#like maybe room to breathe is a contender as well but

[hoshifighting]

Cherry Picked

— Synopsis: To get closer to university, you decide to move back to your childhood home. That's when you bump into Seungcheol, an old friend you haven't seen in ages. Surprisingly, he still remembers how much you loved the cherries he used to pick for you from his backyard when you were kids. — WC: 4.9k — WARNINGS: Ex-neighbors, ex-childhood friends to lovers, smut, oral (f. and m. receiving), ass slapping, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, cum swallowing, praising, pleasured tears, Seungcheol is such a sweet guy (he gives cherries in your mouth), wap and etc.

The decision to move in with your grandma came from the practicality of being close to the university you were about to start. As you settled into your chosen course, you realized that the proximity of your grandma's house would not only provide a familiar and comforting place but also ease the transition into this new chapter of your life.

The idea of being near the university meant more than just convenience. It was an opportunity to reconnect with the cherished memories of your childhood, with the added support and love your grandma could offer. As you stood on the familiar sidewalk in front of your grandma's house, memories of childhood vacations flooded your mind. The pretty white house, with its charming garden and welcoming porch, stirred up emotions as the taxi came to a stop. It was a neighborhood filled with nostalgia.

Taking your baggage from the taxi, you looked around at the fancy houses lining the street. Children played on the sidewalks, and elders observed the comings and goings of the neighborhood, a scene that hadn't changed much since your middle school days.

You walked up to the front door, memories echoing with each step. With a deep breath, you touched the ring bell, anticipation bubbling within you. The door opened, and there stood your grandma, her eyes lighting up with joy. She enveloped you in a tight hug, the warmth of her embrace and the familiar scent of good food in the air immediately comforting.

"Oh, sweetheart, it's so good to see you again!" she exclaimed, holding you at arm's length to get a good look at you. "Come in, come in! I've been waiting for this day."

You stepped inside, and the atmosphere of the house embraced you like an old friend. The scent of home-cooked meals wafted through the air, instantly transporting you to the countless happy moments spent in this very place.

"I've cleaned up your room, dear. I wanted everything to be just as you remember it," your grandma said, leading you down the familiar hallway. The floor creaked slightly beneath your feet, adding to the symphony of memories.

As you entered your childhood room, a flood of emotions washed over you. The room, though tidied up, held remnants of your past – the posters on the walls, the cozy bed, and the worn-out but cherished belongings. It was as if time had stood still.

"Thank you, Grandma. It feels like I've stepped back in time," you said, a lump forming in your throat. "I've missed this place."

She smiled warmly, patting your cheek affectionately. "You're always welcome here, my love. Now, freshen up, and we'll have a nice dinner together. There's so much to catch up on."

As you settled into the room, the nostalgia continued to weave its magic, creating a comforting cocoon that wrapped around your heart. 

As you sat down for dinner with your grandma, the aroma of home-cooked meals filling the air, she couldn't help but bring up the topic of your love life. With a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, she asked, "So, any boyfriends in the picture, dear?"

You chuckled, poking at your food. "No, Grandma, no boyfriends at the moment. Just focusing on university and settling in."

She raised an eyebrow playfully, "Oh, come on! Someone as beautiful as you must have admirers."

You blushed at the compliment, "Well, maybe, but no serious contenders."

With a mischievous grin, she leaned in a little closer. "You know, now that you're back in the neighborhood, maybe you'll find someone interesting. I did see Seungcheol, you know, Mrs. Choi's grandson from down the street. He looked so cute the other day."

You tilted your head in confusion, surprised by the sudden matchmaking suggestion. "Seungcheol? Really, Grandma?"

She chuckled, nodding. "Yes, really! He's a nice young man, and he's been doing some work around the neighborhood."

Amused by your grandma's matchmaking efforts, you couldn't help but burst into laughter. "Grandma, you're something else. Maybe I'll bump into him and say hello..."

She joined in your laughter, the sound echoing through the familiar walls of the dining room. "You never know what the neighborhood might have in store for you!"

The morning sun painted a golden hue over the neighborhood as you tiptoed down the stairs, determined not to disturb your grandma, who was still enjoying her peaceful slumber. After a good night's sleep and a hearty breakfast, you felt refreshed and ready to explore more of your childhood haven.

Entering your bedroom, you set about tidying up a few things. As you moved some items around, your eyes fell upon a dusty old box tucked away in a corner. Curiosity piqued, you opened it to find a treasure trove of dolls and toys, relics from your own childhood.

A smile played on your lips as memories flooded back, and an idea sparked. The sound of children playing in the garden next door echoed through the open window, and you recalled the two little girls you had seen the day before. With the box of toys in hand, you made your way down to the garden.

Leaning against the fence, you called out to the two girls who were engrossed in their own imaginative play. They turned to you, their expressions a mix of curiosity and surprise, but soon broke into gentle waves as they approached.

"Hi girls!" you greeted them warmly, holding up the box of toys. "I found these old dolls and toys in my room. Would you like to play with them?"

Their eyes widened with excitement, and genuine smiles spread across their faces. You crouched down, placing the box on the grass and inviting them to explore its contents. The girls eagerly delved into the box full of dolls, their joy infectious.

As you were about to bid them farewell and head back inside, they called out, "What's your name?"

You chuckled at their innocence. "I'm Y/N," you replied.

They exchanged glances before one of them asked, "Y/N, do you want to play with us?"

You hesitated for a moment, the memories of your own carefree days flooding back. With a warm smile, you sat down on the grass, joining the two girls in their imaginative world. The laughter, chatter, and the timeless joy of play filled the air as you momentarily lost track of time.

As you sat on the grass, enjoying the laughter and playing with the two little girls, the crunching sound of approaching footsteps caught your attention. A shadow fell over you, and a friendly voice rang out, "Hi, pretty girls. Your mom is calling you for lunch."

Looking up, you were met with the sight of a handsome young man holding a basket full with cherries. You quickly got up, brushing the grass off your shorts, and apologized, "Oh, sorry. I didn't realize how quickly time passed."

He smiled warmly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "No worries at all. It looked like you were having a great time."

Glancing over at the two girls heading into the house for lunch, you returned your attention to the boy in front of you. As you looked into his eyes, you immediately recognized the gummy smile and the familiar warmth it brought. The basket of cherries triggered a flood of memories, and it dawned on you that this was Seungcheol – the same Seungcheol who used to deliver cherries to your grandma's door when you were younger.

"Seungcheol?" you asked, a nostalgic smile playing on your lips.

His eyes widened in pleasant surprise, and he returned the smile. "Yeah, that's me. You remember?"

"Of course!" you exclaimed, a wave of memories washing over you. "You used to deliver cherries to my grandma's house all the time when I was younger. It's been years."

Seungcheol chuckled, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. "Wow, small world. I remember your grandma always appreciated those cherries. My grandma used to send them directly from her backyard."

As you both started walking towards the house, cherries in hand, Seungcheol continued, "I still help my grandma with the cherries. It's a tradition now. Anyway, it's good to see you again. Your grandma mentioned you're back in the neighborhood."

"Yeah, just moved in," you replied, a smile tugging at your lips. 

Your attention shifted to the basket of cherries Seungcheol held, the fruit looking ripe, round, and tempting. — Cherry is still your favorite fruit, but you don't know if he remembers— Seungcheol noticed your gaze and offered, "Want some? They're fresh."

You smiled gently "Oh, no, thank you. I'm good."

Seungcheol grinned, seemingly understanding, and said, "Alright, I'm going to deliver these. I'll leave you right at your door. It's literally the next house."

As you walked together towards your grandma's house, he carried the basket of cherries with ease. The short distance allowed for a brief conversation.

"So, how's everything been since you moved back?" Seungcheol inquired, his casual tone making the conversation feel effortless.

"It's been good," you replied, a genuine smile playing on your lips. "Just settling in, you know? It feels nice to be back."

Seungcheol nodded in understanding. "Well, we're all happy to have you back. The neighborhood has missed you."

As you reached the doorstep, Seungcheol stopped, turning to you with a small bow of his head. "Well, here you are. If you ever need anything or just want to catch up, you know where to find me."

With a friendly wave, Seungcheol continued on his way, leaving you standing at the familiar doorstep of your grandma's house.

[...]

The doorbell chimed, and your grandma, bustling around in the kitchen, called out for you to answer it. You eagerly made your way to the door, and as it creaked open, there stood Seungcheol, a vision of a hardworking young man with a basket of cherries in his hands.

Dressed in a white shirt that clung to his muscular arms and chest, with gardener jeans bearing the traces of dirt and a smudge on his face, he looked like he had been tending to his grandmother's backyard. The baskets he held were filled with an abundance of cherries, their vibrant red hue catching your eye.

"Hey there," Seungcheol greeted, a warm smile on his slightly flushed face. "Remember cherries being your favorite?"

You beamed, genuinely surprised by the thoughtful gesture. "Yes, they still are. How did you remember that?"

He tilted his head, a hint of shyness coloring his cheeks. "Oh, you know, memories just pop up sometimes." Seungcheol handed you the larger, more beautiful basket of cherries, and your heart skipped a beat.

"Wow, thank you so much," you exclaimed, the surprise evident in your voice. "Are these for me?"

He nodded, his smile widening. "Yep, especially for you. I hope you like them."

Your heart warmed at his gesture, and you thanked him sincerely. Watching him head towards his house, you closed the door behind you. Turning to your grandma, who had observed the exchange with a knowing grin, you both burst into laughter.

"Oh, Grandma, Seungcheol brought cherries," you shared, holding the basket close to your heart.

She chuckled, a twinkle in her eyes. "Well, isn't that sweet? Looks like someone remembers your favorites."

As you savored the cherries Seungcheol had brought, your grandma, with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, reminded you of her plans for the next day.

"By the way, dear, tomorrow I'm going to a senior's dance with Mrs. Choi," she said, a playful smile playing on her lips. "Do you mind being alone for the evening?"

You couldn't help but chuckle at her teasing tone. "Oh, not at all, Grandma. I'll be just fine. You go enjoy the dance. It sounds like a lot of fun."

She nodded, her smile widening. "Good, good. You know where everything is if you need anything. And who knows, maybe Seungcheol will be around to keep you company."

Your cheeks warmed at the suggestion, and you playfully rolled your eyes. 

As the next afternoon rolled around, you glanced out the window and noticed Mrs. Choi and your grandma making their way to a taxi. Seungcheol, being the courteous young man he always was, helped them into the cab with a gentle demeanor.

Hidden behind the door, you couldn't help but smile at the scene unfolding before you. Seungcheol's kindness and attentiveness were evident, and the sight warmed your heart. It seemed like some things never changed, and Seungcheol continued to be the sweet, considerate person you remembered from your childhood.

You took a moment to appreciate the simple beauty of the moment – the friendship between the grandmothers and the helpfulness of Seungcheol – Seungcheol turned around, catching your eye, and offered his signature gummy smile. He approached you, a bit of dirt still clinging to his gardener jeans, and started a conversation.

"Hey there," he greeted, his warm gaze fixed on you. "My grandma asked me to keep you company while they're out. I hope you don't mind."

You quickly responded, "Oh, no, it's not necessary. I don't want to bother you. You have your work to do."

Seungcheol chuckled, shaking his head. "No bother at all. In fact, it's my invitation. Come with me, and you can watch me pick the cherries."

You hesitated for a moment but couldn't resist the genuine warmth in his invitation. "Well, if you insist. I wouldn't mind watching you in action."

With a playful grin, he gestured towards his grandma's backyard. "Great! Let's go."

You followed him to the back, finding a cozy spot on the little stairs that provided access to the rear of the house. Seungcheol, with his basket in hand, started picking cherries from the lush trees.

As the comfortable silence settled between you and Seungcheol, you took a moment to bask in the warmth of the sun, closing your eyes and relishing the feeling on your skin. When you opened your eyes again, the scene had shifted. Seungcheol was now busy washing the cherries inside a bucket.

His movements were light and deliberate, but your attention was quickly drawn to the definition in his arms. The gardener's jeans showcased his strong legs, and as he washed the cherries, the muscles in his forearms flexed with every careful movement. A sheen of sweat glistened on his skin, running down the side of his ear, and his chest was accentuated by the tight white shirt.

You found yourself captivated by the unintentional display of his body. The sight of his veiny hands moving gracefully as he washed the cherries seemed to mesmerize you. The play of sunlight highlighted the contours of his arms, and you couldn't help but follow every movement, unintentionally getting lost in the scene unfolding before you.

Without noticing, your legs were pressed together and your lip bitten between your teeth, panties getting ruined by how wet you are. 

As you lost yourself in the unintentional admiration of Seungcheol's physique, you were oblivious to the fact that he had noticed your subtle reactions – the rise and fall of your chest, the slight furrowing of your eyebrows. Little did you know, he had seen it all.

Breaking your reverie, you looked up to find Seungcheol walking towards you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. In his hand, he held a single cherry, and a playful smile adorned his face.

"Y/N," he said, holding the cherry between his fingers. "Open your mouth."

You widened your eyes, a sudden self-awareness hitting you as you adjusted your posture. Seungcheol, undeterred, gracefully squatted in front of you. With a gentle yet confident gesture, he presented the cherry, and you complied, opening your mouth to accept the fruit.

Seungcheol delicately placed the cherry on your tongue, and your lips wrapped around it lusciously. The subtle hum that escaped him at the view sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but blush at the unexpected intimacy of the moment.

Seungcheol sat down next to you, drying his hands with a towel, and his mischievous side took over. Leaning in, he whispered teasingly into your ear, his voice low and filled with playful intent.

"So," he began, his tone a playful drawl, "do you always look at guys washing cherries like that, or am I just lucky today?"

You breathe sharply, trying to compose yourself, so you don't seem more desperate than you already are. Seungcheol's playful teasing continued, his tone filled with humor as he leaned in a bit closer.

"Or maybe," he added with a sly grin, "you've got a secret cherry fetish? Admiring the way we handle them, huh?"

You couldn't help but laugh at Seungcheol's teasing remarks, his playful banter adding a layer of humor to the unexpected moment. "Oh, you caught me," you responded, feigning a dramatic admission. "I'm a cherry enthusiast, secretly critiquing everyone's cherry-picking technique."

Seungcheol joined in your laughter, the shared amusement creating an easy camaraderie between you. "Well, lucky for me, I've got the best cherry-picking technique in the neighborhood,"

"Is that the only thing you're good at?" you asked, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

Seungcheol's expression shifted, his playful smile replaced by a more provocative look. He licked his lips and raised an eyebrow, his gaze holding yours with a hint of intensity. "Is there something else you think I should be doing?" he asked, the air between you suddenly thick with a newfound tension.

"Is there something you want to show me?" you asked, your voice laced with a teasing invitation.

Seungcheol's eyes darkened with a hint of desire as he bit his lower lip, the provocative expression sending a thrill down your spine. His response was a low, husky murmur, more teasing than ever, "Oh, I've got a few things in mind sweetheart."

"Yeah?" you responded, a playful glint in your eyes as you continued to eat him up with your gaze.

Seungcheol's control wavered, and with a sudden impulse, reached out, pulling you onto his lap. The move was confident and electrifying, instantly closing the distance between you. 

Seungcheol's response was a husky "Yeah," laden with desire, and without further hesitation, he closed the gap between you. His lips devoured yours in a heated kiss, a culmination of the teasing banter and charged glances that had been building throughout the afternoon.

The taste of sweet cherries lingered on both your lips, adding a sensual undertone to the passionate exchange. Seungcheol's big arms encircled your waist, pulling you closer, the proximity intensifying the electrifying connection between you. The world outside seemed to fade away as the kiss deepened, the shared desire threading through the intimate embrace.

Seungcheol grabbed your hair, exposing the delicate skin of your neck. The sudden roughness sent a thrill through your body, and you squirmed on his lap in response, making him groan.

His lips found your neck, and with a mixture of kisses and bites, he left a trail of sensations that sparked pleasure and desire. The intensity of the moment heightened as he explored the sensitive skin, each kiss and nip fueling the growing heat between your legs. 

Seungcheol's hands, still firmly gripping your hair, traveled down to your ass, his fingers squeezing the soft flesh with a teasing grip. The rough denim of his gardener's jeans added an extra layer of friction, making your pussy throb.

"Seungcheol," you breathed, your voice a mixture of longing and anticipation, "more."

His lips, still grazing your neck, paused for a moment as he looked up, a wicked glint in his eyes. "More, huh?" he teased, his fingers tightening their hold on your ass. "What do you want, exactly?"

"Fuck me? Please?" You ask almost begging, your hips grinding on his clothed cock.

The boldness in your response seemed to ignite a deeper flame within Seungcheol. His eyes darkened with desire, and a low, guttural moan escaped his lips at your explicit request. Without further words, he took immediate action.

His hands, still firmly grasping your arms, guided you to stand. Seungcheol, driven by the hornyness, led you towards the inside of the house. Pressing his bulge on your ass, as he grabs your tits over your shirt, making you mewl. 

Seungcheol's hands skillfully unclasped the buttons of his gardener. The fabric surrendered to gravity, finding its way to the ground, leaving him only in his shirt. With a swift motion, he discarded the shirt, casting it aside without a second thought.

With a swift motion, he pushed your shorts and panties down, and in the quiet of the room, you swore you heard a faint, tantalizing sound, perhaps a soft tearing as fabric met the fervor of the moment.

But to be honest, out of all the problems– your pussy clenching around nothing – a rip in your shorts was the least of it.

The way Seungcheol looked at your sopping cunt, spreading your folds with two fingers admiring how soaked you looked, the action made you leak. "Hmm, looking so wet for me, I should pick cherries in front of you more often…" He smiles, giving an open-mouthed kiss on your clit.

Your legs flinch, and immediately involve his two arms around your legs, tugging you down. "Shit! Yes Seungcheol!" 

He sucks your clit bobbing his head, his mouth forming a pout around the bud while his tongue slipped inside of your pussy sometimes. As a welcome, the last thing you expected to receive when you arrived in the city was to have your childhood friend eating you out like a starving man, while holding your legs tightly.

Seungcheol tried to keep you pressed on the bed, but your hips bucked against his face and your legs trembled around his head, so in a way to keep you quieter, he slapped your thigh, making your body jolt. "A-ah!" Well, he supposed it would keep you quiet.

But you arched your back, moaning his name deliciously while your hands gripped the sheets. 

"Oh? You liked that?" He gives you a surprised glance. And you nod, your cheeks flushed. 

His hands caress the skin before giving you another slap, another and another…  

“Y-you’re gonna make me come if you keep doing that.” 

He grins, before starting to lap your clit fast, your head immediately spinning because of the different stimulations. And your orgasm comes without warning, the strength of his arms can't prevent your legs from wrapping around his head.

Arousal fat drops run down your cunt, making his face and lips glossy. As Seungcheol got up, the air in the room seemed to shimmer with the residue of your orgasm. Your breathing was heavy, each inhale a reminder of the intensity.

The sight of Seungcheol's milky skin, now fully at your disposal, rekindled a surge of energy within you. Almost immediately, you couldn't resist the urge to reciprocate, driven by a fiery desire that demanded more.

With a burst of enthusiasm, you wrapped your hands around his neck, surprising him as you playfully knocked him onto the bed. His laughter filled the room, a harmonious melody to the charged atmosphere. Undeterred, you leaned down, your hands now venturing towards the hem of his underwear.

