#so asking kindly for that seems like a good way to find more fics to read as well

[abbyshands]

Good nigth darling,you're okay?can we have more nerdy!abby pleaase i beg you 🙏🙏🙏(srry for my inglish)

teach me

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

a/n; hello, my love! i’m good, and i hope you are too! of course EEK i was going to write more for her anyway, i love a nerdy girl. also this is cut off asf I’M SORRY i’m tired, maybe i’ll do a part 2 if y’all ask <3

synopsis; you’ve never been good at science, let alone college biology. when your professor all but forced you to get a tutor, who should you end up with but your nerdy girlfriend, who has a very unique way of getting you to study?

pairing; dom!abby anderson x sub!fem!reader

warnings; abby uses baby/princess, use of a strap-on, cockwarming + edging (kinda), abby refers to the strap as her dick and it’s referred to as her dick/cock, choking, spanking, degradation (ish. abby’s tone is just mean), anddd i prob missed smt so lmk <3

wc; 2.2k

p.s.; ALSO this is was ib an ellie fic i saw bro idk where tf it is 😭 searching for it tho. i js remember it was nerdy ellie. it was so good BUT LIKE WHERE IS ITTT idk i’ll link it here if i find it

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

you’ve always sucked at science. biology, chemistry, whatever the hell it was, it had never been your cup of tea.

your professor had not so kindly recommended you get a tutor. otherwise, your grades would decline (more than they already were, that is). you didn't want a tutor, let alone for it to be someone you didn't know. you were already feeling awkward enough having to have someone tutor you at all—you couldn't imagine if it was by an unfamiliar.

that's where abby came in.

abby anderson was your girlfriend, and she was a nerd. like, cliche movie nerd. if you couldn't find her in her dorm, with you, or in class, she was at the library, doing homework until she couldn't anymore. she was a coffee addict with how late she was up each evening, study sessions, unnecessarily reviewing, and, again, homework.

let's just say, abby anderson would do crazy things for an a.

you didn't necessarily want to have abby as your tutor. for some reason, it was embarrassing to you. you had already felt that way when you told her you needed one at all. it would be 10x worse if she would be the one doing it.

not only that, the focus.

how the fuck were you going to focus when you have abby fucking anderson in front of you? when your mind races with memories of her fucking you from behind, or kissing down your neck, or making you the wettest you've ever been, just by being alive?

you weren't.

but abby was persistent. you had originally said no when she first asked to tutor you, but when the guy who was supposed to tutor you didn't even show for your first session, it was no longer a request.

it was a demand.

you were sitting beside abby in her dorm, working on an assignment for your biology class that was due the following day. you had taken up to ten breaks by now, and it had only been an hour and a half or so.

abby pushed her glasses up on her face as she looked over at you, eyebrow raised. you had been dozing off, elbow on the desk and chin on your palm as your eyes began to fall shut.

"hey," abby snapped her large hand in front of your face, making your eyes open again just as quickly as it had happened. "are you listening to me?"

no.

"yeah. yeah, sorry, i just, um—dna and rna. that's what we're learning now, right?" you ask confusedly, doing your best to make it seem like you know what you’re talking about.

but the look on abby's face tells you all you need to know.

"mhm, like, ten minutes ago," abby hums a bit annoyedly, and you can't help but let out a sigh. it's bad enough you have to be here at all, but letting abby down, or worse, pissing her off, was the last thing you wanted to do. “you're never going to learn if you don't put any effort in," she sighs.

“c’mon, abs,” you whined as you set your pencil aside, putting your head down on the desk, eyes on abby. the blonde set her own pen down with a small shake of the head, expression unreadable. “i can’t do this anymore,” you said dramatically. abby rolled her eyes.

“what’s wrong now?” abby asked, but it’s not like she really wanted to know the answer. you knew how seriously abby took her own schoolwork, which may be the reason she was annoyed that you didn’t. but you just weren’t like that.

“none of this makes sense. i can’t remember a thing we go over. god, i hate biology,” you complained once more, looking away from abby.

abby sighed as she put a hand on your shoulder. as much as she wanted to be annoyed, she loved you, and she knew full well that even if you were smart, biology was your worst class.

“what can i do to help, baby? flashcards, d’you want me to quiz you? what do you need?” abby asked as she moved her hand to your back, rubbing it. you shrugged.

“i dunno. i don’t think any of that stuff is going to help me, abby. my memory’s—not that good,” you lamely huffed, but it was true. your memory was best when it came down to the things you cared for. college biology was not one of them.

“hm,” abby hummed. it took a beat, a small pause. but then, abby’s perked eyebrows told you that she had just gotten an idea, and so did the way her plump lips curled into a grin.

“i think i know what’ll do the trick.”

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

that’s how you ended up on abby’s lap, her cock buried deep inside of you as she gripped you by the bottom. abby’s way of bettering your sour memory came in the form of one of the most agonizing experiences you had ever had.

“how does dna differ from rna?” abby asks you casually, as if she isn’t filling you to the brim. you feel your face getting hot, bottom lip bitten down on as you look at her nervously.

“u- uhm. d- dna has a d- double helix model, fuck,” you whine. you must be at least a little correct, because abby bucks her hips up into you, causing the silicone dildo to move inside of you. “rna’s single, a- and involved in a different process than dna.”

“attagirl,” abby praised. it’s then that she grabbed you by the ass, hard, and forced you to ride up to the top of her dick, just before she’s slamming you back down. for only a few seconds, you gain some pleasure by moving your body like that, or abby doing it for you, that is.

but then, she’s robbing it away from you, just like that.

“a- abby, please, c’mon,” you whimper. this had been going on for a third of an hour or so. abby would ask you a question from the deck of index cards she had made for you, and you would answer. simple, right?

wrong.

because here's the thing: she wouldn’t move unless you answered her, and it had to be correct. and if not?

smack.

abby's large hand comes down on your ass as if to shut you up. really, it doesn't. you let out a moan as she then grabs your ass again, not giving a care to how sore you may be.

because she's already slapped you way too many times to count.

“don't act like this isn't for your own good," she says firmly, reprimanding you. "you got that one wrong last time. and we’re not going to stop until you’ve got that whole fucking deck memorized, you got that?” she asks, signaling to the forgotten pile of index cards on the desk behind you. you whine, body too achy for abby to deny her.

“f- fine," you whine, because who the hell would you be to say no?

“good girl," abby praises as she rubs her hands over your bottom, caressing you in a loving manner, a wide difference to the way she was addressing you mere seconds before. "now, can you tell me what a neuron is?”

doing your best to not focus on the feeling inside you, you nod, and easily answer. “a- a neuron—" you huff. "is a specialized cell.”

abby moves her hands to your hips and pushed you up, so that you're around halfway down on her cock. you let out a small shudder, but it must mean you're correct. “and what’s it do?” abby then asks.

to some degree.

but you know this one. after all, it was one of the last cards you looked at in the deck. so, you respond, “transmit.”

abby moves you up more, and this time, she brings one of her hands up to cup your tit. she plays with your nipple if only for a second, causing you to let out a low moan. but just when you think she's going to keep going, of course, she doesn't.

“transmit what?” she asks firmly as her fingers caress your rib cage, and it's all you can do not to roll your eyes.

“nerve impulses," you say a bit too fast, eager to have her hands back on you. your neediness helped you on that one. "i- it’s the basic unit of the nervous system," you add, for good measure.

"that's right, princess," abby smirked, course she did. she had always had way too much fun when she was driving you crazy during sex. this was no different.

but you're pleased to find yourself rewarded, because abby allows you to ride her again. you move up and down a little quickly, scared that your girlfriend will rob you of the feeling before it's even begun. abby begins to rub your clit as she gazes at you fucking yourself on her dick, way too needy for her touch.

"eager girl," abby cooed, rubbing her index on your clit in quick circles. "so needy for my cock, aren't you?"

"yes," you huff out fast, eyes closing shut at the feeling under you.

"too bad."

abby shoves you all the way back down her dick, so that you're all the way back down at the base. it pleasures you for only a second, before the feeling vanishes, just like that.

"abby, f- fuck," you groan annoyedly, body begging for a release you know abby won't give you unless you do what she tells you to do.

and she doesn't like your words.

abby grabs you by the neck, forcing you to look at her as you roll your eyes in the brattiest manner she's ever seen from you. "look at me. look at me when i'm talking to you," and she uses that tone you know she only uses when she's not playing games, barking your full name out at the end like the word pains her tongue.

once she's got your eyes on her, she speaks once more. "if you really want this dick, and i know you do, you're gonna take what i give you like the good girl you are. that clear?"

you keep your eyes on her, scared of what will happen if you don't, face hot as you answer. "y- yes, ma'am."

"primary use of the kidneys?" abby asks, not even giving you praise for obeying her. but you're not at all surprised by that: if there was one thing about abby, she did not like your bratty side.

this time, unlike what abby's asked you before, you can't remember the answer to this. like, at all. you fumble with it for a second, digging through your head for what it could be. but you don't get a response.

"i- i don't know," you dumbly stutter, genuinely unsure of what to say. abby isn't having it, obviously, because one mlre spank is coming down onto your ass before you know it.

"f- fuck!" you whine brokenly, head rocking back, and bottom sore from each hit abby's given you. she doesn't seem to care.

"yes, you do," she all but growls at you, and you think of your real class all too quickly, like she's your professor. "we went over this. so fucking tell me," she says, and it only makes your abdomen churn more.

and fill with butterflies.

“s- something to do with b- blood pressure, right? c- controlling it? please say yes," you were begging more to yourself than to abby, not even sure where that answer came from.

“mhm, and what else?" she coos, doing what she's done a million times before: moving you halfway up her cock.

"i- i don't know, abs. can't remember," you mutter, and really, how could you by now?

it looks like abby is feeling a little generous this time, because she helps you along. "what’s it do to your body, princess? begins with an 'r',” she asked.

even when your brain begins to fog up with all of the questions in your head, and what's happening besides that, it seems to click for you when abby says the letter 'r.' “r- regulates it? th- the fluid balance?”

“mhm," abby says with a small nod of approval, even kissing your chest this time as a reward.

"there’s my smart girl.”

and it goes on like that forever, question, answer, question, answer. sometimes, you got abby's cock easily. most times, you weren't so lucky.

your eyes are drooping, body aching and face hot as you stutter out the answer to the final card in the deck. once you do, you let out a deep, long exhale, which makes abby chuckle.

"see, pretty girl? wasn't that bad, was it?" abby coos, putting her hand up to cup your cheek. obviously, you want to say no. but after all of this, it was too risky to be bratty to abby. so you shake your head.

and you hadn’t even finished yet.

"n- no, it was—fine," you lie, and abby knows you are. but she doesn't ask about it, knowing full well how much she's done to you already.

"look on the good side.”

“you'll remember better now, won't you?"

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

reblogs are very much welcomed <3

———

[itsmarsss]

Vulgar Display of Power [Miguel Diaz x fem!Reader] (Cobra Kai)

You can never fucking beat him in a fight and it's getting frustrating.

Request: omg more miguel please!!! smutty if u can xx already dating if you want? Fic title comes from my (second) favorite Pantera album. Word count: 4,350 Warnings: SMUT. established relationship, theres plot but it only serves to justify the sex lol, i use present tense in this, degrading, first time sub!miguel kind of, handjob, fingering, oral sex, penetration (p in v), semi-public sex (i guess? no one's around but the location isn't exactly private), a lot of use of pet names (baby, babe, love, mi amor), so much swearing. obviously no one is a minor here I don't mention much context but can be read as hs senior year or later, doesn't really matter. if you're a minor kindly keep away from my blog and this fic please

“Fuck!”  You yell out as Sensei Lawrence announces Miguel’s win. In turn of your frustration, Miguel sports a grin that playfully mocked you.

Now don’t get it twisted, you’re not a bad fighter. You’re not even a good one- you’re great. The best, except for…

“Diaz! Good one.” Sensei Lawrence praises.

“Nice, dude!” Hawk comes to fist bump him.

Tory comes to you. “Girl get it together! You’re better than that!”

“I’m fucking trying.”

Miguel hears the two of you talking and decides to insert himself into the conversation. “Come on, it’s not a big deal.”

“I say this with love but it is a big deal and I’m gonna find a way to beat you.”

“Okay. Whatever you say.”

[. . .]

“Hey,” you hear Miguel call from behind you, turning around for a split second to look at him before getting back to packing your stuff to leave the dojo. 

“Hey.”

“So, are we still on for tonight?”

“Yeah. I just wanna go home first and take a shower.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Hey are you okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“Something seems… weird.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, babe,” you tell him, bringing a hand to his face and lightly tapping his cheek.

“You sure?”

“Yes! I just said it is!” You realize you blew up at him for no reason, immediately feeling bad for it and apologizing, not managing to look at him. “Sorry.”

“See? That’s what I mean!”

“I really am sorry.”

“Okay, but something’s clearly wrong.”

You stay silent, and he walks up to you, cornering you so you’d face him.

“What’s going on?”

Honestly, you don’t want to tell him. Because it would sound stupid. Because it is stupid. You don’t even exactly know why it had gotten so under your skin this time. 

“It’s fine. I’m just a bit off today.”

“You don’t have to talk about it, but you don't have to lie either.”

“Fine. You wanna know what’s wrong? I’m frustrated because you keep beating me.”

“What?”

“Every single time we’re picked to fight I just can’t fucking beat you. And yes, I’m glad you don’t go easy on me, cause that would be like a million times worse, but I'm frustrated with myself. You’re the only one I've never fully beat in a match. The closest I’ve ever gotten to that was a tie.”

“Well most of the time it ends up in a tie.” 

“Yeah but none of the time did it end with me winning.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset about this.”

“Of course you don’t. I just feel like if I still can’t beat you then have I really been getting better?”

“What? That’s nonsense, babe. You know that, right? Of course you’ve been getting better. We all have.”

“See I told you it would be stupid. I don't even know why I'm feeling this way.”

“That’s okay. We can just sort that out.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll ask sensei for the keys.”

“What?”

“We’re gonna stay here and fight and we’re not gonna leave until you win.”

“That’s really not what I was trying to get from this-”

“What, are you scared?” He knew just how to tug on your strings. 

“Oh fuck no.”

“Then we’re doing this.”

“But what about the date?”

“We can go tomorrow. If you need my help today, I'll help you today.”

“Okay.”

[. . .]

“Alright, ready?”

You only nod your head yes, too focused to even speak.

“Okay. Round one.”

You get a couple punches in, but he’s faster than most of your hits. He wins..

You huff, annoyed. “Again.”

“Again.”

“Again.”

“Again.”

“Again.”

“Okay that’s it. Again.”

This time, determination runs through your veins, as tired as you were. Every single moment of feeling weak or inferior or as though you were seen by others as basically the female equivalent of Miguel, and not yourself, not someone capable of being better than him in any way, channeled into this round. 

And you won. This time, you fucking won. 

“Wait that’s three,” you realize.

“Yeah! You won!” Miguel celebrates.

“What?”

“You won, babe!”

“Oh my God. Holy fucking shit. I won?!”

He laughs, coming up to you. “You did.” He places a quick kiss on your lips, but you’re taken over by the adrenaline, pulling him back to you by the collar of his shirt when he went to pull away, tangling him into another kiss, deeper and more passionate this time around. “That was hot,” he comments, as you finally did let him part ways with you to breathe, your bodies still flushed together. 

You feel your cheeks burn at his comment. “I just kicked your ass,” you joke.

He doesn’t even seem fazed by the comment. “Yeah you did,” he grins.

“I did not expect that to unlock some sort of loser kink in you.”

“Hey! That’s not what this is!”

You lift an eyebrow, amused. 

“What, you’re telling me it’s a crime if my insanely hot girlfriend looks insanely hot while kicking my ass?”

“Should I kick your ass more often then?”

“You’re welcome to.”

“You’re so weird.”

“Shut up,” he retorts, finally having enough of the playful bantering, unable to wait a second longer to have your lips on his again. 

Miguel pulls you even closer to him- if that were even possible- by pulling on your waist, not wasting a second more before diving in again, pulling you into a kiss that is much more feral this time around. His actions scream that he wants you, and the high from having reached your goal and beat him in the last round mixed with the lust forming in you from seeing him so affected, so attracted to this, it feels good.

You suppose some people would maybe come into an issue if they found themselves in your place. Men aren’t exactly known for being great at dealing with women being better than them in… well, anything. But Miguel acted genuinely proud of you. Hell, he’d canceled your date night to help you with this because he realized it was important to you. And more than being supportive, he was turned on by your display of power. 

His kisses start trailing out of your lips, to your jaw, to the space below your ear. “You did so well, love. You should get something in turn, huh?”

Your mind was getting a bit foggy. Still, you join in playing his game. “I suppose I should. What are you gonna do?”

“Whatever you want me to,” he breathes out. Oh. That was definitely new. 

“Whatever I want?” He only nods, looking up at you, waiting to be told what to do. Holy shit, that was hot. “That sounds good.”

“Just tell me, please, I’ll make you feel so good, I promise,” he pleads. It was almost pathetic. You decide you’d never get enough of hearing him plead like that. You loved the times in which he was more dominant, but you could definitely get behind this too, no issues whatsoever.

You pretend to think. “I don’t think I will.”

“What? Why not?”

“I want you to guess.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I- Uh- Ih-” he takes a deep breath. He liked that. You smiled. “I can do that.”

“Good boy,” you try, hoping he didn’t find it weird. 

Apparently, he didn’t. “Fuck. Fuck,” he lets out in almost strangled sounds, wordlessly dropping himself to the floor. He looks up at you with doe eyes, as if pleading for permission. You smile at him, signaling everything was okay. You cage his jaw with both your hands, and he closes his eyes for a moment, letting you play with his hair.

“You look so pretty like this,” you coo, and he feels it down his spine, his eyes fluttering open. 

“Sit.”

“What?”

“Sit,” he repeats himself, but it isn’t demanding. Not this time. 

“I heard you.”

“Sit, please, baby.”

You grin. You didn’t know you’d like this this much. “Of course, baby.” You sit down on the bench, legs closed. He parts them confidently, eyes not leaving yours as he does so slowly, positioning his body between them. With his face mere inches from yours, he looks up at you again. 

“Do you want me to kiss you?” He guesses. His cheeks red, he clearly looks embarrassed. It turned him on and it turned you on too. 

You nod eagerly, signaling he’d guessed right. He smiles and closes the distance between you, pulling you down and attaching his lips to yours. It starts out slow, tender, experimental- testing the waters. He grows eager pretty fast, though, kissing you harder, his hands traveling to either of your thighs and planting themselves there firmly, squeezing in a way that makes you gasp slightly in surprise. 

He pulls away just to tease you about it. That’s the kind of little shit he is.

“What was that for?”

“Nothing.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” 

“Not this then?”

He squeezes your thigh again and you try to act unbothered.” He notices though, pleased with himself.

“Oh shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He pulls you into a kiss again with no warning, more feral than before, his hand traveling upwards, inside the legs of the shorts you were wearing. 

“Take it off,” you pant out, a stern tone overtaking your words, and he complies without questioning. You smile, pleased with that. You lift your hips slightly for him and he throws the shorts somewhere on the floor behind you. 

He stares at your underwear for a few moments, as if lost in a trance. You laugh. “Hello? You here?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this.”

“Used to what?” You move a hand to caress his face. 

“The fact that I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.”

“Aw, do you like that, baby? Does it turn you on?” You ask, your tone almost mocking him.

He only nods his head yes, looking embarrassed.

“That’s good.” You make a show to slowly take off your shirt, a sudden surge of confidence running through your veins at his words, discarding it along with the shorts behind you.  His eyes widen and he mumbles a few words, the volume of his words so low you couldn’t make it out for the life of you, before he just surges forward again, not aiming for your lips this time, but for your jaw. 

“What was that?” You manage to breathe out as he continues his trail of kisses along your jaw.

“What?”

“If you’re gonna talk you’re gonna let me hear it. Got it?”

“Oh-okay.” He continues to place quick, slight pecks along your jawline, but you know exactly what he’s doing.

“You’re not distracting me from that. I wanna know what you said, baby. Wanna hear you.”

“I said- I said uh-“ he gulps. “It’s dumb.”

“That’s okay.”

“I just said ‘fuck me’.”

You let out a small laugh. “Oh. It was dumb,” you mock him again, and you can see he didn’t expect that.

“What?”

“I though you wanted to fuck me,” you joke.

 He doesn’t take it as a joke. “I do. I do I just meant- it was just-“ oh. This was for real. 

“I know, love. I was just teasing you. Okay? You’re being so good to me.”

His eyes almost sparkle at the praise. 

“You know I think I changed my mind.”

“What?” 

“Maybe I should fuck you.”

“What do you mean?”

You look down on him and smile, a genuine sweet smile. “Get up.”

“But-“

“I thought you said you’d do whatever i wanted you to,” you fake-pout. 

He doesn’t say a word before standing back up. You do the same, keeping your body flushed to his. You slowly turn the two of you around, cornering him until the back of his knees hit the bench and pushing him to sit down on it. 

Standing in front of him, you tilt your head to the side as you take in the view. He looked disheveled as ever. You loved it. “I think you’re wearing too many clothes.

“I- I can take it off.”

“Yeah I think you should.”

“What… what do you want me to take off?”

“Let’s go with the shirt first, baby. How about that?”

He nods furiously. “Yeah I can do that,” he takes his shirt off in a millisecond, throwing it with your clothes on the floor. 

“Oh, you look so pretty,” you coo, stepping closer to him and lifting his chin up to look at you. You make your way around the bench to be behind him, and you can see him gulp in anticipation. Fuck, you were loving this a little too much. You trace his biceps with your finger. “Your arms, I love your arms, you know that? So big and strong,” you exaggerate, and he quirks an eyebrow at the suspicious comment. This doesn’t sound like it was getting to a nice praising place. “And your body, I mean your abs. Your thighs, your thighs are so pretty, baby,” you crouch a bit, still behind him, wrapping yourself around his back so you could snake your arms to his thighs, still only tracing them with a single finger. “So how come you lost to me like a bitch?”

That seems to remind him very well of what was happening.

“It- it was one time.”

“One time you lost to me. But you’ve barely ever won, have you?”

He stays quiet. 

“Come on, baby, talk to me…” you pout, snaking your arms around his torso and kissing his neck.

“N-no.”

“Did you like that you lost to me baby?”

Quiet again.

“Did it turn you on?” You whisper in his ear and you can feel him take in big a breath. .

He couldn’t even look at you .

“Oh, pretty boy, I wanna hear your voice!”

He gulps again. “It- it turned me on,” he confesses. 

“I never knew you were into this sort of thing.”

“Me- me neither.”

“Do you like it when I’m stronger than you? When I tell you what to do?”

You remove yourself from his body entirely, and he whips his head at record speed to look at you, desperate for your touch again. You circle the bench once again, standing in front of him. You grab his jaw and lifts his head up to look at you, your other hand messing with his hair. “So pathetic. I’ve barely done anything to you and you’re this hard.”

You finally sit yourself down on his thighs, legs on either side of his torso, and he immediately and instinctively grabs your ass ‘for support’ as he’s always insisted with a grin. 

“You’re so fucking pathetic you’ll do anything I tell you to. Won’t you?” You pout, tilting your head.

“I’ll- I’ll do anything you want.” 

“That’s a good boy,” you mess with and pet his hair again. You loved it when it was just long enough for his curls to appear. 

He shivers. “Can you say it again?”

“Oh, no can do, baby. You’ll have to keep being a good boy to earn it.”

“I’ll- I’ll be a good boy, okay?”

You nod silently, your arms draped around his neck, and you pull yourself closer to get access to his face. You kiss along his jawline slowly, paying extra attention to the spots just under his ears, which made him shiver like crazy. When you find it sufficient, you move down to his neck, and he lets you, tilting his head to the side. You kiss down his neck, trying your best to not leave any marks. He’s still shivering now, and you know him well enough to know he’s okay, but can’t resist teasing him a bit more. 

“Oh no, baby, you’re trembling! Is everything okay?” You feign ignorance.  He doesn’t reply. “Aw are you too horny to speak to me? Is that the issue?” You mock.

He lifts his hips for some friction, an involuntary tell that he was enjoying this too. “Aw, do you like it when I’m mean to you? Huh?” You lift his chin again. He begrudgingly nods his head yes. You smile and move your hand from his chin to his cheeks, squeezing both off them. “Does my baby like it when I’m in control? When I handle you like this? When I call you names?” 

He tries to reply, but can’t really with you squeezing his face like that. 

“Oh I can’t hear you baby!” You let go of his face. “You’re gonna have to say it again.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I- I like it when you’re mean to me.” 

“I know, baby boy. I can feel it.” With no other warning, you palm him through his shorts. He was impossibly hard. Knowing he was liking this was for sure improving your confidence. The moment your hand meets his crotch his breathing becomes unsteady and he thrusts his hips up again, wanting more. You start kissing along his neck as you keep feeling him up through the shorts, and then he is gone. He lets himself let out delicious moans you would play on repeat if you could, tilting his head back to grant you better access to his neck. He wants more, and you know he does. But you want to hear him say it. 

After a few minutes, he does. 

“Please take it off.”

You press a gentle kiss to his neck, containing a grin. “What are you talking about, babe?”

“My shorts, take them off, please. Please, take them off.”

You press a quick peck on his lips this time. “You beg so pretty, baby. I think I’ll need more of that.”

He looks confused.

“Anything I tell you, right?” 

He nods. 

“Good. Eat me out.”

His eyes widen at the bluntness of it all. And then he realizes what you meant by needing more of his begging: you weren’t going to solve his little problem all that soon. 

“I- yes. Yeah.” 

You pull yourself off of him and he stands up as quickly as humanly possible, grabbing your hand and yanking you to Sensei’s office, rushing to move everything that was on his desk. You catch his drift and pull yourself up to sit on it. You’re so enthralled you don’t even really have the time to rethink what you’re doing and where you are. Miguel gets himself on his knees, and the sight of it from above is breathtaking. 

“Are you sure you wanna be on your knees? They’re gonna hurt.” You ask him, seriously this time.

“I don’t care,” is all he says, dismissing the thought. He pulls you closer to the edge of the desk, and you let yourself lean back on your elbows. He brings a hand up your thigh and takes off your underwear, you lift your hips up to help. 

He brings both his hands to your thighs, slowly pulling them apart, opening your legs. 

He wastes no time before diving in, startling you when, in a second, his head is between your thighs while his hands squeeze them hard and his mouth is suddenly on you. 

He moves his tongue up and down your clit, occasionally circling around it. Now and then he takes a long lick, from your hole to your clit, letting out a moan from time to time as he tastes you, and he picks up on the shaky breaths and loud moans you let out at that (and the way your hands fly to his hair, slightly pulling it.) 

He moves his tongue to your hole, licking and kissing around it before getting it inside.

It makes you almost want to scream out his name. 

“Oh my god. You’re being so good to me, baby. Please don’t stop-” 

You can feel his smile. 

He takes one of his hands off of your thigh and moves it to thumb at your clit as he keeps fucking you with his tongue. The feeling is heavenly, but you can’t help but want more. 

“Your fingers.” Is all you say, and he gets it.

Normally in a situation like this he’d be teasing you in some way, but right now just the thought of upsetting you with that and having you leaving him to finish himself off, or something down that lane, got him quiet. 

He changes what he’s doing, going back to flicking your clit with his tongue, and slowly inserting one of his fingers. You decide you want to tease a bit more. “That all you got?” You challenge him, knowing exactly what you’re doing. He inserts another finger, not taking the care to do it slowly this time, and he pushes them deep inside you, curling them upwards to make sure you felt it.

You let out a moan that’s so pornographic you’re almost embarrassed at it, but you can feel him grin at it, pleased with the reaction. He keeps on, but at a slow pace. In other instances, you didn’t mind some slow, passionate sex. You loved it, even. But right now you wanted to be fucked.

“Harder.”

He pulls his head up to kiss you. You let him. As you make out, your taste still on his tongue, his fingers thrust harder, deeper inside you, making you moan into his mouth, which Miguel seemed to enjoy a little too much.

You can feel yourself brimming an orgasm, and your words become nonsense as he keeps on, your noises becoming so higher-pitched you can barely register you’re the one making them. 

“Fuck I’m gonna cum. Baby, I’m gonna cum. Holy fucking-“

It hits you suddenly, killing your train of thought. Your body trembles as he keeps thrusting his fingers into you, letting you ride out your high. He laps it all up gladly, but you pull him away, your clit oversensitive. 

That doesn’t mean you didn’t want more.

“Everything okay?” 

“Yes, baby. You were such a good boy. But I want you to fuck me now.” 

Miguel was still not used to you being this blunt. And honestly neither were you, for the matter. The words just kept coming out. 

“What- what do you want me to do?” 

You get close to his ear and whisper. “Whatever you want, baby.”

His eyes widen. Whatever he wants. 

 He pulls you off the desk and wordlessly takes you back to the locker room. He leaves you for a second to retrieve a condom from his bag. A prepared man, you’d say.

You manage to take a better look at him and laugh. He furrows his eyebrows together. “What?”

“You look so fucked out right now.”

He rolls his eyes at you and takes off his shorts, kicking them away. He goes to pull his boxers down but you stop him, stroking him in an agonizingly slow pace. He lets out a groan. “Please stop, I’m not gonna last.”

“Oh poor you.” You yank his boxers down. His dick is so hard it must be painful. And all from losing a fight and being called mean names. He walks the two of you backwards until your back is against a wall. He puts the condom on and looks at you for a green light. 

“Go on, baby.” 

He nods, pressing his cock into your hole slowly, letting you adjust to the intrusion.

“Fuck.” You breathe out.

“Was that a good fuck or a bad fuck? Does it hurt?”

“I’m alright. It was a good fuck.”

“Okay.” He hikes up one of your legs to his waist, and you think he’ll be content with that position, but he hikes up your other leg too, pressing your back even more firmly to the wall and supporting your weight by holding firmly onto the back of your thighs. 

“Woah what are you doing?”

He doesn’t bother responding, thrusting into you experimentally. 

“Holy shit.”

That is enough for him. His thrusts become harder, deeper, faster. He hadn’t realized just how desperate he was until now. 

Hitting the spot inside you that made you see stars with every thrust, it doesn’t take long for his breath to quicken and his thrusts to become sloppier. “I’m gonna- can I-“

Was he trying to ask for permission to cum? Holy fucking shit, that was hot.

“Shh, it’s okay baby. You’ve been so good. You can cum.”

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou,” he chanted.

 You laugh as his desperation, but it quickly turns into a moan, with Miguel eager to cum and fucking you so hard now you can’t even understand how he could still hold up your weight while doing that. Bless you universe for giving you a strong, strong boyfriend. But all of that didn’t matter now, because he was fucking you so good you could feel the familiar sensation of an orgasm building again.

“Please don’t stop.” That was the first time you begged him for something the whole time.

“I won’t, mi amor.” Oh, that broke you. That one pet name didn’t come out all that frequently, so when it did, you felt giddy on the inside. 

With a few more thrusts, both of you reach your high, and at that point Miguel did have to pull you down, although your legs currently trembled so hard it was a little difficult to stand, but he helps you out after tying the condom up and throwing it away.

“Holy shit,” you finally let out. 

“Holy shit,” he agrees. 

“What were you saying about your loser kink again?”

“Will you shut up about that?” He smiles.

“Was I too mean to you? I might’ve gotten a little carried away."

He looks down to the floor in embarrassment as if he hadn’t just fucked you into oblivion. “I liked it.”

“That’s good baby. So, shower?”

“Yeah you stink,” he makes a disgusted face, plugging his nose and everything just to irritate you. 

You roll your eyes at him. 

A/N: pls be kind to me and cut me some slack i've never posted smut before 😭 i promise ive had sex before 😭 fighting for my life lmao

[builtbybrokenbells]

Heartbreak Hot Seat | JTK

After seeking refuge at her best friends house, Y/N can’t seem to open up enough to let Josh help her with her troubles. In a twisted turn of events, it appears that his twin brother Jake has the perfect remedy for a broken heart.

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 20k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving), oral (m!receiving), body worshipping, sir kink, impact play, praise, degradation, biting, nipple play, lots (and I mean lots) of dirty talk, lots (can’t stress that enough) of foreplay, body shots, softer sex (compared to what I usually write), overstimulation, multiple orgasm, (sort of) forced orgasm, simultaneous orgasm, begging, very brief and inadvertent mentions of free use kink, slight dom/sub, name calling, touch of angst, mentions of cheating/bad past relationships, breakups, sadness/depression (due to breakups), crying, long emotional talks, drinking, parting, Jake being too sweet for his own good, soft Jake, fluff, swearing, sorry if i miss any!!

hi guys ☺️ i miss writing Jake so much I had to hit you with back to back fics. this is literally porn w plot (over 2/3 of this is just smut I think), so I hope you enjoy this as much as I liked writing it! As always, enjoy, be kind, don’t mind any grammar mistakes 🤍 (I’m so, so happy to be back) (lightly edited 🥰)

“Here, you want to try this?” Josh asked, nudging your arm in hopes of breaking you from your solemn state. You blinked a few times, feeling his elbow on your skin, but his words were far away. They seemed like an echo in an empty room, like you had walked into the place only after he stopped speaking. Breathing seemed like a treacherous task, your bones aching every time your lungs inflated. You stared blankly at his hand, holding a fork in his grasp as he kindly offered you a taste of whatever he was eating. “Jake made it, it’s good.”

