too long.

While his whole life feels like it’s finally falling into place, all that really matters is that the man who is his entire world is happy, a small smile on his sleeping face as the shadows of the city brush their way over his cheekbones. He has to force his eyes back to the road, but he can’t resist the hand he slips into Spencer’s, or the smile that lights up his face as even in his sleep, Spencer’s fingers curl themselves around his.

Spencer's symptoms in this fic could fit any number of neurological conditions, but his unnamed condition was modelled on my own experience with fibromyalgia. I have a rather severe case, as would Spencer if he was diagnosed with this illness. The symptoms could also fit these conditions in one way or another: Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (M.E.), Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS), Lupus, Rheumatoid Arthritis or Axial Spondyloarthritis, as well as others I'm sure I'm forgetting.

Everything about Spencer’s disability is true to the chronically ill/disabled experience as I know it, and to learn more please visit the end notes on AO3 where I explain in a little more detail some of the features of Spencer’s symptoms and condition.

<333

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @hotchgans @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith

[silv3rswirls]

Trust

Anon asks: Hi! So I wanted to make a request for namjoon and his s/o. She tends to always accuse him of cheating on her when a small minor inconvenience happens in their relationship. Namjoon finally gets tired of her act and breaks it off. A few weeks later, she builds up the courage to apologize to him and wishes him well.

Paring: Kim Namjoon/reader

Summary: Tired of your constant accusations Namjoon decides to end things, hoping things will turn out well for the both of you.

Warnings: Breakups, not too angsty

Word Count: 1.2k

“Who was texting you earlier at dinner?”

“Just a friend Y/n” Namjoon sighed, looking over at you with tired eyes as the both of you were winding down and getting ready to go to bed.

“Friend?”

“Yes, friend. Why?”

“You kept smiling at your phone and then someone called you and you walked away.”

Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep his cool despite his sleepy demeanor and growing annoyance as you pushed on. He had been talking to a friend, specifically Jungkook, that was all. But when things like this happened you were known to cling onto the subject. Also pointing questions at Namjoon when he received texts and seemed too happy to read them, or when he left you to talk on the phone during dates or at home. The worst was when your relationship would hit a bump; you were always quick to bring up your suspicions of Namjoon cheating.

“It was just Jungkook, okay?” He gave you a pleading look, not in the mood for a big argument. “You’re being too jealous, I thought we talked about this?”

“I’m not jealous.” You defended sternly. “Maybe if you were more open about these things I wouldn’t have to worry.”

“I am open Y/n, I’ve never lied to you. I’ve never given you a reason to doubt our relationship, have I?”

Your face went a little red to match the growing fluster in your tone. “No, but- you know I have a hard time trusting. You can’t blame me for this!”

“Y/n…” Namjoon groaned, resisting the urge to fall back into the bed and bury his face into the covers to block out the world. It was tiring to deal with this all the time. “We fight about this all the time, don’t you think it’s time you put more faith into me? Our relationship isn’t new, we’ve been together for a while, but you act like I'm trying to ruin things.”

“Just don’t act so suspicious and I won’t have to worry.”

“I can’t keep doing this Y/n, please.”

“Doing what?”

“Having you question my every move. I go out with the boys and you accuse me of cheating when I get home, I text others or take calls and you think it’s another girl. There’s tension between us and you think it's because I have another girl.”

You scoffed, “fine, then I guess this isn’t going to work.” You had turned away, arms crossed like a child pouting. Namjoon, despite wanting to pull you in and kiss away your doubts, just frowned deeper.

“Now you get like this, like always.” It was hard to even talk to you about it at times and it drove Namjoon mad.

“I just don’t know what you want from me.”

“I want you to trust me” Namjoon had taken your hand, cradling it gently as he looked you in the eyes, sincerity deep in his tone and his eyes almost begging you to give in.

You bit your lip, pausing a moment to think. “I just can’t, okay?”

“Then this has to end. We have to end it.”

It broke Namjoon’s heart to say, but the fact that you remained silent hurt him more. He decided to sleep on the sofa for the night, telling you to pack some of your things in the morning if you still feel the same way. And when morning came and he woke to find you leaving, bag packed and straight-faced, he had to chew on the inside of his cheek to stop the urge to tell you to forget about last night. This was what was best for him, he couldn’t stay with someone so untrusting.

“Y/n-”

“You’re ending things because there’s someone else, isn’t there?”