Tugging at the fabric, you slid the underwear down his leg, revealing more of his bare skin. His hard cock jumps from the piece of cloth, the head flushed and the slit already leaking the glistening precum. 

Sensually, you wrapped your tongue around his cock, a slow and deliberate motion from the base to the tip. The moment reached its peak as you provocatively put the whole dick inside your mouth, your lips touching the base of his pelvis. Seungcheol's body squirmed in response to the sensual display.

The room fell silent, except for the sound of Seungcheol moans and the slurping of your mouth on his cock. 

Seungcheol's hands thread through your hair. His touch guided you as you continued to enjoy the length of his dick. His chest rose and fell in rhythm with the growing intensity of the moment. Soft whimpers escaped his lips, each sound a testament to the desire that pulsed through his body. 

"Fuck… You're taking me so well." His breath hisses when his tip presses on the tight clutch of your throat.

He loves how messy you're taking his cock, your drool mixing with his pre cum, dropping to his pelvis. As he bucked his hips, you gagged around his cock, the combination of sensations driving him to a new height of pleasure. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and the room echoed with the sounds of his moans.

"Fuck hmm, fuck, I'm coming!" He warns, the dick twitching inside of your mouth. The warm spurts of cum hits your tongue while his grip on your hair tightens, making you groan. 

The room hung in a momentary silence as you released your mouth from his cock, revealing your tongue glistening with his cum. With deliberate intent, you closed your mouthh and swallowed, the action met with a defeated moan from Seungcheol.

Hel grabs you and pulls you into a deep, passionate kiss. His hands gripped your ass, making the flesh jiggle under his touch. The embrace was both fervent and possessive as your tongues entwined in a delicious struggle, you felt the heat of Seungcheol's cock recomposing against your thigh. 

Seungcheol, with a sudden assertiveness, rolled your bodies on the bed, placing you underneath him. Like a masterful dance, he flipped you effortlessly, your chest now pressed against the mattress. You felt his strong hands holding your hips up, and you instinctively wiggled your ass against his already hardened dick.

His husky voice whispered in your ear, "You look amazing like this. I'm so hard already" The words hung in the air, carrying with them a sense of appreciation and desire. 

In response to Seungcheol's appreciative words, you teased, "Yeah? So why don't you do something about it?"

"I didn't remember you being this bold," he remarked, his voice laced with amusement.

Your playful giggle reverberated in the room as you pressed your hips against Seungcheol. The renewed contact elicited a hiss from him, a reaction to the wet feeling between you.

Seungcheol teased, a smirk playing on his lips, "Admit it. I've officially ruined cherries for you. From now on, every time you see one, you'll think of me."

Raising an eyebrow, "Why are you so sure of it?" Before he could even respond, he silenced you abruptly, slamming his dick inside and effectively shutting up your words, even as you screamed in response.

Seungcheol, now teasing you in return, whispered in a husky voice as your body trembled on the sheets. "Looks like cherries aren't the only thing I've ruined for you," he teased, a wicked glint in his eyes.

Oh, of course. Your pussy really looked ruined now.

You, caught in the swirl of sensations, tried to retort, but he continued his playful banter. "Maybe I should find more things to claim," he mused, his hands exploring your body with a deliberate touch. "What do you say?"

"Oh my g-god! Fuck you!" 

The sharp response you gave to Seungcheol only seemed to fuel his desire. Without missing a beat, he slammed his hips hard again, asking mockingly, "What?" The rhythm of his movements became relentless, a series of repeated slams that left you gasping and screaming, the room filled with the sounds of pleasure and desire.

He continued the forceful thrusts, each one pushing you further into a state of ecstasy. The wetness that enveloped his dick, your slickness dripping on his bed, but you couldn't care less, not when his dick was buried deep inside your cunt.

Seungcheol, merciless in his actions, mocked playfully as your voice became silenced by pleasure, "Not talking anymore, huh?" Your eyes filled with pleasure-induced tears, and your face buried in the pillow, the sensations becoming overwhelming as he brought you mercilessly to the edge.

The room seemed to pulsate with the wet sounds echoing from your pussy, the intertwined moans of pleasure grew louder with each passing second. Every thrust hits your sweet spot, until the familiar sensation starts to be present. And Seungcheol could teel, for sure, since your pussy clenched hard around his cock, making him whimper even louder.

Seungcheol, in the midst of the passionate encounter, asked you to let go completely, urging you to release your pleasure. "Cream all over my cock sweetheart… Oh my god, you look so good baby!" he whispered, a genuine appreciation in his voice.

As you complied, cumming all over his pretty cock, he couldn't help but express how good you looked. Sincerity laced his words as he admired the sight before him – your hair falling beautifully on the bed and on your face, your arched back, lips parted, furrowed eyebrows expressing ecstasy, moans escaping your blissed-out face.

Seungcheol moaned in pleasure at the captivating view in front of him, praising you as he felt himself getting closer. "You're so beautiful like this, lost in pleasure. I can't get enough of you."

As Seungcheol's abs tightened, you felt the surge of intensity as he filled you up with his cum. You took everything, your face buried in the pillows, a mixture of pleasure and raw emotion washing over you. His hips stuttered in the final moments, the room filled with the sounds of shared ecstasy.

As Seungcheol withdrew, a moan escaped your lips at the sudden emptiness, your body feeling both spent and satisfied. The aftermath of the intimate encounter left you sprawled on the bed, a mix of pleasure and exhaustion.

Seungcheol, after the intense and intimate exchange, finally laid beside you. As you both lay there, catching your breath, he looked into your eyes "You know," he began, his voice a gentle murmur, "this feels like coming home again. Having you here, it's like rediscovering a part of myself that I'd almost forgotten."

[anothermansjeans]

Heyy Idk if this is how you request but we'll see......

Could you maybe do like a singer!reader who writes like dirty af songs abt Spencer and then Penelope shows the song to the rest of the team and they all start low-key bullying him and continue making comments abt it while on a case or something like that??

<33

XOXO-

~W~

okay i don't know any DIRTY DIRTY songs so i apologize if this isn't that great 😭 let me know if you want another one that shows different songs! ALSO I IMAGINE THE READER SINGING A DIFFERENT OUTRO TO NONSENSE EVERY NIGHT JUST LIKE MS SABRINA CARPENTER

cw: implied sex, reader talks sings about getting head and being handcuffed

wc: 610

masterlist

++

“Oh, hey pretty boy.”

Spencer walked into the bullpen to see the majority of the team huddled around Derek’s desk with amused looks on their faces. He tentatively continued his walk, but immediately froze in place when he heard the video playing from the computer.

“This song’s catchier than chickenpox is.

I bet your house is where my other sock is.

Woke up this morning, thought I’d write a pop hit.

How quickly can you take your clothes off, pop quiz?

My man’s IQ is one-eighty-seven.

When he’s going down on me I’m in Heaven.

Handcuff me to the bed like I’m a felon.”

Her laughs could be heard from the video, and Spencer’s face immediately turned fifty shades of red.

“So, where were you last night, Reid? You know, when you said you couldn't join us for drinks.”

He rolled his lips into his mouth at Emily’s question. Everyone had an expecting look except for Penelope… She seemed guilty. “I uh, I was at a concert…”

“What concert?” JJ’s question was presented as innocent, but it was everything but that.

“My girlfriend’s,” he mumbled lowly, barely loud enough for them to hear.

“Could you repeat that?”

Spencer glared at Derek, he knew exactly what he was doing. “My girlfriend’s.”

“Well hot damn, you finally admitted it!”

“I wasn't keeping it a secret. I'm just not as open about my love life as the rest of you are.” He huffed and brought himself over to his desk.

“Well, Garcia was kind enough to show us a video she found online and we didn't know what to expect… who else has an IQ of one-eighty-seven?”

Spencer whipped his head over to Penelope with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry!” Her hands went up in her defense. “I just– I love her music and I couldn't make it to the concert in D.C last night so I was watching videos that people took and it doesn't take a genius to know who she's talking about when we know you so well.” Her words were quick, and she was huffing to breathe when she finished her sentence.

Spencer groaned and put his head in his hands.

“I think my favorite song of hers is Nasty.”

Spencer winced at Emily’s words as everyone else laughed. They definitely are going to have a field day with him.

“I love Espresso.” The humor in JJ’s voice was evident.

“So It Goes… and Guilty as Sin? might be the top contenders for me,” and Derek just has to add on. “Tell us, Reid, are scratches down your back?”

Spencer stood up and went towards the coffee machine, ignoring the laughs and references they were making. He was allowed about three minutes of solace before Penelope hesitantly tapped his shoulder with a shy look on her face. “We got a case. Everyone’s at the round table.” He gave a nod at her words and followed her, ears perking up when he heard her singing under her breath, “don't want to wait on it. Tonight, I wanna get nasty.”

He suppressed the groan waiting to come out, and sat down at the table when he felt a buzz in his pocket.

Y/N: made it to philly!! love you, be safe today. text me whenever you're free 🫶

He was about to message back before Hotch walked in, “We’re going to brief as quickly as possible. We're headed to Philadelphia.”

He knew Penelope knew the next stop on Y/N’s tour, and could feel her eyes boring into the side of his face. He was mentally preparing for the jokes as soon as they stepped out of the conference room.

++

songs that i imagined reader wrote about spencer:

nonsense by sabrina carpenter

nasty by ariana grande

espresso by sabrina carpenter

so it goes... by taylor swift

guilty as sin? by taylor swift

dress by taylor swift

[monzabee]

two sides of the same coin - mv1

masterlist

Summary: The one where you try to convince yourself that you’re not falling for your teammate, but can’t help it when you realise that he is not that different from you after all.

Pairing: max verstappen x reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: cursing, mommy issues (same), daddy issues, ISSUES OKAY, ISSUES, EVERYBODY HAS ISSUES, J*s Verstappen (yikes), allusions to eating disorders, a singular mention of divorce babe divorce, angst (why am i writing so much angst), daniel ricciardo being the best older grid-brother there is, slight frenemies to lovers if your squint, i don’t really like horner but he’s like the only father figure max ever had so he’s a good guy in this one. 

Request: “teammates to lovers with max please!❣️”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i did NOT expect to get this out today, but there you go! it was so much fun to write and honestly, i might slowly becoming a max girl (sorry carlos). anyway, please check the warning tags if you haven’t already, because there might be some possibly triggering content. thank you, anon, for the request, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

2018 

“Do you have to leave?” You ask the Australian in front of you who, coincidentally, is kneeled on the floor and in the middle of packing his bag. “Can’t you just… I don’t know, stay?”

“Come on, cheer up.” He says, “You’re supposed to be happy that I’m changing teams, Y/N.”

You scoff, dropping yourself to lay down and bending your knees to rest your feet on the couch. “I don’t have to be happy about anything.” You throw the tennis ball in your hand towards the wall, catching it and doing it all over again in a pattern in which you know is going to make Daniel mad. 

“Any other potential driver would be happy about this, Horner already told you the seat would be yours. So, there is no reason why you shouldn’t feel happy about this.” 

“Well, I still don’t.” You huff, turning your head towards the man jokingly glaring at you. 

He laughs, gives you a look and returns to his task while shaking his head slightly. “You’re a very weird girl, Y/N.” 

“Wow, Daniel. That’s brand-new information.” A third voice interrupts your discussion from the door. It’s Max leaning against the frame with his arms crossed across his chest. You halt the movement of your hands to send him a scathing look. 

You roll your eyes, mumbling something along the lines of  “No one asked you,” under your breath. 

“Play nice, Max Emilian.” Daniel mumbles, making the Dutch groan and you laugh. “Fuck, how did I pack this in the first place?” 

“You wouldn’t have this issue if you didn’t get too comfortable in your driver’s room, Danny.” You offer, raising yourself on your elbows to get a better look at the already bursting luggage. “You still have a ton of stuff at the hotel, too.” 

“Maybe you should just stop living like a slob.” Max offers this time, making both you and Daniel to glare at him. “Jesus, tough room.”

“You should become a comedian,” you tell him with a voice dripping with sarcasm, “Max Emilian.” 

He straightens his posture quickly, “You know what, Y/N–”

“Calm down, children.” Daniel sighs and  giving you both the look. “You two need to get along now that I’m not going to be there to stop some kind of childish feud–”

“It’s not childish–” You argue at the same time Max complains, “She pushed me off the track!”

You furiously get up from your place on the couch and walk towards him with an accusatory finger extended towards him. “It wasn’t me, you dickhead, it was Charles! And it was an accident!” 

“I don’t care,” He contends, “You were helping him push me off the track.” He shakes his head while mumbling, “Incident, inchident, as if I’m stupid.”

“Why would I help him when I was racing against both of you, Max?” 

“I don’t know,” He shrugs, a devilish smirk on his lips. “Maybe you had a crush on him.” 

“I- I did not!” Your shout is high pitched, you gasp and start to follow him with enraged steps when he walks out of the room. “You get back right here, Max, you insufferable twat!” 

Daniel is left with an empty room and a luggage which is about to explode. “They’ll be fine,” he announces, mostly to himself but also at the poor intern who watches the corridor you’re both walking down in while continue your very loud fight. “Do you think you can get me another luggage?” 

2019

It’s not like you hate Max, you don’t hate him at all. In fact, he’s gone out of his way to make you feel comfortable from your change in role from a reserve driver to the second driver at Red Bull. Looking back, you can now say that everything happened so quickly. One day, you were the reserve driver for Aston Martin Red Bull Formula One team, and the next day, Christian Horner invited you to his office to offer you an opportunity of a lifetime. Having a reserve driver who was a woman had already had the team under a large microscope – some calling it a step in the right direction whilst others arguing that it was nothing more than a PR move to gain sympathy. You tried telling your team principle your concerns about the media but he assured you that all will be dealt with and all you would need to do is drive a good race. 

So, you left the office with a renewed, and rewritten, contract and never looked back. After that, it was a whirlwind of media duties (both due to your ‘promotion’ and Daniel’s departure), photoshoots, and much more. Your trusted Apple Watch was replaced with a Tag Heuer one, which left you terrified of losing it. But Horner assured you that they’d deal with it – “Should you ever lose the watch, but try not to because it costs a lot of money, okay?” Max was with you in every step of the way, even though his father clearly unapproved of your pseudo-friendship. You sometimes think the only reason the two of you ever became friends is due to the fact that it was forced upon you due to you being teammates, but Max proves this to be wrong every time he brings you coffee in morning briefings because; “I don’t want for them to repeat it and extend the meeting because you’re sleepy,” or when he checks up on you before a race in a particular track he knows you’re anxious about; “Just making sure you’re calmed down so you don’t accidentally hit me,” or how he comforts you after every fight you have with your mother. 

Which brings us to another topic – your mother. You suppose what J.D Salinger said was true – Mothers are all slightly insane. And you are allowed to say that, because yours takes the term ‘dance mom’ to a whole other level. You thought since Daniel convinced your mother that he’d take care of you, she’d stay away, but she became very interested in your career as a racing driver. You’d hoped that wouldn’t be the case, but your dreams are crushed like your car when she shows up in your first race. You two have a very public fight, which Christian has to break up for both of your sakes, leaving you to lock yourself in your driver’s room for the remainder of the race. It’s only when your door is knocked you realise the race is over. You’re about to yell back against the persistent knocks that you want to be left alone when you hear his voice. 

You get up and open to door to let Max in, only to find yourself crashing in his arms on the couch, sobbing through his calming words. “It’s going to be fine,” he says and somehow you realise maybe the two of you aren’t so different. 

2020

Between the pandemic and the new regulations, the 2020 season rocks your world – in a totally not cool way. The paddock buzzes with the health restrictions, everyone wanting to keep their drivers and staff safe. The stress from the unknown which comes from the fact that you’re in a freaking pandemic and that fact that your mother and Helmut Marko is enough to keep you on the edge throughout the whole season. The fights with your mother now more prominent than ever, you’re fairly sure that the poor people who are supposed to be doing their jobs can’t even do that because the fight seems to continue wherever you go. One day it’s about the fact that you couldn’t get a podium, the next time it’s because of the fact that you were third, you didn’t push enough, you pushed too hard, you didn’t use enough throttle, and the list goes on. You can feel the light in you fading with every fight, and the criticising jabs being masked as ‘little comments’, you’re just glad that you’re getting through the season without wanting to explode. 

It's between practice sessions when you sit down for lunch with your mother. You both order your food – her a salad, and you a sandwich. After the waiter leaves, your mother lets out an unsatisfied hum. 

“What’s wrong, mom?” You ask, trying to keep your voice and facial expression calm. 

“Wouldn’t it be better if you ate something healthier?” She asks, her voice condescending in every way you absolutely hate. “It would save your engineers a whole lot of work.” 

You sigh, turning your attention to your phone in your hands to appear busy. “The world isn’t going to end if I eat two slices of bread for lunch, mom.” You mumble. 

“It doesn’t mean you shouldn’t maintain healthier habits, I heard of this new diet–”

“I think she said she’d prefer the sandwich, Ms. Y/LN.” A voice interrupts, the one which you’ve become accustomed with. When you raise your head up, Max meets your eyes with an expectant look. “I’m sorry to keep your lunch short, but Christian said he wanted to meet us.” 

And with that, he quickly whisks you away from your mother. You’re confused when he leads you to his driver’s room instead of Christian’s office. You look at him with raised eyebrows, “I thought we were meeting Christian.” 

“Well, I might’ve lied.” He shrugs. Then, he moves towards the serving plate on the little table and motions you to sit. You’re even more surprised to find the sandwich you’ve ordered on the plate. He must’ve anticipated this because he explains it as he offers you the plate. “I was sitting a few tables over and heard you order it, now eat.” 

“Thanks, Max.” You whisper with a breathy voice. 

“It’s going to be fine.” He whispers back, making sure you eat every bite. 

2021 

Everything is much more tense this season. Although the go through the races is podium finishes and points (and even a few wins), you realise Max is more on edge than you are. This also puts you in a slight state of panic, as he’s been the one better at keeping the cool between the two of you, but you manage to put your own insecurities aside to help your friend who’s done the same for you for the past two years. It starts with encouraging words and continues with comforting touches which evolve into hands lingering around after hugs. It becomes stolen looks across the rooms or group interviews where they separated the two of you. It later becomes holding each other’s hands under the tables during function and award shows and even holding each other in the comfort of your respective driver’s or hotel rooms. 

Max brings home a win in Monaco, while you steal the first place from Seb in Azerbaijan. He’s not bitter about it, in fact he congratulates you and doses you in so much champagne you have to take two showers to get the stickiness off your hair when you get back to your hotel room. While the season seems to be going for you from the race perspective, you realise Max is starting to have more problems with his father. You try your best when it comes to reassuring him, but both you and Max realise that you’re more open to being comforted than him. So, you provide the silence he craves and he eventually lets you know that he is ready for your cuddles. It’s a sad but a good routine. 

There’s one incident with an interview during the season. The tensions are high and people are starting to question your ability as a driver more now that you are bringing home podiums and wins. They are sceptical about the fact that you are a woman and question your every move and achievement – but you don’t mind it, you’re doing it for the little girls everywhere who watch you and hope to achieve the same things as you one day. 