Jake made it.

You were sure whatever he made would be good, but the thought of food was worse than sickening to you. You wanted to be kind, to try the meal your friend (even if by extension) had made, especially after he offered you the hospitality for an afternoon hangout his home, but you couldn’t seem to accept the gracious offer. The crowd in the living room was overwhelming, despite only a few bodies being present. The chatter was loud and pulsing against your already busy brain, and Josh’s leg resting against yours was nice, but much more than you could handle in the moment.

Josh knew there was something wrong, but unlike usual, he could not seem to pry it from you. Over the last three nights you had spent crashing in his spare room, he used every ounce of energy to comfort you despite being unaware of what exactly your troubles were. You knew you could reach out to him anytime, talk to him about anything, but right now, it seemed impossible to speak the words aloud.

You had been friends with the boy for what seemed like a lifetime, surviving off his constant company and thriving off his eccentric personality. He stuck by your side through college graduations, career changes, and every challenge life seemed to throw your way. You were a busy woman, and he a busy man, and neither of you had much time for social lives outside of your demanding work schedules. Even so, that fact made your friendship all the stronger, because despite your lack of free time, you always made time for each other.

So when you showed up at his doorstep, 3am and crying while spewing absolute nonsense, he guided you to his spare bedroom and told you that it was yours for as long as you needed. The next morning, he came to check on you only to find you hadn’t slept at all. Hours spent sitting beside you attempting to cheer you up only resulted in further confusion and frustration. Despite his busy life, he cleared his schedule and made it a priority to be with you until you felt better. That afternoon, you managed some small talk, but avoided the elephant in the room. The next day, things felt a little more normal between the two of you. A few jokes were shared, and you even had a movie night in the living room with him and his partner. By then, Josh had vowed to let you speak on your own terms, but was doing everything he could to brighten your mood.

Today, when you woke from a broken and nightmare filled sleep, Josh knocked at your door to ask if you would like to get out of the house. After some internal debate, you decided it might be good for you, it might help you forget the only thing you could seem to think about, even if it was temporary. You showered (with Josh talking through the door and stressing the importance of self-care, of course), changed into some clothes you stuffed into a duffel bag during your quick escape, and the three of you hit the road.

After a short drive, you landed at the door of his twin brother’s house, where you would spend your afternoon. Jake, who you had heard loads of things about, was still a mystery to you. Between conflicting schedules and trying (and failing, sometimes) to find time to hang out with Josh, you never got much of an opportunity to get to know Jake, or even Sam for that matter. You knew he was quieter, a little more reserved than Josh, but was funny and had a heart of gold. You chalked up his praise to being his brother, but you never knew Josh to be a liar about anything. You trusted all he had to say about his brothers, and despite your sadness, you were excited to finally meet them properly, rather than just in passing.

You said a brief hello to Jake at times, mostly when you were leaving Josh’s house and he was heading in. You remembered him to be on the shorter side, but with a breathtaking smile and long, brown hair. When you stepped foot into the house and finally had time to appreciate the man standing in front of you, you understood Jake was a lot more than a pretty smile and long hair. He was stunning, and despite your broken heart, you couldn’t help but stare.

Not long after your brief introduction, the rest of the crowd begin to filter in. Sam and his girlfriend both seemed lovely, and Daniel and the friend he brought with him were just as nice. Jake had made lunch, and whatever it was smelled heavenly even if the thought of food sickened you. After a few hours of laughing and talking, the boys went back for seconds, clearing out the last of the food in the kitchen. The day was dwindling into evening, and you still hadn’t managed to break from your solemn state. You sat, listening to all of the conversations and laughing along to jokes, but didn’t find yourself with enough energy to contribute much.

Josh, clearly picking up on your lack of involvement, was doing all he could to help. Offering food was just another failed attempt of many.

“I’m okay, Josh. Thank you though.” You forced a smile, feeling guilty for your constant rejection. You wanted to tell him so badly, but every time you worked up enough courage to explain it, your words failed you and you thought you might be sick. His sad eyes seemed to be staring into your soul, and it was becoming too much to bear. “I’m, uh, is it okay if I grab something to drink?” You cleared your throat, asking for permission in hopes of changing the subject.

“F’course it is, mama.” He assured you. “You want me to come with you?”

“No, it’s okay.” You assured him, sliding forward and rising to your feet.

“Grab anything in the fridge. I know Jake won’t care.” He said, making sure you didn’t feel bad about taking anything.

“Okay.” You smiled, small but genuine. You didn’t feel deserving of Josh’s kindness, but you were still grateful he cared for you so much. If not for him, you would have nobody to lean on.

Quietly, you walked out of the living room and in the direction of the kitchen Jake had lead you to earlier in the day. When you were alone, you let out a long sigh. The kitchen was decorated nicely, simple but tasteful, and the sweet smell of whatever Jake had cooked was still lingering in the air. Instead of walking to the refrigerator, you took a seat at one of the kitchen chairs pulled out from the table, deciding a minute alone was more important than a glass of water.

You closed your eyes, letting your head fall back on your shoulders. The chatter floating in from the next room was much less overwhelming, and you finally felt like you could breathe without the constant ache in your chest. Just when you felt like you were getting your bearings back, you heard soft footsteps puttering through the hallway. You swallowed the lump in your throat, the same one that was constantly bothering you since you showed up at Josh’s house, and prepared for another round of questions from your best friend. You didn’t turn to face him, figuring he would make himself known in due time.

“Hey, Y/N, right?” The voice was not as familiar to you, and definitely not the voice you thought it would be. You looked over your shoulder, curious as to who was talking. Your eyes landed on Jake, a sheepish smile on his face as he stood by the door.

“Hey, yeah.” You nodded, trying to make yourself friendlier than you felt. It was not Jake making you miserable, or anyone for that matter. You wanted to be having fun, to be getting to know the people most important to your best friend, but the weight on your shoulders made it so hard to enjoy the moment.

“I saw you sneak out, thought I’d come and check in on you.” He explained, careful with his words. “Mind if I sit?” You gave a chuckle, and genuine smile as you listened to his words.

“It’s your kitchen, Jake, f’course you can sit.”

“Right,” he nodded, stepping towards you. “Guess I was wondering if you were up for company, or if you just needed a minute alone. I know it can be a lot to handle when we’re all together.”

“No! You guys are great, guess I’m just not in it today.” You said, knowing he hit the nail straight on the head but you were too nice to admit it. “Come sit, please.” He did as you said, pulling out the chair at the head of the table. He was in perfect view and facing you, giving you ample opportunity to soak in his features as he thought about how to continue the conversation.

“That’s okay, sweetheart. Josh mentioned you were going through a tough time when I called him this morning. We were kinda hoping it would take your mind off whatever’s going on.” You wanted to recoil at the idea of Josh sharing your sorrows with a man you did not know, but the intent was sweet, and you knew Josh would never do anything to harm you. He was just a concerned friend looking for a way to cheer you up. Jake, despite being a near stranger, had enough kindness in his heart to want to help too.

And sweetheart.

You didn’t know the man, nor much about him, but you definitely wouldn’t mind if he called you that again.

“Thank you,” your lips twitched into another smile as you looked down at your hands on the table. “He’s pretty great, isn’t he?”

“Josh?” Jake asked for clarification that he heard right, raising his eyebrow at you. You gave a small nod, almost wanting to laugh at his incredulous tone. “Yeah, I mean I guess. I kind of have to agree, cause he’s my brother and all.” At that, a genuine laugh filled the air, the first one that left your lips in days. Jake was hung on your laugh the minute it left your lips, finding the sound addicting despite just having heard it for the first time. The smile on his face made it apparent he only came to cheer you up, and he was happy he could do it even for a moment. “No, he is pretty great, even if I do hate him by times.”

“It’s a sibling thing, I think.” You said, looking back up at his face. “Love them, even when you hate them.”

“Exactly.” He nodded, agreeing with you. “He’s my best friend, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want to kill him sometimes. Has a great heart, but he can be a bit… annoying.”

“Josh? No.” You scoffed, playing into the bit as clear sarcasm dripped from your tone. At that, Jake let out a laugh of his own. You watched, in amazement at how beautiful such a simple sound could be. “Seriously though, I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

“Yeah, you guys have been friends for a long time, haven’t you?” He asked, leaning forward and into the conversation. It was your turn to nod, finding years of memories flash before your eyes when you thought of it for too long.

“Yeah, I met him as I was finishing up my graduate program in university. He’d just moved here, and I guess he was looking for some friends. Right place right time, I suppose.”

“Funny how things like that work out.” He said, listening intently to every word.

“For sure.” You hummed, pursing your lips slightly at the memory of how you met. “Ran into him at a bar, drunk off tequila and singing a terrible rendition of… oh, fuck, what was it?” You racked your brain, trying so hard to find the name of the song in the mess of your mind. “It was Neil Young, I remember that much.” You sighed, shaking your head at your spotty memory.

“Don’t Let It Bring You Down.” He finished for you, a sparkle shining in his eye as he saw your expression light up.

“Yes! How did you know?” You asked, shocked he knew before you did.

“I was there that night, and I definitely made fun of him just as much as you did.” He explained, chuckling at the thought.

“You were there?” You asked, even more surprised at that fact.

“Yeah, think I was playing pool with Sam. Josh sucks at pool, so he was trying to find a thrill elsewhere. He told us he met someone, he really liked their ‘energy’. Guess he was talking about you.” He continued, nodding at himself as he recollected the night from so long ago. “That, and he sings that damn song every time he drinks tequila.”

“Huh,” you huffed, wondering how you managed to miss him that night. “I guess I was out the door pretty fast. I don’t even think I talked to Josh for very long. Got his number and we were off to the next bar. We loved to party back then.”

“Shame, cause he’s been keeping you an awful secret for the last few years.” Jake let out a disapproving tsk at the end of his statement.

“No, it’s not him.” You promised, shutting down the notion. “Life’s crazy. I’m either always stuck at work, or at home—“ you cut yourself off, hearing the sound of the word fall from your lips. It was wrong, and so much so that it twisted your stomach with nausea. “Stuck at work.” You doubled back, feeling a frown start to form again. The word home felt like a sour taste in your mouth that you couldn’t swallow back.

Jake watched you for a moment, curious about your sudden change of heart, but understanding it might not be the best time to venture into it.

“Did you want a drink, sweetheart?” Jake asked, his eyes flickering to the fridge. “Maybe something to take your mind off it?” You debated, wondering if it would better or worsen your mental state. Before you could decline, he spoke again. “I was gonna have one anyway, so it’s no trouble at all. Be nice to have someone to drink with, anyway.”

“Fuck it, why not?” You breathed, watching as another breathtaking smile blossomed on his lips. “I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt.”

“Great.” He stood, taking two steps past you as he approached a cabinet by the refrigerator. “Want to come have a look?” He offered, looking back over his shoulder at you. You shrugged, nodding as you stood to join him. He opened the doors, revealing a plethora of bottles that all looked a little more expensive than you were used to. “Whatever you want.”

You noticed how close he was standing, how sweet his cologne smelled as it wafted in your direction. It was musky, ambery even, with sandalwood standing strong against the undertones. He had his finger resting against his chin as his eyes scanned the labels, clearly unsure of what he wanted, too. You couldn’t help but study the intricacies of his face, the bridge of his nose and how it casted a shadow over his soft cheeks, the unintentional pout of his bottom lip, and the enchanting colour of his irises. He was stunning, and it was hard not to notice it.

‘Stop it, Y/N. You’re in no position to think anyone is attractive, let alone your best friends brother.’ Your thoughts were right, full of warnings you knew you should listen to, yet there was something so enchanting about Jake that made it difficult to listen. ‘Thinking he’s attractive is only bad if I plan to act on it, which I’m definitely not. It’s okay to admire him, as long as that’s all it is.’ You felt the devil weigh in on the matter, and for some reason, that train of thought was much easier to go along with.

So you did. Simple as that, you decided to allow yourself the pleasure. It was almost as simple as acknowledging how beautiful Jake was.

“Anything catching your eye?” He asked, looking over at you. You knew he was aware of your staring, and when your eyes caught his, your cheeks tinged red. He gave you a smile, silently telling you all was well.

“There’s so much to choose from.” You said, forcing yourself to look back at the liquor cabinet.

“Do you like it straight, or do you prefer something sweet?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you once again. Although the question was innocent and clearly pertaining to the topic at hand, you couldn’t help but feel your heart speed. Your body was encased in goosebumps at the simple thought of him meaning it in any other way.

“Usually sweet, but I think today I could handle it straight.” You replied, having to tear your eyes away from him again. Had you looked for a moment longer, you might have noticed the ghost of a smirk on his face.

“This is my favourite.” He said, reaching out and grabbing an expensive looking bottle. He brought it down to your level, leaning into you slightly as he let you read the label for yourself. As his arm brushed against yours, you felt the same pull of your heart as you did when he first sat across from you.

“I’ll try it out.” You mumbled, a little breathless as he looked over your face.

“Good taste,” he hummed. “You’ll like it, I promise.” He assured you, his tongue darting out over his bottom lip ever so slightly.

“I trust you.” You said, feeling like you were coercing your tongue to speak the words.

“You should.” He responded, waiting for you to step away first. It felt like an eternity before you stepped backwards towards the table, but when you did, you missed the closeness of him almost immediately. The warmth of his body against yours was memorable, and definitely something you wanted to feel again.

You returned to your seat at the table, followed closely behind by Jake. Before he sat, he grabbed two glasses and the ice tray from the freezer. Carefully, he poured yours first before adding a few ice cubes to the cup. Then, he nudged it in your direction before fixing his own drink.

“What’s on your mind, beautiful?” He asked, swirling his ice around his cup before bringing it to his lips. As he sipped at the amber liquid, his eyes never left your face.

“Oh, nothing important.” You shook your head, averting your gaze to the glass in your hand. You did the same, raising the crystal to your lips and drinking down the alcohol like it was water.

“You’re drinking that awfully fast for someone who’s got ‘nothing important’ going on.” He noted, cocking his head to the side for a moment, as if he was trying to figure you out. “I’ve got an ear to lend, if you want to talk.” He offered, but opted not to press any further. He didn’t want to force you if you weren’t willing, but he did want you to know that the floor was yours if you needed.

“I wouldn’t want to bore you.” You chuckled, watching the condensation of the glass drip onto your fingers. The chill of the liquid distracted you from the severity of the topic. “You’ve been kind enough already, Jake. Seriously, I can’t thank you enough for inviting me.”

“No thanks needed, y/n. Seriously, Josh talks about you enough that I feel like I already know you, and trust me when I say, I like you just as much as he does.” He promised, taking another small sip of his drink. “And I offered, sweetheart. I want to listen, even if you don’t think I do.”

“What is with you two?” You chuckled, shaking your head at his staggering kindness. “Too nice for your own good, both of you.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” He grinned, finding your exasperation amusing.

���No, it’s not.” You shook your head, feeling your heart warm with gratitude for the two brothers. You barely knew Jake, but you agreed with what he said. Josh spoke about him enough that you felt like you were friends already, and by all of the nice things Josh had to say, you definitely liked him. Since stepping foot into the kitchen, you had come to greatly appreciate him for other reasons, too.

“That’s the heartbreak chair.” He explained, running a hand through his hair as he pushed it away from his face. “Something about it draws people in.” Your eyes flickered up to his face, shocked that he made such an assumption, and even more surprised that it was right. He barely knew you, but he could tell without you having to say a word.

“It’s that obvious?” You asked. He shook his head, rubbing his chin in his hand for a moment before he spoke again.

“No,” he cleared his throat, taking in a long breath before he continued. “Like I said, there’s something about that fuckin’ chair.”

“How so?”

“Two years ago, Sam sat there when his girlfriend broke up with him. Must’ve spent the whole night sitting there, drinking away the pain.” He said, thinking back on the event. “And Daniel, a few months back when him and his girlfriend went separate ways. Even Josh, a long time ago when we first moved here.” He explained. “Whatever it is, when people get their heart broken, they sit there. I usually sit here, but it’s not always me they’re talking to. Sometimes it’s Josh, or another friend, or anyone really.” You thought about his words, carefully considering your next question before asking it.

“Have you sat here?” Your eyes were showing the sadness you tried so hard to hide. You didn’t know why, but you were comfortable with Jake. You wanted to talk, to tell him all about the sadness plaguing you. Something about him made you believe that your sorrows were safe with him, and that he was the key to feeling better.

It was an invasive question, something personal and maybe too complicated for him to answer. You regretted asking, but hearing about his brother's sorrows didn’t sit right with you. If you were giving him a piece of you, you wanted a piece of him. He swallowed hard, his eyes flickering between your face and the whiskey in his cup. Eventually, he gave a slow nod.

“More than anyone else, I think.” His honesty was sobering, and it was admirable. Because of his willingness to share his sadness with you, you felt even better about opening up to him. “I’ve never been lucky in love. Always a bridesmaid, never a bride.” He shrugged, the joke rolling off his tongue effortlessly despite the hidden pain in his eyes. “About six months ago, I was doing the same as you. Came home, she was gone without a trace. I stayed a few nights at Josh’s house, just ‘till I was strong enough to come back here, and I drank it all away. I’ve sat in that chair, sweetheart. You’re not the only broken heart this house has seen. Trust me.”

“It’s hard to open up to Josh about it.” You said, forcing your hand to hold the glass to the table. The burn of the alcohol in your chest was much preferred to the ache in your heart, but you persevered. “‘Specially when I watch how happy and in love he is. He’s got everything, you know? Nice house, kind heart, beautiful face, and a wonderful boyfriend. It’s intimidating talking about my mess of a life to someone who always seems to have their shit together.”

“I can see what you mean.” He nodded along, agreeing to an extent. “You know, he’d never think differently of you. He loves you a whole hell of a lot.”

“I know that, but I think when you’re this miserable, it’s hard to believe anyone cares that much.”

“For sure.” He said, swallowing down another mouthful of whiskey.

Just as he placed his cup down on the table, the distant chatter in the living room began to move closer. Both of you turned to the entryway to the kitchen, wondering what the disturbance was. Soon enough, the crowd filled the doorway, but only Sam and Josh were visible.

“Think we’re gonna head to the bar, you two in?” Sam asked, oblivious to the situation in front of him.

“I’m good.” Jake said, his tone firm and certain of his answer. Josh looked at you, curiosity in his eyes as he waited for a response.

“Y/N?” Josh asked, wondering if you were joining them. You looked between the twins, your eyes lingering a bit too long over Jake. When you looked back at Josh, you shook your head slightly.

“Think I might hang out here a bit longer, if that’s okay?”

“F’course it is.” Jake chimed in. “You go, I’ll get her back to your place safe and sound.” Josh looked to you once more, making sure you were alright. You gave him a smile, nodding your head in agreement with Jake.

“Okay, I’ll see you later. Love you, mama.”

“Love you too, Josh.” You smiled again, wider and with more warmth than ever.

With that, the group moved towards the door, and they were out in the yard within seconds. The silence hung heavy between you and Jake, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. So far, despite you being a stranger, your talk with Jake had been nothing but comfortable.

“So, does that mean you don’t think I have my life together?” Jake continued where you left off, clearly teasing. The smile on his face gave him away as he pulled his chair a little closer to you.

“‘Spose I don’t know you well enough to know, yet. From what I see, looks like you do, if that counts?” He let out a laugh, finding your humor despite the pain beautiful.

“You hungry?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. “Noticed you didn’t eat earlier.”

“Think I missed the draw on that one.” You said, looking at the empty dish on the stove. He stood, wordless as he walked to the refrigerator. He searched for a few seconds before pulling out a plate, flashing it in your direction.

“Put some away for you, just in case. I knew they would eat it all, so I just wanted to make sure there was some left.” He explained. The sound of his words made your heart ache, but it wasn’t in a bad way; the simple action, especially coming from someone who barely knew you, made the whole world seem a little bit brighter. You understood Josh’s constant talk of how big of a heart Jake had now that you had the chance to see it for yourself.

“Thank you, Jake.” You mustered the strength to speak, in awe of his attention to detail. He stuck it in the microwave, waiting for it to beep before placing it in front of you with a fork. Without mentioning it again, he sat back in the same spot, as if the last few minutes had never happened at all.

“What happened, sweetheart?” He asked again, more direct this time now that he felt he had some kind of leverage. Clearly he made a good enough impression on you, considering you hadn’t run out the door when the opportunity arose. Before responding, you took a few bites of the meal he’d made in preparation for his company. Your eyes fluttered closed in bliss, the taste something you had never experienced before. You weren’t sure if it was just because he was a good cook, or if it was because it had been days since you had a proper meal. Maybe, it was a combination of both.

For such a simple looking pasta dish, it was beyond anything you had ever eaten before.

“This is so fucking good, Jake.” You commended him for his efforts. He let out another laugh, happy that you were enjoying it.

“Good to know,” he nodded. “I’ll have to make it for you again sometime.”

“You’ll never get rid of me.” You joked, placing the fork down for a moment, wanting to make the meal last.

“Not the worst idea in the world.” He shrugged. You felt your cheeks dust with redness, his words almost too sweet for you to handle. You washed down the pleasant feeling of his compliments with another sip of whiskey, settling back in your seat as you prepared to confess.

“I think I’ve always been too blind to see the bad side of people,” you started, simple and easy to kick off the topic. “I like to see the best in everyone, ‘till the very end.”

“Admirable.” He responded quickly, shocking you with his interest in your sorrows.

“I dated this guy for a while, a few years at least. Guess it wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows, but I loved him, or the idea of him, more so. He moved in with me not long after we met, and it was nice. Things seemed real good for a long time, but a couple months ago, he kinda pulled back a bit. I didn’t think much of it, ‘cause I was working all the time anyway, but I probably should have.” You sighed. “I started noticing he was gone when I came home at night, or when he went out, he stayed out far too late for a couple drinks with friends. Found some… suspicious things around the house, but chalked it up to a bad memory.” You laughed, shaking your head at your own stupidity. “I went home after work on Friday, and he was in bed with another girl. Mutual friend, real pretty, sweet on the surface… everything that I’m not.”

“That’s not true, sweetheart.” He shook his head, stopping that thought before it could go any further.

“Think we were long overdue for a breakup, but I thought it would be more decent than that.” You shuddered, recalling the moment that had been plaguing you for days. “I’m less heartbroken over him than I am for the whole thing. It’s just… dehumanizing, I guess. How many times did we… you know, after they started? And in my bed? Where I sleep at night?” You continued, watching the ice circle the bottom of your cup as the liquid neared the end. Jake reached out for the bottle, popping the cork and refilling your glass for you. You smiled, a silent thank you for everything he was doing.

“There wasn’t really a fight, or anything. I mean, I yelled for a little while, but it wasn’t worth my time. I told him to pack his shit and get out, and I assume he did. I haven’t been back, but I haven’t heard from him, either. Guess I just… don’t want to be in that place right now, alone, with that memory.”

“Don’t know the guy, but I can tell you he’s a fucking idiot.” He said, throwing back the last of his drink and refilling his own cup. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to be home. Like I said, I stayed at Josh’s for a while too. Sometimes it’s nice to get out of the place full of stuff that reminds you of them.”

“Yeah, exactly.” You gave a somber nod, blinking away tears threatening your eyes. “Think it always circles back to the same thing at the end of the day… hard not to think it’s me, that I wasn’t enough, or if I could have done more. That’s the hardest part of it, really. Not like he was the boyfriend of the year or anything, but I never would have done that to him.” You took another long swig of whiskey, feeling your head begin to swirl with intoxication.

“It’s not you, Y/N. You know better than that.” He said, furrowing his brow as he thought over your story. “So what is it? What do you need?”

“What?” You asked, unsure of what he meant.

“He got what he wanted, so what do you need, sweetheart? To scream? Cry? To get so drunk that you don’t know where you are?” He listed the offers, as if they were all completely reasonable and understandable. He didn’t want to speak empty words, or give you reassurances that would wash right off your shoulders once he was done speaking. He wanted to help you feel better, however he could. “We could even key his car, if you know where to find it.”

You let out a laugh, one that shook your shoulders and made your stomach ache. While you laughed, tears slipped on to your cheeks, but they did not phase you. Jake’s company was so fantastic that the hurt didn’t even seem to bother you anymore.

“You’re too beautiful to be crying over someone like that, sweetheart.” He leaned over, using his thumb to brush away the teardrops staining your cheeks. Once he finished, he cupped your cheek in his palm, ensuring you knew he was being truthful.

“No idea how you’ve never been the bride, Jacob.” You said, exhaling a long breath as you melted into his touch. It felt nice to be touched at all, and even better to be touched by someone who cared. It felt like it had been an eternity since you had experienced that in particular.

“My day will come, just like yours will.” He promised. “I know it hurts, but with time, you’ll thank him for it, because a girl like you shouldn’t end up with a guy like that.”

“Thank you, Jake.” You said, the utmost sincerity in your voice.

“Don’t mention it.” He brushed off the thanks, smiling over at you. “Now what is it? What will make you feel better, right now? ‘Cause I’ll be damned if I send you out the door before you feel better.”

“I just want to stop.” You sighed, rubbing your face in your hands. “I want to stop hurting, to stop thinking about him, to stop feeling like a different person. I want to feel like me. I want to feel good, instead of being miserable.” Jake leaned back in his chair, watching your face carefully as he thought about your request. You looked over at him, chuckling at yourself. “I know, steep request. Probably not much in the world we can do about that. Yet, anyway.”

“No, there is.” He cleared his throat, pursing his lips together slightly. You raised an eyebrow at him, intrigued by his response.

“Go on.” You urged him, curious about his idea.

“I don’t know if I can help you feel exactly like yourself again,” he started, looking up at the ceiling while he tried to word his response. “But I definitely have a quick solution for some of those problems.”

“Let’s hear it, then.” He smirked at your eagerness to feel better. Before he continued, he threw back the last of his drink for a second time. You could tell he was feeling it now, too. His cheeks were tinged pink and his eyes grew heavier the longer he sipped away.

“You’re open to any suggestions?”

“Well, most.” You huffed, almost annoyed by how long he was dragging this out. “Maybe not murder or armed robbery.” He laughed at your exuberance, shaking his head slightly.

“Well, sweetheart…” he sighed. “You want to stop thinking about him, and you want to feel good.” He listed, waiting to see if he was correct. You nodded in response, still not seeming to piece the two together. “If you’re open to trying it, I’m sure I could solve both of those problems at once.”

“Okay, Jake, this is not helping. Can you just—“ you cut yourself off, your eyes widening in shock as the puzzle finally clicked in place. You swallowed hard, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. As you looked at his expression, your cheeks burned red and your throat went dry. “Just to clarify, are you offering what I think you are?”

“Depends, beautiful.” He said, his tone soft and his eyes trained to your face. “What do you think I’m saying?”

“Are you offering to fuck me?” You wanted to be repulsed by the idea, but you were far from it. If anything, the feeling burning in the pit of your stomach told you the exact opposite, imploring you to fall into his arms and let him do as he pleased with you.

“Well, I’m pretty sure that would get your mind off him.” He argued his point, playful and calm so you knew rejection was more than allowed. “And if you’ll let me, I know I could help with that other part, too.” He let out a small huff of breath, as if he was excited just by the prospect of the opportunity.

“You offer that to every heartbroken girl who sits in this chair?” You asked, ensuring he knew you weren’t denying the offer.

“No,” he shook his head. “You’d be the first, and the only one, I think.”

“You think?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Never know what the future brings.” He shrugged, trying to keep his composure. As soon as he saw your bewildered face, he doubled over in laughter. It took him a few moments to regain his composure, but when he did, he did not seem to retract his statement. When he realized you took his words seriously, he stood from his chair, stepping towards you as he spoke.

“Yes, sweetheart. The only one. Is that what you wanted to hear?” He asked, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Yes, maybe? I don’t know.” You said, your eyes darting around the kitchen to avoid his heavy stare. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in this situation, so I’m not sure how to react.”

“Only if you want to, of course, but the offer is on the table.” He said, retracting his hand so as not to pressure you into it. You took a drink from your cup, finding your chest burning as you did so. Difference was, you knew it was not because of the liquor. As you sat the cup back on the table, you looked up at him, inspecting him closely.

He was attractive, and that was undeniable. You had been thinking about it since the minute you saw him, and you couldn’t seem to get the thought out of your head. Just half an hour ago, you were shivering from the closeness of his body when you were standing by the liquor cabinet, and now you were quivering just from the thought of his hands on your body. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea, but in the moment, what he was saying made sense to you.

He was hot, you were desperate to forget, and he was offering a quick solution.

“Okay.” You nodded. “Why not?” He watched you for another moment, standing still while you decided for certain that’s what you wanted to do. “Uhm, we won’t tell Josh about this, right?” You asked, a sudden wave of nervousness washing over you.

“Definitely not.” He laughed.

“And it’s just that? Just sex?”

“Just sex, just tonight, if that’s what you want.” He assured you.

“Okay.” You nodded again, more confident this time around. “Just sex, just tonight, with a guy I just met, who happens to be my best friend's twin brother?”

“It sounds better my way.” He said, taking a step towards you.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

“Sex with someone who is happy to make you feel better.” He spoke quietly, kneeling down so he was eye level with you. His face was closer than it had been all night, and if it were even possible, he was even more stunning up close.

“Yeah, that does sound better.” You agreed, smiling slightly as you tried to keep your breathing steady. Jake seemed to prompt more of a physical reaction in you just by looking at you than your ex did in the entire time you’d been with him.

You weren’t sure if it was the whiskey combining with the heartbreak forcing you to make a deadly decision, or if it was just the fact you were attracted to him. Either way, you knew you couldn’t leave his house without a taste of what he was offering, because he had excited you just by mentioning it. You felt like leaving him without knowing what he could do for you would cause more grief than your breakup had in the last few days.

“So what do you say, sweetheart?” He asked, reaching forward and brushing his knuckle over your burning cheek. Your eyes fluttered closed at the touch, but you tried not to let it phase you too much. “You want me to help you forget about him?”

“Think you already have.” You mustered the strength to speak, but not the strength to look him in the eyes. You were sure if you did, you would turn to putty in his hands.

“So you’re saying you don’t need anything else?” He pried, finding the teasing amusing now that he knew you were okay with his actions.

“No, I definitely do.” You corrected him, finally opening your eyes to look over his face. “I really do.”

“Tell me what you need, angel.” He said, flattening his palm against your cheek again. His fingers were tangled in the loose strands of hair hanging over your neck, the action more telling than the last time he touched you. It was firm, more reassuring, and meant to solidify his feelings about the situation.

“You,” you bit the inside of your lip, almost embarrassed about your need for him.

“Don’t be shy, beautiful. Think we’re long past that.” He said, his eyes flickering down to your lips. Although he had full intent to follow through with his earlier promise, he wanted you to be in charge of the matter.

“Kiss me, please.” With that, he leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours as he held your face in his hand.

His lips still tasted like the alcohol he was sipping on, and his skin was still cold from the ice in his cup. Even so, the chill of his skin was quickly offset by the warmth of his tongue as it glided past your lips. The feeling was addicting, much more intense than you thought it might be. Your hands reached out for him, desperate for more. His fingers seemed to be burning into your skin, the touch electric and the sensation ten times more powerful than anything you had ever felt before. The emotion flowing through you from such a simple action was immeasurable, and you already needed more.

“Like that, sweetheart?” He asked, his lips still ghosting over yours as he presented the question. You were breathless, your head spinning and your mind completely free of the painful thoughts that previously seemed permanently attached to you.

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded, your voice quiet. You could feel him smiling, cocky enough to know his plan was already working. “Please, don’t stop.”

“Come with me.” He said, moving away from you and rising back to his feet. Although you were sad he pulled away at all, you knew it was for a better reason. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey and his own cup, waiting for you as you tried to bring yourself back to earth. You took your own from the table, waiting for him to make the next move.

He outstretched his arm, still holding the bottle tightly in his hand as he loosely wrapped the appendage around you. Carefully, he guided you to the hallway. Without any further words shared, he led the way to his bedroom with intent to finish what he started. As soon as you stepped inside, you were surrounded by him. His cologne lingered in the air, and his clothes littered the floor. His bed was messy, but in the most inviting way possible. Patch cords and guitar picks littered the surface of his dresser, and an acoustic guitar took post in the corner of the room.