Namjoon’s face fell, “No...no I’m sorry you think that.” He watched you leave, a sense of dread yet relief hitting him as the door closed.

…..

Despite wanting to, Namjoon refrained from contacting you after the breakup. He missed you and had cared a lot about your relationship. He wished he could’ve been okay with your jealousy and distrust, but he had to be honest with himself. A relationship shouldn’t be filled with that kind of thing, maybe here and there or when a mistake was made to warrant the stress, but Namjoon had never done anything like that. Deep down he knew it wasn’t a problem, you had your own hang-ups, but he couldn’t excuse it for you. It was better this way. You clearly needed some time to reflect and work on yourself, but Namjoon wished you had been more willing to let him help you.

It would be okay though, Namjoon told himself. Things didn’t end badly or explosively at least.

It had been a few weeks, close to a month, before Namjoon saw you again. He had just been at a park, taking some time to stroll and calm his mind from his recent work. It was a nice day, breezy and warm; the kind of weather he had liked to enjoy with you. You met by chance, Namjoon was leaving the park and you were heading in. He hesitated to get your attention, but you ended up spotting him anyway. You came up with a shy smile and Namjoon was glad to see that you seemed happy.

“Hey Joon” you smiled, fidgeting with the strap of your bag.

“Hey, how have you been?”

“Good, just...uhm, this might be awkward, but I should say it.” You took a second, taking a deep breath and collecting your thoughts. “I’ve just been thinking about what happened between us a lot recently and you deserve an apology. It took some time to realize, but you were right, I was really unfair to you.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, “I know Y/n.”

“I just thought I’d say sorry, I wasn’t easy to deal with, was I?” You laughed, small and a bit awkward. Namjoon did as well, still wearing a genuine smile for you.

“Thanks, I appreciate it. Are you busy? We can get coffee, catch up?” He was hopeful, it seemed you had done a lot of thinking the last month.

“Ah, I’m meeting my friend now, but thanks anyway.” You moved to walk away, stopping a moment to look back at him. “Thanks for everything you did while we were together Namjoon. Thank you, you are amazing.” You held back the stutter in your tone, hoping it didn’t look like you wanted to cry. “Good luck with the new album.”

“I’ll see you around?” He asked.

“Yeah...maybe” you smiled one last time, “have a good time, okay?”

Namjoon nodded, feeling better about what had happened. Still sad it had to happen, but confident that the both of you would be okay.

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Toni//i don’t wanna think of anything else now that i thought of you (part 2)

hey! i hope you like it! i love this so much, it’s so cute and gay and lovely. like me! here’s part 1 if you wanna read it! 

“Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay.” Amber slurs, a sleepy grin on her face as she rests her arms on the side of the pool. You and Toni share a concerned look from the sun lounger you’re sharing, and as a collective, all of you move a little closer to her. She’s bound to fall, but at least if she does she’s already in the pool. “Lets play truth or dare!” She cheers and everyone groans. 

“Amber you always ask the worst questions.” Betty rolls her eyes from beside you and downs the rest of her beer. Sweet Pea and Fangs nod in agreement, pausing their game of ‘who can drown the other the fastest’ and join the conversation. 

“Maybe you’re just not interesting enough to have a proper answer to my amazing questions.” She huffs and splashes the blonde. 

“She’s plenty interesting.” Jughead defends his girlfriend and she places a hand over his. 8 years on and still nothing has changed between your little group.

Betty and Jughead are still madly and sometimes a little annoyingly in love, Fangs and Sweet Pea are still as immature as they were when they were 17, it’s just now they have jobs to go to, ones that they still get to annoy each other at. Amber still can’t handle her beer, only now she has someone to hold her hair back when she’s throwing up after two beers, and you can guarantee that when she has finished puking, Jade will always send pictures of her asleep on the toilet to the group chat. 

And you and Toni? You’re still very much in love, and still denying that you have been since you first met. Only now, that hate has laid the foundations of a life together. An amazing home, your dream jobs and so many pets that you’re sure you keep getting strays and not noticing. 

“So!” Amber claps, splashing water at Sweet Pea and Fangs who have now joined her side. “Toni, seeing as though it’s your house, you go first! Truth or dare.” 

“Truth.” Toni replies, the sunlight catching her eyes, making them shine a golden colour and your breath hitches. 