An interviewer asks, “Isn’t it hard to focus on your task when you’re surrounded with nineteen other drivers who happen to be all men?”

You’re still tired from the previous race and not getting a full night’s sleep the night before, that it takes a while for you to comprehend the question. Thankfully, Daniel and Seb are there to defend you alongside Max. You turn your focus to the interviewer who asked the question as their protests die down. “Well,” you start with a shaky laugh, “I know the past year has messed up us all, but I’m not particularly into anything involving masks or stuff that conceal the face.” There is a nervous laughter around the room and the interviewer is not pleased with your answer. “Shall we continue?” You ask in the sweetest voice you can muster. When you look at Daniel and Max, both of them grin at you while giving you a supportive thumbs-up. 

You find yourself in his hotel room in Austin, a couple weeks after the race in Turkey. His eyes are focused on the portable screen as he plays FIFA. You’ve realised it’s a pre-race routine for him – not that you understand, his eyes must be tired after looking at the screen for too long. He asks you if you want to play and you agree, albeit timidly. He lets you play a few rounds after taking over and playing for fourteen hours straight to find himself ranking 21 worldwide. 

“You can always join an esports team after this.” You joke, your head is on the back of the couch as you look up at him. He laughs, agreeing you without any objection. 

“Maybe I should.” 

“What, you’re not going to continue racing until you are an old prune?” You ask. 

His face contorts. “No, that’s not the goal, schatje.”

“Then tell me,” You move your hands under your chin to appear more interested despite the sleep in your eyes. “what is the goal?” 

“To prove a point, and then I’m free.” He replies, mimicking your earlier pose. 

“You’re going to be fine, Max.” You speak in a soft voice; your touch is soft on his cheek when you bring one of your hands to caress the skin. “You’re going to become the champion this year.”

“How do you know?” Max asks, you can tell it is not to be sceptical, but it is in genuine curiosity. 

“Female intuition.” 

He lets out a big laugh, grabbing your wrist gently and pressing a kiss on the tips of your fingers. “Come on, we have to sleep before tomorrow. He have a race to win.” 

He wins, by the way – the race in Austin. And then, he goes on to win the 2021 World Championship. There are tears in your eyes as you congratulate him on the team radios, and after you get out of your car. He brings you on the podium and kisses you in front of the whole world. You realise that he was right all those times after all, everything is going to be fine.

2022

Both of you are in a bubble when you get to the 2022 season. He kisses you before every race, you do the same. You wish each other luck and proceed to race on the track the best you can. You find each other after every race, mostly covered in champagne, and kiss again. Both of your parents were opposed to your relationship at first – your mother and his father. It’s funny to think that now, because he’s introduced you to his mother and you introduced him to your dad, and as far as their approval goes, the love extends both ways. You’ve told your mother to stop coming to races, presenting a clear argument without raising your voice once, which leaves her no choice to agree to your wishes. It was scary to even consider doing it, but the proud look on Max’s face is enough for you to do it all again.

You win the race in Monaco this year. Max is P3, but he looks just as happy as you when you direct your bottle of champagne towards him. Although Carlos is there with you on the podium, in that moment, it feels like the world consists of only the two of you. You go to celebrate with the team, of course. Christian pushing you into the pool and you pulling Max, and consequently him, alongside you. Someone captures the moment and you post it to your social media. Daniel makes sure everyone knows that he approves. 

The fight is still on, as Lewis would say. You know both him and Max are still fighting for the title. No one expected you to join the two of them in their fight for the title. The first few races are hard at the start of the season, but you outrace most of your friends on the track after your win in Monaco. By the time you get to Abu Dhabi for the season’s last race, you’re a shaky mess. He takes you into his arms and whispers affirming promises into your ear. 

“You’re going to become the world champion,” He announces to you. “I know you’re going to do it.” 

Your voice comes out creaking as you question, “How do you know?”

There is a warm smile on his lips as he answers, “Female intuition.” 

You both get ready to race before you could answer because of the knock on the door. 

“YOU DID IT, Y/N, YOU ARE THE FIRST FEMALE WORLD CHAMPION IN THE HISTORY OF FORMULA ONE!” Horner shouts through your radio. 

You’re still shaking by the time you park your car, and can’t get out even when your team huddles around you to celebrate. It takes a while to take it all in, but as you stand on the podium as the reigning champion with the man you love, nothing else matters to you in the world. You look around to see the smile on people’s faces, people shouting and cheering for you, and you even see your father who holds a banner with one of his hands as his other arm is wrapped around your team principal. It’s a bittersweet feeling, winning the same season one of your best friends announce that he is going to become a reserve driver. But Daniel is right there with your dad and Christian, screaming your name with pride. After your national anthem is played and you pop the champagne, you’re trying to get your eyes dry from all the tears as Max suddenly falls to his knees. You kneel with him with panic, of course, thinking that there might be something wrong with his heartbeat or something worse. But right as you’re about to call for help he brings something from his back towards you, opening the small box while maintaining his eye contact with you. There is an uproar of cheers around you, but it doesn’t matter. As far as you’re concerned, there’s only Max and you – and you and Max. 

“Marry me, liefje.” He says. 

You nod your head, “Yes.” 

He gathers you up in his arms after he puts the ring on your finger. You realise that he was right from the beginning, everything is more than fine. 

2023

“You need to stop doing this to yourself.” You announce as you watch Daniel struggle with his overflowing luggage – again. “You’re not even driving this season.” 

“It’s not my fault, I can’t not take what the fans give me.” He tries to defend himself; he points to the suitcase with frustration. “Can you help me, please?”

“Only because I am in a good mood.” You announce as you kneel beside him and the two of you try closing the monstrosity in front of you. 

You know Max is there before he announces his arrival. “Putting my wife to work, Daniel?” He asks. He comes to kneel with the two of you helping you close the luggage up. Then, he kisses you softly on your lips as he mumbles, “Hello, Mrs. Verstappen.” 

“Hello, Mr. Verstappen.” You giggle. 

“God, you guys are insufferable.” Daniel pretends to gag, receiving glares from the both of you. “Remember when you guys hated each other? Yeah, I miss those days.” 

“We never hated each other.” Max shrugs. 

“Yeah,” You seem to agree with your husband. “It was just an inchident of misunderstanding.” 

“I better be your future kids’ godfather!” He yells behind you as you start to leave (your) driver’s room. “Children, bloody children.” He mumbles to himself, he waves his arms for help when he spots one of the interns, “Hey, do you think you can get me another luggage?”

[kittievampire]

idk if you’ve done this yet but like

i just need an mc that’s just sexually frustrated and lowkey touch startled like hello, you live with the living embodiment of Lust, that’s gotta hurt especially when he’s talkin bout his latest hookup while gossiping and mc’s just like “yeh that sounds.. like you had a wonderful time” words just so fulla jealousy and hurt

okay big word wall, im sorry, it’s late and this app is a bit buggish

teal deer: sexually frustrated maybe touch starved mc just wanna get dicked down hard by anyone at this point. your choice of who, cuz let’s face it all the available options are a good contender for our poor unfortunate soul

Hhhhhhh YES

I spun a wheel of names for this one lmao

Lemme see what I have in my bag, my dear~

Click here if you wanna request!

Relief

Warnings: Smut, Masturbation, Wet Dreams, Implied Non-Con Somnophilia (MC wants it when waking up after), Teasing, Degradation, Edging, Breathplay, Slight Dacryphilia, Creampie

Enjoy.

"Fuck!" You cried out, rage and frustration laced in your voice.

Tears welled up in your eyes, half of the duvet on the floor from your incessant squirming, and a hand between your legs, that's what your situation had you reduced to. Anyone else would've been embarrassed to be in this state. And you would've been too, had you not been so desperate to get off.

You slipped your fingers out of you, flipping your body over and slumping against your bed in defeat. You glanced at your D.D.D., tapping it twice to see the picture of the youngest sin you'd set as your lock screen, date, and time.

7:40pm

It'd been two hours.

You pushed your face against the pillow and screamed against it, your sounds being muffled by the soft material.

Two hours and you couldn't cum once?!

Have the gods forsaken you? It wasn't your fault you were, quite literally, kidnapped and sent to Hell! You didn't do anything but breathe to end up here!

You clicked your tongue, pulling the duvet back up from the floor and over your heated figure.

"At this point, I'll just go fucking atheist," You grumbled, eyes sealing shut as you let sleep whisk you away, hopefully to a land where you'd get some relief.

_

The Avatar of Sloth was never one to purposefully eavesdrop on conversations you and his brothers had. He respected your privacy, he truly did. It's just that you decided to have such conversations in front of him. Granted, he did have his head down, but that didn't mean he was asleep. He was trying to be, but he couldn't with what you were talking about!

"It was the worst thing I've ever felt in my life," Asmodeus sighed, taking a sip of his Demonus as he rambled on about one of his hook-ups. "Like, honestly, you can't talk that much game and be horrible in bed. You get it, right, MC?" The sin glanced at the tired and irritated expression on your face. You were practically seething, not only at the fact that he was bragging but the fact that he couldn't even tell that you were upset. "Totally," You grumbled out.

Belphegor shifted in his spot, biting his lip and looking down at his lap. It was surprising that his brother couldn't tell how frustrated you were, being the Avatar of Lust and all. Anyone could tell that you were struggling to keep your cool, and he knew why. He'd see it all the time in those wet dreams of yours.

The ones where you'd seduce him in an empty classroom at RAD, or where you'd guide him to Lucifer's room to fuck in his bed (he should consider that for one of his next pranks). Whenever he'd penetrate your dreams, he'd always wake up hard as a rock.

He had considered confronting you about it, but figured he should back off.

That was until the two of you decided to have a sleepover in the attic.

_

You had dark circles under your eyes from how late you'd stay up trying to get yourself off. Nothing worked. Even the wet dreams you had only served to make the hours of sleep you get decrease severely due to the number of times you wake up horny and decided to take a shot at masturbating. Then, of course, you'd be up a majority of the night with a fruitless endeavor for relief. You were pissed, but you figured that you might be able to sleep properly if you got help from the Avatar of Sloth.

"Can't you, like, put me to sleep or something?" You asked, holding a pillow close to your chest. Belphegor shrugged. "I guess I could. The only issue is I'm not sure how long you'll be out." You wave your hand in dismissal, placing the pillow under your head while throwing the blanket over your and Belphie's bodies. "Make me sleep for days for all I care, just put me to sleep, yeah? I haven't gotten a full night's rest in so long."

The seventh-born chuckled and pat you on the forehead. "Alright, goodnight, MC," He whispered softly into your ear as he gently placed one of his hands over your eyes. Your breathing slowed as you felt drowsiness course through your veins and relax your muscles, readying you for slumber.

"G'night... Belphie..."

_

The feeling of pleasure was what you yearned for, what you chased after. However, as soon as you'd feel its warm embrace around your body, wrapped around you like a blanket, it'd always seem to disappear from your grasp. Nothing was good enough, not even the dreams you had about the youngest brother.

This one, though, was quite interesting.

You were in the attic, the same place you fell asleep in Belphegor's arms. However, your face was pushed into the pillow and your ass was in the air, his hand planted in your hair to keep you in such a degrading position. He mocked you, teased you, and fucked you so well.

"Look at you and your needy little pussy, MC," He chuckled, thrusting his cock into the warmth that was your cunt, hips bucking into your ass and thighs. "Honestly, don't you have any shame? Walking around the House of Lamentation all horny, practically begging for someone to fuck you."

All you could let out were mindless babbles as he slammed his cock deep inside of your warmth, the tip bullying that same spot that made your vision go fuzzy. You whined out his name into the pillow, only causing him to push your face further into it. "What are you over there saying, hm? I can't hear you."

The lewd way that his balls clapped against your cunt was sending the pleasure you were experiencing straight to your brain, then back down to your pussy. Your walls convulsed around him, feeling that relief just inches away from you. Just a few thrusts away and—

Belphegor pulled out of you, delivering a spiteful smack to your ass as you whined at the loss. "No! No, no, nonono!" Tears formed in your eyes as your orgasm was denied. His hand moved your hair to the side before gently pressing a sweet kiss to the back of your neck. "You're so cute when you're desperate, MC," He murmured softly, running the palms of his hands along your thighs and slowly up your ass, giving it a squeeze of appreciation. His touch was stimulating, but your peak was already too far out of reach, and you weren't going to cum anytime soon without him pleasing you. Knowing this, you pushed your ass backward, causing it to collide with his pelvis as his cock slipped between your thighs.

"Please," You begged softly, beginning to move your legs so that your thighs would rub his still-hardened cock. With a low groan, Belphie gripped your hair once more. "Please what, MC? Use your words." He ground his hips against your ass, one of his hands reaching under you to gently cup your exposed breast.

"Please, Belphie, I wanna cum," You whimpered out, blushing at the sound of his chuckle in response. "You're so needy, aren't you?"

Suddenly, you felt something push the lips of your cunt apart with its entry, letting out a soft whine. Something of similar length and size penetrated you as well, gently thrusting into your pussy. You gasped in confusion. His hands were on your ass and your breast, and his cock was between your thighs.

What the hell?

_

Your eyes shot wide open as you felt your body temperature rising. One of your legs was hoisted up with Belphie's hand while the other was inside of your shorts and panties, thrusting his fingers into your cunt. He gently nibbled on your neck and smiled as he watched you stir to consciousness.

"Welcome back, MC." You could feel his smile on your neck as he pressed a kiss to it. "I wonder what you were dreaming about that got you so wet down here," He teased, thumb beginning to rub slow, lazy circles over your clit as his fingers thrusted into you slowly.

You let out a sharp gasp as you gripped the bedsheets, closing your eyes and shivering as he pressed his tongue against your neck, gently gliding it over your skin. "You seemed so agitated lately... Are you sure sleep was all you needed?" He curled his fingers, making you whine. You reached one of your hands down, almost as if trying to stop the stimulation despite enjoying it so much, only for the hand that held your leg up to grab your wrist. Your leg now resting on his forearm, he leaned in close so that his lips were an inch from your ear. "If you do that kind of thing, I'm gonna start thinking you want me to stop."

You felt your heart drop at his threat, immediately lifting your leg higher to give him more access to your cunt. "That's a good girl." He pressed a kiss to your cheek, continuing his soft administrations.

However, you were quick to grow restless. You'd been trying desperately to relieve yourself for weeks, and he was going far too slow for your liking. While you didn't particularly mind him slowly pulling you apart before making love to you, you wanted him to break you, fuck you senseless into the mattress. Though, maybe you were a bit too prideful to admit that. Instead, you keened and began to roll your hips down, feeding more of his fingers into your sopping heat. Belphegor raised a brow, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. "What are you doing there, MC? Is there something you want to tell me?" You caught your lower lip between your teeth, muffling a moan as you buried your face in the pillow, not wanting to give him an answer for fear of embarrassment.

"Tch,"

You heard a squelching noise as his fingers abandoned your pussy, which only made you gasp and start whining. "W-Wait! No, I was—" You cut yourself off with a small sob as you felt that familiar pleasure escape you once more. The sin pushed your shoulder down to the bed, climbing ontop of you and pulling down his pants with a small sigh. "You're so picky about what you get, aren't you? I didn't know you were so spoiled." He flicked his tongue against the tips of his fingers before launching that same hand to your throat, capturing it in a near-vice-like grip. "You want to be treated like a whore, don't you?" He pulled down your shorts and panties. "Here I was thinking I'd have to treat you all nice and stuff," He teased, a small grin forming on his face as he ground his hardened cock against your slit.

"Fine. I won't hold back then."

With that, he lined up the tip of his cock with your entrance and shoved himself between your folds, letting out a soft groan as he forced himself deep into your heat in one go. Your cunt fluttered at the stretch, and you cried out in pleasure. That ache in your stomach that had been bugging you for weeks was nearly gone. Bottoming out almost immediately, the Avatar of Sloth gave you no time to adjust. It didn't take you long to, but it would have been easier if he didn't start pounding into you from the get-go. His hand clenched around your neck, blocking your airways just enough to where you could still breathe somewhat, but your oxygen was limited. You gently wrapped your hands around his wrist, letting out choked whines as he fucked you into the bed.

"Poor lamb—" He smiled— "How frustrated have you been that your pretty little cunt is this needy? I don't even have to move that much, it's sucking me in every time I pull out," He teased, lifting your leg to press a kiss to your ankle. His hips maintained their merciless pace, the tip of his cock bullying your G-spot with its constant abuse.

Your walls were constricting around his shaft, the knot in your stomach growing tighter and tighter as your orgasm neared. Finally, that relief that you'd been craving was closer than ever. Your eyes rolled back as you clenched your teeth, nails digging into the flesh of his wrist.

So close, so fucking close.

Belphegor hummed at your expression, brushing his bangs out of his face as his magenta eyes scanned your body. "This isn't right," He murmured, pulling his still-hardened cock out of you and removing his hand from your throat. You gasped for air, taking in as much as you could before letting out a sob, tears forming in your eyes. "No! Why?"

The youngest brother snickered at your protest, grabbing your hips and flipping you over. "Was this the position we were in in that dream of yours?" He asked. Before you could answer, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pushed your face into the pillow, bullying his cock into your pussy once more.

A muffled cry erupted from your throat and could barely reach his ears due to the pillow he'd shoved your face in as he began to thrust once more. "Jeez, you really are a slut aren't you? You like this kind of stuff?" He laughed softly to compliment his sweet tone and contradict his harsh words and demeaning actions.

Skin slapping against skin, squelching, muffled cries of pleasure, and soft grunts from the disheveled seventh-born were filling the room, bouncing off of the walls and drowning out the sound of flickering flames coming from the fireplace. You were close to your climax again. Whimpering into the pillow, almost as if begging him not to stop again, you gently clasped one of your hands over his. He looked down at your hip, where now both of your hands were placed. He let out a small groan as he felt himself getting closer the more sounds you made.

"Fuck," He grunted out. "Gonna cum... You want me to fill you up, huh? Like in your dreams? I can do that if you say please." Belphie growled at the sound of your muffled moans in response, pulling your hair to bring your head up so you could speak. "Go on then, beg for it."

"Please! P-Please, please, need it! N-Need it, please, Belphie!" You choked out between sobs and mewls of pleasure.

Your tongue lulled out of your mouth as his cock pushed against your cervix, your walls clenching as your orgasm washed over you. His cum coated in your juices, he slammed into you once more, balls pushing against your cunt as he came. His hips stuttered as he rode out his orgasm, fucking his cum deeper into you.

When he pulled out, you collapsed onto the bed, panting heavily with a thin layer of sweat coating your body. Belphegor didn't even attempt to fix his clothes, merely throwing them off and brushing his hair back, smiling in amusement at how the white liquid he'd gifted you spilled out of your opening.

One moment, he was pulling your clothes off to make you more comfortable. The next, your nude body was pushed up against his for cuddling.

"Sweet dreams, MC."

Hope you liked it, anon!