Although the stipulations of your entanglement did not extend beyond a single night, curiousity got the best of you. With your heart singing a song curated specifically for him, it was hard not to want to know more about him. Seeing his life so intimately made you crave more substance from him, even if it was ridiculous for you to think.

“What’s on your mind now?” He asked, placing the liquor down on his bedside table.

“Nothing bad,” you assured him, still trying to soak in all the room had to offer. “Guess I’m just curious about you now, is all.”

“All you have to do is ask.” He said, taking a few steps towards you. “Later, though, because talking isn’t my top priority right now.” You watched him as he closed in on you, your stomach twisting with excitement at his words. Before he could place his lips on yours again, you swallowed back the last of your drink and placed the empty cup on the top of his dresser, freeing your hands so you only had to focus on him.

You stepped forward, closing the distance between you as your hand landed on his bicep. Now, with the opportune position, he had the luxury to touch you as he pleased with nothing standing in his way. One of his hands fell to your hip, his grip firm as he pulled your body into his own. He leaned down, placing his other hand on the back of your neck as he guided your head towards his. He started slow, fearful he might have come on too strong, but you weren’t willing to take your time with him.

It had been a long time since you had been excited by the prospect of sex, and despite knowing you should not be feeling such a way about anyone, let alone Jake in particular, he had elicited that response from you easier than anyone who came before. Even though his kindness was the most abundant of all his traits, you caught a few glimpses of what lie beneath, and if you were being completely honest, that was what held your attention.

The way his arm felt resting against yours at the liquor cabinet, the sly smile after his ambiguous questions, his heavy stare when he thought you weren’t looking, and the sparkle in his eye when you laughed. That was what drew you in, and everything else was just a cherry on top.

When you first sat with Jake, you almost felt guilty that you were so willing to tell him about your troubles, especially after shutting Josh out. Now, with his lips on yours and his hands exploring your body, it made sense that you felt such a way. Jake was offering much more than Josh could, and he could help in ways that Josh could not begin to imagine. He gave you an easy pass to forgetting, a quick solution to feeling good, and a simple way to move on, even if it were only for a short time. Jake was the perfect fit for what you needed, and you were happy that he was so eager to help.

Time was the only true healer, but Jake was a catalyst to speed the process up, and a very pleasurable one at that.

As the kiss continued, the two of you grew much more comfortable with each other. Your body had relaxed and your hands were more courageous as they travelled over the parts of him you were desperate to know. Your entire body was ablaze with excitement, and your mind was completely free of all the previous fears and feelings you were plagued with. His hand on your hip had drifted to your ass, pulling your hips forward into his as he became familiar with the taste of you on his lips.

If you had any fear about his willingness to sleep with you, it was destroyed within seconds of stepping into his bedroom. You could feel his own excitement, through his actions and other, more obvious signs. As he continued to kiss you, you could feel his erection against your leg, straining against the zipper of his jeans. As much as he wanted to take your mind off of things, you were just as happy to relieve him of the problem you had so easily caused.

When he parted from the kiss, his lips were pink and swollen, glistening with spit under the low light flowing in through his window. His hair was messy from your fingers running through it, and his eyes were darker than they were in the kitchen.

If you thought he was beautiful before, it had nothing on how he looked now.

His hands drifted under the hem of your shirt as he looked over your face, ensuring you were comfortable with continuing. When he was met with pleading eyes and a hopeful expression, his lips quirked up into a smile as he lifted your shirt over your head. As he tossed it to the floor, his gaze traveled downward, allowing himself to admire the parts of you that were usually kept hidden. He sucked in a sharp breath, as if the sight knocked the air from him completely and he was trying to recover from the shock.

“So fucking beautiful, angel.” He hummed, his hands finding you again as he spoke. The feeling of his calloused fingertips against the smooth skin was exhilarating, and even more enticing than anything he’d done before. He dropped his head to the crook of your neck, bringing his lips back to your skin as if he was already missing the feeling of kissing you.

He focused on your neck for a moment, curiously exploring as he tried to find the sweet spots. When his tongue settled below your ear, a whine fell from your lips, so quiet he nearly missed it. The sound reached his ears, sending his skin tingling as it wrapped around his spine and made home there. He kept his attention in the same spot, desperate to hear more. Your hand raised to his arm, holding yourself steady as your stomach swirled with emotion. His mouth continued lower, and courage flooded him as his hands continued to familiarize themselves with you.

He unhooked your bra, brushing the straps from your shoulders as his mouth landed on your collarbone. You felt his teeth graze the skin, the action gentle but purposeful as your bra fell to the ground with your shirt. Now, without anything standing between the two of you, his hand landed on your breast. His thumb drifted over your nipple, moving in a slow circular motion as he felt it harden under his touch. The small sensation only furthered the ache between your legs, and you could feel the wetness begin to soak through the fabric of your underwear.

As he continued his work, you felt your thighs squeeze together in a shameless attempt to ease the discomfort. You didn’t want to rush him, because everything he was doing was phenomenal, but it was growing increasingly difficult to bite your tongue when you so badly needed more from him.

Eventually, his head dropped low enough for his tongue to graze your already sensitive nipple. The warmth of his mouth paired with the precision of his tongue was deadly. You felt a shaky breath rattle your chest as you tried to keep yourself calm, but it was growing increasingly difficult to do so. You needed him more than you needed anything in your entire life; your body craved him in a way you never knew to be possible, and he had promoted more pleasures than anyone before without even needing to take all of your clothes off.

Something about Jake was otherworldly, and his promises to help you forget were not empty. He was doing exactly as he intended, better than you ever thought he could.

He seemed to be enjoying the moment just as much as you were, completely content with pleasing you and never worrying about his own needs. You had never, in your entire life, met someone who was concerned with your needs first.

He pulled his mouth away from you, his eyes fluttering up to your face as he took a few seconds to sort out his thoughts. His eyes were blackened, his pupils completely consuming his irises as he thought about all of the possibilities the night could have.

“Let’s get you out of these,” he muttered, hooking his fingers through the back belt loop on your jeans.

He pulled the fabric away from your skin, letting it snap back to form as he pulled his hand away. The thud of the material against your skin sent another rush of arousal through you, and you found yourself complying to the request without a second thought. He brought one hand to the button, undoing it with ease as he dropped to his knees once again. He pulled down the zipper, tugging on the fabric so they fell down past your hips. As soon as the denim was out of his way, he brought his lips to your stomach, focusing his attention there for a moment before going any further.

You were aching for relief as his tongue drifted over the exposed skin, and you were nearly brought to your knees as he took the time to leave a trail of pink marks where his lips landed. It would be a reminder of the night for days to come, darkening further with time, and you were thrilled at the idea of having a physical memory of his touch when not in his company. He pulled your jeans further down your legs, his lips now ghosting over your hips as he tapped your leg. You lifted one foot from the ground, allowing him to free you from the jeans entirely. You repeated the process with the other leg, and eventually, the jeans were strewn across the floor and gone from your memory completely.

“Jake, I need you.” You huffed, looking down at him, watching carefully where his lips met your skin. He did not respond right away, seemingly wanting to finish what he started before moving on to something new.

Then, his lips pulled away from you, but did not stray too far from their original position. You watched the muscles in his jaw tense as he comprehended the raw emotion behind your words.

“You need me?” He repeated, his voice husky and his eyes heavy as he bargained with the fact.

“Please,” you whispered, breathless as you tried to recover from the constant stimulation he was providing. “So bad, baby.” He drew in a long breath, his eyes fluttering closed as he heard the pet name fall from your lips.

“How could I say no to you when you sound so pretty?” He asked, the question without need of an answer. With that, he used his arm to push you towards the foot of the bed, only stopping when the backs of your knees collided with the mattress.

Then, he rose to his feet, finding himself at eye level with you once again. “What do you want me to do, angel?”

“Anything; just touch me, please.” Your voice was weak, his effect still strong over you even though he wasn’t touching you.

“Anything I want?” He asked, stepping closer and bringing his hand to your side again. He let his fingers trail down until they met the hug of the elastic band of your underwear on your hip. “Are you sure about that?”

“Positive.” You gave a single nod, showcasing your certainty on the matter. He chuckled at your eager nature, looking you over once while he thought of what to do next.

“Lay down for me, sweetheart.” He said, nodding his head towards the bed behind you. “Don’t be shy, get comfortable.” He continued, watching as you turned towards the mattress, unsure if it was possible to climb in and be uncomfortable. The blankets looked soft, and warm, even if they were strewn messily across the surface. The pillows looked like clouds, and there definitely wasn’t a lack of them. More than that, it smelled like him, even from afar. Although you’d only known him for a short time, it had already become a comforting scent for you.

You did as he asked, climbing into the bed and rearranging a few of the pillows. Once you were satisfied, you laid on your back, looking up for him as you awaited further instructions. He gave you a small smile, unable to refute how much he liked the sight of you in his bed, even if it was under strange circumstances.

It was never like Jake to dislike the sight of any girl in his bed, but you seemed to tug on his heart just a little more than others that came before.

“This is a sight I could get used to.” He hummed, adjusting himself in his jeans as he let his eyes trail every bit of exposed skin you had to offer.

“Thought this was a one time thing, Jacob?” He chuckled at your question, unbuttoning the few buttons holding his shirt together. As he slid the fabric from his shoulders, he responded to your inquiries.

“I said if that’s what you want,” he reminded you, dropping the shirt to the floor. Your eyes drifted to his body, drinking in every inch of him. The way the columns of his neck blended perfectly into his collarbones. You studied the structure of his shoulders, focusing intently on his biceps as your eyes trailed down his arms. Then, your gaze moved to his chest, the tan skin decorated with necklaces hanging from his neck. Your admiration ended when your eyes met the buckle of his belt, and you realized he was watching you watch him. “For some reason, I don’t think you’ll be able to stay away.” He sent a wink in your direction to follow his words.

His ego was taking up every spare inch of space in the room, and he was completely different than he was when you were sitting with him in the kitchen. The sweetness still lingered underneath the surface, but his desire had turned him wicked and he was doing everything he could to keep you on his hook. You couldn’t find a single complaint about it, because you loved this version of him even more than the kind hearted man who opened his home and his liquor cabinet to you.

“I think I want another drink,” he started, looking at the bottle decorating his nightstand. His gaze flickered back to you, wanting to ensure you were still watching him. “How about you?” You couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your stomach, wishing that he would just go back to touching you. The banter was fun, and you loved talking to him, but you had needs far more pressing than conversing with him. “Don’t look so disappointed, Angel.” He hummed, grabbing the bottle of whiskey. “I promised to make you feel good, and I’m going to…” he trailed off, popping the cork from the bottle as he kneeled on the bed beside you. “But I have to have my fun, too.”

With that, he brought the spout of the bottle to your navel, carefully letting the trickle of cool liquid fall to your skin. A few droplets trickled down the side of you, landing on the mattress below, but he didn’t care. With great gentleness, he reached out and placed the bottle back on the stand. Without breaking your stare, he settled himself between your legs, his head hovering over your belly as he leaned down a little closer.

With his eyes still settled on your face, he let his tongue glide over your stomach just above your panty line. The skin was already dampened from the spill of liquid from the bottle, cold from the air hitting the wet surface. His tongue warmed the skin, but did much more than just that. The gentleness of his touch cause a plethora of emotions to course through you all at once, and you couldn’t seem to keep your mind straight. The disarray only seemed to worsen as he trailed upwards, drinking up the whiskey like he was a professional on the matter.

When the alcohol was consumed, he did not stop his tyrant. Instead, he continued all the way up until his tongue met your breast once again, circling around your nipple before suctioning his lips to you completely. The warmth and wetness of his mouth was otherworldly, and the new position allowed for his hips to meet yours while he continued teasing you. You shifted down on the mattress, not enough to break his focus, but just enough for your aching core to meet with his cock, strained against his jeans. The contact was minuscule, but enough to elicit a sharp intake of breath from him.

He used his free hand to hold your hips in place, grinding himself down on you ever so slight to give you a bit of relief. The friction was good, even if it wasn’t enough. Paired with the feeling of his tongue on your sensitive nipple, it was enough to pry a moan from your lips.

“Jake, please touch me. Need it so bad.” You whined, feeling your hips raise from the mattress despite his hand holding you down. He pulled his mouth away from you, a small popping sound ringing through the air as he lost the suction of his cheeks.

“You want me to touch you, beautiful?” He asked, shimmying to the side so he could do as you asked. He brought one hand between your legs, resting beside you on his knees as he held himself up with his other arm. His fingers ghosted over the thin fabric covering your aching core, noticing the wetness before he even pushed the fabric to the side. “Fuck,” he hissed, looking down at his hand. “All of this for me, angel?”

“Just for you, baby.” You whimpered, feeling his finger drift over your covered clit. Although you wished that the barrier did not exist, you would settle for what you could get.

“And what’s got you so worked up? It can’t be me, I’m just getting started.” He teased, pushing the fabric to the side. Before he continued, he waited for you to respond.

“It’s you, Jake.” You assured him, almost sheepish of the fact. He was right, he was just getting started, and you were far too worked up for just a few minutes of foreplay. You couldn’t help it, though; between his sinful touches and your own lack of sexual pleasure over the previous few years, you were ready to come undone before he even touched you.

“Don’t tell me he was that bad of a guy.” Jake let out a murmur of discontent at the thought. “Couldn’t think about anything other than himself, even with a girl as pretty as you in his bed?” Your cheeks burned red at his words, embarrassed at the thought of him being correct. “You know I won’t do that to you, angel.” He promised, finally letting his fingers get a feel for the wetness pooling between your legs. “From here on out, it’s all about you. I’ll take care of you, sweetheart. Does that sound good to you?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, nodding in agreement with his idea. To you, it sounded more than good. It sounded fantastic.

With that, he gathered your arousal on his fingers, slowly trailing it up to your clit. He traced slow circles into the already sensitive bundle of nerves, watching your face so he did not miss a single second of your reaction. Your gaze flickered to his face, taking in all of the details while he did the same for you. His brow was furrowed with concentration, and his lips were still slightly swollen from earlier. The muscles in his jaw were tense, and his eyes told you just how happy he was to be pleasing you.

“You know, I was hoping to get you in my bed, even before you sat in that chair.” He confessed, his voice quiet as a sheepish smile crossed his face.

“Y-yeah?” You asked, the word breathy as you felt the pull of pleasure begin to build in the pit of your stomach. You were intrigued by his statement, so much so that it took your mind away from the burning desire for a moment.

“Yeah,” he affirmed, smirking at your obvious curiosity. “Been thinking about it since the first time I saw you at Josh’s house.” He continued, carefully letting himself move closer. He propped himself up on his forearm, moving his body down towards yours. “You walked out, all dolled up in a pretty little dress. Blue, if I remember right. I wasn’t really looking at the dress.”

He was right, and you could remember the scene just as well as him. It was the only blue dress you owned, and you were on your way to lunch with a potential client, which was why you were so eager to get out the door. He was carrying his guitar, in a cutoff t-shirt and jeans that hugged his legs just right. You were both younger, a little more naive and much more childish. You could remember being stunned by his long brown hair, tousled by the wind, and the sunglasses that sat low on the bridge of his nose. He was beautiful then, just the same as he was now, but you were too afraid to introduce yourself. You managed a small greeting as you passed by him, and spent the whole drive to the restaurant with the picture of him stuck in your head.

“Been waiting that long, Jacob?” You asked, finding a bit of strength to tease him back.

“I wouldn’t say waiting,” he chuckled. “But definitely thinking about it. Prettiest girl to ever walk out of his house, and the prettiest girl to ever step foot in mine.” He continued with the flattery, sliding his middle and index finger to your entrance. Before he continued, he slipped his fingers inside of you. As he began to pump his fingers, he let his thumb drift over your clit. The combination of the two sensations was overwhelming in the best possible way. “If I had it my way, I would have fucked you right there on his porch.” The vulgarity of his words may have been off putting in any other context, but as he said it, your walls fluttered around his fingers and another intense wave of arousal washed over you. “And you would have let me, wouldn’t you?”

You were nearly delirious from the pleasure steadily growing in the pit of your stomach. Your skin was ablaze, the sensation growing stronger with every word he spoke and every touch he gave you. You were willing to tell him anything and everything he wanted to hear as long as it meant he wouldn’t stop.

“God, yes. I would have.” You whined, moving your hips down on his hand as his fingers curled upwards, hitting the sweet spot inside of you.

You weren’t lying, either; had you known at that time he could make you feel so good, you would have let him do whatever he wanted to you. At the sound of your tone filled with need for him, he made it a point to curl his fingers upwards again as he pumped them into you. As his fingertips brushed over the sensitive spot he’d found with ease, a moan filled the air, loud and desperate for him to keep going. “Oh, fuck me.” You groaned, gripping at the sheets below you.

“I intend to, sweetheart.” He replied. Although he knew you did not direct the message to him, he felt the need to interject his own thoughts anyway. As the words left his mouth, he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. He couldn’t help himself; he was compelled to kiss you, feeling that he might not be able to survive without the taste of you on his tongue.

His fingers continued to move with intent, eager to pry an orgasm from you. The knot in your belly was tightening further by the second, your skin tingling with pleasure as another moan tore through your chest. He drank in the sound like a man dying of thirst, feeling lucky to be the one experiencing such intimacy with you, even if it was under strange circumstances.

He broke from the kiss as he felt your walls clench around him again, knowing that you were closer to a climax than you would ever admit. He increased the pressure of his thumb, watching you carefully so he did not miss the moment he’d been patiently waiting for.

“That’s it, gorgeous.” He crooned, drunk of the pleasure twisted amongst your features. The praise washed over you like summer rain, settling deep in your stomach and furthering the intensity of the feeling. Your brow was furrowed, your eyes squeezed shut and your lips parted ever so slightly, allowing the most beautiful sounds to cross them. “You’re so fucking hot.” He muttered, propping himself up a bit further for a better view. As much as he wanted to focus on your face, he felt his eyes trail down to his hand, unable to resist the only other sight that could compare to your pretty face.

He sucked his bottom teeth between his lips, biting down on it as he watched his fingers disappear into your cunt.

Your eyes cracked open, desperate to catch a glimpse of him before you descended into the organ that was quickly approaching. When you caught sight of his face, you noticed his eyes were not looking at you like they had been moments before. When you followed his gaze, seeing what he was so fixated on, you felt a whole different type of emotion wash over you. He did not notice your stare, too caught up in the sight to even care about anything else. You were enthralled in him, watching him admire you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

You bit down on your lip, feeling the warmth in your stomach begin to spread to the rest of your body. You were so close, so ready to give in to the temptation of the feeling, but you weren’t ready for the moment to come to an end.

Within a second, that train of thought was completely disregarded, unimportant and needless.

A low groan, resembling more like a growl sounded through the room, coming from deep in his chest. His eyes turned dark, almost animalistic as he was taken by his desire for you. It was a simple thing, so unimportant in comparison to everything else he was doing to you, but it was everything to you. To know you could drive such a beautiful man to such desperate feelings made you weak, and knowing he was just as taken by you as you were with him sent you over the edge.

The orgasm that took hold was stronger than any you had ever had before. Your entire body was immersed in euphoria, from the very tips of your toes to the muscles in your face. Not one part of you was spared from his wicked power, and as your legs trembled, you came to terms with the fact he was right; heartbroken or not, you were hooked on him. Walking away would be ridiculous, and coming back for more was a given. You could not comprehend the idea of never feeling such a way again, and that made it all the harder to equate your solution for heartbreak to a single night.

“That’s it, angel. Doing so good for me.” His words seemed far away, but the sentiment behind them stuck with you indefinitely. He continued pumping his fingers into you, coaxing you through the climax with his hand and his words. You had never felt more important, more cared about than you did with him, like your enjoyment was the only thing in the world that mattered.

He pulled his fingers out of you, his gaze flickering to your face as he raised his hand to his mouth. You watched as he slipped his middle finger past his lips, glistening with your release as it landed on his tongue and his mouth closed around it. As the taste filled his senses, his eyes fluttered closed and a low groan rattled his chest. Your face flushed, your stomach pulling with another bout of pleasure as you watched the scene unfold in front of you. He pulled his finger from his mouth, a slight popping sound filling your ears as the digit slid off his lips. Your eyes squeezed shut, the sight nearly pornographic, and hotter than anything you had ever witnessed before.

“Taste so fucking sweet, baby. Just like I thought you would.” His words were soft, gentle as they filled the air around you. You couldn’t look at him, fearful that if you caught his eye, you would descend into another orgasm without him even touching you at all.

Your knuckles ached as you released your iron grip on the sheets, your body relaxing against the mattress as you came down from the high. Your lungs ached for a full breath of air, and your skin was still tingling with the ghost of pleasure. You looked down at Jake, expecting him to be watching you, waiting for your next move, but he was doing none of those things. He was tossing his belt to the floor, sliding out of his jeans and boxers at once and tossing them in the growing pile of clothes on the floor. You noticed his frantic nature, taking a second to discard your underwear and toss them to the floor as well. He didn’t say a word, making a move to shift downwards on the mattress. He settled between your legs, his hands on your hips as he pulled you down towards his face.

He guided your legs over his shoulders, settling his palms on the tops of your thighs as his lips dusted light kisses over the inside of them. As you both grew more comfortable with the new position, you felt his confidence grow, too. His teeth grazed over the sensitive skin, his tongue following the path to sooth any irritation that might occur. Goosebumps littered your entire body, and every nerve was aflame with desire for the boy who made home between your legs. You watched him, a wondrous sparkle in your eye as you inspected his every move.

Was it normal for someone to be this attentive, to be so concerned with making you feel good? Had you been missing out on such a fantastic experience, wasting your time with someone who was only concerned with himself? Or was Jake just so phenomenal that he made everything a million times more fun?

You did not know, and you did not care; the only important thing to you was him, and he was doing well in making you forget about all of your other worldly troubles. The only thoughts in your mind were pertaining to him and his ability to please you. He was like poison, infiltrating every thought and every emotion, completely taking over without you even thinking twice about it.

His eyes flickered upwards, meeting yours in a silent inquiry. The trail of love bites on your thigh was darkening by the second, and his gaze was burning into you.

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” He ordered, but it was hard to comply to his wishes when it felt like his fingers were searing into your skin.

“I-I just… sex has never been like this before.” You breathed, wondering how he knew something was wrong despite you not saying a word. He was effortlessly in tune with you, feeling every emotion coursing through you as if it were his own. “It’s never been so good, and I’ve never been so… taken care of.” You squeaked out the last few words, embarrassed to admit it to him.

“Oh, don’t tell me that, angel.” He muttered, almost pained at the thought. “If I had known he wasn’t taking care of you, I would have done it myself, a long time ago.” The sincerity in his tone made your head spin, and you were almost regretful that you had been so caught up on a man who wasn’t worth your time, when you could have been spending your time indulging in someone like Jake. “You mean to tell me he wasn’t doing this?” He asked, obviously referring to the act he was about to commit. Your cheeks burned red as you shook your head, silently answering him. “What a fucking idiot.” He muttered, clearly to himself.

Instead of continuing the conversation, he pulled your hips down a little further, letting his actions speak louder than his words. He lowered his head, and you held your breath as his mouth connected with your core. His tongue slowly ran through your folds, starting at your entrance and ending at your clit. He let his focus remain there for a moment, circling around the sensitive bundle of nerves as your hands snaked down your body, tangling themselves in the long locks of his hair. Your felt his tongue dip down to your entrance again, flattening against you as he repeated the same process from earlier, savouring every drop of arousal you had to offer him.

As his tongue reached your clit again, he let out a long hum of satisfaction, like the moment had curbed every craving he had for you in an instant. He pulled away from you for a moment, looking up as he listened closely to your shallow breathing. “I could stay between your legs for the rest of my life, and I’d be fucking happy to do it.” He said, his tone gruff as some residual anger remained in his mind. “Now that I’ve had a taste, I don’t think you’ll be able to get rid of me.”

A whimper fell from your lips, completely uncontrollable as you tried to sear the memory of him between your legs into your brain for eternity. He returned his mouth to you, using the sound as encouragement while he continued on with his work.

Jake was a force you were not familiar with, yet you feared you may never fully grasp his power. You met him at the perfect time, and he offered his services when you needed them most. It was supposed to be a quick fix, a simple solution to stop the pain from tearing you in two, but it quickly grew into something much more than that. Now that you had a chance to experience pleasure at his hands, you weren’t ready to give it up.

Calling Jake a rebound would be ridiculous, because he was the furthest thing from it; in just an hour, he gave more to you than your ex did in years.

Like you said earlier, you were mourning the situation more than you were mourning the person or the relationship itself. The picture of betrayal had been seared in your mind, the self-doubt and self-hatred was abundant, and maybe there was a hint of sadness over the loss of routine, but most of your ailments were not caused by the man himself. With Jake’s help, that became incredibly apparent, and the rest of the sadness and anger seemed to fade away the longer his hands were on you.

“A-ah, fuck.” You hissed, your fingers tightening in his hair as an intense wave of pleasure took hold. “Feels so good, Jake.” Instead of pulling away to respond, he hummed against you, the vibration of the sound furthering the sensation he was already giving you. He wanted to hear how good you were feeling, how good he was making you feel. His ego hadn’t gone away, and your compliments only fed it further. You would be uncomfortable with his cockiness if it were not warranted, but from everything he’d done so far, you understood that he was the only man you had been with who had a right to be so self-assured.

His hands inched up your legs, his grip loosening as he moved his fingers. The light tickle sent a shiver down your spine, and your head was spinning as his grasp slowly settled on your hips. His tongue continued to circle around your clit as he pulled you a little further down on his face. A moan filled the air, much more desperate than the last and the vulgarity immediately categorizing it as pornography. You weren’t sure if such a sound ever left your lips before, but you did not have time to focus on the fact before another one followed up the last.

Your cheeks were burning to the touch, your skin blotchy with redness and glistening with sweat. Your hands were anchored in the roots of his hair, and his tongue was driving you so crazy that you couldn’t help the automatic roll of your hips against his tongue. You were bordering the edge once again, and he seemed to have no intent to slow. One of his hands remained on your hip as the other began to explore, dusting over your stomach with great gentleness. It was a staggering difference between the hand on your hip, which was holding you tightly, as if he was scared he would lose you if he let go.

You were lost in the movements of his tongue, no other thoughts existing within your mind as he continued with his precise actions. The warmth of his mouth was heavenly, the wetness of his tongue making every move all the more remarkable. His hand raised to your chest, finally finding what he had been blindly searching for as his palm cupped your breast. You squeezed your eyes shut, letting your head fall back onto the pillow as you tried to keep your breathing steady. Then, his fingers found your nipple, brushing over it and sending jolts of pleasure through you. The sensation combined with the feeling of his tongue was indescribable, addicting, and intoxicating. You felt drunk off of him alone, and you never wanted to sober up.

Just when you thought you were accustom to the multiple sensations all at once, he moved his hand, taking your nipple between his thumb and his forefinger and giving one hard pinch. You let out a gasp, your hips bucking forward into his mouth even further. You could see the shake of his shoulders, showcasing his silent laughter at your reaction.

Even if you wanted to be upset at him, you had no idea how to be. Being angry with Jake seemed like an oxymoron, two things that could not coexist together. If anything, all you wanted to do was praise him for all he had done to help you.

He retracted his hand from your chest, snaking it back down your body. He brought it underneath your leg, bringing his middle and ring finger to your entrance. He pushed them inside of you, with the same curl to his fingers as earlier. The added stimulation was heavenly, and a sure apology for his earlier action. He barely had to pump his fingers at all before your back was arching off the mattress, desperate and shameless for more.

“Jake, baby.” You warned, the words coming out hastily and jumbled together. “M’gonna cum.” You forced the rest of the sentence out, the fire in your belly blazing and threatening to take hold.

He hummed against you again, encouraging you to give in and let go. With one last curl of his fingers paired with the flick of his tongue, your second orgasm took over. Your legs trembled with the intensity of the feeling, your hands holding his hair as if you were afraid of floating away if you let go. The air was filled with obscenities, curses and praise for his work as you descended into the pleasure. If his mouth wasn’t occupied, you knew the praises and encouragement would be the most beautiful thing you had ever heard. He coaxed you through the moment, and your heart rate began to slow and your muscles started to relax from the tension.

Difference was, this time he didn’t slow.

His tongue continued to trace your clit with more intent than before, as if he wanted to see how far he could take it before you gave in. At first, the feeling was uncomfortable, but the idea of stopping was more troublesome than the sting of overstimulation. Instinctively, your body tried to pull away from him, but he used his hand on your hip to hold you in place. Your hands remained in his hair, but did not try and pull his head away from you. You wanted him, and the orgasm he had just given you was inexplicably addictive. You wanted to feel that way again so bad that you could spare the few moments of discomfort in exchange for something so fantastic.

The noises falling from your lips had upped in intensity, and definitely felt more dramatic. You were loud enough that you feared the neighbours might hear you had they stepped outside. He was living in the moment, driven near insane from the desperation in your voice. You looked down, and despite your blurred vision, did the best you could to admire him while you had him like such. His hair was a mess, still knotted around your fingers. The muscles in his back were tight, flexing with every move of his arms. His knuckles were locked in place around your hip, decorating it so nicely that you dreaded the moment he had to let go.

Although beautiful, those were not the things that held your attention. Instead, you were drawn in by the sight of his hips grinding into the mattress below. Pleasing you had worked him up so badly that he himself was aching for relief, unable to control how badly he needed to be touched. The thought was maddening, and the sight drove you over the edge.

Before the overstimulation even began to wear off, your body was forced into another climax that put the previous ones to shame. Your throat was raw from crying his name, your entire body aching from the violence of the feeling. For a moment, you thought you might die at the hands of his sin, but not even that thought could force you away from him. Your lungs burned and your head swam with thoughts of nothing and everything, all at once.

You had never felt such a way in your entire existence, and even when your body began to recover from the effects of his tongue, your mind had fallen far behind. You were barely holding on to reality as he finally withdrew his fingers from you, and your head was completely elsewhere when his head moved away, too.

“Could listen to you scream my name like that every fucking night.” He growled, pressing his wet lips to your thighs so he did not have to give up contact with you entirely. “God you’re a fucking masterpiece. Can’t believe it took so long for me to have you like this.”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond, instead wiping away your release from his chin and moving upwards so he could kiss you. As his hips landed on yours, you felt his cock press against your soaking core, the warmth of bare skin against skin nearly driving you into another orgasm. You were floored at his ability to make you feel good, and amazed that nobody else could make you feel such things. As his tongue glided across yours, you could taste yourself on him, only making the moment even more remarkable. It made him even more addicting, and you were certain you could get used to having him in such a way.

“Just a second, sweetheart.” He slurred, drunk off of you. He pulled away from you, sliding out from between your legs and climbing out of bed. You watched him, breathless and stunned at the picture of him completely naked in front of you. It was the first moment thus far that you had the chance to admire him fully, and you never wanted to stop.

He was painfully hard, the tip of his dick red with irritation from the rough threads of the sheets and glistening with wetness from where he was resting against you. The sight sent you mad, your mouth watering and your need for him growing tenfold. He turned to his bedside table, rummaging around in the drawer in search of a condom. When his fingers landed on the box, stuffed way in the back and hidden under a pile of junk. He looked over at you, smiling shyly as he pulled one from the box.

“Don’t really need these all that often.” He chuckled, an inadvertent way of telling you he was being truthful when he said you were the only one he offered his services to.

“Wait,” you uttered, watching as he raised the package to his mouth to tear it with his teeth. He froze in place, worried that you might have changed your mind.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He asked, ready to discard the foil square in his hand and dress himself if you were uncomfortable. “Do you want to stop, or slow down?”

“No!” You shook your head, feeling bad that the thought even crossed his mind. Instead of letting his anxiety get the best of him, you sat up from your laying position. Carefully, ensuring you had your balance, you shifted so you were resting on your knees, facing him. You looked up, giving a small smile as you beckoned him closer. His eyebrows knitted together in confusion, but he stepped towards you anyway.

Only when you reached out for him did he understand your intentions. He sucked in a sharp breath, watching as you grabbed his hand and guided him closer to the edge of the bed.

“Tonight is supposed to be about you, angel.” He muttered, a weak protest against your actions.

“I want to, Jake.” You assured him, unable to refute your desire to please him, too. “Please?” You looked up at him, doe-eyed with faux innocence written over your features.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, unable to resist the temptation. “I had no idea you were such a whore.” Even if his words were venomous, his tone did not match. He had such a way with words that even his insults sounded like praise. “Go ahead then, if you want it so fuckin’ bad.”

You debated thanking him for his kindness, but you opted to do it with your actions, instead. You leaned toward, bringing your mouth to him. You parted your lips slightly, letting your tongue glide over the head of his cock. The saltiness of the pre-cum staining his skin lingered on your lips as you took him in your mouth. You bobbed your head down slowly, allowing spit to accumulate on your tongue as you let it glide over the underside of his cock.