“Boooo.” Sweet Pea jeers, a smug smile on his face and Toni flips him off. Fangs reaches around Amber and slaps the back of his head and the two of them break off into a mini fight that ends up with Fangs under water while trying to kick at Sweet Pea. 

“You always pick truth.” Jade adds and rolls her eyes at the pink haired girl. “Hey! Bee! How are you getting on with that barbecue because I am starving.” She shouts right in your ear and you send her a glare as you rub your ear. Toni stifles a giggle while patting your shoulder and Jade shrugs at your annoyed stare, before facing Amber again. 

“You’ll get it when you get it!” She shouts back and a few serpents that are gathered around the barbecue groan and walk away disgruntled and in search of something to do while they wait for food. 

“Try not to poison us this time!” Jade adds cheekily and then screams a little when a tomato is thrown at her head. 

“That was one time, 7 years ago. I’m now an actual, proper chef or are you forgetting that.” She replies and Jade holds her hands up in defence. “I’ll spit in your burger if you’re not careful.” 

“Is that a promise...chef.” She winks and you all laugh loudly. Bee shakes her head but a small smile plays on her lips as she checks on the food. 

“You’re so fucking gross.” Fangs pulls a face while chuckling and she grins at him. 

“I always pick truth because you always dare me to something stupidly dangerous and extremely deadly, and surprisingly, I quite like being alive.” She says, smiling at you and you tuck a piece of hair behind your as you smile at the floor. 

She leans forward and presses a kiss against your cheek, causing them to heat up even more. 

“Get a room.” Sweet Pea splashes you both and the two of you send him an annoyed glare. 

“We have a whole fucking house.” You motion to the building beside you and he sticks his tongue out at you. 

“Fineeee.” Amber huffs. All she wants to do is play the stupid game and get drunk and her friends are making it increasingly difficult to do by making her wonder how they are all still friends. “Okay, Toni. Have you ever said something you regret about someone here?” She asks, her blue eyes sparkling with chaos and Toni shifts uncomfortably while eyeing each of her friends. 

Everyone, including you have a curious smiles on your faces and you all subconsciously move closer to her making her gulp. 

“Yeah.” She nods. “I told people I was friends with Sweet Pea and I’m still regretting that.” She sighs and Sweet Pea stares at her offended before chucking water at her. It lands on the both of you and the two of you squeal. “Sweet Pea! I spent two fucking hours doing this makeup, I am going to drown you.” She threatens. 

“I would like to see you try.” He laughs. 

“It’s okay.” You squeeze her hand. “I’ll just get Bee to spit in his food.” You add and grin. 

“Come on. Seriously?” Amber pushes and she sighs before looking at you. 

“I mean, I may have said a few choice words about you when we first met.” She says, a guilty expression clouding her face and you roll your eyes. 

“Well, that’s not exactly a secret.” You laugh. “And I definitely deserved it.” You shrug and she nods. 

“Okay, well then no. I haven’t.” She smiles and the group sends her suspicious looks. 

“Have you actually?” You mumble and she nods. 

“I’ll tell you later.” She whispers in your ear and the two of you giggle quietly. 

“Boring!” Amber huffs. 

“I told you.” Jade smiles smugly and Toni pick up the slightly squashed tomato and throws it at her again. 

“Y/n!” Amber turns her attention to you and you swallow nervously. “Seeing as though this is also your house. Truth or dare?” You think about it for a few seconds, weighing up all of the possible things that could kill you in your eye line, before finally deciding on truth. You don’t want to jump off the roof into the pool...not again anyway.

“Oh God.” Jonathan throws his hands up. You honestly had no idea he was that close and a few of you jump when you notice the brunettes presence. “You two are just as bad as each other. Remind me, when did you get married?” 

“Shut up Jon.” Toni shoves him. 

“Or do you want me to tell a certain chef that you like her?” You add and his eyes widen as he looks over at Bee. She sings along to the music while smiling along with what Dana and Maggie are talking about. 

“Okay, okay, okay. Be cool.” He holds his hands up. “You guys were made for each other.” He huffs before sulking off to get another drink. You and Toni giggle as you watch him walk away and he pulls a face at the both of you which only makes you laugh louder. 

“Truth.” You repeat, turning your attention back to Amber. She hums in reply, her eyes hooded as she leans her chin on the side of the pool. “What is your biggest regret?” She asks and the smile falls from your face. 