Masterlist

[mondaymelon]

— 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻 𝗺𝗲𝗻: 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 ♥

: sumeru edition!! : (haitham + kaveh + cyno + tighnari x gn!reader) ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

AL HAITHAM is a man of few words.

because of that, you aren't able to read his expression most times - and many things go unsaid. there are a lot of things he wants to tell you. if you'd let him, of course. he just doesn't know how to ask - or how to bring it up, so haitham just stays silent.

it's only on quiet nights like these where his true feelings toward you begin to escape from his serious facade.

he whispered your name. "are you awake?"

when you didn't respond, the corners of his lips curved upward, just the slightest amount.

and then there's a warm hand on your head, stroking your hair reassuringly. his steady breathing is methodic as he leans forward and gently kisses your forehead, before whispering:

"rest well, my love." ♥

it's no overstatement to say that KAVEH is quick to anger.

but he tries not to stay mad whenever the two of you butt heads. after all, if the contender is his favorite person in the world, he really can’t, can he? then he’d just be acting like a terrible boyfriend!! :(

so every time he gets upset with you, or vise versa, he's got to find a way to make up with you! in the end, it's only fair!

kaveh insists on treating you to meals, even when you know he has no mora to spare. it's his way of showing how much he cares for you!! besides, if he has to room with al haitham, so be it. it's better than not being able to see your joyous face when you get to eat delicious food!! it makes kaveh unwillingly smile no matter the occasion.

but even the renowned architectural genius has his shortcomings. it's... well, he's not great at apologizing - or admitting he's wrong. he can't help the way his ears and cheeks flush as he starts to stutter... he's not supposed to make any mistakes!!

"i-i'm s...sorry...!!" he can't even meet your eyes, but all you can think is:

"adorable." ♥

CYNO wants to do everything he can to see you smile.

which is selfish of him, he'll admit that. but he witnessed you cry once, and that was enough for him to swear to never let that happen again - at least not while he was in the picture.

hmm... just how should he make you happy?? tighnari insisted his jokes really weren't funny... but maybe if he told them to you?

and he does just that.

it doesn't go two minutes without a wisecrack from him - but for some reason, you just can't seem to stop laughing. maybe it's his actual humor, or maybe it's about cyno himself, but there's just something about him that makes you smile without fail.

and when cyno is able to see that expression on your face, his heart flutters. he can't stop the way his heart is beginning to pick up pace and the way the atmosphere just feels warm. all he notices is how you look so immaculately beautiful right now - like someone from another world - so perfect, and all his.

so it was okay to be selfish this once, right? ♥

TIGHNARI tends to rant to you. a lot. he's got quite the mouthful to say about his coworkers and acquaintances.

however, that's not exactly a surprise. his temper and character is well known amongst the forest rangers and even the civilians through his sassy manner of speaking and how harshly he reprimands those who ignore the rules of the forest.

so when he comes home from work to the shared home and settles onto the couch next to you, taking in a deep, aggravated breath, you already know what's about to come.

but, somewhat surprisingly, he happens to a good listener as well. (and not just because of those fluffy ears of his!!)

maybe it's a bad day at work, or maybe you just woke up on the wrong side of bed - tighnari will listen to it all, letting you lean on his shoulder while you ramble away. he waits until you're done speaking before offering a couple sentences of gentle advice, then opens his figure, inviting you in for a hug.

and how could you refuse?

you mumble into his embrace, face warm. "thanks, nari."

"it was the least i could do." ♥

(a/n) fjaldjg fluff. god i love kaveh so much hes just??? ???? ahem. tell me any characters you'd like to see + any prompt if you want !! thank you for reading ♥

he's so babygirl

[mamisfavmosher]

i love your judgment day writings so much!

and i love how you write the one about the safe word use, i feel like it’s still an understatement topic and i’m glad someone can write about it!

would you feel comfortable making a similar one but where reader goes non verbal, where reader won’t speak and only uses gestures to make them understand that she’s uncomfortable and how would they comfort her? maybe they know she goes non verbal when she’s uncomfortable but it never happened that she had to tap out during a scene so they don’t know what to do?

thank you so much, if u don’t feel comfortable it’s okay🫶🏻 hope you have a nice day !

thank you! that makes me so happy that you think i write understated topics well! and i'm so sorry this took so long! but on the bright side, i passed all my classes!!

quiet gestures // poly!judgment day x fem!reader

SMUT - MINORS DNI

warnings: language, safewording variation, rough judgment day, slight degradation, oral, penetration, hair pulling, spit k!nk, slight electricity play, etc, JD is not apart of this

Readers POV

It had been a rough night in general for The Judgment Day, but for some reason, losing my contender's match against Iyo Sky is really what set the rest of my partners off. They had chosen to wait for me backstage, and personally, I think that's part of the reason I lost the match. I always do better with them cheering me on from ringside, but Mami suggested I prove I can do it on my own. Since that plan went terribly, I knew I was in for it.

I cautiously walked backstage and immediately caught their heated glares. "Locker room. Now." Damian demanded and gestured for me to walk in front of all of them. Letting out a shaky sigh, I lead the way back to the locker room and quickly went inside.

"What the hell was that, lass? What were you thinkin'?" Finn started going off as soon as he walked in the room. "I mean, was there anything going through your head at all?"

Dom was quick to add his opinion, too. "Clearly, she doesn't know what she's doing." He shook his head in disappointment.

Then, Damian. "Honestly, this is ridiculous. We get you this match, we train you to win and hopefully have a chance at becoming a champion, and then you go and screw it all up!"

"Boys," Rhea cut them off with an icy tone. "Enough. She knows what happens when she loses." Her features still expressed her anger, but she calmly walked over to me.

Her hand reached out and fisted into my hair, causing a gasp to escape my throat at the surprise. "Open," Her free hand tapped a finger on my lips. She spit onto my tongue and forced my mouth closed. I swallowed on instinct, an eerie smile spreading across her face. "Good girl. Obviously, she knows how to do something right." Rhea called out to the boys behind us.

"She needs to prove it to all of us, then." Dom said and yanked me toward the rest of them. "You know what to do, slut. Bend over the couch." He pushed me toward the couch and I stumbled over my feet.

"I really don't think we have to do this-" I attempted to plea. "I mean, I think I put up a pretty good fight against Iyo." My defense was shut down as Damian and Finn quickly worked on tearing my clothes off and bending me over the side of the couch. Dom came around me and kneeled on the couch, unzipping his pants and thrusting himself into my mouth. I sputtered and gagged as Finn held my hands behind my back, tears gathering in my eyes as my throat burned and I struggled to breathe.

Damian had dug through one of Rhea's bags that she always brings to shows and pulled out a small prodding stick with a shocker at the end. My mind immediately went into panic mode. That tool had only been used on me once and I made it very clear that I wasn't a fan.

Finn was holding my head against Dom's stomach to make me deepthroat his cock and Rhea was attaching one of her bigger straps to her waist. Rhea had walked over to me, Damian in tow, and quickly thrusted the toy into me from behind. Finn let Rhea take over holding my hands and moved to take turns with Dom while Damian started poking the shocker around near my breasts, building up my nerves before actually turning it on.

I squealed around Dom's and Finn's cocks as I felt the multiple stabbing shocks. My body writhed to try and get away from Damian. "Don't move away from me, babygirl. I can always make it worse." He tutted and began to move the stick lower towards my cunt. I whimpered in fear, but remained silent even as Dom and Finn stopped using my mouth to watch the other two use me.

"C'mon, pretty. Let Mami know how good she's making you feel. It's the least you could do after tonight." Rhea snarled and pounded into me harder.

Finn seemed to be the only one who caught on to the fact that something might be wrong as no words or sounds left my mouth. This was a scenario he had become familiar with over the months. If I was in an uncomfortable situation that I didn't really know how to handle, I chose silence. "Lass?" He attempted to check in.

Rhea and Damian, oblivious to the situation, carried on with their actions. Damian moved the shocker right over my clit and I hurriedly squeezed at Rhea's hands in a panic. My eyes widened, glossy and teary, as I made eye contact with Finn and Dom, silently pleading for an end to this.

As soon as Rhea felt the squeezing on her hands, she quickly pulled out and helped me lay down on the couch, quietly informing Damian on what happened.

"Love? Are you okay? What's happening?" Finn wiped at my falling tears as I curled my knees up to my chest.

Dom ran a comforting hand over my side. "Chica, what's wrong?"

Damian started pacing the room, fearing that they had broken my trust and scared me. Rhea moved to try and hold my hands, sending a worried glance to the boys as I continued to cry. "Was it too much, babe?" She softly smoothed a hand over my hair and down my cheek. I slowly nodded and gripped Rhea's hand tightly.

The tense silence in the room conveyed their concern. They were too rough and it got out of hand. To the point that their girl, who they're supposed to take care of, became uncomfortable and had to tap out.

Damian finally kneeled down next to the others, his brows deeply furrowed. "Please forgive us, babygirl. This shouldn't have happened." His warm hand was placed on my thigh.

Sniffling, I looked at all of them and gently nodded my head. They all breathed a sigh of relief and quickly sent soft smiles my way.

Finn peered up at me, "I'm just glad I was able to realize the moment you became uncomfortable, love. And I'm sorry I didn't react as quick as I should have, but at least now I know what to look for." I sweetly smiled at him and reached for his hand. He took mine and kissed my knuckles.

"You really had me worried there for a second, sweetheart." Dom said as he and Rhea both moved closer. "I think we should come up with an official gesture for you to use when things are getting out of hand. Something that would let us all know to stop when we see it."

I excitedly nodded my head and held my hand up in signature Judgment Day style, a rock 'n' roll gesture.

"It's settled, then. Anytime we see you use that signal during a scene, we all stop immediately. We just wanna keep you safe and happy, babydoll." Rhea said, giving me a quick kiss, smiling into it. "We love you."

From then on, they stuck to their word and kept a close eye out for any specific gestures during some of their rougher scenes, proving time and time again how much they love me.

[andkisses]

♡ futon | enha ♡

ot7!enha headcanon: there’s something brewing between the two of you… if only he knew what to do about it

♡ ot7 x gn!reader | wc. 1.8 ♡ genres/tropes: uhhh angst ? yeah def a lot. you aren’t dating but u def should be lol; lots of they’re best friends but they won’t confess. ♡ mentions of/warnings: some jealousy what can i say ♡ a/n: little something for every member <3 jungwon’s first and the rest below the cut ^^ each part is inspired by lyrics from futon by ūla <3

♡ masterlist ♡

✧･ﾟ: * jungwon - “no dissing her, but you should be with me”

he’s almost certain this isn’t the way he should be going about this, but jungwon is also almost certain he’s out of options. he feels like he couldn’t be more clear about his intentions–his affections and romance and advances. he could hire a plane to fly a banner over you declaring his interest but you’d still be oblivious. maybe, he ponders before hitting send, it has to do with the friendship between you, and how long that version of the two of you has been a thing. maybe, he bites his lip as he types out his message, it’s because he’s seen you talking and for sure being flirty with other people. the five words at the end of his already short text feel the most potent: you should be with me. jungwon tries to keep his features still and serious as he watches you read the text from across him. maybe, outright confessing during a study session that’s worth nearly half your grade isn’t his wisest decision. but, again, he’s nearly out of options. at least texting you keeps it quiet–the cafe around the two of you none the wiser when your head shoots up, eyes wide, and cheeks red after reading. whatever your answer, jungwon knows it will be between just the two of you. and when he reaches out, placing his hand on top of your free one, he feels like everything is upside down waiting for your answer.

✧･ﾟ: * heeseung - “we could be together for like so long”

some would say he’s delirious, or delusion, but heeseung is convinced that if he somehow managed to catch your eye like that, you would be the best couple, a power couple to be contended with. at first, his cheeks would flush hot read when he realized he was staring at you–his best friend–so endearingly, somewhere beyond the ‘we’re just friends’ line every relationship like this has. now, he hopes maybe you’ll turn your head, catch him staring, and just ask. he’d pour his soul out for you, word by delicate word, if you asked. just so he could say how much he loves you, try to get you to see. your head snaps up from where you’d been resting it on a closed fist in the corner of the couch. heeseung’s own books flutters shut in his hands from where he sits in a nearby club chair. the blood rushing in heeseung’s ears–because, oh god, he realizes, he just said it outloud–makes it hard for him to discern, exactly what you say in response, but he knows what’d you say. plus, he can clearly see the confusion on your face, the gears turning in your head about how he said it, and what way did he mean it. heeseung places his book on the side table, quickly crossing the room to kneel beside you. he’s already said it, and maybe you asked when he couldn’t hear, so he might as well pour out his soul, word by delicate word. he hopes for the best.

✧･ﾟ: * jay - “sleeping in your sweater on my futon”

it’s been like this forever, he knows that. you go to his place, or he comes to yours, and you hunker down and try to watch as many movies or episodes of a tv series at once. ultimately, the night will always end with you slumped against each other, breaths matching. you’d wake up, necks sore from sitting upright and sleeping crooked on each other’s shoulders. it was so… innocent. delightful. now, as jay watches you from across the room–you, in his sweater you took without asking because you were cold, and he let you without question–he wonders when it changed. the way he saw you. one day you, you were his friend–his best friend since as long as he could remember. then, one day, or maybe gradually like how the night fades into the dawn, jay saw you different. an exciting, terrifying different. suddenly, it was the sparks he felt with your hands brushed, or how his heart swelled like whenever you would rest your head on his shoulder. oh, if only he had the bravery, the courage, the guts to say everything he thought. the way he wants to hold you, and spoil you, and do everything he could for you. sometimes he’s convinced you feel the same way, the way you laugh with him or reach out to touch him, his shoulder or hand or cheek. other days, he’s not so sure. so for now, he’s stucking, watching you sleep on his futon, wondering when he would ever find the words to speak to you.

✧･ﾟ: * jake - “i can make it better if you hold on”

he never thought it would get to the point, where the something between the two of you was finally something almost tangible. yes, jake probably should have felt bad for you when you called, heartbroken and crying that your boyfriend–well, now your ex–had dumped you. it should have torn him up inside, seeing you like that. and it did, really. that unique feeling you get in your chest when someone you love seems like they’re falling apart. he wished he could have said something to your ex, but ultimately you were more important. you always are. however, this event also sparked a unique joy–one that brought everything he’d tamped down back to the surface. jake thought he would need to keep these feelings under wrapped and near-forgotten forever. but now? his chance, his luck. whatever you wanted to call it, jake was going to do his best to make it happen. he’d either finally be able to be with you, or you’d finally reject him outright. either way, he’d be rid of the current problem plaguing his heart. the after effects? what could befall the friendship between you two, the one that had grown from strangers to acquaintances to the closest of friends? the ones who get mistaken for lovers all the time? quite frankly. not his problem right now. right now, he had to muster enough courage and time to tell you first.

✧･ﾟ: * sunghoon - “you should just forget her and we'll move on”

sunghoon was used to you dating–you were “particular” about your dates, you always said. they needed to have a certain something, not that you would ever elaborate on it. it used to be cute, something endearing sunghoon found in you, his friend. but then something changed. maybe the earth titled too far on its axis one day, or maybe sunghoon just hit his head so hard he forgot. but now, when he sees you, it’s somewhere beyond his best friend. you exist in his mind in the grey area past the line of “oh we’re just friends.” you exist so close to the line that, if you cross it, sunghoon gets to call you his, call you mine, all the time. he gets to brag on you, show you off. give you everything. but here he is instead–sitting across from you on his couch as you are talking about this one date you had months ago. again. maybe it’s the fact you only ever cycle through the same mundane talking points. the way you just haven’t moved on. maybe it’s the weather, your talking about this again, or the futures he envisions where he’s waking up next to you or you’re falling asleep together in each other’s arms. sunghoon didn’t mean to say those words–and definitely not with so much sincerity and spite. he feels his ears blush and burn as your words fall away, eyes wide, jaw slightly agape. now’s the time to find out which line you’ll end up crossing. at least you’ll be out of that grey area.

✧･ﾟ: * sunoo - “noticing you, are you noticing me?”

he’s gotten used to being the one who watches, who notices. sunoo feels like he knows everything about you at this point. the way you walk when you’re mad, or how you take your time to do your makeup before a big exam or something important. how you always use that word with him—friend. at first, it didn’t hurt. you were just a friend to him too. then, somewhere along the way, like all the love songs and all the cliches, you became different. or maybe the difference happened with sunoo. he would know–you still did everything the same, so uniquely wonderful and you. sunoo, spiraling in this realization, began to question everything–every interaction, every tine you were close or laughed with him or touched his arm or fell asleep next to him on the couch after a long day and a particularly boring movie. he’s thought of it all, to the point he began acting slightly off around you. he isn’t sure if he could handle your unknowing proximity anymore. surely, you didn’t act like this with everyone? surely, this was special and just for him? yes, sunoo watches and notices you, but it’s you. nothing else. curiosity, hope, and perhaps a good helping of dispair pull the question from sunoo’s lips one evening when you’ve done it again–laughed into his chest, hand on his arm. you look up at his serious expression, something new and inviting in your eyes. now, sunoo knows, you’re noticing him.

✧･ﾟ: * niki - “do i even matter? will you call my bluff?”

he thought he’d held his guard up well enough. niki couldn’t remember when his crush on you began, but he’s certain it’s called a crush because of the massive weight that now exists on his shoulder, on his mind. gone are the carefree adventures with you, and in are these mind-crushing emotions niki isn’t sure how to handle. they’ve always said you’ll know–is this what they mean? the panic he experiences when you’re so close to him he catches your perfume in the air? see the faint freckles on your cheeks? maybe he’s not as good at hiding his feelings as he thought,, because now here the two of you are, out on the sidewalk, stuck in place. the wind rustles through your hair, and niki does his best to keep his expression neutral, no matter how angelic you look. he watches as your eyes scan his face–great, now he’s got to live through this kind of scrutiny, too? maybe he should just tell you, right here as the sun sets and everything has been tinted blue. you’re smart, clever. you’ll figure him out eventually. he can’t keep this act up. maybe he doesn’t matter to you like that. maybe, you’ll decipher what all his actions mean and call him out. could niki handle you telling him to get over it? to move on? worse, could he handle the potential of never knowing how you feel? the world where two people are too afraid, too comfortable to express what they’re feeling. as you step closer, niki swallows, mind racing. maybe this is it–the moment where something happens, and he’s relieved or the crushing either gets infinitely worse.

[bullet-clubs-bitch]

Maybe a Jay white x reader where they are married and she is apart of the bullet club gold and they are so affectionate towards one another and Jay is always cheering her on and she does the same for him. Maybe she is a Gunn sibling and always wins her matches but prince Nana keeps harrasing her because of the bang bang scissors gang and they all come out there to protect the reader. And maybe swerve trys to get involved.

Bang Bang Gang

This one's a bit short but I hope you enjoy it! (This has not been proofread!)

@saramusazzi99 asked to be tagged in this :)

Mentions: Of Prince Nana being a perv

Main Masterlist Jay White Masterlist

One of the main reasons I signed with All Elite Wrestling was so that I could be with my wife Y/n. It had been so long since we were in a promotion together. Instantly the two of us were put in a faction together, the fans loved seeing us together and I coudn’t deny getting paid to spend time with my wife. Both of us were hesitant at first to create Bullet Club Gold since I just left Bullet Club in Japan but Tony Khan assured us everything would work out just fine. I trusted him up until this very moment. Currently, I sat in the Bang Bang Lounge trying to calm down my clearly upset wife. For some odd reason, Prince Nana of all people had been coming out and causing Y/n matches. I didn’t have anything against Swerve and The Gunns and Juice had nothing against the Moguel Embassy. So why was Y/n getting harassed by them?