As you moved your head down on him, your eyes fluttered closed in concentration. His size was something you weren’t used to, but you had enough confidence to follow through with your efforts. When you felt his tip hit the back of your throat, your eyes watered as you fought back a gag. Desperate to impress, you relaxed your throat as you took him all the way. You felt him twitch in your mouth, letting you know that he was enjoying the moment just as much as you hoped. A string of curses fell from his lips, followed by a long groan. The sound only worsened the persistent ache between your legs, but you carried on, knowing that he would take care of that once you took care of him.

He raised his hand to your hair, gathering it in his hand and holding it away from your face. His eyes were permanently fixated on you, terrified of missing even a second of the view in front of him. You sat there for a moment, allowing yourself to grow comfortable with the feeling before forcing yourself to swallow, despite the momentary discomfort. As your throat constricted around him, he took in a sharp breath, overwhelmed by the sensation. Another groan tried to force it’s way from his chest, but he tried to hold it back, resulting in the sound coming out more similar to a whine.

Even if it was unintentional, it drove you fucking crazy.

You pulled back in one swift motion, inhaling a breath of air as his cock fell from your lips. Trails of spit covered your chin, but it did not phase you. Before he could recover from the loss, your mouth was on him again.

“Ah, fuck, sweetheart.” He growled, his grip in your hair tightening. “Full of fucking surprises tonight.” Your eyes flickered upwards, catching his stare as you bobbed your head down on him. You longed to sear the picture in your mind forever. His hair was disheveled, his jaw-hard set and his eyes crazed as he studied your every move. He was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen, and you were certain of that. You felt lucky to be able to please him in any way, and grateful to have caught his eye all those years ago.

As you drew your head upward, you let his cock leave your mouth completely, deciding to give him a show. You circled your tongue around his tip, pursing your lips as you placed them on the side of his dick. You pushed your tongue flat against him, suctioning your cheeks just a bit to add some pressure. As you moved your mouth down his cock, you made sure to keep eye contact with him the whole time. When you reached the base, you slowly ran your tongue over him as you brought your head back to the tip. Without breaking the momentum, you took him back in your mouth and bobbed your head back down until his tip hit the back of your throat again.

You started a steady pace, listening intently to every sound that passed his lips. It wear encouraging, and it was hot. If you had to say, it was the most attractive thing you had ever heard. As you felt him slide down your throat again, you let out a moan. The vibration amplified the already intense feeling, causing his head to fall back on his shoulders as he hissed out a long string of curses. You could feel him throbbing in your mouth, desperate for a release but unwilling to give in to it just yet.

In truth, you would not have minded. He had been beyond generous already, and to do him a kindness was the only way you thought fitting to repay him. Even if you would miss out on fucking him, you were happy to be used by him in any way.

As you continued at the same pace, you could feel him begin to lose himself to the pleasure. As your head came down on him, his hips involuntarily moved too meet with you. The constant pressure in the back of your throat was making it difficult to keep calm, but you persevered until he pulled away first. A particularly sharp thrust of his hips sent you over the edge, and the gag you tried so hard to stop finally forced its way out. Your throat constricted around him again and your eyes welled with tears. Hastily, he pulled away from you, his chest heaving as his concerned eyes looked over your face.

“M’sorry, angel. You okay?” He asked, crouching down so he was eye level with you.

“Yeah, I’m good, it’s okay.” You promised, nodding you head. He raised his hand to your cheek, swiping away tears that had fallen from your eyes.

“We can take a break if you need it,” he assured you, holding your gaze. “Don’t be afraid to tell me if I’m going too fast or if it’s too much.”

“I’m okay, I promise.” You gave him a soft smile, well recovered from the moment of slight tension. He watched you for a moment longer, wanting to be certain. When he realized you weren’t going to change your mind, he leaned forward and pulled you into a kiss. The softness of the action was all you needed to feel better again. “Can you fuck me? Please?” You muttered the words against his lips, unable to wait until he was finished to ask the question.

“You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?” He asked, intrigued by your excitement.

“Yes, please.” You breathed, needing it like you needed air. The desire you had for him was nearly debilitating, and since he’d stopped touching you, there was no relief for the grating need.

“Turn around for me, Angel.” He said, rising to his feet. He was in no position to deny you anything, because he wanted it just as bad.

You did as he asked, noticing he was reaching for the foil wrapper on the nightstand again. You couldn’t comprehend the grief that washed over you as you saw it, and the words rushed out faster than you could stop them.

“I’m on the pill,” you said, hearing him freeze in place. “I’m clean, too.” You were telling the truth, because before him, unprotected sex wasn’t even a thought in your mind. Whatever he had done to you that night seemed to permanently alter your mind, and the simple thought of not having him completely was sickening.

“Me too.” He hummed, almost relieved that you told him. He tossed the condom back on the table, the dull clatter of the impact prompted a smile on your face.

You backed up closer to him, your knees resting near the edge of the mattress and your feet dangling off the edge. He stepped towards you, his hands reaching for your hips as he positioned himself between your legs. His touch drifted over your ass, appreciating you while he had you in such a way.

“You have no fucking idea how good you look like this.” He praised your beauty, his voice deep and laced with desire. One of his hand fell from your hip, and seconds later, you felt his cock rest against your cunt. Slowly, he ran the tip through the wetness that was worsening by the second. “You want it, sweetheart?” The husky tone settled deep in your bones as you dropped to your forearms, bringing your top half lower to the mattress. You pushed your hips back towards him, adding a little more pressure to your clit, which he was resting against.

“So bad, Jake.” You pleaded, looking back over your shoulder at him.

“What was that, Angel?” He asked, sliding himself back down to your entrance. “Couldn’t quite hear you.” There was a smirk on his lips, cute enough to help him get away with the teasing, but irritating enough to bother you.

“Please, baby.” You whined, trying again.

“Please what?” He pressed further, pushing his hips forward ever so slightly. The miniscule change was agonizing, but it still made your head spin. “I want to hear how bad you want me, beautiful.”

“Please fuck me, Jake.” You finished your broken sentence, your tone stronger than it had been all night. “I need to feel you, please.” With that, you pushed your hips back again, testing your limits.

Unlucky for you, at the same time, he thrusted forward with force, causing the impact to be so much more intense.

“A-ah, fuck!” You yelped, the size of him something brand new to you. The way he filled you was enough to bring you to your knees, but the painful sensation of his cock hitting your cervix amplified the pleasure even further.

“There you go, baby.” He crooned, completely disregarding your response as he drew his hips back and slammed back into you with the same energy. “How does that feel?” The slight sneer in his tone was aggravating, but you had to admit that it looked really good on him. The sudden change in attitude made you realize that what had come before that moment was not typical for Jake. He was snarky, arrogant, and he liked to be in charge. You could tell by his fingers bruising your hips and his tone talking down to you.

Although you thoroughly enjoyed the time you already spent with Jake, it almost made you sad when you realized what exactly you missed out on.

As you were stuck on the thought, you felt a sharp sting across your ass. The sensation on your skin combined with the pleasure of him inside of you, making you quiver under the touch. “Answer me when I fucking speak.” He barked, letting his fingers gently caressed the reddening skin where his hand made contact. You weren’t sure if it was purposeful or absentminded, but the sweet touch after the harsh words felt good, reassuring that he was only putting on an act.

Then, you decided if he wanted to push you, you could do the same to him. The worst that could happen was a punishment, and the idea of punishment at Jake’s hands was nothing but thrilling.

“Feels so good, sir.” You exaggerated your tone in hopes of getting under his skin, but the term of endearment seemed to short circuit his brain. His hips stuttered and his hands tightened their grip.

“Such a fucking whore,” he spat, his words quiet as he regained his composure. Even if his words were harsh, you could tell by his voice alone how much he enjoyed your attitude. “I love it.” He muttered the words to himself, but you heard it despite his efforts to keep it to himself. He felt your walls flutter around him, drawing him in further and deeper, encouraging his antics even further.

One of his hands raised to your hair, gathering it in his fist and knotting it around his hand. He tightened his hold, pulling your head back ever so slightly as his hips continued at the same, bruising pace. You arched your back even further, your chest nearly brushing against the mattress now as your ass raised to meet his hips.

“That’s my girl,” he hummed, holding your hips as he upped the strength in which he was thrusting into you. “Take it so fucking good.”

The knot in your belly was tightening further by the second, threatening to snap with every move. You were crying his name, praising him for his hard work as he pushed you closer to a climax. You were sure his bedroom would never recover from the pornographic display the two of you found yourselves in, and the thought served as a comfort. You wanted him to think about you every time his bedroom door closed, remembering how you looked in his bed as he fucked you from behind. You wanted him to picture the way your ass met his hips every time he closed his eyes, and you never wanted him to forget the feeling of you wrapped around him.

Although he intended to solve your problems, you wanted to create a new, constant one for him; one that plagued him every night and haunting him during the day. You wanted Jake to succumb to the need of you, and you wanted your number to be a constant call in his phone, begging you to come over so he could curb the urge for a little while. You wanted to infiltrate every thought that crossed his mind, because you could not stand the idea of him giving this to anyone else.

“You want to cum already?” He asked, recognizing the tremble of your legs and the desperation of your high-pitched moans. “So fucking needy you can’t even enjoy it for a while?” He chastised you, but both of you knew there was zero malice behind his behavior. He was living for the way you moved against him, surviving off the sound of your pleasure. He was thrilled to drive you to such a state so easily, and he would give you whatever you wanted, so long as you asked nicely.

“Please, sir. I want it so bad. I need it.” You stressed the importance of the topic, feeling the burn begin to overtake your entire body. The urge was impossible to stave off, and you knew there was no use in trying. After all he’d done to you so far, you were long past self-control.

“Fine, but you better not hold back. I want to hear every one of those filthy fucking noises.” He growled, pulling your head back with a little bit of force. “Put on a good show, sweetheart, or I might not be so nice next time.” He warned, holding your head in place with one hand and your hip with his other. He pulled you back on him, making the impact even more powerful. The painful pleasure pulsed through your entire body, so intense that you could feel it behind your eyes. With every thrust of his hips, you grew closer to the release you so desperately needed.

In exchange for him giving you what you needed, you gave him exactly what he asked for.

“Oh, god, Jake.” You whined, upping the dramatics for the sake of his request. “You feel so good, baby. Please don’t stop.” You pleaded, feeling your head spin with the threat of your climax. You could hear his shaky breaths, the sound of your words hitting him harder than he anticipated. His hips remained steady, though, never faltering as he continued on exactly as you asked him to.

“Come on, angel.” He huffed, looking down at the curve of your ass, watching himself as he fucked into you. The permissive statement sent you spiralling, pushing you over the edge with little thought.

“Fuck, Jake.” You groaned, feeling your stomach burn with pleasure. Your hands were balled into fists, knuckles white as you gripped the sheets. Your arms and legs felt like they would give out from under you as they trembled. Jake seemed to notice the same thing, and the hand holding your hip slipped under you, holding you up so you did not have to worry about anything other than feeling good.

“That’s it, baby. That’s my girl.” He crooned, never letting up on his pace as he continued to fuck you through the climax. Even as you came down, your body did not relax. Your skin was ablaze and your forehead was glistening with sweat. You were tired, and the feeling of him inside of you became less pleasant and more intense as he continued to thrust into you. Your noises became less angelic and more desperate, as if they served as a warning for him to slow down. Overstimulation was threatening your exhausted mind, driving you closer to insanity by the second as the burn of irritation began to spread.

“Jake,” You wheezed his name out, trying to bargain with him as he increased the speed of his hips. “Jake, please.” You pleaded, now for an entirely different reason.

“What, you wanted it so bad and now you can’t take it?” He growled, his hips still moving at a relentless pace. “You can take it sweetheart, I know you can. Be good for me, baby. Just a little longer.”

“I don’t know if I can.” You cried, your throat raw from the desperation of your moans. Both of you knew he would stop if you really needed it, but he would be damned if he gave up before you truly needed him to.

“You can, beautiful. Being so good for me.” He rushed out, clearly growing close to his own climax. “Don’t you love being a good girl for me?” He asked, easing up on you ever so slightly.

“I do,” you whimpered, feeling his hand in your hair push your head towards the mattress. The strength of his thrusts had lessened, and the overwhelming sensation started to become pleasurable again. “I love it.”

“I know you do, sweetheart.” He whispered, desperation beginning to set in for him, too. He loosened his hold around your hips, knowing you were much steadier, now. He moved his hand between your legs, his middle finger finding your clit with ease. “Just a little while longer, baby. I’m not done with you yet.”

“Oh, fuck.” You groaned, his words giving you the strength to keep going. You clenched around him, amplifying the sensation for both of you as his finger continued to trace around your clit.

“So fucking tight.” He praised, saying it mostly to himself. “Give me one more angel. I know you have it in you.” He was right, the orgasm was already building at a rapid pace. You could feel the tingle of euphoria in the tips of your fingers and toes. You were too strung out on him to answer, but he knew that you would give him what he wanted.

Nobody in their right mind would ever deny Jake anything he asked for, anyway.

“Jake, fuck, m’gonna cum.” You rushed out, the urgency something you had never experienced before in your life. He let out a low chuckle at your state despite feeling the same desperation.

“That’s my girl.” He said again, the statement still hitting as hard as it did the first time he said it. With one last thrust of his hips, you came undone, all of the pleasure from the night coming to one final climax.

Your mind was blank, no thoughts or worries left to bother you. You wanted to scream his name, but nothing was coming out. Your chest ached and your lungs were in dire need of air, but you could not even seem to do something as simple as breathing. Jakes hand pushed your head further into the mattress, your cheek pressed against the soft fabric of the sheets as he started to lose his composure, too. His movements were sloppy, his hips stuttering every time he fucked into you. The finger that was once tracing perfect circles on your clit seemed to forget how to do so, and he had his turn to utter profanities that only solidified the moment in your minds forever.

His grip on your hair loosened as he reached his peak, spilling his release inside you as his hips began to slow. He used his arm to pull you back on him one last time, holding you there while he recovered from the intensity of the moment. He let out a long breath, looking down once more where his hips rested against yours. He drew back, slowly thrusting forward a few more times as he fucked his release back into you. A low growl sounded from his chest, the sight alone nearly working him up all over again.

“You okay, sweetheart?” He asked, his loving and catering tone returning as he withdrew from you completely.

“Yeah, m’okay.” You nodded, feeling the pressure in your skull lessen as he loosened his hold on your hair. “Fantastic, actually.”

“Yeah?” He grinned, excited at the idea. “You feel better?”

“Jake, you have no idea.” You breathed, slowly moving from your position. You were sore, tired, but you felt better than you ever had. “I don’t think I’ve ever… no, I’ve never had sex like that.” You confessed, rolling on to your back to let your body rest for a moment.

“I’m glad I could help, beautiful.” He said, laying down beside you. “Don’t worry about the mess, I’ll clean it up later.” He said, pulling you into his arms. You rested your head on his chest, his skin warm and soothing as the sound of his heartbeat thudded in your ears.

“I should probably call a cab, get back to Josh’s place before the bar rush starts.” You sighed, saddened by the thought alone. You wished to stay wrapped up in Jake’s arms for the rest of the night, even if you knew you shouldn’t. You were going through a breakup, and dating was not on the table (or shouldn’t be, at least), but there was something special about Jake, something so different that it made it impossible to want to walk away from him.

“Are you crazy?” He scoffed, his tone light as he looked down at you.

“What?” You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head up as you awaited an answer.

“Like I’d ever make you take a cab.” He rolled his eyes. “But, you’re not going back to Josh’s place, sweetheart.”

“What if I want to?” You shot back.

“Do you?” He asked, seemingly staring into your soul. You bit the inside of your lip, fighting back a smile as you gave a small shake of your head. “Didn’t think so. I’ll just tell him we drank a little too much and you crashed in the spare room.” Your stomach sank at the thought of a spare room, but he could see it in your eyes before you had the chance to address it. “You’re not actually staying in the spare room, gorgeous.”

“Okay, good.” You breathed, chuckling at your own stupidity. “‘Cause I’d much rather stay here, with you.”

“That was never even a question.” He assured you, letting his fingers gently trail over your back. The light tickle was addicting, comforting and soft. It was exactly what you needed after such a high energy evening. “I’m not even close to being done with you yet.” He said the second part, quieter this time, but you could still sense the truth behind his words.

“No?” You giggled, smiling up at his pretty face.

“Mmm,” he hummed to himself, the sound vibrating his chest. He seemed like he was thinking about all of the possibilities the night held, everything he could do with you (or to you, for that matter), and more importantly, what positions he could put you in. “No, definitely not.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that.” You let out a sigh of content, already dreaming of the same things. A silence fell between you for a moment, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. With Jake, it never was. After a while, you felt the urge to speak again, to show your gratitude for his kindness. “Thank you, Jake. For everything.” You whispered. “It really helped.” His lips quirked into a smile as he pulled you closer to him. He leaned down, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“I’m glad I could help, sweetheart.” He muttered, his lips still pressed against your hair. “And please, if you ever need help forgetting about anything at all, just give me a call. I’d love to help you out.”

[a-lexia11]

Is it weird that I want to know Leah's POV from Part 2? Like, what's going on in her head? What's with her reactions? Thank you for a beautiful fic, by the way. Keep on writing!

Ask and you shall receive.

In the original version of the story, I had included Leah’s POV, but I decided to remove it to concentrate more on the reader’s emotions and perspective.

But since you asked so kindly, here’s the version with only Leah’s point of view.

(Btw thank you for the compliments, I appreciate it🫶🫶)

Full of love (Leah’s POV)

Part 1

Leah Williamson x reader(past)

Alexia Putellas x reader

———————-

Ending things with Y/N was, without a doubt, one of the most difficult decisions I've ever made, but deep down, I knew it was necessary.

The love I once felt for her had faded, and I couldn’t ignore the growing unhappiness in our relationship any longer. It wasn’t fair to either of us to continue pretending.

Looking back, I have to admit that the way I handled it was far from right. I should have been honest with her sooner.

Instead, I distanced myself, ignoring her and, in doing so, only caused her more pain. When she told me she deserved better, she was absolutely right. She deserved so much more than the half-hearted efforts I was giving her.

Y/N was truly one of the kindest and most selfless people I’ve ever known. She had a way of making everyone around her feel loved and valued, and I was no exception.

Those five years we spent together weren’t just filled with good memories—they were some of the best years of my life. I was deeply in love with her, and she brought me so much happiness during that time.

But somewhere along the line, something changed. I don’t even know exactly when or why it happened, but I fell out of love with her.

It was one of the most painful realizations I've ever faced.

This was the woman I once dreamed of marrying, of building a life with. I imagined us having children together, growing old side by side. But as much as I wanted those things, I couldn’t force the feelings that just weren’t there anymore.

The break up was devastating, not just for her but for me as well. It felt like I was tearing apart everything we had built. Yet, in a way, it was also a relief.

It was like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders because I was finally being honest—with her and with myself.

I wasn’t living a lie anymore, and I wasn’t continuing to hurt her by pretending everything was okay.

So, while it was the hardest decision I've ever made, it was also the right one.

Y/N deserves to be with someone who loves her wholeheartedly, and even though it hurt to let go, I hope that by doing so, I’ve allowed her the chance to find that happiness again.

——

It’s been four months since Y/N and I broke up, and during that time, she has meticulously avoided me.

It’s as if she’s made it her mission to steer clear of any interaction, as if even the slightest chance of crossing paths is something she desperately wants to avoid.

Watching her like this has been incredibly painful for me. I can see the depth of her unhappiness, and it’s crushing to know that I’m the cause of it.

The once vibrant spark in her eyes has completely faded, leaving them dull and distant. It’s a stark contrast to the person she used to be, and I feel a deep sense of regret for what I’ve done.

Her attempts to appear happy around our teammates are painfully transparent. To others, her smile might seem genuine, but I know better. I can see through the façade she’s putting on.

There’s a heaviness in her expressions, and the joy that used to accompany her presence is now absent. It’s clear that she’s not truly happy, despite her best efforts to project otherwise.

It’s heart-wrenching to witness her struggle while knowing that I’m the reason for her suffering.

We were gathered in the meeting room, a place that usually buzzed with discussion and camaraderie.

Today, however, it was different. Jonas gave a subtle sign to Y/N, who stood up from her seat, her movements betraying her nervousness.

She walked over to stand next to him, her posture tense and her hands clasped tightly together.

When she finally spoke, her voice wavering. “I want to let you all know that I’ve decided to leave Arsenal and join Barcelona,” she announced, her words hanging heavily in the air.

The shock hit me like a physical blow. I couldn’t process the reality of her departure. The idea of Y/N leaving Arsenal—leaving me—was inconceivable.

My mind raced, but I found myself utterly speechless. The room fell into a stunned silence, the usual hum of conversations replaced by a heavy stillness as everyone absorbed the unexpected news.

I saw Y/N glance my way, and in that moment, she caught the full extent of my shock. Her eyes were filled with a mixture of sadness and resolve, and it was clear she was aware of the impact her decision was having on me.

Beth began speaking to Y/N, but her words seemed distant and muffled as I struggled to process what was happening.

The noise of the room, the soft murmur of conversations, all faded into the background.

One by one, the other girls began to rise from their seats, moving toward Y/N to offer her hugs and words of support.

Their gestures were heartfelt, and they tried to provide comfort, but I remained rooted in my chair, unable to bring myself to join them.

I felt a profound sense of helplessness and disbelief, paralyzed by the gravity of the situation and the sudden void that Y/N’s departure represented.

“Leah,” I heard a soft voice, calling out for me

I looked up, her eyes meeting mine, and I rose from my seat, moving closer. “Y/N, you can’t just leave. Arsenal is your home, your family. We’re your family,” I said, my voice trembling.

“I know,” she murmured. “But you need to understand that I can’t heal here. Not with you here and the memories of us everywhere I turn. It feels like a huge part of me vanished when we broke up. Arsenal no longer feels like home; something has fundamentally changed. I’m not happy here anymore, and I need to address that. I can’t just stay and be miserable.”

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I quickly blinked them away, “Are you leaving because of me? We can still be close, even if we’re not together. I can still make you happy as a friend. You don’t have to leave.” I begged her desperately.

She gently took my hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “Staying friends will only complicate things for me, Leah. I want you to know that I will always care about you, but this is something I have to do for myself. I need to find a way to move forward.”

I nodded slowly, my voice barely audible. “I understand. But that doesn’t make it any easier.”

“It won’t be easy for me either,” Y/N admitted,“But I genuinely believe it’s the right choice.”

I remained standing in silence for what felt like an eternity, overwhelmed by a flood of memories and emotions.

My mind kept replaying the moments we had shared, the laughter and challenges, the bond we had built over time.

The realization that she was leaving for another country and joining a different club hit me hard. The weight of it all was crushing.

Finally, I broke the silence with a sigh. “When are you leaving?”

“End of the season,” she said quietly. “I want to make sure I finish things here properly, give it the closure it deserves.”

i just nodded sadly“Okay. I suppose… I’ll see you on the pitch.” I simply said and walked away.

Being around her was excruciating, knowing that she would soon be leaving. It was a constant reminder of the impending separation and the emotions I was struggling to keep in check.

I had to remind myself not to be selfish, even though it hurt to see her in pain.

Despite the fact that my feelings for her had changed and I no longer loved her in the way I once did, my care for her remained profound.

I wanted her to find happiness, even if that meant her leaving and starting anew.

Seeing her unhappy was unbearable, and if moving to another country and joining a new club was what she needed to feel fulfilled, then I had to accept that.

——

I saw Y/N again at her farewell party, but I made sure to keep my distance, avoiding her as much as possible.

I wasn’t keen on attending in the first place, but Lia had insisted, arguing that it would be disrespectful not to be there with the entire team.

From where I stood, I watched her quietly. Despite the sadness of the occasion, she appeared a bit more radiant tonight.

Maybe the anticipation of her new journey was lifting her spirits, providing a sense of excitement that was hard to miss.

As the evening wound down and people started to drift away, I felt a heavy weight in my chest. I refrained from hugging her, knowing that if I did, I would likely dissolve into tears.

Instead, I gave her a brief, gentle pat on the shoulder and offered a simple, “Good luck,” before turning and walking away.

It was a difficult moment, and I knew that this might be the last time I’d see her for a considerable period.

The reality of our separation felt almost unbearable, and I wanted to leave before my emotions got the better of me.

——

Today, I’m in Barcelona, visiting Keira after a long time apart. It’s great to reconnect with my best friend, and I’m looking forward to catching up.

However, being in Barcelona also means I’m bound to see Y/N, especially since Keira invited me to join her and some of the Barça team at a bar tonight.

The thought of seeing Y/N again brings a swirl of emotions.

When Y/N joined Barcelona, I asked Keira to give me updates on Y/N. I was hoping to hear that she was thriving and happy.

Keira, at one point, mentioned that Y/N had become close with Alexia Putellas, which made my heart skip a beat.

It stirred up feelings I hadn’t anticipated, a mix of curiosity and something deeper that I couldn't quite place.

When I arrived at the bar, I took a moment to scan the room, searching for Keira. That’s when I spotted Y/N, and I was struck by how beautiful she looked.

Barcelona seemed to have suited her well; she had a glow about her that I hadn’t seen in a while. Alexia was beside her, her arm resting comfortably around Y/N’s shoulders.

It was a familiar sight, one that reminded me of how I used to hold her similarly when we’d go out with our teammates.

As I made my way toward Y/N, my nerves were on edge. She noticed me, as did Alexia. I watched as Alexia leaned in, speaking softly to Y/N. I saw Y/N nodding, and then Alexia placed a tender kiss on Y/N’s forehead.

It was a gesture that resonated deeply with me, reminding me of the affectionate moments we had shared.

Seeing this intimate display stirred a mix of nostalgia and regret, leaving me to navigate the complex emotions swirling within me as I approached them.

“Y/N,” I said, my voice shaking a little. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Leah,” she replied, her tone light. “How’s London?”

God,I missed the sound of her voice.

“It’s… London,” I said with a small smile,“How about you? Barcelona seems to suit you.”

“It really does” she admitted. “I love it here. The city, the team… everything.”

I glanced around, taking in the lively atmosphere. “I can see why. It’s beautiful.”

A brief silence fell between us, and the unspoken tension was palpable.

I could hardly believe that, after all these months, she was standing right in front of me. It felt like seeing her again for the first time.

“So… Alexia?” I asked tentatively but curiously,“You two seem close.”

Y/N glanced over at Alexia, who was chatting with Keira but I noticed that Alexia still kept an eye on Y/N, looking her way every once in a while. Y/N nodded. “Yeah, we’re dating.”

When those words came out of her mouth, I felt a slight tightening in my face, a physical reaction to the reality of the situation.

I had been prepared for this; Keira had given me a heads-up, but hearing it directly from Y/N made it all the more tangible and impactful.

I struggled to grasp why I was experiencing such intense emotions—jealousy and envy—despite my belief that my feelings for her had faded.

I had convinced myself that I was no longer in love with her, or at least that’s what I had tried to believe.

Yet, seeing her now, so vibrant and full of life, stirred something deep within me. Her smile, her laughter, the way she spoke—it all evoked memories of the Y/N I had once loved so deeply.

It was as if the past had resurfaced, and I was reminded of the affection and longing that still lay dormant inside me.

The realization hit hard: perhaps I hadn’t truly moved on; perhaps, on some level, I was still very much in love with her.

I forced a smile. “That’s… that’s great. I’m happy for you, Y/N. Really.”

“Thanks,” she said softly. “She’s… different. It feels right.”

I looked down, my fingers tracing the edge of her glass. “I’m glad you found someone who makes you happy.”

I’m genuinely glad that she’s found someone who makes her happy—Alexia clearly brings her joy.

However, I won’t pretend that I don’t wish I were still the one who could bring her that happiness.

“Um… how about you? Have you found someone?” She asked, her voice filled with curiosity.

“Um… not yet,” I responded quietly, almost in a whisper. “I’m trying to put myself out there again, but it’s been challenging.”

It’s been incredibly challenging for me because, with every date I’ve been on, I find myself constantly comparing the other girls to you. None of them have come close to matching the unique qualities that you have. Each time, I’m reminded of how special you are, and it makes me realize just how irreplaceable you are… you were in my life.

But you don’t need to know that.

Y/N nodded understandingly, and offered me a gentle smile “I’m confident you’ll find someone, Leah. You’re an incredible person, and anyone would be lucky to have you in their life,” she said encouragingly.

I genuinely valued her words, but they don’t reflect the truth. I don’t see myself as an incredible person.

Someone truly incredible wouldn’t have caused such deep hurt that someone had to leave the country, nor would they have given up on the love of their life.

As the conversation lulled, Alexia got closer to Y/N and gently touch her back, and send me a smile.

“Leah, it was really good to see you,” Y/N said. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your time here.”

“Yeah,” I replied, forcing a smile. “It was good to see you too, Y/N.”

She gave me a small wave before turning back to Alexia, who immediately wrapped her arm around Y/N’s waist, pulling her close in a tender, intimate gesture.

From where I stood, I could see the way Y/N looked at Alexia—her eyes brimming with genuine love and affection, mirroring the way Alexia gazed at her. It was a beautiful and heartwarming sight to witness, and it was evident that Y/N truly deserved this kind of happiness.

Alexia was treating her with a tenderness and care that I had failed to provide, making Y/N's joy and contentment unmistakable.

As I observed them, a deep, lingering part of me acknowledged that I still harbored feelings for Y/N. It was a painful realization, compounded by the knowledge that I had hurt her profoundly. I had driven her away, and now she was finding solace and affection in someone else’s arms.

The finality of it all hit hard—I lost her forever. I couldn’t help but second-guess whether ending our relationship had been the right choice.

Seeing her so happy with someone else made me question whether I had made the biggest mistake of my life.

No, it’s not a question it’s a fact, I made the biggest mistake of my life.

[springgirlshowers]

You’re A Dream, A Burning Star

Summary: A small musician at a venue in Berlin catches Joosts eye, after speaking to her, neither would never expect the next few months to be so intense.

Pairing: Joost Klein x Fem!Reader

WC: 8016

CW: drinking, shitty boyfriends, kissing, yelling, arguing, actually proofread for once, tbh this whole fic is a rollercoaster of emotions…strap in

A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH ANON WHO REQUESTED THIS!!! this has probably been the most fun one to write n my longest fic yet, hope it breaks your heart and mends it all at the same time <3 *songfic heavily inspired by this evil ass song*

Sometimes while traveling, Joost would like to go out to smaller venues and watch other live shows of performers he’s never heard of.

The one he was going to tonight, he had already had a show booked there tomorrow night.

He just wanted to get an idea of what it would be like inside, sure he saw the photos of it, but he always preferred seeing things in real life.

The line up tonight was two opening acts, then the main one at a small venue and bar.

The first opening act was your name. He thought it was pretty. As he stood to the side, beer in hand. He watched you enter the stage, obviously nervous.

A pretty face to match a pretty name.

You talked kindly yet a bit frightened into the microphone. You were a bundle of nerves, apologizing for your awkward and nervous behavior, and explained that you were still getting used to these crowds.

He thought it was cute in a way, it reminded of himself when he was just starting out as well.

You talked to the crowd in between your songs. Asking how everyone was feeling and how their night was going, earning cheers from the crowd.

Joost watched as your eyes darted around the crowd as you sang, not in a way of you were trying to let everyone have your attention, but in a way of you were searching for someone.

Eventually your eyes gave up looking and you closed them instead, staring at the crowd for too long would make you even more nervous.

Joost felt like you casted a spell on him the way he couldn’t take his eyes off you. The way your lips moved as you sang sweetly into the mic, the way your hands moved so smoothly across the strings on your guitar, the way you swayed back and forth, how your eyes glistened in the light.

You had him in a trance.

After your short set was done, you exited the stage in such a polite manner. Thanking the crowd repeatedly before grabbing your guitar and case in an organized manner.

Joost would spend the next twenty minutes trying to find you. He knew it seemed a little weird to see you on stage and spend the rest of the night looking for you, like some obsessed fan.

But something in him was aching for him to talk to you.

When he found you, you were leaning against a back wall, watching the end of the second opening act.

Joost came up to you and suddenly he felt as nervous as you looked on stage.

You squinted your eyes at the blonde man for a split second. You had seen him from somewhere.

“I just wanted to say you did amazing on stage. It’s like you casted a spell on the crowd.” The validation made you smile.

“I’m not sure if they were really there for me, I was just the opening act.” You gave him a small shrug in response, too nervous to keep eye contact for long.

“A good amount of people seemed interested. Me included.” He nodded reassuringly.

“That’s very sweet of you to say, but I need to work on my stage presence, I’m moderately good at it.” You let out a nervous laugh.

“I wouldn’t say that.” He said blankly.

“What would you say then?” You questioned, tapping your fingers on your glass.

“I’d say you're exceptional.” A grin slowly took up your face, making your eyes shut and cheeks blush, you looked away.