You look at each one of your friends, all of them smiling widely and waiting for you to answer. Toni nudges you gently and you feel your throat go dry, suddenly it’s too hot and the gaze that you’re under only makes it worse. 

It’s a loaded question, and it’s one that you think of a lot. You’ve made a lot of mistakes, like a lot, but the one that you always go back to, the one that sometimes makes it difficult for you to get up in the morning, or to look at pictures of your younger selves, or for you to fall asleep, is just how badly you treated the people who you now consider your dearest friends. 

“I-er. I.” You stutter and Toni grabs your hand giving it a light squeeze. Jade shuffles closer to you and wraps an arm around you, and the rest of your friends are now looking at you with worry. “I hate how I treated you guys.” You admit and they all share a look. 

“Shut up.” Sweet Pea says bashfully. 

“Yeah, that was years ago.” Fangs adds and you look at them confused. 

“Plus, we gave as good as we got.” Jade adds and you lean your head on her shoulder. 

“We love you, and all of that was forgiven as soon as you got your head out of your ass.” Jonathan adds before sitting down. His legs hang into the pool, disturbing the water and splashing Sweet Pea in the process. 

“I still feel bad though.” You sigh. “I hated you so much for absolutely no reason. Well, I hated you because of where you were born and were you grew up, and I was awful to all of you. But now, you’re like my best friends and I love you so much and I think back to that time and I was an asshole. Like a huge one.” You ramble and Toni pulls you into a hug. “So, I am really sorry, to all of you.” 

“We know.” Toni smiles at you. “You were forgiven a long time ago.” 

“Food!” Bee shouts and everyone stands up quickly. Toni pulls you up and your quickly enveloped in a large group hug before they all go off in search of food. 

“We love you.” Toni says. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You reply. Sweet Pea and Fangs run past you and get back in the pool. You watch as the concentrate on trying to keep the food out of the water and you ask them why they didn’t just put it on the side while getting in. “Don’t throw up.” You warn as they eat and splash and they both roll their eyes at you. 

“If you do, you’re cleaning it up.” Toni adds. 

“Sorry, moms.” Fangs teases and you flip him off. 

“I’m gonna go get some more drinks.” You tell Toni and press a kiss to her cheek. She nods and reluctantly lets you go before getting some food from Bee.

---

“Hey baby.” You smile as you feel a pair of arms wrap around your middle. Warm skin against yours makes you feel lightheaded and you turn around in her arms, capturing her lips in a kiss that tastes like watermelon and whiskey. 

Her hands squeeze your waist and yours tangle in her hair, the drinks long abandoned as she presses you against the counter. 

“Are you having a good day?” She says breathlessly and a small laugh follows, the sound making your heart soar. 

“Even better now that you’re here.” You reply and pull her in for another kiss. She helps you up onto the counter and you wrap your legs around her middle. The two of you giggle and laugh into your kisses, a warm buzz settling in your stomach from the alcohol, and pure happiness fuels the moment and keeps you wanting for. 

She mumbles that she loves you, and when you nearly fall into the sink and she catches you, the two of you laugh loudly, completely forgetting about your friends and the party and the rest of the world for a few minutes. 

You look at her, her brown eyes wandering over your body and you’ve never felt so loved in your entire life. It makes your heart ache at the thought that someone could love you like this. And you think back to all those years ago, when you were a Northside Princess and she was the Queen of the Buskers, and it makes you think, what if. 

When you first met, when you first looked in her eyes and felt nothing but hate, you had no idea that now, when you look into those very same eyes, they are filled with nothing but love. 

“Toni?” You whisper against her lips. 

“Yeah?” She asks, stopping at the sudden seriousness of your tone. 

“Will you marry me?” The words fall effortlessly out of her mouth and she gasps a little and pulls away. 

“Are you serious?” She says, her eyes wide and full of surprise. You nod and she nods too, although she’s not really sure why. You jump off the bench and wrap your arms around her, the two of you smiling and laughing. 

“Is that a yes?” You ask and she nods quickly before the two of you go back to jumping around the kitchen. 

Sweet Pea strolls into the kitchen and raises an eyebrow at the two of you. His gentle whistling causes the both of you to stop and look at him, neither of you unable to keep the smiles off your faces. 

“What?” He asks, a confused laugh escaping his lips. 

“We’re getting married.” You smile and grab Toni’s hand. 

“She’s officially gonna be Queen of the Buskers.” 

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