“So tell us what happened one more time,” Austin asked “Well, I was just having my match with Willow Nightingale when all of a sudden Prince Nana appeared. He asked me if I wanted to see his ‘royal jewels’. When I told him to fuck off he reminded me that he was always watching” My blood was boiling once I heard Y/n explain what occurred moments ago once again. 

I know it didn’t sound like much but this Prince Nana thing had been happening for weeks. Normally I would be ringside for all of Y/n’s matches but every now and then we needed a break from the other. Not to mention our matches happened to be booked back to back. “Do you want me to do something? I can talk to him?” I asked  “No, can you just be ringside for my next match? If I’m trying to become AEW Women’s world champion I need to be focused on my matches. How can I focus if I’m constantly thinking of Prince Nana” Y/n had a point. She needed to be completely focused on capturing gold. “I promise, next week Prince Nana will regret even breathing in the same room as you” 

Just like I said I would keep my promise. Next week Y/n would get her shot for the number one contender for the AEW women’s championship and I would do anything to ensure she would be victorious. As Y/n made her entrance Juice, Austin, Colten and I followed close behind. We watched the ring like hawks, one of us stood on each side of the ring. Just if on command Prince Nana appeared out of nowhere. “How much do you want boss?” He asked me “What? “ “How much?” “How much for what?” “How much for Y/n?” did this psycho just ask me how much I would sell my wife for? I was sick to my stomach at his comments. “Excuse me?” “I think she would make a great addition to the Moguel embassy” I was distracted from my conversation with Prince Nana when Y/n asked “Is everything okay out here?” to which I responded cheerily “Everything is fine my dear” 

I waited until Y/n won her match before I started to beat the bloody hell out of Prince Nana. Soon the Moguel embassy and Swerve joined the mix and we were now at war. This was a bloody brawl. 

Security tried to pry us off each other but it was no use. This was personal, I was going to make them regret everything. I knew I had taken it too far when they sent the entire locker room out to separate us. Reality set in when Y/n looked at me like I was a madman. I looked down to see the Moguel Embassy lying in a pool of their blood. 

I didn’t care about the consequences, I didn’t care that the Gunns and I could get our ROH trios titles taken away. All I cared about was making sure Y/n was okay. I wanted to send a message to the locker room. If you mess with my girl you’ll breathe with the switchblade. 

[hanasnx]

profighter!anakin

WARNINGS: sfw | no established relationship | reader has a date/situationship | maybe a little ooc for the sake of the au but i tried my very best to maintain characterization | reader is mentioned to wear a dress and black heels and has shaven legs | blood mention | your date has he/him pronouns | anakin pressures you a bit | this fighting league has almost no rules | action and boxing violence.

You and your situationship were supposed to have date night tonight, and you were excited for something romantic. Instead, your date enthusiastically shows you the tickets he won to a pro fighting match that’s supposed to be "the match of the season." You are uninterested, doesn’t matter if it’s front row seats.

Nevertheless, you try to be a good sport about it, and decide to go because you don’t want your night to be totally ruined. It's just not a sport that’s ever hooked you.

Your company for the night can't believe their stroke of good luck, exclaiming how you can "smell the sweat from here" as if that'll somehow appeal to you. Unexpectedly, what does appeal to you is the fighter that comes in announced. Youngest in the league, hotshot ANAKIN SKYWALKER from the dunes of Tattooine is introduced and he’s cute. Cuter than you thought these guys would be. You’d think from the hits to the face these guys take, Anakin would look like a sandbag but instead he’s gorgeous. You don’t dwell on it really, you barely watch the match while your date screams next to you at fouls and ref calls. It's a while of you staring at the stringy black heels you wear. The crowd stirs, and Anakin gets kicked out of the ring, landing right at your feet.

You're startled, and before you lean forward to help, he picks himself up by his fists on the floor. The expanse of his muscled back widens with each heave, and a mix of drool and blood spatter the ground underneath his head. He inclines his head up, hazy eyes trail up your smooth crossed legs in a black dress, so close you can feel his hot pant against your skin, and you freeze as he meets your gaze. He grins- a dopey, toothy grin. Cheeky as if he wasn’t just thrown out of the ring. The scar along his temple has reopened, blood trickling his face.

Hastily, the staff picks him up off the floor but he keeps looking at you. Lulling, intoxicated from adrenaline and brain-fog; he winks at you. Your date notices and even though you dismiss it your heart is fluttering. Your date is considerably less enthused for his favorite boxer Anakin Skywalker.

When the next round starts, Anakin will not stop looking at you. You’re embarrassed about it—looking anywhere but him—but he’s determined to nab your attention.

Lazily, he dodges his opponents strikes. Your eyes widen. What once didn’t interest you, interests you greatly, gesturing to him to focus on his opponent but he scoffs in response to your external expression of worry for him.

A glance to his contender, and it's clear he's running out of steam. He's an older gentleman, and Anakin is too swift for him. The rounds have dragged on long enough, it's time to finish it. Yet, Anakin takes the opportunity to single you out. That unwavering eye contact breaks as he motions to himself, following his hand with his gaze. As if to say, "You like what you see? Am I doin' alright?" Now painfully unaware of the company you keep, you chuckle about it and shake your head at him.

He tilts his head. A playful countenance about him before he's rudely awakened by a lunge from his opponent who's caught his breath. Anakin blocks a fatal blow to the neck, and jabs his padded knuckles into the nose, knocking him back. It's well placed because red blood pours from the orifice and Anakin shoves him back to give himself some wiggle room. His finger points to you, another signal to ensure you're paying him mind, and to convey who his next move is for. The circumstance distracts the enemy, and Anakin seizes it. The flat of young Skywalker's foot smacks against his temple. The fluid from his nose spatters against the mat as he tumbles to the ground cold. Showcasing his arrogance, Anakin doesn't bother waiting for the ref to count, and leans against the rope on your side. Deft fingers brush through his jaw-length sweaty curls. In the lighting you can see how the salt sprays into the air from the act.

He completely disregards your date, and you've forgotten all about him as well. "What are you doing after this?" There's no charm to his words, no handsome smile, a question that could've just as easily been interpreted professionally. Yet a potential co-worker wouldn't have implied he'd knocked a guy out for your affection.

Somehow, you feel comfortable with him already. "Going home." you answer honestly. There's no way you'd be persuaded to go to your situationship's place after this.

Anakin bows his head to eye you down through his brows, a curl to his lips. "No, you're not." Definitive phrase that causes a defiance to flare up in your chest. It dulls as that crystalline gaze drinks in your form once more. "Looking like that?"

You open your mouth to interject, the need to continue entertaining him driving your thoughts, but you're cut off by your own warning. "Behind you!"

Just in time, thanks to you, Anakin pivots on his heel. His newly rejuvenated opponent giving it all he's got in one, good punch. A yelp emits from you before you even realize you cared that much, rising from your seat to watch Anakin's back collide with the mat, skidding across it. He rolls out of the way when his enemy stomps onto the space he occupied mere seconds ago. As close as you can get, you take it, and before you know it you're shouting with the rest of the crowd, cheering Anakin on to overcome it.

He's able to land on his feet, but he stays evading. Infuriating side-steps that rouse you like nothing else.

"Hit him!" you call, and Anakin regards you with a furtive glance. As if he was waiting to hear your voice.

He lets the guy back him up to the ropes, dodging his jabs quicker than you thought possible. Since you're near to him now, he shouts over his shoulder, "When I finish the match, you'll come with me to the after-party. Deal?"

Your date's had enough, grabbing hold of your shoulder, finally reminding you of his presence.

Anakin takes your silence and puts his enemy into a hold. "Deal?" he reiterates, more urgently this time. He won't let you dwell on it too long and he doesn't want your date getting in the way of what you choose.

The audience exclaims its disapproval for Anakin stalling, and the pressure of it gets to you knowing you're the reason for the hindrance. You push your date's hand off. "Deal!" The reply coming off more desperate than you meant it to.

Not another second passes before Anakin throws his enemy off, and pitches a right cross so mean it should be illegal. Using his own momentum against him, there's no question as to why his body drops to the ground like dead weight. Your ears go deaf from the sound of the crowd, covering them to protect them from the pain while your date excuses himself out and you watch Anakin's back heave in violent pants, letting the referee raise his thick and swollen arm to the sky in victory.

[valleydean]

Chapter 17 [Read Here]

CHAMPION Part III of Heavyweight a deancas boxing au by valleydean (emmbrancsxx0) read from the beginning | playlist

SUMMARY: Brooklyn, 1933. Dean Winchester, the number one contender, trains to become the next Heavyweight Champion of the World, and this time he won't let anything get in his way. Title holder Castiel Novak has second thoughts about retiring, especially when someone from his past arrives in New York and asks for his help. Meanwhile, a new contender rises to fame and threatens to complicate both of Dean and Cas' ambitions - and their relationship.

CHAPTER PREVIEW:

Dean strolled into the ICU with a box filled with Italian pastries in one hand and a white paper bag in the other. The ward was the same as ever: the frequent announcements over the speakers paging a doctor to a particular room, employees rushing around, nurses guiding slow-walking patients along the hallway for their daily exercise, and all the other intricacies Dean had become accustomed to over the last week.

He smiled and greeted some of the familiar faces, staff and patients alike, as he walked. Some of the newer faces gawked at him, a second away from asking for an autograph. Dean winked at one of the gaping kids as he passed by.

“Billie. How’s my favorite nurse?” Dean schmoozed when he approached the ward’s nurses’ station.

Nurse Billie barely glanced up at him from her paperwork. “You ask all the other nurses that, too,” she said, unimpressed.

“But do I make sure the bake shop puts in the sprinkle cookies the other nurses like? Huh?” he asked while placing the box on the counter.

She looked up at him fully, her expression still mostly neutral but also vaguely annoyed. All the same, she took the box and set it before her.

Dean slapped the counter as he slid away, sure that Billie would distribute the assorted pastries to the other nurses, like she’d done every day for the past week. “Enjoy.”

He walked in the direction of Cas’ private room toward the end of the hall, the best and biggest one money could pay for. On the way, he spotted Nurse Tessa walking in the opposite direction, her nose in a chart.

“Hey,” he called, stepping in her path. He lifted up the paper bag. “One cannoli from yours truly.”

Tessa smiled, accepting the bag. “You’re gonna make me fat.”

“Just a thanks for all your hard work,” he told her. Nodding to Cas’ room, he added, “‘Course, I’m gonna have to bring you two a day after he wakes up. Trust me, he’s not gonna be too pleasant to deal with.”

Tessa breathed out a small laugh.

Dean’s smile flickered despite how much he tried to keep it plastered on his face. Maybe she hadn’t known it, but he’d been fishing—hoping and praying she’d tell him that Cas was awake and everything was fine.

But she didn’t say that. She didn’t say anything.

Voice smaller, he asked, “How’s he doing?”

“Same as yesterday,” she said, her tone gentler. She must have seen the way Dean’s face fell, because she reminded him, “That’s not a bad thing, Dean. He’s healing well.”

A bitter smile twisted Dean’s face. “That you can tell.”

She gave him a tender look, touching his shoulder, before walking off. Dean stood still for a second, trying to brace himself against the tidal wave of emotion threatening to swell over him and trap him in its undertow. If he let that happen, he just knew he’d let himself drown.

He opened the door to Cas’ room and closed it again behind him, dropping the cheerful act he’d been putting on for the public.

The room smelled sweet and floral with how many bouquets of flowers were in vases on every surface. The orderlies did a good job at taking away the decaying ones, but it seemed like more fresh flowers were delivered every day. The same was true for greeting cards and handwritten letters from fans all over the world wishing Cas a speedy recovery. Dean had stopped reading them days ago and started tossing them into the discarded pile of envelopes on the windowsill.

A few of Jack’s drawings were around, closer to the bed. He brought a new one pretty much every day when he visited after school.

Crowley’s assistant had sent over a basket full of fruit and chocolates, as if that would somehow make up for the fact that her boss was partly the reason Cas was in the hospital in the first place.

Michael, Gabriel, and Balthazar visited most days. Anna had come twice, both times with Dean watching her like a hawk. Sam and Eileen had accompanied Dean for his visits a few times, always bringing Maura with them. Sam never said it was because he didn’t want Dean to be alone, and Dean appreciated that it went unspoken.

About a thousand people had sent gift baskets and casseroles to the house. Dean had started turning them away, because how many damn chicken casseroles could a person choke down?

And then there were the paparazzi. They followed him pretty much everywhere. Even now, they were camped outside the hospital. Dean had to call the police once or twice to get them away from the house. The damn vultures were looking for all the information they could get about Cas, and about what plans there were for the future of his career.

Balthazar had issued a statement days ago that, until Cas was fully recovered, all plans for the announcement they were supposed to make had been put on hold. The NBA didn’t make any comments either, and Dean sure as shit wasn’t going to talk, no matter how often the reporters asked him if he was going to make a bid for the belt “now that the way is clear.”

For the past week, Dean had barely left the house except to go to the gym or visit Cas. Whenever anybody asked, he said it was to avoid the paparazzi. But he wasn’t just hiding from them. He was hiding from everyone. From their sympathetic looks, somber and quiet, as if Cas was already dead.

Most of all, he was hiding from his own thoughts. The ones that said Cas was never going to wake up. The ones that cringed every time the phone rang and he was sure it’d be the doctor telling him Cas was dead. The ones that told him Cas had left him because he’d thought boxing was more important than their life together, and this time, Dean would never get him back. The ones that told him to start making funeral arrangements.

Those thoughts were a lot harder to hide from as he lay awake at night and looked at Cas’ empty side of the bed. Or when he looked at the mess Cas had left in their dresser drawers because he always expected Dean to fold the clothes back up. When he was brushing his teeth and saw Cas’ toothbrush and razor and aftershave.

Dean tried to banish all of those thoughts now as he approached Cas’ bed. Since Cas had first been checked in, some of his stitches and bandages had been removed. The patch over his eye was gone, showing off the stitches on his eyelid and the angry, puffy redness around them. Most of his bruises had run their course from deep blacks and purples to sickly greens and yellows. Some were completely faded, but others were more stubborn.

His facial hair had grown in, and Tessa had told him they needed a few more cuts on his jaw to heal before they could shave him. But at least some of the color had returned to his face. His breath wasn’t wheezy anymore, either.

“Morning, babe,” Dean said, leaning over him to press a kiss to his hairline. As he did, Cas’ ring, which Dean had put on a leather cord around his neck, slipped out from beneath his collar. Dean left it out and sat in his usual chair next to the bed.

He placed his hand on top of Cas’, still bandaged.

“Jo was over last night. She says hi,” Dean said, because Tessa had told him that talking to Cas would help. Dean didn’t know if that was true, but it couldn’t hurt—and it made him feel a little saner.

For the first time, he wondered if Tessa had meant it would help Cas or it would help him. But he guessed it didn’t matter.

Dean would keep talking, even though sometimes, he didn’t have anything to say. He just rambled and hoped that Cas would wake up and tell him to shut the fuck up.

“The dance hall she’s working at is having a week of jazz performers next month. She said Billie Holiday’s supposed to headline one night. We should go to that. It’ll be fun.”

If Cas was awake by then.

Dean dragged in a breath, hearing it rattle inside his chest. He pushed a smile.

“Anyway… Jack tell you about the new book he’s reading for school?”

[majesticartax]

NEW FIC IN THE WORKS

cw: a/b/o elements

feat: alpha kags and beta hinata and a pro karasuno team

i’ve talked about this like once before but i need everyone to know that i think about this every day and i’m DYINNNGGGGGGG to write it!

Here is a very long preview:

okay so beta hinata is tasked with being the team’s [*googles: what’s a nicer term for “cum dump”*] for all the alpha team members, which encompasses literally all 24 of them. it’s an exclusively alpha team, aside from hinata, and they are one of the top team in their league, right up there with the other exclusive alpha teams. it’s a great honor to be the chosen beta for an alpha team! not only does he get to play with top players, but he gets to be fucked by some of the most gorgeous guys in volleyball! what a deal! in this world, each team has a beta to babysit the alpha players through their ruts, and it’s absolute gospel that the betas are treated well. they are PEOPLE, not fleshlights. if ever a beta is mistreated, the player is immediately ejected from the team. but that being said, it isn’t like the alphas are obligated to care about a beta’s pleasure, and hinata is usually left to jerk himself off once it’s over. not that he minds, really. it’s just a part of the job. he knows what he signed up for.

anyway, hinata is living his best life, except there is ONE team member who refuses to use his services. hinata can’t figure out what kageyama’s problem is. especially since the two of them are the most compatible players on the team when it comes to their playing styles. they’re basically partners on the court! but kageyama will NOT fuck him. and like… none of the players are obligated to use hinata during their ruts - he’s providing a comfort to those in need, and if they do not NEED, then he doesn’t provide. but why is it ONLY kageyama!? hinata tries not to let it hurt his feelings, but it definitely bothers him. in fact, kageyama seems to avoid him when they aren’t playing together. and, okay, maybe it hurts his feelings like a LOT. like A LOT a lot. because MAYBE hinata happens to be in love with him. maybe.

maybe.

But what’s weird is that betas aren’t supposed to be able to fall in love. they aren’t even supposed to feel feelings of love outside of familial and friendship kind of love - like biologically speaking, betas can’t have romantic feelings. it’s even illegal for betas to mate. so not only is hinata in love with someone who apparently hates him, but he has to contend with the fact that there might be something wrong with him.

AND THEN ONE DAY:

kageyama is clearly struggling hard during one of their practices, so hinata asks him if he needs anything, and he’s promptly grabbed and dragged into the equipment room. and hinata is like FINALLY, but kageyama just… holds hinata, hugging him from behind, and hinata can feel how hard he is. he can actually feel his knot through his shorts. but then kageyama just releases him and runs out after a hurried apology, leaving hinata terribly confused and breathless and with a raging hard-on. and then that sort of thing keeps happening. hinata tries to ask kageyama about it, but he’s being even more avoidant than usual.

UNTIL ONE DAY.

kageyama pulls him to their usual spot and hinata just closes his eyes and tries to enjoy the fleeting feeling of being wrapped in kageyama’s arms, all the while knowing that it will be over soon. only this time it… goes on much longer. hinata can feel kageyama’s breath against his ear and he can feel how hard his heart is beating against his back. kageyama even whimpers a few times and starts grinding against hinata’s ass. and then hinata is being bent over a big stack of mats. he gasps and arches his back, sticking his ass out out of habit. but… kageyama doesn’t pull his shorts down like the other alphas do, but he drapes himself over hinata’s back. he’s breathing all roughly and raggedly against hinata’s neck, pressing himself hard into the cleft of hinata’s ass. and then he does something that no alpha has ever done before - kageyama reaches down the front of hinata’s shorts and grabs his swollen, aching cock. and hinata doesn’t know what’s happening. he cries out, arching back into kageyama as kageyama’s big rough hands drags up and down his slick shaft. hinata’s heart hurts despite this being the most amazing moment of his life and his head is spinning. he doesn’t understand why kageyama would choose to make him feel good rather than just fucking him like everyone else. he’s so confused. but when kageyama buries his face in hinata’s hair and whispers his name, hinata comes so hard he thinks his spine is going to snap. kageyama comes right after, rutting against hinata’s backside and drenching both of their shorts.

it’s quiet for a few moments aside from the sound of their panting, and then kageyama stands up suddenly, spinning hinata around by the shoulders. and he looks at hinata. he looks at him HARD. his mouth opens like he’s about to say something, but instead he just turns away and stalks towards the door. but before he leaves he looks back and roughly tells hinata’s to stay where he is.

hinata is shaking like a leaf in the wind. his knees are weak. there is cum dripping down the front AND back of his legs. and his heart is about to explode into a thousand pieces of it doesn’t calm the fuck down.

kageyama returns a couple minutes later with a spare pair of his own shorts, a full water bottle, and a towel.