“That’s a bit of overstatement. I messed up on my third song.” You shrugged, looking down at the cup in your hands. You’ve never gotten so many compliments in a single minute, in your mind you had to double down and keep yourself humbled.

“I didn’t even notice. I thought you sounded perfect.” He said blankly, unbothered.

“That’s very sweet of you…uh, you haven’t told me your name yet.”

“I’m Joost.” He looked puzzled as your jaw dropped, eyes lighting up.

“Now I know where I recognized you from! I’ve heard of you!” You pointed at him.

“You have?” Joost looked at you with wide eyes.

“Yeah, I heard your little song that you did with that guy with the goggles.” You giggled and made a gesture to your eyes.

You were so nice. Joost was praying that was the only song you heard by him and not any of his other popular ones with…suggestive lyrics.

“Yeah, it’s getting pretty popular isn’t it?” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. God, you were so sweet. He didn’t want to mess this up.

You looked at your phone again, seeing if there were any new notifications for a text from your boyfriend. There was nothing. You let out a dissatisfied breath and turned it off.

“Are you alright? Are you waiting for someone?” Joost asked as you shoved your phone into your pocket.

“Uh, yeah. My boyfriend said he would show up tonight but I haven’t seen him. I’m wondering if he even bothered to show up at all.” You muttered your last sentence out, still looking around to see if he was there.

Joosts heart fell to his stomach. Of course a pretty girl like you would have a boyfriend. You were talented, kind, and gorgeous. Who wouldn’t fall in love with you?

He stayed silent, giving you a sympathetic frown.

“Anyways, is that why you’re here in Berlin? Your song?” You pipped, changing the subject in hopes to get rid of the knot in your stomach.

“How do you know I’m not from Berlin?” He teased, narrowing his eyes.

“You have a different accent. You pronounce words differently. Plus, we’re talking in Dutch. I’m guessing either you’re from Belgium or the Netherlands.” You shrugged.

“Netherlands.” He nodded, your eyes lit up.

“I knew it! I’ll be there in a few months actually!” You exclaimed happily.

“Really? For tour?”

“Oh not for that. It’ll be over by then.” You waved your hand. “A label in Amsterdam reached out to me and I think I’m gonna take the offer.”

“That’s amazing!” He exclaimed, his face filling up with joy, then he cleared his throat. “Is your boyfriend moving with you?”

Your happy expression faltered, looking down at your drink nervously.

“Um, well he doesn’t think he can. With work and all, but we’re just gonna do long distance.” You pipped, though you tried your best to put on a mask of happiness, the hesitation in your voice was obvious.

Before Joost could get a word out, a male voice was calling your name from the crowd.

A slender man appeared, black hair and tall but shorter than Joost. He ran over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

Speak of the devil Joost thought to himself, assuming this was your boyfriend with the way you looked at him.

“Hi sweetheart, I’m so sorry I got caught up with…stuff.” He attempted to give you a kiss on the lips, you accidentally moved your head in time for it to land on your cheek. “When do you go on?” He nodded to the stage.

“My set ended twenty minutes ago, Leon.” You said softly, the hurt and gloom prominent in your voice with your pouty face.

“Really? I thought you didn’t go on til later?” He said surprised, Joost could see through his act.

“I texted you the time I would be going on.” You trailed off, rubbing your arm for comfort.

“Are you sure? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you stranded.”

“It’s fine.” You said sadly, “I’ve already made a friend, this is Joost!” You gestured to Joost. Leon quickly took a protective stance, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close to him.

He was oblivious to the way you tensed up, Joost wasn’t however.

“Hi.” Joost gave a tight lipped smile, feeling the tension in the air.

“Joost makes music as well! He’s been doing it longer than me though.” You pipped, trying to continue on the conversation, slightly leaning away from Leon’s touch.

“Yeah, that’s great. I’m gonna go get a drink, do you wanna come with me?” Leon looked down at you.

“Oh, I’m fine right here. I already have one anyway.” You said happily, unbothered. Leon let out an annoyed breath.

“Why don’t you just come with me.” He spoke, more of a demand than a suggestion. You repeated your first previous sentence and shook your head. Leon removed his arm from around you, grabbing onto your upper arm with his hand, attempting to pull you with him.

“Come on, lets go.” He sounded like an angry father.

“I said I didn’t want to! I’m fine right here, Leon.” You shouted, wriggling your arm out of his grasp.

“Fine, whatever.” He muttered something else as he walked away. You rubbed your upper arm, ignoring the red fingerprints from how rough he was.

“He seems like a jerk.” The words were leaving Joosts mouth before he could realize. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be judging your relationship.” He blinked repeatedly and shook his head, as if he was trying to shake away what he said.

“No, it’s fine. He’s just a bit stubborn and short-tempered sometimes.” You sighed. “So what brought you to this place?” You changed the subject again, wanting to move on.

“Oh, um, I'm performing here tomorrow night, so I’m just getting an idea of what it’s like here tonight.” He shrugged.

“That’s so cool! Maybe I’ll show up and see you.” You suggested, Joost felt anxiety fill him up. His music was the complete opposite to yours.

“Oh no, you don’t have to, I don’t think you’d like mine. It doesn’t seem your style.”

“How do you know? I like trying new things.” You narrowed your eyes at him, playful look on your face.

“Fine. You know what, I’ll get you a backstage pass too so you’re not stuck with the sweaty crowd.”

“I’d like that a lot.” You laughed, the butterflies in Joosts stomach started fluttering again.

Noticing that Leon was taking a bit long to simply order a drink, you craned your head towards the bar, he wasn’t there. You pulled out your phone to text him.

Where’d you go??

Went back to my place. I got to work early tomorrow.

“What happened?” Joost asked, looking at the frown that appeared on your face.

“My boyfriend left. He was supposed to be my ride home.” You scoffed and shook your head in disbelief. “I’ll just take an uber or something, that’s how I got here.” You sighed.

“I could drive you.” Joost blurted out. “I’m not drunk at all, I promise. I’ll walk in a straight line if you need me to.” You chuckled at his offer.

“I’d really appreciate that. I’ll give you some money for the gas you waste on me.” You half jokingly said, already reaching for your wallet. Joost waved a dismissive hand.

“No, no. You don’t have to. You won’t be wasting anything. You can pay me back by showing up tomorrow.” He cut off your protests.

“Deal.” You smiled.

Joost made you let him hold your guitar case as you left the bar, he put it in the backseat of his car. He opened the door on the passengers side for you, which was much more than Leon ever did for you.

The drive to your house was awkward, a bit silent, the only noise being the robotic voice telling the directions to your place on the GPS.

When you reached the parking lot, before opening the door you stopped and turned towards Joost.

“Do you want my number?” Joost nearly choked on his spit at your question.

“W-what?” He sputtered out.

“Do you want my phone number? So you can text me when you’re going on.” You suggested, “Plus, I’d like to be friends too.” You nervously mumbled.

“Are we not already?”

“I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page.” You shrugged playfully. He grinned and grabbed his phone, opening messages and letting you type your number in, sending a text so you got the notification on your phone.

“Alright, sweet!” You said happily, stepping out the car, then leaning down a bit to look at him in the driver's seat.

“Thank you, a lot. For being so nice to me tonight.” You said, eyes looking around nervously.

“Yeah, yeah of course. You deserve it.” He praised, your cheeks went red and you looked down. He was giving you all the validation no one really ever did. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow, Joost.” You smiled and closed the door, waving at him as you walked to your apartment. Joost waited until he saw you enter your place and knew you were safe inside.

He couldn’t wait for tomorrow night.

You were definitely surprised by Joosts music style. You’d only heard one song of his in the past so you didn’t really know what the rest of his would be like.

It was strange seeing him out there, drinking beer on stage and moving around and singing like a madman as you watched from the side. Was this the same sweet guy you were talking to last night?

You didn’t mind however. His songs were catchy and you liked how he didn’t care about how crazy his stage presence was.

It was funny how you both caught your audience's eyes in different ways.

Joosts music was very hyper, fast, danceable. A microphone and a good DJ was what he used. It got the crowd jumping and chanting with him as he ran around on stage.

While yours was the complete opposite. Your music was a bit smoother, softer, flowy. You had your guitar and a sweet voice. The crowd swayed and mouthed along while you sang and stood on stage.

Joost exited the stage after lots of applause and repeated thank yous.

You felt a bit jealous of Joost, he had a bigger and definitely more interacting crowd than yours. You were grateful for what you got, but there was a small wanting inside you for one like his. Interested and excited. You knew it probably took a while for him to get here, as it does with all artists.

Hopefully one day you’d get a crowd as loud as his.

He ran right up to you, covered in a layer of sweat and chest heaving.

“What’d you think?” He asked, still catching his breath.

“I liked it, I think.” You both laughed. “It’s very…loud. Very crazy. But that’s a good thing, you know how to keep everyone entertained.” You complimented him, it was his turn to blush.

“Crazy. I like that.” He nodded proudly.

You walked over together to an empty spot behind the stage. A fold up table, a cooler of beer and different canned drinks sitting next to you.

“Do you want a beer?” Joost offered, you shook your head, telling him you already had a few.

“Well I’m gonna have more.” He laughed and pulled one out the cooler.

“Did it take you a while to get this big? Like with your career?” You spoke out, he looked at you confused.

“Well, kinda. I already had a small social media following before I started making music. So that helped.” He shrugged, taking a sip. “Why do you ask? Are you worried about yours?” It was like he could read your mind.

“Yeah, a bit.” You looked down at your feet. “I’m just scared I’m never gonna get where I want to be. Like I won’t be good enough for this stuff.” You frowned, Joost did too. He set his beer down on the table behind you.

“Hey, don’t say that.” He spoke softly, he brought his hand up to your chin, lifting it with a hooked finger for you to look at him. You breath hitched at the sudden gentle contact.

“You’re good enough. More than good enough. Exceptional. Remember?” You rolled your eyes at his words, he moved his hands to cup your face. “I’m serious! You’ve got an amazing voice. You’re gorgeous, talented, and kind. That’s the type of musician that this world needs.” His words made you smile and blush uncontrollably.

You muttered a small agreement and looked at each other. His eyes were so beautiful, though they were hidden behind his glasses, you could see the gorgeous shade of pale blue they were. It felt hypnotic.

Before you knew it, he was pulling your face to his, kissing you. You were caught off guard, still for a minute. Then you relaxed.

For a moment you pushed back into the kiss. Finding comfort in his lips against yours and his hands holding your face, you rubbed your hands up his chest as you kissed him back. Mouths parting and eloping each other's lips so passionately.

This was wrong. As you draped your arms around his neck Joost knew it was wrong. You had a boyfriend and he kissed you anyways. He couldn’t help it. You were so soft against him. You kissed back. It was pleasurable for the both of you, but it wasn’t right.

Then realization set in of what you were doing, you quickly pulled away.

You looked at each other, both a bit shocked and breathless.

“Oh…Joost. You’re very sweet but I already have someone. You know that.” You admitted as you let out a nervous breathy laugh.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I got a bit ahead of myself.” He quickly apologized.

“It’s okay. We’re both just drunk and being silly.” You giggled and shook your head.

Joost felt the opposite. He didn’t feel drunk at all, he didn't feel silly. He wanted to do that. Maybe it was a little impulsive, but he wanted to kiss you.

“Yeah, my adrenaline got too high. It was just a..” He let out an embarrassed laugh now too. Looking away and running hand through his already messy hair.

“Heat of the moment type of thing?” Your words were meant to sound like a statement, it ended up sounding like more of a question.

You were both lying. Neither of you were drunk. You both enjoyed it. You both wanted to do it. You both meant to do it. Just guilt and embarrassment got in the way.

“God, I'm sorry. W-we can just act like this never happened.” Joost told you, rubbing a hand down his face.

“Yeah, yeah, we can…” You trailed off, you still hadn’t moved your arms. He caught the way you were still gazing at him, eyes flickering to his lips once again.

You cleared your throat and removed your arms from him, crossing them awkwardly.

“Uh, do you need another ride home tonight?”

“Leon’s picking me up, he should be here soon actually.” You shook your head, the guilt starting to become obvious on your face. “I think I’ll just wait outside for him.” You quietly moved past him, looking at the floor.

“I can wait outside with you, for your safety.” He gulped. You turned to him, the corners of your lips slightly curling.

“Are you trying to be my guard dog now?” You joked.

“You could say that, plus I need my after-show smoke.” He shrugged, you scoffed and rolled your eyes playfully. Then waving a hand for him to come along.

As the night got darker the weather got colder, you stood outside the front entrance of the bar as you waited next to Joost. You took in a shaky breath as another cool gust of wind hit. Crossing your arms over each other, feeling the goosebumps.

“Are you cold?” Joost noticed, tilting his head.

“Just a bit.” You tried your best to act unbothered by the wind and what happened a few minutes ago. Joost took off his zip up jacket without a word, holding it out to you.

“No, no, you keep it. I don’t need it.” You waved a dismissive hand. Joost sighed.

“You’re shivering.” He raised his eyebrows at you. You shook your head once again. “Please. I'm still warm from the performance, I'll be fine.” He reassured you, you gave in, taking it and putting it on.

The jacket smelled slightly of cigarettes covered up by fruity cologne. It smelt like him. You felt so comfortable in it then any other clothes you’ve worn.

Joost finally lit his cigarette that had been hanging from his mouth, praying the taste of tobacco would overpower the taste of you in his mouth. It did, somewhat. The taste was still lingering on his tongue.

He made sure to blow smoke in the opposite direction of you, where the wind was going so you wouldn’t get a cloud of tobacco in your face.

You zipped the jacket up as you continued to wait, rubbing your fingers over the rhinestone skull design on it. Smiling.

Leon’s familiar car soon rolled up, parking by the sidewalk.

“You were really great tonight. You were amazing. Exceptional.” You told Joost as you started to slowly move towards your boyfriend's car.

“Thank you.” He was grinning ear to ear.

“Night Joost.” You gave him that signature sweet smile of yours that made him want to melt onto the concrete. He nodded his head and waved as you stepped in the car.

Leon pretended to not see Joost, even though Leon was staring daggers at him. He said nothing to you once you got in until you stopped at the first intersection.

“Any good acts tonight?” He spoke, turning on the right turn signal.

“Oh, yeah. Great ones.”

“That’s great baby, when did you get that jacket?” He took a quick look at your clothes. You looked down, eyes widening for a second.

You were still wearing Joosts jacket. You were wearing another man’s clothes in your boyfriend's car.

“I just found it in the back of my closet the other day.” You shrugged, acting oblivious.

Trying your best to tell yourself it really wasn’t that big of a deal, Joost only gave you his jacket because you were very obviously cold.

It meant nothing. If he hadn’t kissed you, maybe it would’ve meant nothing.

Leon let out a small hum, turning on the radio and saying nothing for the rest of the drive home.

You ended up not seeing Joost for the next four months. You kept in contact over text and one phone call. But you never saw each other in person after that. You never returned his jacket.

For those four months, there was a strange constant yearning, some ache in your chest. You weren’t sure exactly what. Maybe you did know, but just didn’t want to admit it. You convinced yourself it was Leon who you missed, not the other idea you were scared to admit.

Joost had that ache of yearning as well, he knew exactly what. You. He wanted to hear your laugh again, your singing, your voice. He wanted to see your smile, how your cheeks began to ball and blush and how your eyes squinted every time you began to grin.

God, he wanted nothing more but to see you again.

Once you were all settled in your new apartment, with barely any help from Leon, you began to book performances at local bars as you used to do back in Berlin.

Leon promised you he’d be in Amsterdam tonight, he promised he’d be on time and watch your show.

You peeked at the crowd a few minutes before you went on. Looking all over for him, even just a glimpse of him would make you happy. Glad he made it for once. There was no sign.

You pulled out your phone, texting him.

hey where are you??

i go on in like five minutes

are you running late??

A minute before set you got a response, you quickly checked your phone, an instagram notification.

But not from Leon, from Joost. He’d sent a photo. Just as you were about to see what it was, your name was being announced and you had to go on.

The crowd swayed and nodded along to your music. It was nice, you didn’t mind the peaceful crowd, it was what you were aiming for nowadays.

In the middle of one of your shorter songs, you once again started to look around for Leon. You spotted a taller, blonde, man wearing glasses, and hovering over the rest of the crowd with his height.

Joost.

You never told him directly where you were performing, he must’ve seen your name on the list of performers.

You began to smile and giggled for a moment into the mic. That smile and laugh he’s been waiting for what felt like forever to hear again, it made him feel ten times better than he already was.

After several thanks to the audience and putting away your things backstage, you checked your phone once again for any texts from Leon. Still nothing, he hadn’t even read your messages.

You walked out backstage and back into the bar area disappointedly until you saw Joost standing and waiting for you. Two drinks in his hands.

A smile lit up both your faces as you saw each other, yours was weaker than his however, still upset of Leon not showing up.

“Hey! I got you a drink, your mouth is probably pretty dry after all that singing.” He said happily, holding out the drink that was for you.

“Oh God, thank you. I was just about to get one of these.” You grinned as you took your drink from his hand, taking a sip from your straw and letting out a breath of satisfaction at the taste.

“I remember you said that was your favorite, so..” He shrugged and tilted his head as he smiled again. You hoped the dim light in the bar hid the blush taking over your cheeks, he remembered it was your favorite.

That only led you to another saddening thought. Joost remembered more about you than Leon did. He knew your favorite color, favorite drinks, favorite scents, favorite movies, favorite songs of his and yours. If you asked Leon to name any of those, he’d most likely just stare at you and stutter, not knowing.

The problem wasn’t Joost knowing your favorite things and Leon not. It was the fact that Joost remembered. Joost always remembered the times you told him you’d be going on at, or the places you were going to tour, the stories you told, or even the small little details you had in your conversations, that he would bring up in other conversations.

You couldn’t recall a time where you didn’t have to remind Leon multiple times you had a show and giving him the exact address to where it was, just for him to end up there ten or more minutes after your set, or not show up at all. Leon would never buy you your favorite drinks, or even buy you drinks, or buy you flowers, or take you out on dates.

Maybe it was wrong to compare the two men, they both had different lifestyles. But you’d known Joost for just a few months, much less time than Leon, and yet Joost still treated you better than your own boyfriend.

Because he remembered. He actually listened to you.

“You alright?” Joosts voice brought you out of your thoughts, “You looked really sad for a minute there.”

“Oh, uh yeah, I’m alright.” You waved a dismissive hand, put on your best unbothered expression. It was a weak one.

“You’re not a very good liar. I know somethings bothering you.” He teased, you looked down, deciding if you should try to lie more or tell him the truth, “Did Leon not show up?”

You kept your eyes on the ground and nodded, giving him a sad smile. He let out a coo of sympathy. It made the problem worse since Joost already knew what was wrong, he could read you like a book.

You took in a shaky breath when you tried to speak, you shut your eyes, hoping for the tears building up to subside. You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry in front of Joost, you didn’t want him to see you like that.

“It’s just been so long since I’ve seen him in person, and he promised he’d be here on time tonight. He won’t answer my texts again, I don’t see him anywhere.” You gestured a weak hand to the bar, no signs of your boyfriend being anywhere in there. Joost made a gloomy face as a few stray tears fell from your eyes, he wanted nothing more to hold you in this moment.

“And he promised to take me to that restaurant I keep talking about afterwards and…” You trailed off, shaking your head. “God, I feel so stupid crying about this.” You looked to the side, wiping the tears away, only for them to be followed by more.

“Hey. You’re not stupid, you were excited about tonight, I’d be disappointed too if a date night like that got canceled. You know, I’d say he’s the stupid one for missing out on a night with you.” Joost leaned in, making you let out a weak laugh.

“Yeah, he’s the stupid one.” You sniffled and let out a weak laugh as you patted your eyes. “None of my makeup is smudged right?”

“No, wait actually, there’s like a small streak right here.” He pointed to a spot under his eye, attempting to give you a visual representation of where it was.

You attempted to wipe it away, missing completely. Looking at him for clarification that you got it.

“Uh, no it’s- here, just let me…” He trailed off as he brought his thumb to the mascara streak, gently smudging the stain away.

It was such a simple act of kindness, yet something about it felt so loving, so intimate.

After a few seconds of insanely intense eye contact, Joost cleared his throat and rubbed his hands.

“There. Oh, do you need a ride home tonight?”

“How many drinks have you had?” You half-joked.

“Just this one.” He held up his beer, you narrowed your eyes at him teasingly, which told him you knew he was lying.

“Okay I had another before this, but I’m barely even tipsy.” He held up his hands in defense.

“Fine.” You gave him a teasing smile.

The drive home was quiet as always. Yet there was no awkward tension between the both of you, just a comfortable silence.

Joost offered to walk you to your door for safety reasons of course, you would’ve said he didn’t need to, but he seemed adamant about it.

You let him walk you to the start of the steps instead.

Joost looked at you while you looked at your feet in perfect rhythm, both small smiles on your faces. While looking down, you didn’t realize that your boyfriend was watching from your window, a scowl on his face.

You stopped at the foot of the stairs, finally looking up at the blonde boy next to you.

“I think I’ll be okay from here. Thanks for the ride.”

“Yeah, any time. If you ever need something you can call me.” Joost fidgeted with his thumbs, a nervous habit of his that you noticed and found cute in a way.

Both your eyes flickered to one another’s lips, a secret aching to close that gap between them. You took in a deep breath, coming back to the present moment.

“I’m gonna take a shower and go to bed. I’ll see you later.” You waved and made your way up the stairs, barely halfway up the stairs he called out your name. You turned with raised brows, a bit confused.

“Um, I just wanted to say…goodnight, Y/N.” Joost gulped, that’s not what he wanted to say.

“Goodnight, Joost.” You said softly, before both headed in the opposite directions.

You unlocked your door with that same feeling of butterflies in your stomach, only for them to go away and be replaced with a tight knot when you saw Leon leaning annoyed against your kitchen counter, a single lamp on in the entire place.

“Leon? What are you-“

“What were you doing with him?” He cut you off, standing up straight.

“What?”

“Don’t act dumb. That fucker you met from the bar, John.” Your eyebrows creased together, confused at the name, then realizing he got it wrong.

“Joost?”

“I didn’t ask for you to correct me. Just tell me why you were with him.” He put his hands on his hips, a defensive stance.

“He was giving me a ride home, since somebody decided to not pick up their phone.” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I had a few work calls I needed to make.” He shrugged, unbothered as he told that shitty excuse he always made.

“Yeah. Of course. Work.” You muttered, turning your back to him to take your jacket off.

“Don’t avoid this, you’re always running around with Joost. Have you been messing around with him?”

“No!” You raised your voice, tone filled with disbelief at the fact he would accuse you of cheating.

“Then why are you constantly hanging around him? I see the way you fucking smile and bat your eyes at him.” He pointed a threatening finger.

“Because it feels like he cares about me more than you!” You snapped.

“Bullshit.” Leon scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“It’s not bullshit, it’s the truth. Joost has shown up to more shows of mine than you have! He's always the one who makes sure I get home safe! He’s done a lot more than you ever have.” You lazily gestured at the man in front of you.

“Then why don’t you go fucking go date him! If you love him so much!” Leon threw his arms up in the air.

“That’s not what I’m saying.” You huffed, “I’m saying it’s unbelievable that a complete stranger I met at a bar has taken better care of me than you.”

“Bullshit, I’ve taken care of you.”

“When? Tell me a time!” You shouted at him, waiting a second for a response. Nothing.

“You’ve never given me a jacket when I’ve told you I’m cold, you barely ever take me out on dates, you’ve left me at the bar and made me walk home alone in the dark several times, you’ve never waited for me after a show!” You continued on with your rant “You’ve rarely even shown up to any of my shows!” You threw your arms in the air as your voice grew louder.

“I’ve told you before I get busy!” Another meaningless excuse.

“Busy with what? You’ve never given me a clear answer! It’s always just work! Yet there's never a clear reason! Why can’t you just take some time out of your day to come and see me? You didn’t even come tonight! And you’re in the goddamn country!” You were nearly screaming at him.

“Because you act like I could give a shit about your dumb fucking shows! You think I wanted to travel seven hours to see one of your boring sets?” He yelled at you, voice full of disgust.

You moved your head back in shock, jaw ajar and trembling as you tried to find the words. He shook his head and looked away, as if he was disappointed that you were upset.

“If you didn’t wanna see me, then why’d you even bother traveling here?” You stared at him with watering eyes, if looks could kill, he’d be dead on the floor. “You know what, if you don’t wanna see me, you can just get out.” You spat out, embarrassing angry tears starting to stream down your face.

“What?” Leon quickly whipped his gaze back to yours.

“Get out of my apartment! Get out! Get the fuck out!” You were shouting at him and pushing at him repeatedly, all the way into the hallway. He stumbled out.

You didn’t really know where all this rage came from, maybe it was the pent up frustration and anger from all the previous months, all the missed shows and ignored messages.

“You know what, fuck you! We’re over!” He pointed a defensive finger at you.

“We are over, asshole!” You yelled back at him, confused when you saw, his jaw clench angrily as he looked behind you.

You turned your head to see what he was staring at, it was Joost. Standing there with his mouth ajar and surprised eyes. Your face dropped.

Joost was shocked, standing there frozen. It was shocking to hear your usually soft and sweet spoken voice shouting and screaming curses at the man, watching your gentle hands shoving Leon harshly into the hallway.

Leon marched past you, muttering something and hitting Joost with his shoulder as he pushed past him, turning the corner and disappearing.

You and Joost stared at each other. He watched as your face crinkled in sadness and you let out a sob before turning and walking back into your apartment.

You were embarrassed that Joost saw you in such an angry and vulnerable state.

Joost was planning to come back, to possibly make that confession he’s been wanting to admit for months.

Instead watched you scream at your now ex boyfriend and saw you cry. Yet he still jogged over to your door, stopping you from closing it.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked worriedly, tilting his chin down to try and make eye contact.

“I think you should go, Joost.” You couldn’t look him in the eyes, you stared at his shoes.

“You shouldn’t be alone tonight.”

“I want to be.”

“But you don’t deserve-“

“Joost. Please just go home.” You begged, finally looking up at him with your teary eyes. “Please.”

Though your eyes were puffy, red, and mascara was smudged and stained down your pouty face. Joost still thought you were the most beautiful girl, the most beautiful thing to exist he’s ever seen.

“Okay.” He breathed out, the word barely audible with how soft he spoke.

You mumbled out a thank you and an apology before you shut the door, he heard the locks click and rubbed his hands down his face.

Joost felt horrible for you. He felt ashamed too, like it was his fault in some way. Seeing you in that moment, seeing you like that, all he wanted to do was hold you. Cradle you. Comfort you as you cried.

You wanted the same. Yet, you had no idea why you turned him away, why you isolated yourself tonight. Was that really what you needed? Or just what you wanted?

It was radio silence from you for the next two days. You holed yourself up in your apartment, smothering yourself in blankets and sleeping.

You didn’t know why you were taking the breakup so hard, you were unhappy in that relationship. You felt liberated now, but the harsh words Leon spat out at you hit you hard.

What made it worse was that Joost saw you in such an vulnerable moment. You just felt ashamed and embarrassed.

Joost was nervous, he had another gig tonight that you planned to go to, you said that you would go to it when you found out about it a few weeks ago.

You hadn’t answered his texts, the most you did was open the photo he sent from your last performance. It was a zoomed in photo of you standing behind the curtain, text over it saying:

i see u ^_^

It was silly enough to get a small smile out of you.

Though you said you would show up before, he couldn’t find your face in the crowd anyways. After his show, he texted you, asking you where you were. You gave him a short response:

I wasn’t able to show up tonight. I’m really sorry, I’ll make it there next time hopefully.

Joost frowned to himself, he couldn’t blame nor be mad at you for it. He knew breakups were a tough process, he’s already had his own in the past.

He wasn’t upset, but he wasn’t gonna let you continue to isolate yourself.

Joost rocked on his heels nervously after he knocked on your door, a bottle of wine and a few flowers in his hand.

He did another smell check on himself again, hoping the quick shower he took was enough to wash off the sweat from his show.

He heard the footsteps dragging closer to the other side of the door, a small pause before he heard the lock on the door click.

You opened the door as far as possible until the chain lock stopped it, a very sleepy and gloomy looking you appearing through the gap.

“Joost? What’re you doing here?” You asked tiredly, yawning after you spoke.

“I thought you’d want a small pick me up.” He gave a sympathetic smile, holding up the wine. You stared for a second then shut the door. His face dropped. At least he tried.

Another click and the door slowly opened fully. You leaned against the doorframe lazily. The tear stains on your cheeks were now fully prominent in the overhead lights of the hallway.

“Is that just for me to drink sad and all alone?” You joked, Joost really couldn’t tell if you were.

“Well, we could always share. I won’t pass on wine.” He shrugged. Then letting out a cough as he realized he had forgotten his other gift.

“Oh, I also grabbed these.” He held up the few flowers he had in his fist, “I picked these from the bushes outside, I hope you don't mind. I just didn’t want to show up with only alcohol.” He cleared his throat, the flowers were drooping slightly.

You let out a weak breathy laugh as you took the weak flowers from his hands carefully. You took in a deep breath before moving to the side, giving him a reassuring nod to come in.

You grabbed two glasses out as well as a corkscrew while Joost placed the bottle on the counter.

You both drank in silence for a few minutes, Joost nervously tapped his fingers against his glass.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be so depressing.” You trailed off, rubbing the side of your face.

“It’s fine. I know the first week is always the worst.”

“Yeah. I feel like I should be happy, he was an…asshole.” You threw a hand up, letting it fall against the counter. “But I dedicated so much of my time to him, for so long, now it just feels like I…”

“Wasted it?” Joost finished your sentence. You nodded, eyes beginning to water again.

“All I ever wanted was just someone to just…just see me.” You breathed out. “Or just love me. God, I sound so pitiful.” You let out a sad laugh, a stray tear escaping from your eye.

“So many people love you.” He reached out his hand, gently holding yours, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.

“Like who?” You said before taking another sip from your glass. Joost had already finished his.

Me. Joost wanted to say it so badly, but he didn’t know if it was the right way to say it. He didn’t know if it was the right time to admit it, he never knew when the right time

“More than you realize.” He gave you a reassuring smile, then reached behind with his empty hand feeling for the pack in his pockets. “Do you mind if I smoke?” He asked for your approval before pulling the pack out.

“Uh, no. You- we can just go out on the balcony.” You pointed to the sliding doors.

“You smoke?” He raised his brows at you, surprised a shy girl like you would pick up that habit.

“No. No. I just don’t want to send you out there alone. I’d rather not be alone here either.” You mumbled the last sentence out before getting up, moving to the doors, unlocking and sliding one to the side.

Sitting in the balcony chair opposite from yours, Joost lit his cigarette, trying his best to blow the puff of smoke that came out in the opposite direction from you.

The air was colder than ever now that it was the middle of January. You zipped up the jacket you were wearing. That same jacket Joost gave outside the venue all those months ago. He never realized you were wearing it until now.

He wondered how many times you’ve worn it since then.

And you never would tell him you’ve put it on more times then you could count, it had become an item of comfort.

“I’m sorry you had to see me in such an ugly moment. I never wanted you to see me like that.” You sighed out, rubbing your arms. He looked at you, eyebrows knitting together.

“It wasn’t ugly.” Joost spoke softly, smoke exhaling from his mouth. You smiled weakly, taking the compliment but not fully believing it.

“I don’t think anyone has been so kind to me. Not in the way you have.” You looked at him, sniffling. Joosts face fell soft, a sad sympathetic expression on his face.

“Nobody ever kissed me like you did.” You blurted out, mouth moving faster than your brain.

“Do you want me to do it again?” Joost was a bit surprised at his own words, the small amount of alcohol in his system being just enough to give him a confidence boost.

It gave you one as well.

You didn’t give him a verbal response, instead you closed that large space in between you and him. Quickly crashing your lips into his as you held the side of his face.

His mouth tasted of mint toothpaste and tobacco, the taste almost felt addicting.

You pulled away, both shocked by your sudden movement. Joost abandoned his cigarette, not even caring to stomp it out. He wrapped one arm around your back, the other carefully placed on the side of your face as he pulled you onto his lap and closed the gap between your lips.

Your mouths eloped each other, passionate and hungry for one another. Your hands were roaming all over both of your bodies, your hands moving to the back of his head and raking into his hair while his rubbed all around your waist, face, and back.

It was messy, so needy. Yet it wasn’t like any other kiss you’ve had, there was friction but it wasn’t because of the lust you both felt for one another.

It was fueled by love.

After a good moment of your lips being stuck together, you both pulled away, breathless, lips swollen, and amazed.

“This is so silly.” You looked down, giggling to yourself, then calming down and looking back up at him. “But I’m not drunk.” Your voice was breathless.

“I’m not drunk either, I wasn’t last time.” He stared into your eyes, looking like he was enchanted by you. He practically was.