“lie back, dumbass,” he says. and hinata does, eyes wide and confused and glued to kageyama’s face. and it’s now that kageyama peels his ruined shorts down, shimmying them over his hips as hinata reflexively lifts his butt off the mat to facilitate it. but his eyes never leave kageyama’s face. the other man blushes as he squirts water from the water bottle onto the towel. his brow is firmly pinched. he looks angry, but hinata doesn’t feel that anger directed towards him. and when kageyama reaches the towel towards hinata’s smeared, sticky skin, hinata grabs his wrist. kageyama jumps a little, finally looking up at hinata’s face.

“what are you doing?” hinata’s voice feels as sticky as his thighs. the words croak out of him. and kageyama blinks away, shaking his head.

“just hold still,” kageyama mumbles as he starts to wipe hinata down. the water is warm. it feels so good that tears well up in hinata’s eyes as kageyama gently cleans him.

“you don’t have to do this,” hinata rasps.

“i know,” kageyama says back.

hinata goes home wearing kageyama’s shorts. and he’s already decided that he’s not getting them back.

and then things go back to normal. for a while. kageyama goes back to dealing with his ruts by himself and hinata gets used by the other players. but hinata can’t stop thinking about what kageyama did to him. did FOR him. it makes his throat tight and his chest ache horribly. it makes him feel hot. every day he feels hotter and hotter whenever he thinks about it. he starts feeling dizzy when he thinks back to how carefully kageyama cleaned him up, how his furrowed brow would smooth out every once in a while as he dragged the warm towel over hinata’s thighs. he aches in weird places when he remembers the look in kageyama’s dark blue eyes when he spun him around and held him by the shoulders. and he can swear his skin still burns where kageyama’s hands were on him…

and then one day, hinata feels…

different.

..

i seriously cannot wait to start writing this.

[whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk]

Begged & Borrowed Time (xxii, ao3)

Chapter twenty-two: Hybern attacks Velaris, and Cassian is caught unawares. (Prologue // previous chapter // next chapter)

All he could think of was that bracelet.

It had been two days - two achingly long, indeterminable days - and still all Cassian could think of was that simple piece of string threaded with glass beads, bought for a single coin from a Starfall market stall. The bracelet he had bought her had still been tied about Nesta’s wrist as she had stood there in that sitting room below the wall, the sleeves of her dress not quite long enough to hide it as it contended with that dull silver wedding ring on her third finger. 

He’d traced that bracelet with his thumb as the words he so longed to say got stuck in his throat— and they were still there now, trapped, like a splinter he couldn’t pull loose. 

I love you.

More than anything— I love you.

For two days, they’d been burning a hole in his chest.

He’d hardly been idle in the time spent since the meeting with the human queens, but still. Time had slowed to an almost unbearable pace, and the days had stretched endless even as the entirety of the Night Court shifted to a war footing. Illyrian forces were mobilised, camped throughout the mountains and waiting for the order to move, and Rhys had already departed for the Court of Nightmares a day and a half ago with Mor, to return the Veritas Orb and rally Keir’s Darkbringers for battle. 

And maybe Cassian imagined it, but it felt like all of Velaris was holding its breath. 

Waiting.

He sighed now, and as the moonlight drifted idle over the jasmine planted in the garden outside, a late-night silence crept through the hallways of the townhouse, where he and Azriel kept watch. Upstairs, Feyre Cursebreaker slept undisturbed.

Like a knife through the dark now, Azriel smirked.

“How’d Devlon take it, anyway?” he asked dryly. “The order to send men below the wall?”

His voice was a smooth rumble through the sitting room, breaking the silence as his head tipped back against the velvet headrest of his armchair. In his hand he swirled a short glass of whiskey, the bottle one of Rhys’ finest, raided from his cellar.

Cassian snorted in answer, the siphon on his hand flaring a little in the grey light. “About as well as you’d expect.”

Understatement.

Devlon’s exact words had been that the order was a ‘waste of time’, and that if war was coming, his men were needed in the camps instead of ‘going below the wall for the sake of two humans’. He’d sneered as he said the word human, like the taste of it on his tongue was an affront somehow.

‘They’re warriors, not bodyguards,’ he’d hissed. 

AndCassian had looked at the man who’d taught him to wield a sword and seen only Nesta’s face, heard her heart beating as the wind tore through the mountains. For her, he kept his temper in check. For her, he let only his face darken. 

‘Eight men,’ he’d ordered flatly, flexing his fingers before curling his hand into a fist. As if Devlon needed the reminder, Cassian kept his voice that of a general, stone-cold and darkly authoritative. ‘Four at each estate’.

To his credit, Rhys had merely nodded and said, ‘You heard him. Eight men, Devlon.’

His way of apologising, Cassian supposed.

When they’d returned to Velaris after the meeting with the queens, they had all of them been subdued. But Rhys had kept a hand on Feyre’s thigh beneath the table, as if afraid to let her go, and when Cassian had looked away - unable to bear the sight of it - he thought for a moment that genuine remorse flashed across his brother’s face.

Oh, how desperately he wished Nesta had agreed to come with them.

She could be here, right now. Sitting beside him in the armchair by the fire, Elain with her, all three Archerons safe and sound and warm. But he knew better than to hope, to dream. Elain would not abandon her engagement, and Nesta would not abandon Elain. Not yet. Not until she was settled— and how could he blame her?

It was one of the things he loved about her— the way she’d throw herself on the fire to save her sister.

The thought had an ache blooming behind his ribs, and gods, he wished he’d had the chance to tell her.

Because in that moment - when he’d watched her tears fall - he’d known it with such absolute, bone-deep certainty that his chest hadn’t felt able to contain it. She wasn’t just his mate. No, she was his everything, and he loved her, so completely that it stole his breath. And he’d been so close to telling her— the words had been just there, waiting to trip off his tongue, but Rhys had been hurrying him along and Elain had been standing by the window and no matter how much Cassian yearned, he hadn’t wanted it to be spoken like that— desperate and rushed.

No, he wanted to savour the moment he told Nesta Archeron he loved her.

Next time.

He’d tell her next time he saw her.

“Have you had contact with them?” Azriel asked, his voice pulling Cassian away from thoughts of silver-blue eyes and golden-brown hair and a scowl that could set hearts racing.

He blinked. “Who?”

Az rolled his eyes, a small smile pulling almost unseen at the corner of his lips. “The men you sent below the wall.”

Cassian cleared his throat. “We can’t all be daemati, Az,” he said airily, waving a hand to mask the fact that he’d been so consumed by Nesta - as per fucking usual - that he’d forgotten he’d been in the middle of a conversation. “But they know not to take any risks. To stay hidden. To send a report if so much as a branch breaks in the vicinity of either estate.”

The shadowsinger hummed. “Or face the Lord of Bloodshed’s wrath?”

A dark smile spread, menacing, across Cassian’s face. “Exactly.”

Az shook his head lightly, curious eyes cutting through the gathering dark and gleaming in the firelight. He canted his face to the side, the shadows at his shoulders skirting away from the glow of the flames as they alighted on his jaw. For a moment there was silence, a quiet hush where neither of them spoke.

But Cassian knew better than to think his brother had run out of things to say. No, when Azriel had that look in his eyes, Cassian knew he was merely searching for the best line of questioning.

Spymaster, through and through.

At last Azriel set down his whiskey, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his knees. 

“So,” he offered slowly, his tone idle, casual, “Nesta calculated the number of ships they’d need.”

Cassian only looked at his brother mildly. “You’re surprised?”

Az quirked an eyebrow. “You’re not?”

“No.”

It was as simple as that. He hadn’t been surprised at all, and as he looked to the flames burning in the hearth, Azriel leaned back in his armchair, a rueful smile playing at the corners of his lips as he tipped his head back, dark hair stark against the velvet headrest.

“Rhys was. Did you see his face?”

Cassian shook his head. 

No, he hadn’t been looking at anybody else. Hadn’t been able to. Nesta had stepped forward and all he’d been able to see was her, like the rest of the world had been rendered insignificant the moment she opened her mouth. Az let out a soft breath of a laugh now, one of pleasant surprise, before his face turned somber.

“You love her.”

Cassian lifted his eyes. “Is it that obvious?”

Az smiled. “Yes.”

For the first time, Cassian let a smile of his own grace his face. It was wry and soft, like the most tentative and fragile kind of hope, and it was fuelled entirely by the thought of her— the woman he loved so utterly it might well prove to be his undoing. His eyes eyes flicked up to the ceiling, as if he could see to the floor above, where Feyre slept.

“I thought Rhys was going to kill me,” he said softly, the barest breath of a laugh slipping through his lips.

Az raised an eyebrow. “What, for threatening the queens?”

Cassian nodded as Azriel snorted. “He wasn’t exactly thrilled. Way to burn our bridges, Cass.”

You’ll speak to her with the respect she deserves, or you won’t speak at all.

If anybody touches you, I’ll be the one to start this fucking war.

With a roll of his eyes, Cassian could think only of how he’d take a match to those bridges all over again if it would erase that look of despair from his mate’s eyes. He’d burn the world to the ground and dance in the ashes if it meant that Nesta never had reason to shed another tear.

Idly he rubbed his jaw, thinking of how she’d pulled away from him in that sitting room, when the orb had finished showing the queens the city. He’d felt Nesta’s fingers slip free of his, like she couldn’t bear any of them to notice— to scrutinise the way she held his hand the same way they’d scrutinised Elain’s engagement ring.

Rhys was lucky that Cassian had only threatened the queens.

He curled his hand into a fist now, resting on the curved wooden armrest of the townhouse armchair. His heart ached behind his ribs, and as Az blinked warily, the light of the fire turning the glow of his siphon from the brightest sapphire to a darkened purple, Cassian didn’t know what else to say.

She had wrecked him. Laid waste to him entirely, and now all he was left with was the longing that weighed down his chest— made so much worse by the fact that she could have been here, sitting under the same roof, watching the same silver light gild the windowpanes.

But she wasn’t.

And he didn’t know when he’d see her again, when he’d finally get the chance to say those three little words that were still lodged in his throat. 

Weary, he shook his head.

“I’m going to bed,” he said with a sigh, rising from his chair. He stretched his wings, rolled his shoulders, and gave the windows one last glance to be sure they were all secure. Stifling a yawn, he clapped Azriel on the shoulder. His brother nodded, but made no attempt to move. 

Cassian didn’t push.

Az had never slept well, even when they were boys and shared a room together, and he’d learned long ago that sometimes the shadowsinger needed the silence and the darkness. They had all of them witnessed horrors over the centuries, but it had been Azriel who had visited the temples this past winter, saw firsthand the wreckage Hybern had left behind at Sangravah. 

So Cassian simply tossed a soft “good night, Az,” behind him as he reached for the door.

And with blue siphons glowing in the dark, Azriel nodded again and said, “Good night, Cass.”

***

As the afternoon stretched before them the next day, Cassian found himself walking the streets of Velaris with the new Lady of the Night Court.

He’d taken one look at Feyre earlier and known she needed a break. With Rhys and Mor away and Amren still sequestered with the Book of Breathings and no closer to a breakthrough in translation, their days had been spent doing nothing but training and preparing for war. They pored over maps of Hybern, ran through the numbers and checked all their supply lines were ready to be used, spent hours in the ring at the top of the House of Wind, and fell exhausted into bed each night. And as Azriel left to scout the coast that morning, Cassian had glanced up over the spread of tea and toast and known that Feyre needed something different today. Something lighter.

She was missing Rhys.

He could tell— just by the way she kept looking to the empty seat at the breakfast table, as if hoping he might surprise her and come home early. Empathy swelled in his chest because Cassian felt her pain, knew what it was to feel the absence of another so keenly it was like the sharp end of a blade, and when he’d thought of another day consumed by strategy… even he shuddered. So after their training he’d suggested an outing, asked Feyre what she’d always wanted to do in Velaris but hadn’t yet had chance. She’d mentioned the theatre, said it had been one of the first things Rhys had pointed out to her, and Cassian’s only question had been whether she wanted to walk or fly across town.

So they had just emerged from some old fae symphony and were headed towards the Palace of Thread and Jewels when Cassian found himself breathing it all in, savouring the wonder of Velaris before the threat of war could bring it all to a halt. The streets were busy, bustling, and music hung in the air from the buskers performing in the squares. A smooth, lyrical melody from a violin drifted towards him now, and beneath his feet the cobbles were smooth and polished. Above, the sky was a cloudless, unbroken blue.

They passed flower stalls and food carts as they wended their way towards the river, and the people smiled at him as they passed. They smiled at Feyre too, like they accepted her already, loved her already, and as Feyre smiled back, he could have sworn there was a soft, faint glow radiating from her as she walked those ancient streets. The breeze tousled her hair, the sun was reflected in her eyes, and when Cassian looked at her, he found it hard to believe that Velaris had ever existed without her.

When she noticed him looking, she nudged him with her shoulder.

“What?” she asked.

Cassian shook his head. “Nothing.”

“You were staring,” she countered with a raised eyebrow. 

He smiled softly. “Just wondering if you were supposed to be here all along, that’s all.”

Feyre shrugged, and gods— she looked so much like Nesta. That irreverent lift of her shoulders, the way her spine was straight and her shoulders held back. Velaris suited Feyre, but as the sun played on her hair, that perfect shade of golden-brown, all Cassian could think was… fuck, she reminds me of Nesta. It was a pang in his chest, a sharp and sudden pain, and Feyre’s face softened, as if she could tell where his thoughts had gone. 

Maybe she could.

Maybe he’d been too busy thinking about her sister to make sure his mental shields were up. If anything was certain, it was that he’d always be defenceless where Nesta Archeron was concerned.

Feyre cleared her throat now.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” she began, her steps slowing. “About the promise you made my sister.”

Cassian kept his eyes straight ahead as they climbed the steps to the bridge spanning the Sidra. Feyre drifted to the side and came to a halt, her forearms resting on the carved stone wall as she turned to face the water. Looking out towards the sea, her eyes turned pensive. 

“It meant a great deal to me,” she said gently. “And it will have meant a lot to her, too.”

In another world, another life, he might have said, oh, I know.

But in this world, in this life, where he wasn’t sure whether Rhys had told Feyre that he and Nesta were mates, Cassian only shrugged and didn’t say a word as he joined her at the bridge’s edge. He certainly didn’t say that it was a promise he’d made her sister before, one he’d followed with kisses and touches that were less than proper. No, instead he remained silent and cast his eyes out to where the river met the sea.

Oh, Cassian had known Feyre had been surprised by the declaration he’d made in that sitting room below the wall. She hadn’t stopped stealing glances at him since they’d returned to Velaris, like she had a hundred questions to ask and just didn’t know which one to start with.

“She cares more than she lets on,” Feyre continued, and Cassian couldn’t tell where this was going, what point Feyre was steering for. He might have asked, but instead he simply let out a breath and mirrored her, resting his forearms on the stone wall. 

“I know,” he said softly.

Feyre blinked. “It’s just not— I mean, it’s something she hides. It surprised me, at the meeting. She comes across as vicious, but I think its a shield.” Slowly, she turned her face to him, the afternoon sun glancing off her jaw as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “She’s not… like Mor.”

Cassian frowned. He didn’t want Nesta to be like Mor. He wanted Nesta to be Nesta— all sharp edges, teeth cut on grief and anger. Because after all, wasn’t Cassian the same? At his most fundamental level, hadn’t loss shaped him as much as it had shaped her? Deep down, beneath it all, weren’t they the same— two sides of one golden coin? It was why he didn’t wish her to be anyone else, to be dulled or dampened or muted. Her vicious tongue excited him just as much now as it always had, setting his blood racing just like it did at that very first dinner, that first night, where she’d blinked in the face of his anger.

She was his, and he didn’t want her any other way.

“She will never love freely and gift it to everyone who crosses her path,” Feyre continued, a note of caution in her voice that made her words slow, considered. “But those she does care for… Nesta would shred the world apart for them. Shred herself apart for them.”

And fucking hell, wasn’t that the truth?

Feyre didn’t know how right she was, how true her words were. Nesta had condemned herself to a life of poverty and a loveless marriage, bound herself to a man who could any moment turn violent like his father, and all because she thought it might ease the burden Feyre had shouldered. 

Tension crept into his jaw now, the way it did every time Cassian thought of Nesta’s husband. Usually he tried hard not to think of the bastard at all, because it was difficult to fight the sudden urge to break something whenever he was reminded that his mate was married to another. It made him want to spill a ludicrous amount of blood, but since Nesta insisted that he had never raised a hand to her, and since she still planned on remaining his wife until Elain’s wedding… well. Cassian had to deal with it. But he thought of the fucker now, thought of what Nesta had given up for no reward, what she had resigned herself to when that wedding band had been slipped over her knuckle, and he felt resentment curl his stomach.

She’d done it in silence.

And Feyre still had no idea. 

So perhaps that was why he said it, why suddenly felt the need to speak it out loud. He thought of how Azriel had been surprised that Nesta had calculated the number of ships they’d need, and how she’d taken Rhys by surprise too, and— gods, had anybody ever noticed, before that meeting? How much she cared? Right from the start he had, but… had anybody else ever really, truly realised?

“I know,” he said again, sighing gently as he turned his eyes on his new Lady. “I knew the day the Attor attacked you in the woods. Even then I could see it— how much she cares, how much she feels behind those high walls of hers.”

He raised an eyebrow that seemed to ask, did you? And when Feyre avoided his eyes, he thought her answer might just have been, no.

For a moment there was silence, and then Feyre bit her lip. “Rhys… told me some things.”

Cassian stilled. “Oh?”

She hummed, lifting a hand to her chest, right to where Cassian knew she felt a bond woven tight. He knew because he felt the same, felt something taking up space and twining around his ribs, anticipating the beat of another heart, and as Feyre looked down at the water below, for a second he searched her face. 

And then movement on the horizon snared his attention. A dark shape against the cloudless sky, moving fast, indeterminable and indistinguishable. 

“About your bond,” Feyre continued, even as his eyes remained fixed on the dark blur in the distance. Birds— probably just birds. “At the cabin. I wouldn’t say anything of course, not before you tell her, but… I’m happy for you Cassian. For both of you.”

Cassian turned his head, found her smiling gently up at him, and with one tattooed hand she tucked a piece of hair back behind one elegantly pointed ear. He didn’t know what to say— thank you, perhaps? Or I love her, maybe? Anything he could come up with would fall short, and when he opened his mouth Feyre shook her head, patting him once on the chest. 

“Nesta is…”

But Cassian didn’t let her finish.

Because those birds were still on the horizon. Closer now. And suddenly he was leaning forwards and gripping the stone wall of the bridge so tightly his knuckles barked in protest. With one raised hand he silenced the new Lady of the Night Court, because—

Those weren’t birds. 

Not birds at all.

“Those aren’t birds,” he said aloud, deadpan, voice like gravel.

The water beneath them rippled, the surface shattered by a distant, dull boom that echoed through the marble streets. The very air seemed to tremble, to shake, a rumbling stirring the earth as Feyre looked towards the sea with wide eyes. Something was wrong. Cassian could taste it, feel it in his marrow, racing through him as he tapped the siphon on his chest firmly to bring out his armour. He didn’t take his eyes off the horizon as the leather spread across his skin, as six more siphons materialised.

And as the figures he’d thought were birds split apart, Feyre gasped, the sound one of shock and horror. Because oh, they were so much bigger than birds. 

A legion was headed their way, hundreds of winged creatures each the size of a fully grown man spearing through the sky. On the ground the people of Velaris had begun to notice, voices raised and hands pointing upwards as the winged force grew nearer—

Horror sluiced through Cassian’s veins.

Shit, shit, shit.

By his side, Feyre was gripping the railing with whitened knuckles. “You have to sound an alarm—”

Wordless, Cassian only pulled first one blade free, then a second.

“Get back to the town house,” he said firmly, holding both out for her to take. 

She shook her head.

“I can help,” she began, but Cassian glanced sharply at the army in the sky and pressed one of those blades into her hand, curling her fingers about its hilt. He wasn’t about to let her go defenceless. 

“Go. Please.”

Because Rhys would fucking kill him.

Slaughter him and make it slow.

If Cassian dragged Feyre into battle… fuck, Rhys would be furious. Not because he didn’t think she could hold her own, but because the sheer terror at the thought of her being harmed would have him throwing all caution and good sense to the wind. After all, Cassian knew he would raze everything to the ground if he thought of Nesta being caught up in it, and more than anything that was why he searched Feyre’s face and said, once more,

“Please.”

Because, fuck— he needed Azriel. He needed Amren. He needed somebody to get a message to Rhys, and— shields. They needed shields. Cassian looked at the people on the banks of the river, the citizens of Velaris. The vulnerable. Feyre gripped his arm, but before he could urge her to leave again, to tell her to send for Rhys—

The attackers unleashed their first volley of arrows.

A brutal arc of them whistled through the air, ash tipped and lethal. Where they met their mark, screams sounded. 

It was all Cassian needed to cast out a shield, throwing it as far as it would go. In a heartbeat Velaris was covered by a translucent ruby haze, a solid wall of power he held in place around the city. The winged attackers hurtled against it, slamming into it, and fucking hell, the strain. His power was not made for this— not meant to be cast so wide, to cover something as large as a city. But there was no other choice, and Cassian felt the impact of every single one of those creatures as they barrelled into his shield. They were close enough now that he could see them properly at least, make out the details he hadn’t been able to see before. He caught sight of grey limbs, of sharp teeth, and—

“The Attor,” Feyre breathed, gripping tight the blade he had given her. “They’re all like the Attor.”

Cassian swore.

The last time he’d seen the Attor had been in a dungeon beneath the Hewn City, the darkness pressing in as Azriel drew blood from strategic veins. Rhys hadn’t wanted it dead, and so as the beasts howled below, the Night Court’s spymaster had spilled only enough of the creature’s silver blood to leave it clinging to life— but it had muttered Nesta’s name, and Cassian had almost killed the damn thing.

He should’ve slaughtered it whilst he’d had the chance.

Should’ve known, too, in that moment, that Nesta was more to him than Feyre’s sister.

“The stone,” Feyre said now, her voice straining in her throat. She pointed up, at the arms of the creatures that now battered against his shield like a relentless rain, a siege hammer at a wooden gate. Their wrists were encased in stone, dull grey-blue gauntlets that had the Cursebreaker’s face turning ashen. “They used it on Rhys, it repels magic. It can—“

Again, she didn’t get chance to finish.

The creatures wielding stone punched through his shield, and Cassian felt the reverberation in his bones, felt it shake the earth beneath his feet. 

He swore again, more forceful this time, and threw another wave of power into that shield, redoubling it, strengthening it, expending every fractured piece of power his siphons could channel. The holes in the shield knitted back together, but it was weaker than before, and so many of those beasts had already made it onto the streets…

He gritted his teeth. “Get Azriel and Amren—”

Screaming tore the air, ripped right through the city, and Feyre, blade in hand, turned towards the sounds of terror and despair and—

Hesitated.

Fuck.

He needed to keep that shield up, needed it intact. But his breathing turned laboured as the assault continued, the creatures above trying to tear fresh holes in the shield he was so desperately trying to maintain. Every single blow was one he felt deep, and it was chipping away at his strength, at the power he could summon. Feyre looked like she was moments away from launching herself into battle, to find the source of those screams and save them from Hybern’s beasts, but Cassian didn’t know how much longer he could protect this city on his own.

“Go,” he ordered, and maybe she could hear the strain that was burrowing its way into Cassian’s chest, because this time… this time Feyre nodded. If it were any other time, any other moment, Cassian might have marvelled at the fact that he’d finally gotten an Archeron to listen to a fucking word he’d said, but—

He needed to focus.

Feyre turned and made to run in the direction of the Rainbow—

But before she could take so much as a single step, three of those creatures slammed into his shield right above them, clawing at it, and with those fucking stone gauntlets around their wrists— they ripped right through it, peeled it back like it was nothing but a gossamer veil. 

In an instant, Cassian had Feyre on the floor, her back against the stone wall of the bridge. Standing above her, he spread his wings. If he couldn’t shield her with his magic, then he’d shield her with himself, and those gauntlets couldn’t do shit against him. 

And then—

Screams, more screams rent the air as the creatures above began to cackle, a sound so horrifying it had Cassian’s blood growing cold. And even though he’d noticed that one of those creatures had been carrying something in its arms, he hadn’t known what it was, couldn’t tell beyond it being a shapeless, lifeless mass. But when it fell with a sickening thud, a hollow crack—

“Shit,” Cassian breathed. “Shit.”

Blood spilled over marble, threaded over pale stone, and impaled on one of the elaborate iron lampposts that lined the bridge… 

The queen with the golden hair lay lifeless, gore spilling over iron filigree. Cassian swallowed. They’d taken her eyes - her eyes - and though he was no stranger to bloodshed, this was something else, something far more brutal. 

With a chill, he realised that perhaps they had underestimated Hybern.

Feyre pushed out from behind his wings, and Cassian didn’t stop her. He was too focused on the creature that now perched on that blood-soaked lamppost. He recognised it— recognised the scars that crawled up its spindly arms, the remnants of wounds he’d watched be inflicted. The Attor stood above them, hands curling around the wrought iron of the lamppost, teeth bared and fingers slipping in the queen’s spilled blood.

“Regards of the mortal queens,” it hissed.

And then it lurched skywards, heading right to the theatre district they’d just left. Cassian snarled, funnelling extra power into that shield, stitching it back together wherever it had broken. It took everything he had, leaving his insides feeling raw and hollow, but there wasn’t time to rest, to recoup. He made to follow the creature, sword already swinging as he pushed away from the bridge.

But, fuck—

Feyre.

He half turned his head, but she shook hers.

“Go,” she insisted.

Cassian nodded sharply. “Go. Home.”

He didn’t look back as the Attor shot upwards, and he didn’t wait to see if Feyre listened to him this time. He only followed, glancing briefly down at the streets below. Beneath the screams, blood stained the marble and pooled between cobble stones. Somewhere across the city, something was burning. Smoke drifted up towards the sky, thick black plumes that blotted out the sun and gods— how had it come to this?

The court of dreams, the city of starlight, was mired in blood and darkness. 

The wards had been shattered, obliterated, and fucking hell, they should have known the queens would sell them out. He thought of the golden-haired queen, lying bent on the bridge, and fucking hell—

He climbed higher, keeping the Attor in his sights. Above them his shield still held, but for how much longer? It trembled with every impact, and as the Attor fled, the others in the skies swarmed, its ilk converging. Soon enough Cassian was surrounded.

He cut down the creatures in his path, slicing through wing and flesh and bone, sending silver blood raining down on the city below. The guttural cries of those he slaughtered echoed in his ears as he ended life after pitiful life, and though, swift, he cut them down…

When he looked across the city, the Attor was nowhere to be found.

Fuck.

“Cass.” 

Suddenly, Azriel was there, thunder in his eyes and blood on his armour. His sword was already slicked with silver blood, and as the spymaster raced across the distance between them, Casssian’s blade cut the throat of another three of those creatures.

“The shield,” Cassian roared.

Az nodded.

A blue shield materialised, identical to Cassian’s red. It spread out across the skies, and where it met Cassian’s, suddenly the two were meeting and melding and merging. Where the Attor-like creatures got caught in the middle… the shields tore them apart, cut through them as easily as the stone gauntlets had cut through Cassian’s solitary shield.

Lifeless bodies fell to the streets below, stone gauntlets rendered useless on severed arms.

And for a moment Cassian took a breath. 

Just one.

Because though the creatures in the sky were held back by the two shields, too many had already made it to the ground, were already running through the streets.

A boom sounded on the other side of the river, and Cassian knew it was Amren. He didn’t know whether Feyre had found her or if the chaos that had erupted on the streets had alerted her, but he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. As long as Amren could hold the other side of the river, he and Azriel would hold this one.

With the shields in place and secure, Cassian turned his attention to the ground below. To the legion of creatures that were setting his city on fire. He landed back on the bridge, one knee colliding hard with solid stone. His blade was already out, waiting to spill the blood of the soldiers he found waiting on the bridge. There was too much red blood coating the marble, he thought grimly as he took in his surroundings. Too much, far too much, and it set fire to his own blood as he lifted his head, slow and purposeful and filled with the deadliest kind of anger. All at once the Hybernian soldiers on the bridge realised who was in their midst, and the fear that shuddered through them was palpable, rippling through them like the currents of the river below. With shrieking breaths and drawn out screams they turned to flee, to run for the other end of that bridge. 

But Azriel stood there now, his face cold.

And with the shields overhead preventing flight, and Cassian and Azriel blockading both ends of that bridge…

There was no escape.

He rose to his feet, silver blood pooling beneath his boots.

And, grimly, Cassian smiled.

The siphon at his chest, even drained as it was, still pulsed. That killing power in his veins still flowed, begged him to take life. He felt death standing beside him, waiting in his shadow, and as he drew his blade across the neck of the first of Hybern’s monsters, he felt a grim kind of vindication, a brutal and bloodthirsty satisfaction. 

At the other end of the bridge, Az was battling three at once with ease, and Cassian put down two, three, four—

The air was filled with smoke, with blood, with the distant screams of fae and the howling wails of enemy soldiers as they were killed.

Cassian spun on his heel, searching for his next mark. He was aware of Az and what he was doing, just as he was aware of each of the creatures in his vicinity. His senses were alight, alive, and the song of battle raced through his veins with every swing of his sword, every pulse of that ruby-red power that kept the shield above from breaking. 

And soon enough, the army on the bridge began to thin.

Hybern’s advantage had lain not in skill but in numbers, and those numbers were dwindling fast now. They were not bred for battle like Cassian and Azriel, not so used to the way it moved. No— they cut them down easily, swiftly, and with each resounding boom on the other side of the river, Cassian knew that Amren was doing the same. Hybern was losing this battle, and now Cassian wanted only to clear the bridge so he could get to the rest of the city— to the Rainbow, where even now he could hear the sound of screams and shattering glass.

Gods, he hoped Feyre had made it back to the town house. It was warded to hell and back, and there was nothing and nobody that could make it through the doors. He hoped, he prayed, that the Cursebreaker hadn’t found herself caught in the crossfire.

And then—

With an almighty crack and a slash of darkness wielded like a blade, Rhys arrived.

Frantic.

“Where is she?” he demanded, eyes wild. “Where is Feyre?”

Cassian spared a moment - just one - to thank the Mother that he didn’t know Rhys’ fear. He never thought he’d be grateful that Nesta hadn’t accepted the invitation to come to Velaris, but he saw Rhys’ anguish, the kind of paralysing, all-consuming terror that was almost painful to witness, and he almost fell to his knees in relief. 

Nesta was safe, below the wall, with four of his men watching over her.

For a moment Cassian was wordless, plunging a knife through the neck of one of those grey-skinned monsters as his sword cleaved apart the breastbone of another. He could feel Rhys’ fury. It was visceral, his terror so potent it was as thick as the blood that slicked Cassian’s hands. Violet eyes scanned their surroundings, searching only for Feyre.

“I sent her back to the townhouse,” Cassian managed at last.

But Rhys’ eyes were glazed, and Cassian knew he was desperately trying to reach his mate, speaking - or shouting - along the bond between them, searching for her mind through the tangled mess of chaos that Velaris had become.

And then Rhys was gone, hurtling along that bridge and down to the riverbank, his own sword swinging as he raced across the city to find the woman he loved.

The creatures were thinning, the mass of them beginning to slow. But gods, Cassian was tired. His shields were beginning to strain again, and it was too much trying to keep the entire city wrapped in his magic, even with Azriel taking half the weight. The blue light of his shield faltered too, and Cassian knew that at the other end of the bridge, Az was beginning to feel the bite of it just as much as he was. Yet Cassian continued to cut down their attackers, even as his muscles began to ache, as a headache started to throb behind his eyes.

And he kept that shield up.

Kept it going even as it flickered and trembled at the edges.

Until every creature that had tried to break it down was dead, until the streets ran with silver blood and corpses littered the marble pathways.

When all those around him were dead, when the bridge was clear and the streets around them were empty too, Cassian raced to Azriel. 

He had barely taken a breath into his aching lungs before—

“Holy fucking hell,” Azriel breathed.

His face was tilted to the sky, and when Cassian followed his gaze…

Feyre was up there, falling through the air with the Attor beneath her. With her bare hands she plunged arrows into its wings. Cassian almost winced. The creature’s wings seeped that silver blood, thick ribbons of it spilling out as the membrane tore and tore and tore, ripped apart as Feyre pierced its hide with those arrows. She was blood-splattered and hurtling towards the ground, and fuck— it was clear she hadn’t been back to the town house at all.

No, wherever she’d been, she’d been in the thick of the fighting, just like the rest of them. Some kind of wonder swelled in Cassian’s chest at that, a kind of pride. That was the woman his High Lord had mated, the new Lady of Night. 

And it was more than that, too.

She was Nesta’s sister.

He could see it in the way Feyre screamed in fury as she took the Attor to its death, her grim determination sealing the creature’s fate as they barrelled towards the ground. Cassian just hoped Feyre remembered to jump before she fell.

“Feyre.”

Rhys’ voice was a roar from the other side of the river. Cassian could see him now, running as fast as he could towards his mate, falling from the sky. Azriel was already airborne, ready to pluck Feyre from the air before she could come crashing down, but—

Right before the pavement claimed her, Feyre winnowed.

The Attor was smashed against the stone, but Feyre…

She materialised a handful of feet away, and seconds before a wave of Rhys’ darkness consumed the entire street, Cassian saw her sink to her knees, her back against the wall.

Like the Cursebreaker had no strength left.

Taglist: @hiimheresworld @highladyofillyria @wannawriteyouabook @infiremetotakeachonce @melphss @hereforthenessian @c-e-d-dreamer @lady-winter-sunrise @the-lost-changeling @valkyriesupremacy @that-little-red-head @sv0430

[thelampisaflashlight]

Feelings

[Friendships are complicated. Mountain has thoughts, and Dew shares his feelings through a wall. Hurt no comfort. Was listening to Brother by Kodaline and here we are now. Ficlet.] Below the cut.

Lately, Mountain has found that the cracks in the drywall dividing his room and Dew's are... too small to worry over, and simultaneously to big to patch.

He wonders how something like that can happen.

Tries to imagine the weight of the ceiling pressing down on it.

Imagines it crumbling, falling apart.

Kind of like their friendship in a way.

He's too... sad to feel bitter.

Too stuck in his own head over his own loneliness since Aether left the abbey.

Onto bigger and better things.

A home somewhere new.

If there's any merit to the saying that some people are like glue, that they help their friends stick together, then Aether's absence had well and truly rubbed that away.

Mountain feels like, anymore, he can't bring himself to reach out.

He gives Dew space because...

Because he thinks, maybe, maybe he'd lean too hard on him.

That maybe Dew would become too important, too... crucial to his sanity.

It's hard for him to say if his friendship with Dew ever really...

If it ever really was a friendship to begin with.

Sometimes it felt like hanging out with his best friend's best friend.

Like he was the emotional third wheel, and that when they were alone together it was just... just...

He breathes and takes a moment to watch a fleck of paint peel itself from the seam along the wall and ceiling, clicking his tongue as the off white speck drifts to the floor.

Comparatively, Aether was always closer with Dew than he was with Mountain.

At least if felt that way... a lot.

The two of them were always off doing something together, and that he was only ever invited along as an afterthought.

Which is also why it's hard for him to trust that Dew isn't trying to replace Aether with him whenever he asks him to come hang out with him.

He feels like a rebound.

So whenever Dew comes to him, he redirects.

Tells him he's busy, or suggest another person for him to hang out with.

But Dew is... persistent.

Not that Mountain can even really understand why he's being like this.

He's just...

He's always there.

Like he's waiting for him.

Maybe he is.

And isn't that a funny thought?

Dew waiting for him of all people.

Mountain closes his eyes when he feels his heart squeeze thinking about it. Forces the emotion down and swallows it so it can sit in his stomach like a lead weight and keep him grounded in reality.

And the reality of things is that Dew is just bored and lonely and doesn't actually have any interest in him whatsoever, and once he realizes Mountain isn't all that entertaining, he'll move on and latch himself onto someone more fun, like Cirrus or Swiss.

If he's lucky, maybe they'll let him tag along like Aether did.

And maybe then he'll convince himself that they're all friends again.

That it's all good and fine and that he's okay.

But it's hard to move forward when there's a wall in the way.

Emotionally and -he trails a crack in the wall from floor to ceiling- physically.

To contend with.

Dew will come to him only when he needs him.

Never when Mountain needs or wants him there.

That's just how it goes.

And if Mountain wants Dew there...

He sighs.

Then he has to actually say something.

Mountain furrows his brow, letting his feelings ferment behind his closed eyelids.

Wishing he was more confident, wishing he could just push through and-

"Hey, Mount..." A muffled whisper filters through one of the larger holes in the wall, "...I don't know why you keep avoiding me... I get that I'm not Aether, but, can you... can you please not leave me, too?"

-And wishing he could comfort his friend without feeling like this.

[swamp-chicken]

10 and 9 with ethubs? (What can i say, im biased) <3

-🍂

10. sharing a blanket with 9. secret ~ // 1,375 words

“You’re not getting out today, Etho!” Bdubs singsonged, grinning. He stood at the monolith entrance, holding the door open against the wind. Snow was neatly piled at the entrance, a clean line where it had blown against the door. It was at least three feet deep.

“I could get through that,” Etho contended, grumpily. He stood at Bdubs’ shoulder, ruffled and clutching his mug of coffee like it was a lifeline. He had just woken up.

“There’s no way,” Bdubs said. “We are having a snow day.”