“I wasn’t either.” You admitted, you’ve wanted to admit that for so long. That the first time he kissed you, when you kissed back, it wasn’t in the heat of the moment. It was what you wanted, it was what you wanted when you were sober.

“Is it too early to say I’m in love with you?” He chuckled, his hands still holding the sides of your face.

“It only took you four months, but I’m good with the time being now. You’re a good kisser.” You held your hands over his, your eyes watering not out of sadness, but joy.

You gave him one more kiss before wrapping yourself around him, hiding your grinning face in the crook of his neck.

This is where you stayed for most of the night, intertwined with each other in the moonlight.

Such a cliché scene, but this is both what you’ve been yearning for so so long. And now that ache in your chests is gone.

[obsessivelyloved]

This was requested on one of my nsfw blogs but I went insane and made it 3,000 words long. So I can post most of it here lol. Just know that in my heart, this takes place in Arkham. Also I'm super rusty so I apologize if anything feels off/wonky. The ending is abrupt here bc the rest of it/the ending is nsfw. I was up til 5am writing this and I'm not writing a sfw ending for this blog until after i get more sleep.

Anon asks: I’m a big sucker for Psych Au fics. Reader is a cis female doctor who treats Tord with kindness. He becomes obsessed with her. Refuses to talk to any other doctor. Tord is always on his best behavior for her which leads her to let her guard down. BIG MISTAKE

___________________________________________________________

“You dropped this.” 

The man stares at you wide eyed as you hand him his lighter. He stands, rigid. You give him a gentle smile and press it into his palm, your other hand curling around the back of his hand. 

“I know there’s no fluid in it, so you don’t have to worry about me taking it,” you say to him. You pat his hand and step away.

The man turns fully towards you and you’re able to read the name sewed onto his shirt. 

“I-” the man- Tord- swallows hard. He quickly pockets the lighter. “Thank you.” 

You give him another smile and walk past him. He seemed to be going the same way as you but he never caught up. Nor did you hear footsteps behind you. Once you reach the director’s office, he leaves your thoughts. You were determined to make a good first impression on your first day of the job. 

The man you met earlier had turned out to be your first patient. And oh boy, what a patient he was. Like you had promised yourself you weren’t going to judge any of these people but god damn. His file was thick. At least twenty papers were inside the manilla folder you had received from the head director’s office. Maybe even more. 

You’d never know if you kept standing outside the director’s office gawking at it. You take a deep breath. Going through it sitting down was probably a good idea. As you make your way to the breakroom, your grip on the folder is tight, trying your best to make sure you don’t drop it and reveal your patient's file. 

Thankfully, it doesn’t take you long to get to the breakroom. A few people were there but they paid you no mind. They sit, hunched over lunch or their own files. You sit and start to read. 

Løvik Tord

3 7 2 5 9

DOB: 1995

Age: 28

Hair: Dark brown with lighter brown roots

Eye: Silver

You end up skimming through this until you get to the bottom of the page. It wasn’t… pretty. 

CASE INFORMATION: 

Tord is a violent man. He is aggressive, manipulative, and has a short temper. Many doctors have tried working with him to no avail. He does not respond kindly to Dr.Casey (see page 5), Dr.Bonnie (see page 8), Dr.Roxy (see page 12), or Dr.Harley (see page 15). 

He is extremely aggressive towards Dr. Bruce (see page 20). 

You stop reading there, your chest feeling tight. You flip to page twenty. It’s not the last page like you had hoped. There were still…. Quite a bit in the file. 

Dr.Bruce has tried everything he can to help Tord. He has tried finding common ground with the patient. Has tried being lax and strict with Tord’s schedule. Has tried working with Tord and letting him sit outside. Tord had found every loophole and burned every bridge until Dr.Bruce stopped lenient treatments. Tord stabbed Dr.Bruce fifteen times before guards made their way into the room. 

It is unknown how and where he had gotten his hands on a sharp long blade. Tord was seen licking the blood of-

“Don’t worry if you can’t fix him. At this point, Doctor Markman hands his case off to fresh blood to showcase this place. No one expects you to be able to tame him.” 

You startle at the voice, goosebumps raised on your arms. “I’m sorry?” you ask with a polite smile. Anger clouded your fear. What the hell was this person talking about?

The doctor, Alice, her name tag reads, smiles at you. 

“Nearly everyone has tried working with him at this point,” she continues. “No one expects him to ever get better. He's here for murder, after all.” 

You give her a tight smile in return. “I’ll just have to see for myself.” 

Before she can keep going, you straighten up the papers and close the folder. 

“I appreciate the advice, but I must be going now,” you lie through your teeth. What bullshit! What kind of doctors run this place? 

You actually hadn’t needed to be anywhere for another thirty minutes but if this conversation continued you wouldn’t be able to hold your tongue. Everyone can be saved. With compassion and kindness and help, no one was beyond redemption. Or too far gone for help. 

You storm out of the breakroom and wander. 

“I was hoping I’d see you again.” 

Tord grins at you as he’s escorted in. His hands are cuffed and before he can sit down, the guard pats him down. 

It makes your stomach churn but you keep your face kind. 

“It’s nice to see you too,” you greet. You watch cautiously as he sits down in the plush chair. The guard leaves the room. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

It’s silent enough to hear the clock as the two of you study each other. He seems to drink you in, eyes wandering up and down, seeming to take in everything. You’d do the same if you weren’t a professional. 

“You used to dye your hair?” 

Tord raises an eyebrow. He tilts his head a little, eyes focused solely on you. It unnerves you almost as much as his file had. No patient of yours had ever stared at you so intensely in the past….

After a moment, he answers. “Yes. I fancied black quite a bit.” He gestures towards his roots. “It’s been a while since Bruce got me more dye. No one else will.” 

“I could look into it,” you clasp your hands, jumping into this opportunity. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll talk to Doctor Marksman.” 

“And what do you want from me in return?”

“I’m sorry?” 

His gaze hardens. “What. do. You. want.” He grinds out, his body rigid in the chair. His hands were clenched.

Without thinking, puzzlement falls across your face. What did he mean? What did you want? For him to get better, obviously. 

“I want you to be at ease with your mental health,” you answer, still looking puzzled. “I don’t want anything else from this job but that. I’m not dangling hair dye in front of you in exchange. I want you to feel comfortable in your skin and at home here, Mr.Løvik.” 

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. 

“Is that really what you want?” Tord asks, an emotion you can’t quite place in his voice. “To help me get better?” 

Whatever it may be, you smile at him. 

“Of course. I want nothing but to see you succeed and be happy here.” 

Things were easier after that first session. You always started off kindly, asking Tord how his day was going. If his favorite show or movie had aired on the television today.If his favorite food had been served that morning or afternoon. If he slept fine through the dreadful storm. 

(“I know I wasn’t,” you had laughed. “I tossed and turned, jumping at each sound all night.”

“I’m sure your boyfriend was quite displeased.”

“Oh,” you chuckle. “Well, no. I have a cat but no boyfriend. I was too busy getting my decree to ever really mingle like that. Though, my poor little man was also distraught at all the thunder last night. He yowled at my door until I let him into my room and he curled up on my bed. I’ll bring pictures next time.”) 

Too well for you and only you. Tord refused to talk to anyone but you. He would sit in silence or insult other doctors during his sessions. In one instance, he broke a new doctor’s nose. The poor guy had quit on the spot, cussing Tord and the whole place out as he was escorted to the medical section. 

You were tense the next few sessions but that violent man was nowhere to be found. He kept his cuffed hands right in front where you can see them at all times. He never lunged from you. In fact, barely ever moved in his chair. 

Tord was easygoing. Polite, charming, even. He took any medications he needed obediently and put up no fuss when you’d have him describe in later sessions how he was feeling and if he was feeling any negative side effects. 

He asked about your cat. About how your favorite show was going. If the movie you were looking forward to has come out yet. If your favorite restaurant down the street from your apartment was still closed for renovations. 

Eventually, enough time had passed that you relaxed. You stopped keeping your eyes trained on his hands. You stopped worrying yourself sick about his body language. You focused on his treatments and his mental health. 

If he was going to hurt me he would have done so by now, you thought to yourself after your latest session with Tord. He was doing so much better than he had been doing six months ago. It seemed as if you were really making a difference, helping him improve. 

It had been three months since he last fought another patient. Two months since he assaulted another doctor. And five months since he refused treatment of any kind. 

You step outside the building and take a deep breath. A dopey smile sticks to your face as you walk to your car. Becoming a doctor was the best choice you’ve ever made. Nothing was more rewarding than helping people. Not even this cloudy weather could bring you down. 

In fact, nothing tried to drag your mood down. There was no traffic on the way home. Some asshole hadn’t parked in your assigned parking spot again in the parking lot of your apartment. And your sweet cat hadn’t knocked his little box over again. 

You happily reheat your leftovers and watch tv for a while before you get ready for bed. Unfortunately, your mood does come crashing down. 

In the middle of the night, thunder wakes you. You jolt up, scrambling for your phone. Your hands come up empty. Shit, you think. I left it charging in the kitchen. Ugh. Oh well, you don’t need to look at your phone to see it is late and storming. 

Another loud sound booms through your apartment. Only this time, it sounds like a crash. 

“It’s just thunder,” you tell yourself. “Nothing to be afraid of.” You lay back down. Your eyes shut and you’re just about drifting to sleep when your door creeks open. 

You bolt up, knowing damn well that your cat can’t open doors and you freeze. 

Your heart races as your mind tries to process just who was in front of you. 

“Tord?” you whimper, hands shaking. But that can’t be. That was impossible. He was supposed to be sleeping soundly in his room with the soundproof headphones you got him. He didn’t like storms. The thunder reminded him too much of gunshots and made him restless. 

Useless information floods your brain. 

“I’m home, sweetheart,” he rasps. His grin is soft in the moonlight. He reaches over to flick on your bedroom light. 

He’s gentle he’s kind he’s sweet he’s-

He’s covered in blood.

Tord steps forward and you’re frozen in bed. His eyes are wild as they drink you in. There’s blood on his hands. In his hair. Splatters on his face. 

“Oh honey how I’ve dreamed of this,” he croons at the foot of your bed. “Your apartment is just as cute as you described.” 

[xxdark-obsessionxx]

I’m a big sucker for Psych Au fics. Reader is a cis female doctor who treats Tord with kindness. He becomes obsessed with her. Refuses to talk to any other doctor.

Tord is always on his best behavior for her which leads her to let her guard down.

BIG MISTAKE

I was supposed to be asleep five hours ago but I couldn’t until I finished this. Just know that in my heart, this takes place in Arkham. Also I'm super rusty so I apologize if anything feels off/wonky.

CW: Noncon

Dark themes ahead, please read at your own discretion and keep yourself safe. This is a work of fiction and I do not condone or support scenarios like this in real life

_____________________________________________

“You dropped this.” 

The man stares at you wide eyed as you hand him his lighter. He stands, rigid. You give him a gentle smile and press it into his palm, your other hand curling around the back of his hand. 

“I know there’s no fluid in it, so you don’t have to worry about me taking it,” you say to him. You pat his hand and step away.

The man turns fully towards you and you’re able to read the name sewed onto his shirt. 

“I-” the man- Tord- swallows hard. He quickly pockets the lighter. “Thank you.” 

You give him another smile and walk past him. He had seemed to be going the same way as you but he never caught up. Nor did you hear footsteps behind you. Once you reach the director’s office, he leaves your thoughts. You were absolutely determined to make a good first impression on your first day of the job. 

The man you met earlier had turned out to be your first patient. And oh boy, what a patient he was. Like you had promised yourself you weren’t going to judge any of these people but god damn. His file was thick. At least twenty papers were inside the manilla folder you had received from the head director’s office. Maybe even more. 

You’d never know if you kept standing outside the director’s office gawking at it. You take a deep breath. Going through it sitting down was probably a good idea. As you make your way to the breakroom, your grip on the folder is tight, trying your best to make sure you don’t drop it and reveal your patient's file. 

Thankfully, it doesn’t take you long to get to the breakroom. A few people were there but they paid you no mind. They sit, hunched over lunch or their own files. You sit and start to read. 

Løvik Tord

3 7 2 5 9

DOB: 1995

Age: 28

Hair: Dark brown with lighter brown roots

Eye: Silver

You end up skimming through this until you get to the bottom of the page. It wasn’t… pretty. 

CASE INFORMATION: 

Tord is a violent man. He is aggressive, manipulative, and has a short temper. Many doctors have tried working with him to no avail. He does not respond kindly to Dr.Casey (see page 5), Dr.Bonnie (see page 8), Dr.Roxy (see page 12), or Dr.Harley (see page 15). 

He is extremely aggressive towards Dr. Bruce (see page 20). 

You stop reading there, your chest feeling tight. You flip to page twenty. It’s not the last page like you had hoped. There were still…. Quite a bit in the file. 

Dr.Bruce has tried everything he can to help Tord. He has tried finding common ground with the patient. Has tried being lax and strict with Tord’s schedule. Has tried working with Tord and letting him sit outside. Tord had found every loophole and burned every bridge until Dr.Bruce stopped lenient treatments. Tord stabbed Dr.Bruce fifteen times before guards made their way into the room. 

It is unknown how and where he had gotten his hands on a sharp long blade. Tord was seen licking the blood of-

“Don’t worry if you can’t fix him. At this point, Doctor Markman hands his case off to fresh blood to showcase this place. No one expects you to be able to tame him.” 

You startle at the voice, goosebumps raised on your arms. “I’m sorry?” you ask with a polite smile. Anger clouded your fear. What the hell was this person talking about?

The doctor, Alice, her name tag reads, smiles at you. 

“Nearly everyone has tried working with him at this point,” she continues. “No one expects him to ever get better. He's here for murder, after all.” 

You give her a tight smile in return. “I’ll just have to see for myself.” 

Before she can keep going, you straighten up the papers and close the folder. 

“I appreciate the advice, but I must be going now,” you lie through your teeth. What bullshit! What kind of doctors run this place? 

You actually hadn’t needed to be anywhere for another thirty minutes but if this conversation continued you wouldn’t be able to hold your tongue. Everyone can be saved. With compassion and kindness and help, no one was beyond redemption. Or too far gone for help. 

You storm out of the breakroom and wander. 

“I was hoping I’d see you again.” 

Tord grins at you as he’s escorted in. His hands are cuffed and before he can sit down, the guard pats him down. 

It makes your stomach churn but you keep your face kind. 

“It’s nice to see you too,” you greet. You watch cautiously as he sits down in the plush chair. The guard leaves the room. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

It’s silent enough to hear the clock as the two of you study each other. He seems to drink you in, eyes wandering up and down, seeming to take in everything. You’d do the same if you weren’t a professional. 

“You used to dye your hair?” 

Tord raises an eyebrow. He tilts his head a little, eyes focused solely on you. It unnerves you almost as much as his file had. No patient of yours had ever stared at you so intensely in the past….

After a moment, he answers. “Yes. I fancied black quite a bit.” He gestures towards his roots. “It’s been a while since Bruce got me more dye. No one else will.” 

“I could look into it,” you clasp your hands, jumping into this opportunity. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll talk to Doctor Marksman.” 

“And what do you want from me in return?”

“I’m sorry?” 

His gaze hardens. “What. do. You. want.” He grinds out, his body rigid in the chair. His hands were clenched.

Without thinking, puzzlement falls across your face. What did he mean? What did you want? For him to get better, obviously. 

“I want you to be at ease with your mental health,” you answer, still looking puzzled. “I don’t want anything else from this job but that. I’m not dangling hair dye in front of you in exchange. I want you to feel comfortable in your skin and at home here, Mr.Løvik.” 

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. 

“Is that really what you want?” Tord asks, an emotion you can’t quite place in his voice. “To help me get better?” 

Whatever it may be, you smile at him. 

“Of course. I want nothing but to see you succeed and be happy here.” 

Things were easier after that first session. You always started off kindly, asking Tord how his day was going. If his favorite show or movie had aired on the television today.If his favorite food had been served that morning or afternoon. If he slept fine through the dreadful storm. 

(“I know I wasn’t,” you had laughed. “I tossed and turned, jumping at each sound all night.”

“I’m sure your boyfriend was quite displeased.”

“Oh,” you chuckle. “Well, no. I have a cat but no boyfriend. I was too busy getting my decree to ever really mingle like that. Though, my poor little man was also distraught at all the thunder last night. He yowled at my door until I let him into my room and he curled up on my bed. I’ll bring pictures next time.”) 

Too well for you and only you. Tord refused to talk to anyone but you. He would sit in silence or insult other doctors during his sessions. In one instance, he broke a new doctor’s nose. The poor guy had quit on the spot, cussing Tord and the whole place out as he was escorted to the medical section. 

You were tense the next few sessions but that violent man was nowhere to be found. He kept his cuffed hands right in front where you can see them at all times. He never lunged from you. In fact, barely ever moved in his chair. 

Tord was easygoing. Polite, charming, even. He took any medications he needed obediently and put up no fuss when you’d have him describe in later sessions how he was feeling and if he was feeling any negative side effects. 

He asked about your cat. About how your favorite show was going. If the movie you were looking forward to has come out yet. If your favorite restaurant down the street from your apartment was still closed for renovations. 

Eventually, enough time had passed that you relaxed. You stopped keeping your eyes trained on his hands. You stopped worrying yourself sick about his body language. You focused on his treatments and his mental health. 

If he was going to hurt me he would have done so by now, you thought to yourself after your latest session with Tord. He was doing so much better than he had been doing six months ago. It seemed as if you were really making a difference, helping him improve. 

It had been three months since he last fought another patient. Two months since he assaulted another doctor. And five months since he refused treatment of any kind. 

You step outside the building and take a deep breath. A dopey smile sticks to your face as you walk to your car. Becoming a doctor was the best choice you’ve ever made. Nothing was more rewarding than helping people. Not even this cloudy weather could bring you down. 

In fact, nothing tried to drag your mood down. There was no traffic on the way home. Some asshole hadn’t parked in your assigned parking spot again in the parking lot of your apartment. And your sweet cat hadn’t knocked his little box over again. 

You happily reheat your leftovers and watch tv for a while before you get ready for bed. Unfortunately, your mood does come crashing down. 

In the middle of the night, thunder wakes you. You jolt up, scrambling for your phone. Your hands come up empty. Shit, you think. I left it charging in the kitchen. Ugh. Oh well, you don’t need to look at your phone to see it is late and storming. 

Another loud sound booms through your apartment. Only this time, it sounds like a crash. 

“It’s just thunder,” you tell yourself. “Nothing to be afraid of.” You lay back down. Your eyes shut and you’re just about drifting to sleep when your door creeks open. 

You bolt up, knowing damn well that your cat can’t open doors and you freeze. 

Your heart races as your mind tries to process just who was in front of you. 

“Tord?” you whimper, hands shaking. But that can’t be. That was impossible. He was supposed to be sleeping soundly in his room with the soundproof headphones you got him. He didn’t like storms. The thunder reminded him too much of gunshots and made him restless. 

Useless information floods your brain. 

“I’m home, sweetheart,” he rasps. His grin is soft in the moonlight. He reaches over to flick on your bedroom light. 

He’s gentle he’s kind he’s sweet he’s-

He’s covered in blood.

Tord steps forward and you’re frozen in bed. His eyes are wild as they drink you in. There’s blood on his hands. In his hair. Splatters on his face. 

“Oh honey how I’ve dreamed of this,” he croons at the foot of your bed. “Your apartment is just as cute as you described.” 

He grabs the edge of your blanket and pulls it off. His smile grows sappy. “You did go for the red pants like I suggested.” He giggles, staring between your legs. “I wonder if there’s a match beneath them.”

That snaps you out of your shocked stupor. You scramble off your bed, slamming your head hard against your nightstand as you try to avoid Tord’s lunging grasp. 

You lay fetal on the floor, tears in your eyes as you clutch your head. “Fuck,” you hiss.

Tord clicks his tongue. He slowly climbs off your bed, crouching next to you. “My poor clumsy sweetheart.” 

You feel his hands in your hair. 

“What do you want?” you gasp. Fear and pain mix as you start to cry into your carpet. 

His hands stroke your hair. 

“You.” 

With that, you’re powerless to stop him as he scoops you up into his arms. You thrash as he dumps you back onto your bed, pinning you down. 

“I know you're scared but it’s ok. I’ll be gentle, my love. So gentle.”

Your mind can’t wrap your head around what’s happening. Tord isn’t supposed to be tying your wrists to your headboard. He isn’t supposed to be kissing your neck and grinding his hard arousal between your legs. He isn’t supposed to be in your home. 

“Such a good girl, staying still for me,” Tord says softly as he pulls back. He slides your pants down. Disappoint clouds his eyes when he sees your panties aren’t red but it’s deepened when he pulls those down and you’re barely wet.

“It’s ok sweets. I’ll figure out what gets you going. There’s nothing to be ashamed of in needing help.” 

Anger wells in your chest as Tord fishes for something in one of his pockets. How dare he. How dare he parrot your own advice back at you. As if this was a simple therapy session. As if you were the patient and he was the doctor wanting to help. 

“Get off me!” you snarl. “You know this isn’t right Tord. Y-you’re sick! You need help!” 

Tord stops what he’s doing to stare dead eyed at you. He plucks a clean rag off your nightstand and stuffs it into your mouth. 

“Enough of that,” he scolds. “You need this as much as I do. In fact, doctors orders.” 

He grins at his own twisted joke. He fishes through his pockets again and pulls out a small bottle of lube. “Yes, just what my love needs. A good thorough fuck.” 

You desperately try to spit the rag out but your mouth is too dry. You twist and tug your wrists but to no avail. This was happening. Your gentle, sweet patient was going to take your virginity. 

Tord carefully squirts lube onto his fingers, rubbing them together. He parts your folds, humming appreciatively as he rubs your clit. 

“That’s it, my good girl. Get nice and wet for me.” 

You feel sick. Against your will, his crooning and his touches stir up arousal inside you. You close your eyes as he gently fingers you as if he was searching for something. 

A minute later, your eyes fly open as he jabs something horrible. Your pussy grows slick from it, pleasure building in your lower stomach. 

“There it is.”

You shake your head violently. Not there, you try to plead with your eyes. Anywhere but there! 

But Tord merely smiles at you and ruthlessly abuses that spot. Over and over his fingers jab and curl,  rubbing it. You squeeze your eyes tight, small moans making their way out of your throat as pleasure jolts through you.. His thumb strokes your clit and you cum embarrassedly fast. You stare at the ceiling and wish you hadn’t wanted to cum at all. 

“Good girl,” Tord praises. He pulls his fingers out, eying them appreciatively. He sticks them in his mouth and sucks, moaning. “So sweet. But I’m too impatient to try it from the source. You’ll have to forgive me, my love.” 

Panic jolts up your spine as you feel his tip pressing against your entrance. You try to climb up your bed rest but you only achieve getting a little higher up on your pillows. Tord sighs and presses forward. 

“It’ll hurt for a moment but I promise this will feel good,” Tord tries to soothe. He picks up the lube and squeezes more into his palm and strokes himself. 

You hate him. You hate him with all your heart. 

He pushed forward and once again, you squeezed your eyes tight. His hand roughly grabs your throat. 

“Eyes on me,” he snaps. “I want to see how good I make you feel.” 

The fear overturns the pain and you quickly open your eyes. He pushes further in, reaching down to run your clit. 

Tord rocks his hips a little, eyes starstruck as he stares down at you. “You’re getting wetter,” he mumbles to himself. A grin spreads across his face. 

His hips snap forward, setting a firm pace. He stops rubbing your clit to grab under your thighs. He lifts them up and pushes until they’re almost touching your breasts. 

He thrusts harder and- 

You squeal, bucking your hips as he hits that horrible spot. You can’t stop bucking your hips, jolts of pleasure stabbing your stomach and stars in your eyes. 

Tord pressed closer to you, caging you in. He holds your gaze intensely, panting a little. His eyes dart between your face and your bouncing tits. 

Like earlier, you cum fast. This one hits you harder. And Tord doesn’t stop. 

You cum again and he pulls out. “Move and I’ll beat your ass with a belt,” he growls. He pulls out a switchblade and cuts the rope off your headboard. He’s quick to tie your wrists together. 

You find yourself on your stomach, ass up. Tord firmly holds your hips. He enters again, pressing down against you. Caging you against the mattress as he pounds into your pussy hard. By the time you’re cumming again, he finally cums with you. 

You’re crying by this point. Overstimulation has you cringing, your pussy tingling as he pulls out. Once again, you start to panic. Tord had come inside you. You thrash underneath him. 

“Stop that,” he hisses, slapping your ass hard. You cry harder as he does it another three times. And another, until you finally go still. 

You hear Tord sigh harshly. “I need to be patient with you,” he mumbles to himself. He gets off of you and you hear him leave the room. 

He’s back within minutes, holding a wet hand towel. You’re gently turned over onto your back and he softly cleans you up. You can’t look at him. 

“Mrrow.” 

Your heart jolts. Your cat jumps onto the bed, purring as Tord pets him with his clean hand. Traitor. 

“You rest while I pack,” Tord says softly. He leans down to press a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll grab everything you need and love for our new home.” 

He climbs off the bed and leaves the room again. He comes back with duffel bags. Your cat paddles up to you and curls up next to you. He purrs hard as you sob your eyes out.

[gigabyte-flare]

There's No Escape (Part 5)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Summary: You find out that dedication pays off as you struggle with conflicting feelings for your clearly traumatized captor.

Pairing: yandere!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Word Count: 2.4k

If any of the warnings below trigger you, please kindly pass on this fic 

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life; if you feel this way, please go touch grass. You are solely responsible for your own content consumption

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL YEET YOU INTO THE GODDAMN SUN. Thank you!

Warnings (may not apply to all parts): Sex, gaslighting, swearing, stalking, acts of violence, blood, dubcon, kidnapping, pet names (baby, doll, angel, sweetheart, etc.), PTSD triggers, unprotected sex, forced breeding, daddy kink, manipulation, oral (m and f receiving), choking, overstimulation, knife play, gunplay, masterbation, drugging, tokophobia, Stockholm syndrome if you squint. Long story short, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. More warnings could be added in the future.

Tags: @lipglossanon, @ghostkennedy, @explorevenus, @nexyswrites, @ilookatlater, @shroomietrip, @dollrxst, @lomaeuwu, @aliet, @luniaxifics (Shoot me a message or an ask if you want to be added to the list!)

A/N: I appreciate everyone's patience while I worked to get this one out. Hopefully it's worth the wait, enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You were in heaven.

Or… at least as close to heaven as you could get in your current predicament.

You soak yourself in the master bathroom tub, something Leon let you do if you were good, it felt so good on your sore muscles first thing in the morning. You sit there, your eyes closed; it was one of those part bathtub, part jacuzzi things that probably cost Leon a fortune. It was huge, you figured it could fit at least four people. 

The bathroom itself had a modern aesthetic. There was the tub, across from that was a stand up shower, completely enclosed in glass with a rainfall shower head. The sink and vanity were behind you in front of the door heading into the master bedroom. The best part though? The floor to ceiling window that overlooked the vast forest. The sun shone through the morning mist and trees, scattering god rays everywhere. You had to give credit for that; Leon had great taste in architecture. 

Your mind wanders as you open your eyes to enjoy the view of the forest. How long have you been here? Weeks? Months? You had tried to keep track but found it next to impossible. All the days seemed to blend together, your days made up of either Leon being attached to your hip or him ‘going into town’ (whatever that means) for work while you stayed there; you liked these days to yourself the most. In the evenings Leon would fuck you, his desire to get you pregnant was seemingly insatiable; hence why you were almost always sore in the morning.

It was impossible to fight him when he felt so fucking good, fucking asshole.

You’re ripped from your thoughts when you hear the bathroom door open.

“Alright, babygirl, tub time is over, time to have breakfast.”

You inwardly groan, opening your eyes and glaring at Leon.

“Don’t be like that, you don’t want Daddy to put you in timeout again, do you?”

You let out a sigh as you start to climb out, however, Leon scoops you up into his arms, carrying you into the bedroom so you could get dressed.

“Don’t want you slipping and falling on that wet tile. I can’t have my princess hurting herself, can I?”

In any other situation, you think this gesture would be adorable as hell, but this is not any other situation due to the fact that Leon is fucking nuts. He sets you down onto the bed before opening up the closet to pick out your outfit. One of his favorite things to do was to dress you up like you were his personal doll; this started within the past week. 

It’s like the more and more time you are trapped in this house with him, the weirder he gets.

“Here we are!” He suddenly exclaims, pulling out a flowy, short summer dress from the closet.

He walks over to you, you have seated yourself at the end of the bed with your arms wrapped around yourself. 

“Move your arms, babygirl,” Leon commands, his voice having a hint of annoyance.

Letting out a sigh, you lift your arms up over your head and Leon slips the dress onto you. When he gets the dress fitted onto you, he takes a step back as if he’s admiring a piece of artwork.

“Such a pretty doll you are. What do you say to Daddy for dressing you up so nice?”

You look away from him, once again wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” Leon snarls.

You immediately look back at him, “thank you, Daddy…”

His expression immediately softens, “you’re welcome baby,” he pries one of your arms away from you, grasping your hand, “let’s go get you some breakfast, hm?”

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

The sound of a saw can be heard coming from a small shed on Leon’s property. Inside, Leon was diligently working, taking the piece of wood he had just cut and bringing it over to his project he was working on, a crib.

Leon knew something you didn’t, you had been asleep when he was able to draw some blood from you with a small needle and bring that sample with him to work one day. He gave it to the lab techs to test, you asked them to see if they could tell if you were pregnant, telling them that he wanted to surprise you with the good news. It took a couple days, but they let him know in an email that you were, in fact, pregnant with his child.

It took everything in him not to immediately tell you, so he took that energy and spent it on building the crib. In the shed, he had several monitors that showed the cameras inside the house so that he could keep an eye on you while he worked. You were in the bedroom, probably taking a nap, that was until he watched you turn onto your back, dipping one of your hands in between your legs.

He watched in awe as you pleasured yourself. He had read that sometimes a woman’s sex drive will skyrocket when they’re pregnant, thankfully that seems to be true for you. He continues to work on the crib, stopping to look at the camera feed in the bedroom occasionally. The picture was grainy, but he could tell your fingers were buried inside you and you appeared to be saying his name. This only served to motivate him to get this crib done.

What a good girl.

At some point, he unconsciously stops, staring into the camera feed as you’re still fingering yourself, a solid 45 minutes has passed by at least. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you, eventually finding himself digging his hardening cock out of his pants to get himself off from watching you. After a few minutes of this, he tucks his throbbing cock back into his pants and makes his way into the house

As soon as he opens the front door, he’s immediately greeted by the sound of your animalistic moans coming from the bedroom. As he stalks through the house, he begins undoing his belt and practically ripping off his own pants and underwear. As he steps through the threshold into the bedroom now naked from the waist down, he sees you still laying on the bed, fingers buried into you with one hand while the other is rubbing circles into your swollen clit. You sit up slightly to look at Leon, tears streaming down your face.

He wastes no time pulling off his shirt and climbing on top of you, his lips sealing over yours as he buried his cock deep inside your crying cunt. His thrusts are hungry and determined, causing you to practically scream his name. He feels your nails claw into his back. He buries his face into neck to mark you with loving bruises as his cock continues its relentless assault on your pussy. 

You let out an ear piercing scream as you cum all over his cock, drenching him in your juices as you continue to claw into his back, your nails drawing blood. Letting out a low growl, Leon pushes himself as deep as he could possibly go, shooting his load into you, coating your pussy walls pure white. Propping himself up by his arms, he looks down at you, still buried inside you. He’s breathing heavily, his skin coated in sweat.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

On one hand, you were so pissed at yourself for enjoying every second of that, on the other, you were so thankful Leon had come in to finally give you your release. You had no clue what had come over you, all of a sudden you were blindsided by an insatiable hunger that no amount of fingering yourself and clit rubbing was going to satisfy, you needed something that hit deeper. 

You and Leon look at each other, his arms caging you beneath him. Eventually he leans down, giving you a soft kiss on your forehead before he finally pulls out of you. A rush of his cum leaks out of you. Pulling your dress down, you sit up and sit on the end of the bed as you watch Leon retrieve his discarded shirt, putting it back on before walking out of the bedroom; you assume his pants and boxers are out there somewhere. You stand up, immediately feeling his release drip down your legs, a painful reminder of your lack of willpower against Leon. 

You follow Leon out of the bedroom, watching as he gets his boxers and pants back on. He looks over at you, smiling.

“Sorry for bursting in like that, you looked like you needed some help on the cameras and I just couldn’t resist.”

You swallow hard, “it’s ok, Daddy, I’m thankful you came in when you did…”

Admitting that made you sick to your stomach, you wrap your arms around yourself again, hugging yourself gently.

“Put some shoes on and come with me to the work shed, I have something to show you that I’ve been working on for you.”