Etho sighed, but didn’t argue. “This is why I live in jungles.”

Bdubs had initially been thrilled to have Etho as a roommate, to have him only a few flights of stairs away, but he ended up seeing him less often than not. Etho was usually out doing Etho things, and when he was home he was in the basement doing Etho things, crafting loudly and without remorse deep into the night. Bdubs occasionally caught a glimpse of him in passing, or in the kitchen throwing together a quick snack, before he disappeared back underground.

It was sad. Bdubs had wanted things to be like the old days, when they had lived together and worked together and laughed together late into the night… Instead, it was like they didn’t even live together at all.

But today—today, Etho couldn’t escape him. Bdubs practically ran up to the kitchen, wanting to get through his chores as quickly as possible, caught up in his imaginings.

They could sort through the shared storage on the first floor together, Bdubs pressing a few extra redstone blocks into Etho’s hands, and generously declaring “Oh, it’s nothing!” when Etho thanked him profusely.

They could cook together, working on a new recipe, Etho standing against his back and guiding Bdubs’ arm as he… stirred soup, or something. Bdubs honestly didn’t know that much about cooking.

Or they could huddle up in the living room, telling old stories, laughing, Etho’s smile getting fonder and fonder, Etho sliding closer and closer to Bdubs— until the moment was shattered by the crack of a log shifting in the fire, Etho pulling back with a blush painted across his pretty face.

Unfortunately, none of this could happen, because Etho hadn’t made an appearance yet. Bdubs put away the last of the dishes and slammed the cabinet door closed behind it. Where was he? Bdubs thought he would at least have come up to sniff around for breakfast.

Bdubs marched to the basement, lathered up. He stomped on the pressure plate like it owed him money.

Etho was curled up on the couch, wrapped in a deep red blanket. He was still sleep-scuffed, hair sticking up at all angles, face uncovered. The fireplace was lit and gently crackling, the scene lit like something out of a painting. Etho had been writing in his journal. His pen paused over the page as Bdubs stormed in.

“Did you need something?” Etho asked, after a moment of nothing but silence, Bdubs glaring at him, panting from the trip downstairs. “I didn’t accidentally leave the stove lit, did I?”

Etho’s nonchalance knocked the wind out of Bdubs’ sails. Abruptly, he felt like crying. “I thought,” Bdubs tried, “I thought maybe we could hang out today.”

“Oh,” Etho said. “Well, you can join me down here, if you want.”

Bdubs stiffly walked down the stairs and sat on the opposite end of the couch.

“Here,” Etho said, and draped half of the red blanket in Bdubs’ lap. “Good?”

Bdubs nodded, watching the flames jump in the fireplace. There was a brief silence, Bdubs holding his breath, before Etho’s pen began scratching against paper again.

Bdubs pulled the blanket over himself and stared into the fire, tried to ignore the lump growing in his throat. Stupid. He was being so stupid. But why wasn’t Etho speaking to him? Or at least teasing him?

The silence between them grew until Bdubs found it unbearable. “You’re acting weird!” Bdubs bawled.

The pen stopped its scratching. Bdubs turned towards Etho, glare accusatory.

“Am I?” Etho asked. Bdubs narrowed in on Etho’s hands, fidgeting with his pen. He was nervous.

“You are,” Bdubs declared, more confident now. “What’s going on? You better tell me.”

“Nothing’s going on,” Etho snorted, gaze skipping away from Bdubs.

“Ahah!” Bdubs shouted. “You can’t even look at me!”

“Bdubs,” Etho sighed.

“No, no, no, that won’t work on me, buddy boy. I know you too well.” Bdubs pressed his hand to his mouth, mind running a mile a minute. “You’ve been avoiding me… but why?”

Etho groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You… hate me. You’re mad at me!”

Etho lowered his hand, shooting Bdubs an incredulous glance.

“No, you’re right. That’s impossible,” Bdubs snorted. “You’re worried I’ll… discover something? A secret?”

“Bdubs, come on—“

“You’re keeping a secret!” Bdubs gasped. “What is it? Are you stealing from me? Was that huge mess in the kitchen actually you and not Ren, like you claimed? Did you take Mi Amore out for a joy ride without my permission?”

“No, it’s not—that was definitely Ren’s mess, by the way—it’s not any of that.”

Bdubs shrunk back. “It’s something worse than that? Etho, what did you do? Please don’t tell me you pissed off Doc. The monolith is too precious, it can’t be a victim to one of his revenge schemes…” He was babbling now, terrified.

Etho exhaled, visibly frustrated. “Will you just—“ He leaned forward and, abruptly, Bdubs’ spiel was cut off.

Bdubs froze, Etho was looking at him, eyes wide, face flushed. “What was that?” Bdubs asked.

“Uh,” Etho said.

Bdubs pressed his fingertips to his lips. His hands were shaking. “You—“ His voice cracked. “You kissed me.”

“Yup,” Etho whispered.

“Wait,” Bdubs said. His mind, wiped clean by the kiss, suddenly rebooted. “Was this the secret?”

Etho’s expression was morphing from one of shock to one of desperation.

Bdubs covered his mouth with both hands. Something was running through his veins that Bdubs could only describe as liquid glee. “No, no, don’t tell me. Have you been avoiding me because you like me?”

Etho’s face flushed the color of a very ripe tomato.

Bdubs was in a paroxysm of delight. “You like me! You want to kiss me,” he jeered. “Etho, that’s so embarrassing!”

Etho crossed his arms. “No it’s not. I don’t think it’s embarrassing.”

“Ah, sorry, sorry sorry,” Bdubs tried to reign in his smile, but it was difficult when every cell of his body was alight with happiness. “It’s not embarrassing… Wait, I’m not saying this right.” Bdubs leaned forward, tried to be earnest. “You know, I actually have a little secret of my own.”

“Uh-huh.” Etho was wary.

“Yeah…” Bdubs let out a nervous bray of laughter. “Okay, actually this is really embarrassing.”

Etho brow was smoothing, his eyes lighting with comprehension.

“Just…” Bdubs muttered.

They reached for each other at almost the same time, and Bdubs barely had time for another nervous giggle before Etho’s mouth was on his. Etho’s lips brushed against his slowly, deliberately, and Bdubs melted into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Etho and pulling him closer.

They kissed for a breathless minute, Bdubs’ heart skipping every other beat, and then they shifted apart, Etho warmly cupping Bdubs’ cheek.

Bdubs blinked at him, hardly believing his luck. He nudged forward, rubbed his nose against Etho’s, watched Etho’s cheeks heat up, watched a shy smile wind its way across his face.

Bdubs heaved a sigh and collapsed, tucking his head against Etho’s shoulder. “So annoying,” he complained.

Etho stroked his hair. “What?”

Bdubs harrumphed and buried himself deeper into Etho’s embrace. “Never keep secrets from me again, okay?”

“Okay,” Etho agreed easily. His fingers paused in Bdubs’ hair. “Then I should tell you… that mess in the kitchen really was me.”

Bdubs jerked back. “I knew it! Etho, that took me days to clean!”

Etho laughed, unconcerned. “Here, let me make it up to you.” He tugged Bdubs back towards him and Bdubs’ didn’t stand a chance, really. He pulled Bdubs into a kiss and they curled together, there in the glow of the fire, wrapped up in a deep red blanket.

[thisismysecondrodeo]

what if reader went to college w ted (before he met michelle) just someone he casually knew from class and had a crush but never did anything

and they run into each other all those years later in richmond and they talk about how they both liked each other but never said anything

AN: This is such a good idea, which is why it took me so long to get to because I wanted to do it justice. Side note: never seen gone with the wild, this is probably not a scene people would pick. I could have written like 10 times this and maybe I’ll still revisit it!

Rating: General (series becomes Explicit)

Tags: Michelle Lasso, Henry Lasso, Second Chance Romance, Alternate Universe - College/University, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Time Skips, Ted and Beard have the purest friendship, Ted Lasso Deserves Love, Getting Together

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Fic Masterlist

TW: Canon-typical mention of suicide

-

Of course you recognized Ted the moment you saw him. You’d know him anywhere, even when it had been over 20 years and you were on vacation in a foreign country for the first time ever. You were sitting on the patio of the Crown & Anchor, and had just put a bookmark into your latest science fiction novel to accept a fresh pint from Mae, as Ted Lasso, in all his glory, arrived on the cobblestone path in front of you. He didn’t see you at first which gave you a chance to look him over: the long athletic legs, his middle a little softer and his hair a little more styled, and the ever-present mustache that made you smile just as it had when you met him in college. 

He looked up from his stylish sneakers—the khakis were new, but the sneakers he had always been a fan of—and there was a twinkle in his eye when he noticed you. His head tilted, and you could see from his expression that he knew you as well as you knew him.

“Well, I do declare, I was surprised to see you turn out to be such a noble character,” you said playfully, quoting Gone With the Wild, a movie you both had a shared history with. You wouldn’t expect him to remember the next line, but Ted had always been able to surprise you. 

Ted stepped closer to your table, placing his hands lightly on the top and leaning in as he spoke, “I can't bear to take advantage of your little girl ideas, Y/N. I'm neither noble nor heroic.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you grinned but there was no room to be embarrassed when you were too busy contending with every unrequited feeling you had in college flooding your senses. 

22 YEARS AGO

Ted Lasso was a terrible actor. He knew it and so did the rest of the theater arts class but most of the class wasn’t very good either. At least half of them were there for the same reason you were: need of an art credit and no discernable art skills. You’d picked it because you liked words and even if you were occasionally debilitatingly shy, at least you might enjoy reading the plays. From what you could tell, Ted was part of the other half of the class, who picked the elective with pure-hearted enthusiasm. At least you hoped it was an elective, it certainly wouldn’t be a good major for him. Ted was the constant volunteer scene partner, for the instructor and for other students, and despite recognizing that he wasn’t very good, you couldn’t deny that you liked to watch him. He had broad shoulders, a little lanky but strong looking. His hair was unstyled and flopped over his forehead and ears when he was excited and then there was the mustache. You had heard other students poke fun at it in hushed breaths, but you thought it suited him just fine. 

For weeks, you doodled Ted Lasso’s name (and attempts at his likeness) in the margins of your notebook, feeling safe to do so because he always sat as close to the front as he could. You waited in your last-row seat until he left, just to make sure there was no way he’d possibly know. He always left with the same person, a spindly pale guy with a scruffy beard and sunken cheeks, who a few times you'd seen leaning in to say something to Ted and then giving you a pointed look that you pretended not to see. 

And then one day you were doodling so hard you missed the instructor requesting that everyone pick a partner for your final project. No one wanted to be Ted’s partner, which was a shame because he would certainly make any partner look amazing in comparison. He looked around the room, unphased at the lack of interest, and then he spotted you, in the back row, not paying a lick of attention. If you had been listening, you certainly would have volunteered to work with Ted, but since you were distracted the man in question found you. He cast his shadow over your notebook…which was covered in his own name like you were a middle school girl. 

“Y/N, right?” If Ted noticed what you were doodling, he politely ignored it. You slapped the notebook shut, not wanting to look up but also not wanting to be rude. “Do you already have a scene partner?”

“I, uh, no… to be honest with you, I wasn’t paying attention.” 

“Oh don’t you worry about that,” Ted slid into the seat next to you and recounted word-for-word everything you needed to know about the final project, and you thanked him profusely. “So what do you say?”

“What do I say…to what?”

“Being my scene partner,” Ted grinned, and now that you were this close you could clearly see his dimples and smell his cologne and it was all so distracting that you were sure you were coming off as an idiot. For Ted’s part, he looked a little nervous—his hands were folded tightly in his lap and one of his lean legs was bouncing. “I know I’m not very good, but—”

“Oh, I thought it was already decided,” you smiled, not wanting to hear him disparage himself. “Of course I’ll be your partner. What scene did you have in mind?”

In an instant, Ted was still. He wiped his hands on his flat front shorts, and smiled, looking up at you through his long lashes, “Ya ever seen Gone With the Wind?”

PRESENT

Ted was now sitting across from you with a pint of his own, and the two of you couldn’t stop looking at each. Short glances, long appraising gazes—anything to center yourselves in the present. 

You’d gotten braver since college, for better or worse, and you couldn’t wait any longer to break the silence. “So what are you doing in Richmond?”

“Oh, I, uh, live here. I coach the team. Football—er, soccer,” Ted stuttered through his answer. “Sorry, it’s just been a while since I talked to someone that didn’t know what I do…or that called it soccer. God, I sound like an asshole. It’s just, I’ve been in the papers quite a bit recently and it’s been a little stressful.” 

Ted’s hand was resting on the wooden picnic table and you did everything you could to restrain yourself from reaching out to hold it. He’s married, isn’t he, you wondered, but when you looked again you didn’t see a ring. 

“You don’t sound like an asshole at all. I’m sorry to hear it's been stressful, but God, coaching in England must be exciting! I, uh, avoid social media as best I can otherwise I’m sure I would have known...  Last I heard you were married and coaching the ol’ alma mater.” It certainly wasn’t subtle but hopefully it would get the job done.

“Ah,” he wiggled his ring finger in the air, “divorced. Recently. One son, Henry, who’s in Kansas still, but there’s, uh, room to breathe here if you know what I mean.” 

You looked around at the green behind you, the sun setting gently in the distance. “Yeah, I’m starting to pick up on that.” 

Ted tapped the table near your left hand and it seemed he wasn’t in the mood for subtlety either. “What about you? Last I heard you had moved clear across the country with a husband of your own.” 

“Divorced and quickly. Didn’t even last three years, to be honest with you. No kids. Mostly single ever since.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Ted said quickly, but he didn’t look very sorry at all, even a little optimistic, but then he frowned. “Was he nice to you?”

You took a deep breath, thinking deeply about how you wanted to answer that. It was a question you had never been asked before. “It was nothing dramatic, he just…wasn’t a very good scene partner.” 

Ted’s eyes locked on yours, and the conversation lulled but in a pleasant, amorous way. The two of you sipped your beers. 

“Can I ask you something,” you said softly, not shy but meaningfully. Ted nodded and his hair flopped in a way that immediately sent you back 20 years to the past. “Why did you take theater anyway? I’m sure you told me back then, but I always felt like there was some hidden reason.”

“What, because I wasn’t very good,” Ted asked with a laugh, but you could tell he was deflecting and only gestured for him to go on. “You never did let me talk bad about myself.”

Ted sighed, took a deep drag of beer, and then balled his hands into fists. “I wasn’t ready to talk about it then, and I still don’t talk about it much, but my dad died when I was 16 years old. Self-inflicted.” You didn’t know what your face was doing, but you tried to school it into something neutral. “He loved movies. Loved ‘em. He said if he could do it over again he woulda gone to LA and made a go of it. And so when I got the opportunity I thought I’d do it for him, do something he never got the chance. And it was the first in a long line of lessons about living for myself and not others because I was downright terrible at it.” 

This time you gave in. You let yourself reach across the table and slide your hand into his. He smiled, gently squeezing and you squeezed back. He had probably heard all the platitudes, it was 30 years ago, after all, so instead, you talked about class.  

“You know, I didn’t expect you to remember those lines. It’s been, what, 22 years? Clearly, you couldn’t have been that bad.” 

Ted smirked, “I don’t know that I could forget those lines, we worked on that for weeks… and maybe I just so happened to watch Gone With the Wind again a few weeks ago.” 

“God, I hate that movie,” you laughed, and Ted sputtered on his beer. 

“What?! Why didn’t you ever say anything? We could have done something else, anything else!” 

“Well, Ted,” you responded carefully, taking a sip of your beer, “when your crush asks you if you want to be Scarlett O’Hara to his Rhett Butler, you definitely don’t say no.” 

Ted’s cheeks pinked furiously and he looked down at his lap but he couldn’t hide his smile. “You know, Beard told me I should ask you out 1,000 times and I chickened out every single one. On the last day of class, I, you know, asked for your number and you gave it to me…and I wrote it down wrong. I asked around for a while and tried to run into you, but a few weeks later I met Michelle and, well I thought it was fate. Silly me, huh?”

“Not silly at all,” you responded seriously and before you could say anything else, Mae announced last call and you looked at him pointedly, hoping he’d invite you home. 

Ted’s hands were folded in front of him and one of his lean legs was bouncing, and it was easy to picture the flat front shorts and band T-shirt of his youth. “What would you say if I asked you to come over and watch Gone with the Wind?”

You dissolved into giggles and Ted joined you with a little apprehension, worried he was about to be rejected. “I’d say I’d love to come over but I’d like to watch literally anything else.” 

“You got it,” Ted laughed, for real this time, and pulled his coat on. He picked up yours and held it up for you to slide your arms into and it made you feel like you were being courted. And you nearly swooned when he picked up your book and tucked it under his own right arm, and then stuck his left arm out for you to hold. You considered, briefly that this is what you could have had 22 years ago, but somehow you knew that it wouldn’t have been better than right now. 

Part 2 ->

[marshmallowprotection]

It would be nice to lay down (maybe on Saeyoung's side of the bed) while wearing his jacket, then hug a pillow while thinking of good things and only good things right now

Saeyoung is guilty when it comes to poor sleeping habits. He spends a lot of time out of bed when he should be in it. That's a part of what you contend with daily as he learns how to cohabitate. He's not used to being around someone like this... his first taste was when you were in the apartment together, and then on the run... he didn't have time to adopt better ways to take care of himself.

He had your arm on his shoulders reminding him when to stop and breathe.

Of course, it's not your job to baby him like that. He knows how to take care of himself even though he's still a work in progress. That's what Vanderwood would say is the "nice way" of describing him as a person. Old habits die hard, and when he can't sleep, he likes to keep his hands as busy as humanly possible. That means going to his desk to tinker with whatever concept he wrote on paper at 3AM.

To his credit, he always amazes you. You just wish he would get some more sleep... or at least, lay in bed until his brain carries him away to somewhere more comfortable than his desk. But, as many gripes as you might have with that, being with Saeyoung is perfect. You love to be with him as much as you can, and he loves to be with you as much as he can manage when he's not piecing together his next job.

Life is better than it ever was.

That's what he told you when you bickered with him over the meal he made earlier that day. He loved being able to have a normal moment where he felt like an average man. You, scolding him because he had to eat more greens, and him, laughing because you always make the cutest face when you're annoyed. Those moments are what he could only dream of before he met you.

The fact that you could give him that...

Well, you certainly forgot about being annoyed with him when his cheesy grin stole your heart for the seventh time.

With a dreamy sigh, you rolled over in your shared bed, relishing in the faint smell of cinnamon and honey that never left his jacket. It was yours until the scent faded, of course. He might've been trying another scheme to add parts to Meowy in the other room, but you didn't miss him.

He was right there with you whether you saw him or not. That was the beauty of your love. Together or apart, your heart remained just as connected as the constellations in the sky.

Even if he was only one wall away, he knew you were awake. "...Hey, honey, do you think Meowy needs Moon Shoes?"

"The commercial said 'Kid-Powered Anti-Gravity Shoes', Saeyoung. Not 'Cat-Powered Anti-Gravity Boots'."

"You're right! I'm so dumb! There's a better option and it's been right in front of me this entire time! Meowy needs Rocket Launchers to speed around!"

"...Just don't wake up Saeran in the other room before you come to bed, okay?"