There’s a shoe rack over by the front door, you see a pair of your sandals along with pairs of boots and sneakers, probably all Leon’s. You walk over, grabbing the sandals and putting them on.

He gives you a dark look, “now, don’t get any ideas when we’re outside. I’m trusting you. You need to stay next to me at all times outside, understood?”

You stand next to him at the front door, giving him a slight nod before he opens the door. As both of you step outside, you inhale deeply, taking in the calming smell of the forest. When was the last time you were outside? You truly couldn’t recall. The shed was a ways away from the main house, you follow Leon on a well beaten path away from the house. Before long, you see the shed, which honestly was the size of a small house. The door to the shed was wide open, you assume Leon had left it open while he was rushing to get back to the house, to get to you.

You step inside and you quickly realize the shed actually was a small house. The room you were in probably used to be a living room however now it had various things scattered about, mostly tools and other stuff used for building things. You follow him into what used to be the kitchen, the tile floor covered in sawdust. There was a workbench in the middle with a table saw and Leon had removed the doors off the cabinets for easy access to his tools.

“When I bought this property, this little house used to be the original building until I built the new house. I figured I’d put this building to good use, but that’s not what I wanted to show you.”

He smiles at you before gesturing to something in the back next to the workbench, you gasp as your eyes settle on the half built piece of furniture.

“Is… is that a crib?!” you ask, a slight hint of panic in your voice.

“It is, and I have another surprise for you,” he continues as he grabs a piece of paper off the work bench, bringing it over to you.

You take the sheet from him, confused at first, it appeared to be results of a blood test, with elevated levels of hGC, whatever that means.

“Leon, I don’t really know what I’m looking at…”

“Come again?”

You mentally roll your eyes, “Daddy, I don’t know what this paper means.”

You watch as a smile slowly appears across Leon’s lips, his eyes locked onto you, “it means you’re pregnant, babygirl.”

“What?” you reply in utter disbelief.

“I took a sample of your blood with me to work and had the lab boys test it. I wanted to be able to give you the good news!”

Good news? GOOD NEWS? This was the furthest thing from good news. You start hyperventilating, the realization that you are tied to Leon forever now sinking in. You collapse to your knees, sobbing violently.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Why are you crying?

Leon stood there, watching you as you collapsed to the floor, utterly confused. You should be happy, why aren’t you happy? Leon’s lifelong dream of starting a family, especially with the love of his life, was finally coming true. When he had seen the results, he was completely overwhelmed with joy, so why aren’t you?

“Sweetheart, are you afraid…?” he began, kneeling down to you so that he was at your eye level, “there’s no need to be afraid, you’re going to be the most beautiful and perfect mommy to our baby.”

You continue to cry, big, heavy tears falling from your face as you struggle to breathe. Leon reaches out to you, caressing your cheek and wiping tears from your eyes, “I’m going to take such good care of you during this pregnancy, I promise.”

He was trying so hard to comfort you, but the more he spoke, the more your sobs got more intense. He suddenly grabs you by your arm, forcing you back onto your feet, but that didn’t stop you from crying. 

“Baby, please tell Daddy what’s wrong. Don’t you want my baby?”

“NO!” you scream at him without even the slightest hesitation, your body violently trembling.

In that moment, his heart shattered into a thousand pieces. What do you mean you don’t want his baby? What began as sadness then evolved into full on rage as his anger coursed through his veins. He looks down at you, sees you still crying. However, he knew he couldn’t act on his anger, he didn’t want to risk losing the baby. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again.

He gently wraps his arms around you, pulling you to him, pressing you to his chest. You bury your face into his chest, tears staining his shirt. He simply held you there in his arms, letting you cry it all out. Eventually, you did finally stop crying, much to Leon’s relief. He runs his hand through your hair as he looks down at you, your face still buried in his pecs. 

“Don’t worry sweetheart, it’ll be ok. We’re finally going to be a happy family.”

Part 6

[blingblong55]

Money, Money, Money- 141 X Reader X F1

Based on a request:

Idk if i can put in two requests but please. PLEASE I fucking love f1 Give more cod x f1 I dont care who and what and where, i just need more fics like that Thx for everything bestie(Feel free to ignore) --- GN!Reader, 141 x reader x f1

So I must leave, I'll have to go To Las Vegas or Monaco And win a fortune in a game, my life will never be the same

The fame, the women/men that wanted you to date them, and the adrenaline, are all worth it and all possible if you drive in Formula 1. Twenty of the best drivers in the world, all in ten separate teams, every other weekend for 23 times a year you race around the globe to become the desired World Champion of that season. There was something that was missing, your friends, the military men you met years ago when one got lost and they ended up finding you.

"R/N!" Soap called, running to you for yet another exciting weekend. They were home from a mission and all seemed to be in a good mood. Ghost and Gaz even made sure to bring their caps to support your team. Soap played the role of the boyfriend so other women/men would not bother you. Price made it look like he was your father figure and Gaz and Ghost were always suspected to be your siblings or best friends. Of course, Ghose became loved by your fans, a man who wore a cap and a black surgical mask had become attractive to them. He never cared for it, would sometimes give the camera the bird and soon they learned to never show him again.

The four men had become your luck charm, the drawings of a bar of soap, cap, skull and a bonnie all on your helmet for every race. In a way, they became the second family whilst on the road. It was nice, you got to keep real friends close and have fun and good memories with them.

Soap for some reason played the role of your partner far too well. Suspicions amongst drivers and the media grew as the time went by. Truthfully, if he was your partner, he'd be as supportive as he is now. Maybe even more. Some of the other drivers need police escort whilst all you need is your best mates. Race after race, they would either hear your answerphone or you'd be on screen pointing at your helmet, your four drawn luck charms on it.

This race was one you were looking forward to, the Brazilian GP. All honouring the late Ayrton Senna, the favourite driver in Brazil, Hamilton and rooting for your two current rivals, Verstappen and Sainz. By Tuesday, you met up with Price, he was alone, which was weird. Soap was usually the first hug of the day. "So, where are the rest?" you kindly ask.

"Getting some rest, they had a rough flight." a lie he told that you believed. In truth, they had used this visit for a mission, most people would be focused on the race and that meant they had time to execute some mission. You believed him because the only lie he had told years ago was that they were just pub mates on a weekend out, never that they were trained soldiers who happened to be in the elite military force that is known as SAS. Brutal, strong and agile, that is who they are, not pub mates.

As the day went on, Price disappeared from sight. Instead of the usual welcome lunch they'd have with you, you walked around the paddock, wandering like a child.

Hours went on, but no text or call. Just a greeting from the answerphone, "It's me, just leave a message." But that's the problem, you never left a message, They knew how nervous this race was for you, Soap would always answer but why not now? You needed his usual comments, the banter Ghost gave and the shoulder pats Gaz gave you.

Somewhere in the country, the men executed their mission with absolute perfection. Few bruises and scratches, nothing new except this time they lied to you, if it wasn't for their mission to be in Brazil and your race to be happening at the same time, they would have not shown up. They'd be elsewhere, fighting for a good reason but not visiting you at the track. Gaz felt awful, having to lie to his best friend about what he was doing, even after them confining in you about what they do for a living, they still wouldn't and don't expect you to actually understand their reasoning for not telling you about this mission.

There you were, on the big screen as you answered questions over the best qualifying session you've had all season. They sneak in, trying to pretend like they didn't just kill the enemy and its soldiers.

"A perfect qualifying, what do you say to that R/N?" the interviewer said. You sigh in contentment, "Yeah, well it is amazing to have had such amazing times at each lap, I'm sure the team and I will want to keep these numbers and maybe go faster for tomorrow's race." You say and most of the crowd cheers in agreement. Soap should know but this time around he is lost, how great was your time? Did you go for pole position or are you just in the top three? Gaz definitely feels like a bad friend, not there to actually watch you like he always did.

After each qualifying, you'd greet them, run up to them and hug them but because you thought they weren't there, you just went towards the team and hugged them. From a distance, the men saw you celebrate as if they never existed in your life. It was them who you were supposed to hug, them who you should run up to. Soap was supposed to pat your helmet and you'd complain about it later.

Usually after the hug, you'd greet fans then the usual interviews or meetings with the team would take place. It wasn't until after 8 at night that they saw you again. They learned that you broke a new record for the team. Your speed was impeccable, and they weren't even there to witness such a memorable moment for you.

A/N: I think I went off my original idea to this...sorry

Tags: @agasawit

[loviatarsluv]

chapter one: lavender silk

pairing: Gale x f!tav (my own oc, Elara)

(takes place mostly after the events of the game with some flashbacks sprinkled throughout)

rating: mature

CW: (f) masturbation and (separately) (m) masturbation, fantasizing about one another and pining and yearning and aching for each other while being in the same house (I mean seriously guys)

in summary: After the fall of the brain, and her home having been destroyed in the chaos, Gale offers Elara sanctuary with him back in Waterdeep. She struggles to deal with the feelings she has been harboring for him and the guilt that she’d been the one to prevent either of them from taking the relationship any further a few months prior. Yearning and pining ensues

a/n: rewrite of this gale fic because I lost inspiration and motivation for it a while back but I miss writing about my sweet wizard man and also I want to write romantic gale smut !!!! I crave it I need it !!!!

word count: 6.8k

⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊ ⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊ ⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊ ⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊⋆⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊ ⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊ ⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊ ⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊⋆ ₊⋄✧⋄₊⋆

i.

She has always loved the color brown. 

It was easily one of the most overlooked colors, one so common you almost forget it entirely— one we so easily take for granted. 

Yet, some of the most lovely things in life come in the warmest shades of brown. 

A cup of hot tea on a chilly day while the rain pours and patters against the windows. The leather bindings of her favorite book that brought her boundless comfort more times than she could count on either hand, worn from the years of reading it and tucking it into her bag so that it was always at her side. The rough bark of the great oak tree near the tower in Waterdeep. 

She spends many mornings sitting on the roots of that tree, the large and weathered trunk shielding her from the harsh rays of the rising morning sun, either reading a book she nabbed from the library in his office or scribbling nonsense in her notebook. 

Occasionally her newly befriended tressym companion, Tara,  joins her, sitting beside her and allowing the sun to warm just the back half of her, basking her fur and wings in a beautiful golden glow. There are brown spots on her fur. She’s lovely. 

The loveliest of things, though, were the things she tried with everything within her not to think about— like Gale Dekarios’ long chestnut brown hair, or the silver streaks that adorned the dark waves near the top of his head like it were a crown atop a prince’s, and the way he would tie it back into a messy half updo that perfectly accentuated his face and neck. The small pieces of hair that would fall into his eyes that she so desperately wanted to brush away. His perfectly groomed facial hair that had matching gray streaks and how he’d run his hands through the bristles on his cheeks or rake his fingers through his hair when he was deep in thought. 

And his eyes— gods, his damned eyes. So warm and kind and full of a genuine sweetness that she’d never seen in another person’s eyes before. Eyes that seemed to read her so well as if she were a book he had read a dozen or more times, especially when she least wanted her pages to be turned. Eyes that when in the right lighting, appeared golden, like the richest honey in all of Faerun. Eyes that really seemed to see her. Many had looked at her before— few had ever really seen her. 

No, she certainly didn’t think about it. Not often, really. 

Only when his hands would brush against hers as he took the scroll from her hands that he kindly asked her to fetch for him. Or when he would utter a groggy but kindhearted good morning to her as he ambled into the kitchen first thing in the morning, the first light of dawn breaking through the parted dark velvet curtains that drape over the large windows, the golden streams beaming on him in just the right way to make him appear otherworldly. Or when she would fall asleep on the chaise in the study and wake to find a blanket draped over her body. 

Not often. Not really.

One would assume it would become easier after a while; to be in his presence and not ache at every smile, or every laugh, or every kind gesture he ever made. But it wasn’t a simple ache that could be balmed by rest and a special tea or a healing potion— it was consuming. It flooded her veins and extended to every extremity of her aching body.

Only made worse by the fact that the blame for her own misery fell solely upon her own shoulders. 

The thought of that night made her shudder— what a fool she’d been and continues to be. 

The others always teased her, telling her that the obvious pining was painful to witness to which she would shake her head and refuse to admit that every part of her physically hurt to see him struggle, or how badly she wanted to hold him until the stars burned out of the sky and shield him from all that threatened him. 

Selfishly, the original reason she’d given herself to justify ignoring her feelings was the orb— it was safer for everyone that way, at the time. 

Then when Elminster stabilized it she scrambled to find a new excuse, settling for the fact that he had been considering detonating the orb, as Mystra intended. 

It was to save herself from the heartache of loving someone who in a matter of days would be reduced to mere stardust and wasted potential due to a spiteful god whom she had once worshiped herself. 

Then when she had finally successfully talked him off of the proverbial edge, she was at a loss. What was truly stopping her from loving him as she knew she would whether she expressed it to him or not? 

She turned him down the night prior, but so much transpired in such a short time that the opportunity to rectify it never came to pass. 

And now, here she remained, reaping the bitter consequences of her own lack of communication. 

She watched Gale read a letter that Shadowheart sent for them as he sat at his large mahogany desk, his glasses balancing just at the end of his nose and his brows furrowed as he read. His expression didn’t change or seem anything other than relaxed as he read, so she took that as a good sign. She relaxed slightly into the plush cushions of the chaise, a weight she didn’t realize she’d been bearing lifting off of her shoulders. 

She lounged on her favorite spot in his office where she would spend hours reading and researching with him, or where she would sit as she intently listened to him bestow her with random tidbits of knowledge that he found riveting, his cadence as he spoke about it making her feel just as excited by it as he was. 

“I wonder how many more times any one of them will promise to visit before they actually do,” she jokes, breaking the comfortable silence. 

Gale huffs air from his nose, never looking up at her from the assortment of scrolls, parchment, and tomes scattered across the surface of his desk. “Knowing them, they have all got their hands quite full in their own lives. Especially Shadowheart. I imagine keeping Astarion in check is keeping her on her toes.” 

She chuckles lightly and sighs, leaning her cheek against the back of the chaise. “I imagine you’re probably right.” 

Another comfortable silence fills the room, as it often did while Gale busied himself with whatever studies he found pressing enough to indulge in, these days mostly consisting of vampirism and potential cures or anything to aid with the symptoms, at her request as Astarion outright refused to ask Gale himself. 

She typically assisted with this, finding her own books and tomes to sift through for any pertinent information that could assist in any way, but today her mind was anywhere but in the present. Each page she had tried to read looked as though they’d been written in unintelligible scrawl.

She quietly hops off of the lounger and pads over to the large open window on the other side of the room, perching herself on the windowsill and gazing at the vast expanse of the ocean below, the sun shimmering on it in hues of orange and pink as it began to set over the horizon. 

The breeze is pleasant and the faint salty scent of the ocean drifts toward her with the wind and fills her senses. Her eyes shut as she indulges in it for a few moments, feeling a kind of serenity that she hadn’t felt in a while. 

When she finally opens her eyes, she finds Gale has turned in his seat and is watching her with a peaceful grin on his face. She holds his gaze for a moment before she has to tear herself away as she squirms under his intense gaze. 

“Would you care to accompany me for a stroll? It’s a beautiful evening,” he asks, leaning against the back of the chair, his chin tilted up as he watched her.

Gods, give me strength, she thinks to herself. How could she ever think living in the same tower as this man was a wise decision? 

“It is,” she nearly chokes out, then clears the lump from her throat. “Almost reminds me of—”

“That evening in the Shadow Cursed Lands. When I showed you Waterdeep. This very room, to be exact.” He reminisces, his tone neither bitter, nor pleasant. She hadn’t expected him to bring it up, and the shock of it nearly caused her to topple over the sill and fall out of the open window. 

Great. 

Gale jolts in his seat, preparing to rescue her from her own potential idiotic demise, before she quickly hops down and plants her feet firmly on the ground and shoots him a reassuring glance. 

“I’m alright,” she holds her hands in front of her, her breathing uneven as she recovers. 

“I don’t think my heart can handle being around you, at times,” he jokes. His eyes widen and his face pales, and he clears his throat nervously before he continues. “I didn’t mean it that way, it’s just— that’s the second— no, third— time you’ve nearly fallen out of that window. I am beginning to consider casting an arcane lock on the damned thing.” 

I don’t think my heart can handle being around you.

Her stomach flips and somersaults as she replays it in her head a million times over within a second, despite him quickly correcting himself. Little did he know, she felt very much the same way around him, but likely for an entirely different reason. 

“Apologies,” she whispers, her eyes dropping to the floor sheepishly. “I’ve never been exactly graceful.” 

He sighs, silently chuckling and shaking his head. “So I’ve gathered. Though, you could always hold your own in battle, to your own credit.” 

He stands and joins her in front of the window, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back slightly as he mimics what she’d done just moments prior, minus the potential self-defenestration.

A stronger breeze passes, blowing back his chestnut waves and his lavish looking robes with it. His slightly aged and weathered skin bathed in the peachy hues from the sunset made him appear as if he’d been painted rather than real and standing just beside her. She shudders. 

“What do you say?” He asks, turning to her once again, his hands clasped behind his back. 

She swallows hard. The thought of a stroll in the warm twilight with him while she was in this state could potentially prove to be disastrous. She fiddles with the bottom hem of her blouse as it flowed loosely down her frame, her gaze fixed on a random point far off into the horizon. 

“I—I’m actually not feeling very well… I believe I may need to lie down for a bit. But perhaps… another time?” She stammers, her voice meek and unconvincing. At least to herself. 

Stupid, stupid. 

Gale nods, but is unable to entirely mask his disappointment, a slight frown gracing his features that would almost be impossible to notice if it weren’t for his always expressive eyes. Her heart nearly shatters at the way his dark irises resembled a puppy who’d just been denied a treat. Was it too late to take it back? 

“Are you well? Is there anything I can do for you?” He takes a step closer, concern replacing the disappointment in his eyes as his brows softened and his hand raised as if he was going to reach for her, before quickly lowering it and dropping it to his side. 

Her body stiffens and her back straightens, her heart pounding. How did she get to this point— where something as simple as him extending base level kindness to her was enough to affect her this greatly? It was torture— and the more time she spent with him, the more she ached to bridge the seemingly vast gap between them. To be close to him in every way, to tangle herself in him and pray the knots never loosen. 

But she had already accepted that she’d ruined her chances many months ago, and that it would be best to try to move forward until the feeling eventually fades as if it had never been present to begin with. That, for now, all she could do was endure. 

“I’m fine, really. I think I just… perhaps I just need a nice relaxing bath, some time to myself.” She offers, throwing it out meaninglessly then realizing that a hot bath sounded absolutely divine. 

An unreadable expression flashes across his face for a flicker of an instant before he recomposes, then smooths the front of his coat down with his hands and clears his throat. He offers her his usual warm grin, and nods. 

“By all means. Perhaps I’ll start dinner while you do. It should be done by the time you’ve finished.” 

She can’t hold back the thankful smile that teases the corners of her mouth.

She nods. “That sounds good. Thank you.” 

Without exchanging another word, they disperse, him retreating downstairs and her essentially running to her room to grab her towels and toiletries. 

She grabs two towels, one for her body and one for her hair, then the soap that she’d gotten the last time she went to the market to pick up a few of her personal essentials. The shopkeeper let her know that it was a special soap, made particularly with ingredients that had calming effects on the user. 

How appropriate. 

She pads out of her room, closing the door behind her and making her way to the large washroom at the far end of the hallway. 

Gale had a way of leaving his mark on every space he inhabited, and this one was no exception. 

The room was cozy, draped in various deep violet curtains and several houseplants that looked as if they’d been cared for by the most skilled of botanists, not a single dead leaf or weak stem. 

There were robes neatly hung on the wall closest to the large clawfoot tub on one end of the room— his robes. She mindlessly runs her hand across the soft fabric of one of them, noticing a small tear in the collar and a few scuffs and singed marks throughout it. She imagines what mischief he’d gotten himself into while wearing it, and whether she had been present for it. A smile creeps across her face at the thought. 

She tears herself away from her thoughts and his clothes (that still smelled strongly of him), and approaches the tub, turning the ornate handle for the hot water and watching it run, slowly filling the marble basin. She perches herself on the edge of the tub, staring blankly into the rippling water. 

She thinks of how many times Gale had probably done the exact same thing as she was doing right now— how he would sink himself into the water and finally rest his weary and aching bones, and wash away the stresses of the day even if it were only for the small duration of him being enveloped in the comforts of a warm bath. She wonders if he ever— 

No. Another thing she absolutely could not think about. A thought to avoid at all costs if she intended on ever being able to look him in the eye again. It was hard enough already as it was.

The tub finally fills just as she shakes her head to clear herself of the beginnings of what were certainly very perverse and not very platonic thoughts, thankfully allowing her to now focus on something else. She quickly disrobes, folding her clothes neatly and setting them aside on the chair in the corner of the room— a habit she’d picked up from watching him do it and knowing that neatness was his preference in most things. 

The room, apart from the heat radiating off of the water in the tub, is chilly against her flushed skin, instantly raising gooseflesh all over her as she peels away the thin layers of clothing she’d been wearing. The tile feels icy against the bare soles of her feet as she returns to the tub, reaching over and grabbing the soap off of the shelf she’d placed it on earlier as she begins to submerge herself. 

The second her body dipped below the surface and the warm water completely enveloped her, she felt all tension in her body release like it had never been there to begin with. She hadn’t even used the soap yet and she felt the calming effects of it from the smell alone as she dunked it underwater. Lavender and a hint of citrus. 

Sometimes she caught a whiff of lavender when the window in the kitchen was open and the breeze would jostle the lavender plant that sat on the sill. She remembered Gale telling her that he loved the smell of fresh lavender. Not that that was the reason she bought the soap. Not at all. Not really.

Her body sinks lower and lower into the bath until only her nose and everything above it remains above the waterline, her slow breaths causing ripples in the water. 

Her mind wanders back to him— picturing him with his hair down, loose and wet tresses falling over his face, tan skin glistening. The long column of his neck stretched, Adam’s apple bobbing with his head thrown back as he—

No, no. 

Gods. What is wrong with me?

She clenches her legs together, in hopes to subvert the throbbing between her legs. She leans her head back against the edge of the tub, inhaling a shuddering breath. 

Maybe this was what she needed— just a minute of bliss. Her own personal bliss. 

Against her better judgment, her hand slowly travels down her body, but in her mind it was his; the way his roughened hands would feel as they trailed the length of her torso. The way his fingers would feel as they chased her pleasure, coaxing it out of her the way one would coax an animal out of the shadows. 

Was he as giving of a lover as she pictured? Was he selfish? Did it even matter? 

Her breath catches in her throat as her fingers expertly circle the swollen bud where most of her pleasure resides, now realizing how badly she’d needed this. Release. Guilt aside. 

Unaware and completely lost in her fantasies, soft moans and cries fell from her lips, some sounding suspiciously close to his name. She couldn’t care less in this moment, she was already so close—

“Oh, hells!” 

The door had burst open, Gale standing slack jawed in the doorway for a second that felt like several before quickly shielding his eyes.

She gasps loudly, reflexively standing from the tub, before realizing that was worse than just staying where she was, one hand moving to cover her mouth in shock and the other arm shielding her chest to maintain whatever shred of modesty or dignity she had left.

“I— I thought—  your bedroom door was closed, so I assumed you were— forgive me! I just—  um—” He clamors over himself trying to make any sort of sense at all, never moving his hand an inch out of the way of his eyes, closing them tightly for good measure. “D-Dinner is finished and on the table waiting for you when you’re ready. Take your time.” 

He darts out of the room, slamming the door behind him and the sound of hurried footsteps down the hall preceding. 

What in the hells just happened?!

Her heart pounds anxiously in her chest as if it were a wardrum and she’s almost certain that she might actually die of embarrassment. That is if she doesn’t resort to drowning herself in the leftover bathwater to avoid going downstairs and facing him, first. 

That seemed like the safest option. Sinking back down into the water and staying there until she rotted away. 

She remained in the water for what felt like both an eternity and not nearly long enough until the water had officially turned cold, sincerely debating dunking her head under and not letting herself up for air to spare herself the misery of facing Gale after—

Oh, gods, how much did he hear? How much did he see? 

She groans loudly, covering her flushed and surely beet red face with both hands. Her shriveled fingers and hands serve as a sign to dry off, much to her dismay. 

Fine. The world’s most awkward dinner ever, it is. 

She quickly stands again and wraps one of the towels around her body, then the other around her shoulders for extra coverage before peeking her head out of the door, checking if the coast was clear before dashing down the hallway and into the safety of her bedroom. 

Once inside, she shuts the door with a loud click, then leans against the wood and sighs. 

Within one singular day, within at least an hour of each other, she’d rejected his very kind offer of a nice walk under the sunset, and he’d walked in on her in what could only be the worst situation for him to walk in on, and he’d likely seen her entire naked body.  

They had experienced their fair share of awkward exchanges in all of their time knowing each other, but nothing quite as catastrophic as this. What could she even say? Should she pretend it never happened? Should she apologize?

Her back slides down the wooden door until she lands on the floor with a loud thud, her head dejectedly falling against her knees as she pulls them to her chest. 

Accidents happen, and he just so happened to accidentally manage to walk into the washroom at the exact moment her fingers were inside herself and she’d let his name slip from her lips which he may or may not have heard. Things happen. It’s fine. 

She recalls him saying that her bedroom door was shut and that was why he assumed it was safe for him to come in. She’s not sure why him noticing something like that made her stomach twist and do flips as if she were tumbling very suddenly down a hill, but it did all the same. She wonders what other things he notices about her, if anything else at all. The thought makes her throat run dry.

With a huff, she stands. She paces around the room for another few or ten minutes before her stomach begins to rumble. Shit. 

She pulls on an oversized blouse that fell well past the top of her thighs as well as a comfortable pair of pants, feeling the need to cover as much of herself as possible to maybe cancel out the fact that he’d seen everything only moments ago. It didn’t work, of course, but it was worth a try. 

Realizing that he was probably sitting at the table and waiting for her to join him before he began eating, as he always did, she finally forces herself to face the inevitable. 

Perhaps he hadn’t seen anything. 

Hopefully. 

She peeks around the corner and sees him exactly where she expected him to be— the same seat he always sat in for any meals, opposite the chair she always occupied, staring blankly down at his plate, massaging his temples with his fingertips. He looks equally as perturbed by their encounter as she does, and she can’t tell if that is a comfort to her or if it made her want to run while she had the chance. 

She catches a flash of auburn and gray fur as Tara flies in from an open window and perches herself on the table beside Gale. He doesn’t acknowledge her physically, but utters a quiet ‘hello, Tara’ that sounds more like a groan. 

“Mr. Dekarios, you look as though you’ve seen a ghost!” She chirps, pawing at his bicep with concern. “Where is my favorite reading companion? Have you finally scared her off?”

Gale swats her paw off of his arm and shoots her a look of annoyance. “Not now, Tara.”

“Did something happen between you two? About time, I say. I do rather like having her around, you know.” The feathered feline continues, pacing in front of Gale and nearly stepping right in the middle of his plate before he scoots it away.

“I fear she may run for the hills like a bat out of a crypt after today,” He groans. “I’ve made a complete ass of myself. It seems to be my specialty these days.” 

“Mr. Dekarios, I may just be a simple tressym but I have it on good authority she won’t go anywhere.” Tara says, her tone meaningful and full of insinuation as she pokes and prods Gale’s arm once again. 

He looks at his companion with soft eyes full of despair, his entire body seeming to sag in his seat in contrast to his usually perfect and poised posture. “I hope you’re right.”

Silence fills the room as Tara comfortingly bumps her head against Gale’s shoulder, eliciting a sweet smile from him that makes her insides feel fuzzy. She waits a few moments more before exiting the stairway so as to not appear suspicious or that she’d been eavesdropping. Her steps are extra quiet as she carefully tiptoes into the dining room. Tara notices her first and greets her warmly. 

“Elara! There you are! How are you, my friend?” Tara calls to her, strutting across the large wooden surface of the dinner table to her side, sitting right next to her plate. 

She glances at Gale for a brief moment, his eyes boring into her as if he were anticipating something terrible to come from her mouth. She offers him a shy smile, then turns her attention back to Tara. 

“I’m well, thank you. I missed you this morning, Tara. Find any juicy pigeons to snack on?” She jokes, patting her head gently. Tara purrs and bumps her head against Elara’s palm, almost appearing to smile at the affectionate gesture. Gale’s eyes darted back and forth between his two companions rapidly, an unreadable expression on his face. 

She tilts her head at him in a silent inquiry, to which he simply waves his hand and invites her to sit.

“Oh, yes, of course. You’ll have to come with me some day.” She offers, and Elara chuckles. As silly as it was, she knew how sweet it was for Tara to invite her to join her for a hunt, regardless of whether or not she ever actually would. 

“I’d love to.”

The chair legs squeal as she pulls it out from under the table and sits, eyeing her plate and finding that somehow her food was still steaming hot as if it were fresh, while Gale’s appeared to have gone cold and stale. 

“I warmed it for you.” He says, answering her question before she even had the chance to ask. She smiles a grateful smile before taking a bite, not realizing just how hungry she’d been until the very second the food landed on her taste buds.

They eat mostly in silence, aside from the sound of Gale’s fork scraping against the plate as he pushes his food around. She wants to ask why he didn’t bother to heat his own plate as well, but doesn’t want to pry. Perhaps he just wasn’t that hungry. 

The echoes of something she overheard Gale say in response to Tara’s teasing linger in her mind, reverberating off of the walls of her skull as if he’d shouted them into the mouth of a cave. 

I hope you’re right. 

He hoped she’d stay. He wants her to stay. 

The sound of Tara taking flight startles her from her thoughts, catching a glimpse of the tail end of her as she flies toward the staircase, likely heading to her favorite spot in Gale’s office on a blanket right in front of the fireplace. The departure of what acted as the buffer for the awkward tension between the two of them made it impossible to ignore the proverbial owlbear in the room. 

“I should have—”

“I’m sorry you saw—”

They stare at each other for a moment, then both chuckle.

“You first.” She says quietly, her smile dying as she braces herself. 

Gale’s voice cracks nervously, and he clears his throat before trying again. “I apologize again— for earlier. I should have knocked.” 

She waves him off, dropping her gaze back down to her plate as she pokes and prods at the vegetables that remained. “Things happen.” 

He clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I just fear that I’ve made you uncomfortable more than once today.” 

Now her gaze is locked right on him, confusion coating her features. When he notices, he sighs. 

“When I asked you if you wanted to go for a stroll. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

Oh. 

Gods, why is he so damn considerate? 

“No, no,” she says, her voice softening and her eyes matching it. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable at all.”

It’s his turn to be confused now, his eyebrows knitted together and mouth pressed into a line. “Why did you say no, then?” 

What answer could she give him that wasn’t entirely incriminating? ‘I said no because I’m hopelessly, idiotically in love with you and you make me nervous’? Not a chance. 

“I… I’m just feeling a bit off today. It’s nothing, I just— I would rather not burden you with my issues.” 

He eyes her and suddenly it’s like she’s completely naked under his gaze once again, only she nearly feels even more exposed now than she did when she was actually naked. He can tell there’s more to it, but he doesn’t push. He never pushes.

“Well, do know that I’m always here if you need to talk. If there’s something burdening you, I don’t mind helping you carry the load.” 

Only there isn’t anything he can do to help— hells, even this conversation is doing the very opposite of helping. 

“Thank you, Gale. Really.” She smiles sheepishly. “I’m sorry you— you know.”

He waves his hand in front of him as he goes to take a long gulp of his wine. He barely finishes swallowing before he speaks again. “You’ve no need to apologize.”

Silence fills the room again. Lighter, this time, at least, but not lacking most of the tension it held before. There were things unsaid on both ends, both too scared to break the peace. So silent it remained. 

She clears her throat after a while and after she’d finished her dinner. “Thank you, for dinner. Delicious, as always.” 

“My pleasure,” He breathes, pushing his chair back and standing with his plate in hand. “I apologize, but I may turn in early tonight. Don’t worry about your dishes, I will take care of them in the morning.”

She watches him as he scrapes his plate into the waste bin and then places it in the sink basin, rubbing his hands together before turning to head for the stairs. He breezes past her and she catches a whiff of that familiar scent she’d caught from the robes hanging in the bathroom— sandalwood, bergamot, and a hint of old parchment. Something she would try not to think about if she weren’t reminded of it everyday that she spent surrounded by him, still feeling as though he were in the room with her even when he was away.

Just before his foot lands on the first stair, she turns and calls to him. He pauses, turning his entire body at the sound of her voice.

“Goodnight, Gale.” 

He beams at her, his smile reaching his deep brown eyes that she could see the twinkle in even from across the room. She swears she would be able to see it from miles away.

“Goodnight, Elara.” 

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Lavender. Gale loved the smell of lavender. 

It lingered throughout the halls and wafted out from the washroom for hours after her bath, and he found himself stopping just outside the doorway without realizing it, as if some invisible force was drawing him to it. As if that smell were a siren’s call, and he was a fisherman lost at sea being lured right into her claws. He smelled it on her when she came downstairs, her long azure tinted waves still damp and falling in her face, her skin still flushed from the warmth of the water. 

Selfishly, he could not get the image of her out of his head— the elegant curves of her body and the way it glistened as the hazy light of dusk paired with candlelight cast an ethereal glow that almost made her seem like nothing more than a conjured illusion. Though, he was sure no wizard would ever be able to conjure something as meticulously crafted as her, something that exquisite couldn’t have even been sculpted by the gods. 

The muffled sound of her voice from the other side of the door replayed in his mind as well; he hadn’t heard much, but what he did hear almost sounded like—

Impossible. 

It felt wrong and he felt the crushing weight of guilt on his shoulders for violating her privacy tenfold, and yet, his brain could not seem to let him forget for even a fraction of a second. He was incredibly thankful he was able to make it downstairs and hide his arousal under the table before she saw him again and was truly put off by him once and for all. He cursed himself internally for being unable to contain himself— one can’t always be a gentleman, it seems.  

It was purely a miracle that he managed to contain himself as he walked past her to finally retire to his bedroom after what felt like the most mentally exhausting day. It was a miracle every day that he managed to contain himself around her, really. 

Especially on days that she wore dresses— he adored dresses on her. He pictured taking her for a proper evening out in Waterdeep. Greeting her at the door with flowers, walking hand in hand and buying her dinner, showing her all of his favorite places in the city he loved most in the world, then kissing her goodnight on the stoop and smiling like a giddy schoolboy the entire rest of the night after they departed. 

He’d been enraptured by her from the first moment he laid eyes on her, that fateful day on that beach amongst the wreckage and chaos. Her face being the first he saw as he emerged from that portal felt all too fitting, as hers was the only face he had been able to think of or dream of for months now.  

Even after she turned him down in the Shadow Cursed Lands, his affinity for her did not subside. If anything, it burned brighter and brighter in the weeks that followed as she showed more care for him than another person aside from his mother and his tressym had done for him in what felt like a lifetime. As she did everything in her power to save her friends one by one, as well as the rest of the world. 

After it was all said and done and he’d seen that look in her eyes after the brain and the crown fell into the Chionthar, and all of her newly acquired friends had departed while she remained— he knew he could not allow her to think she had nowhere or no one in the world to turn to. 

While you’d think having the object of your desires right within your own home at all times would make things easier— it did not. It only further complicated an already somewhat complicated situation. 

He valued his friendship with her greatly, and feared that he would jeopardize it if he attempted anything romantic— but something was telling him he needed to try. To be patient and if nothing ever came of it, he would give her a safe place to lay her head at night. 

She was worth trying for. She was worth everything. 

Now, he’s tormented by her being so close and yet not close enough to touch. To occupy the same home as her, but never the same space was downright agonizing. 

She had become the bane of his very existence, only because every day she made it even harder to resist her. 

For example, the way she interacted with Tara— whom, mind you, generally disliked most other humans or humanoid creatures aside from himself and his mother— the way Tara greeted her with such ardor, not too different from the way she would greet him. The way she not only allowed her to pet her head, but even purred as she did so. Tara is many things, but easily swayed by people is not one of them. And yet, she welcomes her into their home as if she’d always been there. As if she’d been simply waiting for her to come home all this time. 

It had begun to feel that way for Gale as well— his heart ached at the thought of her finding her own place and leaving. While he respected her decisions no matter what they may be, he could not deny that he’d miss her presence in this house much more. 

He felt himself going mad. Absolutely and truly around the bend crazy over her. 

He certainly wasn’t proud of what he’d done the second he made it into his bedchamber for the night. 

To make matters worse, it wasn’t even the first time he’d done such a thing. 

The pained straining of his erection against his clothing was making his entire body ache along with it, as if it were punishing him for neglecting it for as long as he had. The second he released it from the confines of his pants and underclothes, a bead of precum leaked and he groaned. 

Gods, this is madness. 

Perhaps maybe if he did this, he could get it out of his system and forget about it all in the morning. Yes, he thought, that makes perfectly logical and reasonable sense. 

He clumsily strips his day clothes off apart from his underwear, uncharacteristically discarding it into a heap beside his bed before jumping into the expanse of the large mattress in the center of the room and making himself comfortable. 

He looks down at his own pathetically swollen and throbbing cock, and he almost wishes he could call her into his room and show her the effect she has on him. 

He pictures her long dazzling blue tresses fanned out across the pillows at the head of the bed, the way her tanned complexion would be complimented so beautifully by the violet silk sheets beneath her, her legs spread wide for him, like an offering. The way he’d devour her and drink her in as if she were the richest wine or the sweetest peach in all of Faerun. The way his name would sound cried from her lips in pure ecstasy. 

The thought alone was enough to bring him closer to the edge— hells, he was sure he’d been on the brink of orgasm for longer than he would like to admit. He was almost certain the second he began to pump himself into his fist that he’d be done for. 

He started slowly, hoping to savor it for at least a few minutes and give himself more time to indulge in his fantasies. His chest heaved and his cheeks flushed with desire. He had to bite down onto his fingers to try to keep himself quiet on the off chance that she would overhear him. 

Despite his efforts, he grunted softly as his pace quickened, now pumping himself with a steady rhythm that felt right— that if he closed his eyes, he could picture her on top of him, riding him like her life depended on it. 

That didn’t last long, as within a minute he was spilling onto his own chest and coming completely undone, chanting her name in breathy whispers over and over as if it were a prayer. 

He grips himself as he rides out the aftershocks until the sensation was entirely too much and he had to let go, his entire body going limp and exhaustion finally presenting itself to him and each one of the muscles he’d just expended in that process. He looks down wearily at the mess he’d made of himself, and throws his head back into the pillows. 

He wonders if her pillows smell of lavender. He imagines that they do. 

⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊ ⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊ ⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊ ⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊⋆⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊ ⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊ ⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊ ⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊⋆

next chapter ❥ masterlist

[ghulehthezombiequeen]

Let you break my heart again - Anakin x Jedi reader

masterlist.

Author’s note: hi. so uh. yeah I got a little silly and decided to write angst again. and wrote more than I was aiming for but that’s okay LMAO— Also omg THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE ON MY SWISS FIC?? you’re the best <3 Other things to note: Revenge of the Sith era Anakin but Anakin and Padmé aren’t married (they’re courting/dating), reader is a Jedi and has had a crush on Anakin since like the beginning of time /j, reader is majorly jealous of Padmé

Warnings: ANGST, unrequited love, hurt/comfort, Anakin uses a derogatory word for droids, no pronouns used for reader

Word count: 2114 words

Propped against a wall, you saw Anakin enter the Jedi temple, looking a bit disheveled. But  you knew he had just returned from a mission with Obi-Wan, so maybe it went terribly wrong, maybe it went really well. 

You attempted to approach him, but Padmé had already beat you to it, like she always did. You felt a pang in your heart as you saw him hug her, longing to be in her place. Sadly, you knew it would never happen, with the looks they’d exchange with each other when they thought no one was watching. But you were. Finally, after what had seemed like forever, Padmé left to do her duties. You took this opportunity and rushed to him, your heart skipping a beat. “Hey.. how did it go?” You asked with a soft smile. Anakin nodded at you, then sighed. “Fine, I guess.. We didn’t really do much, just killed a bunch of clankers.” You caught yourself before making a face at him for using the derogatory word for droids; but you understood why he chose that word. 

“Well.. I mean, at least it was.. good practice?” You giggled a bit, trying to cheer him up. 

Anakin forced a light chuckle. “Yeah..” He said, looking off to the side, his mind somewhere else. You gave him a soft look. “Hey.. everything okay over there?” You asked kindly, your heart skipping a beat as he looked back at you. “No.. not really…” he admitted with a sigh. He seemed like he wanted to say more, but couldn’t find the right words. “..thanks for asking, though.” He added sincerely. 

You furrowed your brows and studied his expression. “Hey, uh… do you want to go somewhere else and talk about it, perhaps?” You offered. 

He thought for a moment and then nodded slowly. “Yeah, I could use… someone to talk to...” 

“Alright, then. Wanna head to the library? It’s usually deserted at this hour..” You smiled at him, and Anakin perked up a little at the mention of it. “Yeah, actually… that’d be great.. there’s some new data I’ve been meaning to catch up on as well.” 

You two slowly made your way to the library, finding a table in the very back. Anakin sat down on one of the old worn out chairs, staring into the oblivion. “I feel… different..” He mumbled, almost to himself. “What’s wrong?” You sat down next to him, tilting your head and studying his expression. You waited a few seconds before speaking up. “..is it about Padmé?” You question. 

Anakin nodded. It was hard to explain, but he felt something. Something that both terrified him and excited him. 

“How did you know?” Anakin asked. “Ahah.. lucky guess?” You smiled, then giving him a sympathetic look. “..is she okay? Are you two okay?”

Anakin sighed. "Yeah... I think we are." He put his head down, leaning his arms on the table. 

“She's so beautiful…” Anakin whispered. “And she's smart.. And... caring... and... wonderful…”  Anakin trailed off, unknowingly breaking your heart with every word. “…You love her a lot… don’t you? Well, I bet my lightsaber she loves you a lot as well.” You tried to smile through the pain, asking the very question that could possibly break you, but you had to know. 

Anakin looked up at you, a look of uncertainty on this face. “No, it's not that. I love her… it's just... It’s hard to describe.” Anakin said. 

“But.. sometimes, I just feel like... I don't need this.” He looked away from you. 

“This… this whole Jedi… thing. I don’t know if I want to be a Jedi anymore.” Anakin whispered, his words dripping with emotion. “I want something different.” He said hesitantly, looking back at you. 

“…I see. What is it you want, exactly?” You whispered curiously. Anakin seemed to think for awhile. 

“I don't want the Jedi Order, that's for sure.” Anakin said. 

“I want freedom. I want... something... more. Something..." He trailed off. 

“I want to be happy.” Anakin finally said, almost as if it was a confession. “But I'm... afraid.” 

You nodded in understanding. You want freedom too, but not in the same way; you wanted to just be free from this unrequited love, to be free from this constant heartbreak…

“…why are you afraid?” You asked him softly. 

Anakin stared at the table in front of him. “I don’t know, it’s just… if I let go of this… this Jedi thing…” He said, the word ‘Jedi’ having a slight hint of hatred in it. “..I’m not sure if I can become anything else. But at the same time… I don’t want this.” He continued, looking like he was on the verge of tears.  

You nodded. “I understand. I really do..”

You so desperately wanted to reach out and hold Anakin's hand, to comfort him and tell him that everything will be okay as long as they have each other. But you couldn't. You weren’t Padmé.

“…I feel like I'm going insane…” Anakin whispered, his voice quiet and strained. He felt ashamed, but also somewhat relieved that he finally let it out. 

“Sometimes I even think... I even thought…” Anakin trailed off.

“Never mind.” He said with a sigh.

“Wait, no.. you can tell me.. I promise I won’t tell anyone..” You reassured him. 

He looked back up at you. “Sometimes… I have these… thoughts.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “What kind of thoughts?” You asked gently. 

“…Dark thoughts. Violent thoughts. Thoughts that could.. that could get me expelled from the Jedi Order.” Anakin finished, his voice strained. He looked at the table, and you did too. “…I see.” You finally reply, looking back up at him in sympathy. “…do you think it’ll affect you soon? Like…. You’re almost at your breaking point?” 

Anakin took a deep breath and let it out. “I don’t know…” he answered. 

“I don’t know what I’m capable of..” He continued, his voice starting to shake. You notice him slowly, hesitantly reach his hand over the table and rest it on yours, his fingers trembling. 

You stared at your hand for a moment, then back at Anakin, feeling the pang in your heart again. Oh, if only he knew the pain he’d just caused… “Hey.. it’s okay, you’re strong… I know you can get through this. I know it.” You whispered to him, giving him a soft smile. 

Anakin leaned his head against the table, keeping his eyes shut. “Can you… can you do me a favor..?” He asked quietly. 

“Anything. Yeah.” You whispered immediately, ready to give your life for Anakin in a heartbeat if you were asked to do so. 

Anakin sighed. “Can... can you promise to stick with me? No matter what? Like a Jedi and his Padawan?” 

Anakin looked up at you. "Can... can you do that for me?" He asked. He looked like he was begging you for help.

You nodded. “Of course.. I’ll always be on your side, no matter what. I’ll always be here for you.” You whisper with a smile. Anakin looked up at you, tears starting to form in his eyes. “Thank you…” he whispered. 

A moment later Anakin embraced you in a tight hug, a feeling of relief washing over him. 

You tensed slightly, a blush forming on your face. The pang in your heart hit harder again, and you knew that this moment would haunt you forever. 

Nevertheless, you placed a hand gently on Anakin’s chest and wrapped your other arm around his waist, hugging him tighter. “Shh… don’t cry..” You whispered, hating to see him in pain even though you were probably hurting even more than he was. 

Anakin's words were muffled as he buried his head into your shoulder. It had been so long since someone had embraced him in a welcoming way. 

“I’m… I'm scared…” Anakin whispered. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

You were the only thing grounding him to reality. 

“Hey, it’s okay… you’ll be okay.” You whispered reassuringly, rubbing Anakin’s back soothingly. The longer the two of you hugged, the more it hurt you. But you couldn’t understand it. Why were you feeling so much pain when he was showing you affection? Isn’t this what you wanted? 

Anakin lifted his head from your shoulder, looking back at you. He could feel his breath catching in his throat as he gazed into your eyes. Before he could even think, Anakin leaned in and softly kissed your lips. You could feel your cheeks get redder as he kissed you. Was this even real? You didn’t care; this was the happiest you’d ever been, almost as if you were in a trance. You kissed him back without hesitation, but then as quickly as the moment came, it was over; Anakin pulled away. Your eyes widened in realization as you snapped back into reality. Anakin seemed shocked as well, surprised by what he just did. “I….” He whispered, unsure of what to say. 

You looked at him in horror, thinking of what Padmé would do if she ever found out. 

“I… I’m sorry, I.. oh, no…” 

Not thinking straight, you quickly got up and ran away from the library, tears starting to blur your vision. 

“W-Wait! Come back!” Anakin called your name as he got up from the table, running after you. 

“J-Just leave me alone, Ani…” you pleaded as you covered your mouth with your hand, a sob escaping your lips. 

Anakin kept following you as you both raced down the halls, your footsteps echoing. Eventually he caught up with you and grabbed him by the shoulders. “No.. No, I won’t. Let me help you.” He said firmly as he took your hand and held it. “Please… you’re hurting me more than you realize..” You stared at him, tears starting to fall down your cheeks now. You wanted to pull your hand away, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to do so. 

“No, I want to be by your side. Through thick and thin,” Anakin said with a slight smile. “Padmé means a lot to me, but you... you are very special to me as well.” 

You looked away from him, taking in shaky breaths as more tears fell down your cheeks and you wiped them away before looking at him again. 

“Wait.. so… y-you don’t love Padmé?” You asked slowly. 

Anakin went red. “What? No no... I do love Padmé.” Anakin said, his voice getting a bit higher than he intended. Was he lying?

“But... I also love... I mean... uh…” Anakin was fumbling with his words. He wanted to say 'I love you,' but he didn't want to scare you. Anakin wasn't sure what he should do. He was stuck.

“Anakin.. don’t play games with me right now.” You pleaded. 

“Do you love me, or her?” You asked bluntly, tears still falling down your cheeks, your eyes turning puffy. 

Anakin took a deep breath.

“I… I choose... you.” Anakin said, looking at you.

For the first time since you had known each other, Anakin looked completely honest. He wasn't lying about anything. He looked at you with eyes of complete adoration.

"I choose... you." Anakin repeated.

You looked down at the ground, his words registering in your brain. “H-How do I know… you’re not lying to me right now to make me feel better?” 

Anakin took his fingers and lifted your gaze. “Look me in the eyes,” Anakin said, and you did.

“I’m not lying to you, and I never will.” He said with complete honesty. 

“You mean more to me than anyone in the galaxy.” Anakin's voice softened. "You are more important to me than even Padmé,” Anakin said, looking you right in the eye.

You looked at Anakin with a desperate expression, shaking your head. 

“Oh, Ani…” You whispered, and before you knew it, you’d placed your lips on his again, this time full of passion. 

Anakin wrapped his arms around you and kissed you back just as passionately as tears formed in his eyes. “I love you.” He whispered.

Hearing those words from Anakin’s lips melted your heart, and you felt tears forming in your eyes again, but this time from pure joy. 

“I love you too.. Oh, Ani.. I’ve waited so long to hear you say that..” You whispered back, kissing him again. 

Anakin kissed back, not wanting the moment to end. He embraced you as if you were the only thing holding him together. 

It was like a fairytale come true. 

Anakin finally felt happy. Really happy. He had you to thank for it, as well as his own courage to take a chance. 

And now, you were finally with the one you loved. 

[aziraphales-library]

Hello!! I hope you're well! I was wondering if you have long-fics (5k+ words) where the husbands are kind of just. Pining??? 5+1 fics specifically? If it's not too much trouble. Although, even without the "5+1 things" tag, I would greatly appreciate it! Thank you so so much!! Have a great day :D

2/2: Hello again!! I am so sorry, I was the anon asking for the 5+1 & pining fics! I forgot to mention, please keep the spicy stuff away from the fic recommendations! I am incredibly sex-repulsed. Again, I apologize for forgetting to mention it in the last ask! Thank you kindly! So sorry for the inconvenience :(

Hi! Here are some 5+1 pining fics...

The Lovers, The Dreamers, and Me by ghosts_n_toast (T)

And so, Crowley devised a plan: he would go to the back room and lie down, but he wouldn’t actually sleep . And when Aziraphale, unsuspecting of his schemes, came to lean down and press another kiss to his forehead Crowley would…do something. He hadn’t figured that part out yet. Ask him where he got the nerve to treat him like a child at bedtime? Yell at him for trying to kiss unsuspecting sleeping people? Pull him back for another one? Kiss him on the forehead? The “after” part didn’t matter. What mattered now was catching Aziraphale in the act. - One night after a bout of heavy drinking, a half-asleep Crowley is kissed goodnight on the forehead by Aziraphale. What ensues is Crowley's terrible attempts to stay awake on the bookshop sofa to catch him in the act.

Points of Contact by cyankelpie (G)

Five times Crowley and Aziraphale found an excuse for physical contact, and one time they didn’t have to.

Do you have any idea by Enven (T)

He was hungry for anything he could get. Every tiniest scrap of attention Aziraphale gave him, everything that could at least potentially indicate that he enjoyed his company – Crowley would take it all, and shove it deep into the dimness of his mind to hopelessly reminisce about it later. or: 5 times they pined like crazy, and 1 time they didn't

Crowley's attempts at courtship (5+1) by p0psicle_ashtray (M)

The year is 1813, Crowley is currently in a gentlemen's club in Scotland when he runs into a familiar angel, they talk and Crowley realizes that he must do whatever it takes to make Aziraphale fall in love with him. He was going to court the pants right off him.

To Creep Under His Gaberdine by larkthorne (T)

Sharing a sleeping space used to be much more common, historically. It didn’t mean that Crowley and Aziraphale had (literally) slept together very often…but they had done so. By the middle of the 1800s or so that practice had fallen out of fashion, and it began to feel like a shocking sort of intimacy. Basically: five times Crowley and Aziraphale shared a bedtime before the Apocalypse, and the first time they shared a bedtime after.

What Are You Doing New Year's Eve? by theshoparoundthecorner (G)

“Bit of an odd tradition, if you ask me,” he said, if not to get his mind off the longing that had settled in his chest. Aziraphale shrugged. “I think it’s rather sweet. A kiss for good luck. Seems a nice way to start the year. Very human.” Crowley nodded. “Can’t seem to keep their hands off each other, that lot. Always finding excuses. First it’s mistletoe at Christmas, then it’s luck for the New Year…” “Well there’s no need to be so grouchy about it,” Aziraphale said. “I think it’s lovely.” Crowley’s heart ached a little more as he watched Aziraphale smile up at the glowing numbers on the building above them. Yeah, he thought, lovely. Five times Crowley thought about kissing Aziraphale on New Year's Eve, and one time he did.

- Mod D

[kingofbodyrolls]

Friendcation (m) | myg | seven [fin]

Melancholy shrouds you and Yoongi in your last days of vacation – time to get back home to the daily grind. But when you can visit Yoongi in his garage, is it really so bad?

→ Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female) → Other characters: Jimin, Jungkook, Taehyung, Namjoon, Hoseok and Seokjin. → Trope: friends to best friends with benefits to lovers (they be messy and confused, lol) → AUs: non idol!au, camping!au, roadtrip!au, mechanic!au (Yoongi is a mechanic) → Genre: humor, (slight) angst, smut and fluff → Rating: mature/explicit/R18  (This is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 → Status: complete! → Word Count: 11.3k → Warnings (general): angst and uncertainty, pregnancy test and pregnancy scare. → Warnings (explicit): explicit rough sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, ass slapping, impreg kink (new for me, so it might be light and soft), nipple play, Yoongi’s garage and a certain car 👀 (yes this is a warning and you’ll understand it when you read it 🥵), hair pulling, slight possessiveness 👀, lots of ass grabbing, some brief cockwarming too. → Author’s note(1): This is the end of the road, guys 😭 It has truly been a rollercoaster for me, and I’m so pleased with these last chapters and I feel like this is a good way to end things for this couple and their teasing friends. 

Also, there’s a line of dialogue in this chapter (one of Yoongi’s 🥵) that spawned another fic that I actually wrote to get out of my writers block before I could finish friendcation – It’s ‘Say that Again (I Dare You)’, if you’re interested you can go ahead and give it a read 🙂 (It has nothing to do with friendcation and everything to do with me being an insatiable hoe 😇).

Thank you so much – and thanks to all that likes, comments, reblogs, yeah, anything. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, it makes me so happy and a damn smiling fool 💜 → Read on AO3? [link] ✨

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“The second statement is a lie,” you laugh, your conviction cutting through the night air. The rest of your group joins in with a collective hum of agreement. 

“You just don’t strike me as the threesome type,” you assert, adding a touch of finality to your words. 

Namjoon casts a curious gaze your way, his eyebrows lifting ever so slightly. 

“Are you sure?” he asks, a hint of skepticism coloring his words. 

You nod affirmatively, your confidence unwavering. It’s hard to fathom Namjoon engaging in such endeavors; his other statements seem to carry a more authentic resonance. 

Your eyes widen in disbelief, almost popping out of their sockets, as Namjoon casually shrugs his shoulders, his laughter resonating through the air. “Well, I have,” he admits, reclining in his seat with an air of nonchalance. 

Your gasp is almost audible, a testament to the revelation that shatters your preconceived notions. “Wow,” you utter in awe, realizing that even those you thought you knew well can still surprise you with hidden facets.

“I just didn’t think you were into that, maybe Hoseok, but you, Joonie?” you say in a breathy voice, the disbelief evident. 

The mention of Hoseok prompts an indignant “Hey!” from him, and you can’t help but chuckle. 

Namjoon continues to laugh, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he playfully challenges Hoseok, “It’s your turn, Hobi.”

All eyes, except Yoongi's, focused on the road, shift to Hoseok, waiting for the next set of revelations as he contemplates his three statements. The rhythmic hum of the engine underscores the silence, creating a suspenseful atmosphere within the confines of Holly. 

As you all hum with curiosity, anticipating Hoseok’s next revelation, he unveils another layer of himself. “I once dated a man,” he confesses, a momentary hush falling over the group, the revelation hanging in the air like a delicate thread. 

The subsequent statement, “I’m scared of snakes,” elicits laughter, the image of Hoseok’s comical encounters with the slithering creatures at the zoo playing in everyone’s minds. 

Then, in a surprising twist, Hoseok drops the bombshell, “I was contacted to choreograph a music video.” 

Holly is filled with gasps and widened eyes as the weight of this unexpected admission settles among the group. 

The van is a buzz of whispers and exchanged glances as you and your friends dive into a lively debate, dissecting each of Hoseok’s revelations with an air of camaraderie. 

Yoongi’s voice, a steady anchor amid the animated chatter, breaks through as he shares a practical update.

“We’re almost there,” he interjects, his gaze fixed on the winding road.

You catch a glimpse of his focused expression, the contours of his profile bathed in the soft glow of passing streetlights in the dim morning.

“Just stopping by a store first.” 

Yoongi continues, his words weaving seamlessly into the ongoing banter. 

Seokjin’s laughter erupts like a spontaneous melody, harmonizing with the hum of the van’s engine.

Namjoon chimes in, “But the fear of snakes? That’s so Hobi. Remember that one time at the zoo?” The memory elicits another round of laughter, lightening the atmosphere.

You interject with a thoughtful musing, “The music video thing could also be true.”

Namjoon’s analytical mind chimes in, “But he could also have dated a man, I’m sure he’s mentioned that sometime.” His words ripple through Holly, introducing an element of doubt that swirls around Hoseok’s revelations.

Seokjin’s confident assertion pierces through the deliberations, echoing with finality. “We think the statement with the music video is a lie,” he declares. The collective nodding of heads and the subtle hum of agreement create a shared consensus among you. 

The decision is made, and the spotlight now shifts to Hoseok, awaiting his response.

“That one was actually true,” Hoseok’s revelation hangs in the air, a surprising twist that elicits a collective gasp and a wave of laughter. 

Your voice, laced with a cocktail of disbelief and genuine curiosity, slices through the air like a finely tuned instrument. 

“Hold up, you haven’t actually dated a man?” you query, your eyes widening in a mix of incredulity and intrigue.

“Not yet, but I’m open to the possibility,” he grins, radiating a warmth that rivals the sun itself.

“Wait... Does that mean you’re going to choreograph a music video?” Namjoon slaps him on the shoulder, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, causing him to wince.

Hoseok nods, his expression bright and proud. “They reached out to me before the vacation, and a few days ago, they confirmed that I got the job.”

“Wow!” you exclaim, your face bright and brimming with genuine happiness for your friend.

“That’s absolutely amazing.” Seokjin adds gleefully, his excitement mirroring the collective joy in the van.

“Congrats.” Yoongi adds from the driver’s seat, his voice filled with genuine warmth and a hint of pride for Hoseok’s achievement.

“Thank you.” Hoseok says proudly, launching into enthusiastic explanations about his new job, his eyes lighting up with passion for the upcoming project.

“We’re here.” Yoongi announces, effortlessly maneuvering Holly into a parking spot before cutting off the engine, the sudden silence emphasizing the arrival at your destination.

You all spill out of the van, a lively group on a shared mission, and step into the store, ready to stock up on essentials and treats for the upcoming days of your adventure.

As you step into the store, the unspoken choreography of your group takes over, each member moving with purpose to efficiently tackle the shopping list. 

You and Yoongi, armed with a basket and a secret mission for a pregnancy test, navigate the aisles in search of canned goods, weaving through the vibrant array of products. Meanwhile, the rest of the team secures a cart, ready to explore the realms of meat and veggies. 

In no time, you and Yoongi expertly pluck a selection of canned goods from the shelves, tossing them into your basket with practiced ease. As you navigate the aisles, hand in hand, your journey takes a deliberate detour to the toiletries and sanity section. There, amidst the array of products, you both zero in on the elusive pregnancy test with the finesse of seasoned shoppers.

As you reach for a package, an unexpected weight settles in your hand, the incongruity of such a small item bearing a significant burden dawning on you. 

In this moment, the weight transcends the physical, carrying with it the gravity of what it represents—questions, possibilities, and the potential to alter the course of your relationship with Yoongi.

Locking eyes with Yoongi, you muster the courage to break the news subtly. “Is it okay if I head up to pay for it now? I’d rather keep it between us for now,” you confess, your voice carrying a blend of vulnerability and anticipation. 

His response is a reassuring squeeze of your hand, a silent affirmation that he understands. “Of course. Go pay for it, and I’ll round up the others. We’ll join you outside,” he assures, the unspoken promise of solidarity evident in his gaze.

With a tender yet uncertain smile, you part ways from Yoongi, fully aware that within the confines of this unassuming package rests the key to your shared destiny.

You hasten to the cashier, swiftly complete the transaction for the test, and then make your way to Holly, anticipation knotting your stomach as you await the arrival of your friends.

In no time, your friends conclude their shopping, and you assist in loading the van with groceries. Safely tucked away in one of your bags is the pregnancy test, a secret that remains concealed from prying eyes.

Returning to Holly, Yoongi takes the wheel, steering you toward a hidden forest oasis where he skillfully parks, creating a cocoon of tranquility amid the lush surroundings.

As the sun bathes the surroundings in a golden glow, setting up camp in the middle of the day proves delightful, offering ample light to illuminate your tasks. With a symphony of coordination, each of you contributes to unloading Holly and assembling the tent, a well-practiced ritual that transforms the serene landscape into a cozy haven.

While the guys gather around a crackling campfire, savoring light snacks and sipping on cold beers, you find it challenging to fully unwind. The weight of the pregnancy test preoccupies your mind, its presence an insistent reminder. An undercurrent of nervous anticipation builds within you, urging you to take the test and unravel the mystery that has woven itself into the fabric of your thoughts.

You rise from your seat with purpose, drawing a few curious glances, notably from Yoongi, yet determinedly stride towards the van. 

Each step feels charged with the weight of the moment, the bag clutched in the comfort of the van holding not just your belongings but the potential key to your future.

Startled, you almost jump at the warm and familiar voice that breaks through your reverie. Lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed him approaching. 

“Can I come with you?” he asks, his presence both surprising and comforting.

His hands find your waist, their warmth and rough texture grounding you in the present. With a reassuring touch, he gently nudges you, calming the swirling thoughts that had momentarily carried you away.

You arch an eyebrow at him, your fingers tightly clenched around the pregnancy test. 

“You wanna watch me pee?”

He chuckles at your furrowed expression, gently turning you around to face him. With a tender touch, he brushes stray strands of hair away from your face, locking eyes with you as he nods, a silent reassurance passing between you.

“That’s gross, Yoongi. You don’t have to watch me pee.” You mumble, keeping your voice low to avoid the others catching on.

“If you’re pregnant, watching you pee on a stick will be the least grossest thing I’ll see.” Yoongi teases, a playful glint in his eyes.

Admitting defeat, you concede, and let him accompany you into the serene depths of the forest, away from the prying eyes of your friends and the campsite.

His hand, warm and reassuring, intertwines with yours, a conduit for the palpable love that flows between you. Seeking solace beside a sturdy tree, you carefully retrieve the test, holding it up for closer scrutiny.

“I’m scared.” 

You admit, the words almost a whisper in the quiet of the forest. Yoongi’s gaze softens with understanding, his hand tenderly caressing your cheek. “I understand,” he reassures, gently lifting your face to meet his gaze, “Whatever it is, we’ll face it together.”

“Okay?” he murmurs, his gentle touch stroking your cheek before he leans in, placing a chaste kiss on your trembling lips. In that simple moment, he somehow eases the fear swirling within you. You nod, a wave of gratitude washing over you for his unwavering presence.

You carefully open the package, extracting the instructions and scrutinizing them. This marks your first experience with a pregnancy test, and you’re determined to ensure every step is executed correctly.

“I should’ve brought a cup or something to collect the pee,” you groan at the inconvenient realization. “Oh well,” you chuckle, pulling down your pants to relieve yourself against the tree. Yoongi efficiently unpacks the test and hands it to you, a subtle smile playing on his lips.

In a million scenarios, you never imagined finding yourself in a forest, peeing on a stick while Yoongi watches. It’s almost laughable, the twists life takes.

Your voice wavers with uncertainty as you pull your pants back up, glancing at the test. 

“Can you set a timer? Three minutes.” You request, the seconds ticking away with the weight of anticipation.

Yoongi swiftly retrieves his phone, the soft glow illuminating his focused expression as he expertly sets a timer, the seconds ticking in sync with the nervous beats of your heart.

Restlessly, you tread back and forth, clutching the test in your hand, each step echoing the restless beats of your heart, anxiously awaiting the passage of time.

Yoongi’s reassuring touch envelopes your waist, leading you to another tree, one untouched by your earlier predicament. “Relax,” he murmurs, settling you down against the sturdy trunk, both of you finding solace in its shelter.

A flicker of curiosity brightens your eyes as you break the silence. 

“Aren’t you nervous?” You inquire, secretly craving insight into his seemingly calm demeanor, a shared vulnerability between you two.

“Not really.” He shrugs, a nonchalant exterior belying the subtle lean against your shoulder, a silent reassurance echoing louder than words ever could.

Then silence envelops you, a palpable tension that’s not uncomfortable, but rather pregnant with anticipation, each passing second stretching the boundaries of waiting.

As the timer beeps, you gasp, releasing a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, the sound echoing the suspense that has built up within you.

With trembling hands, you bring the test closer to your face, inspecting the results. Your heart gallops like a herd of wild stallions, and your breath quickens in anticipation. 

Are you ready for this revelation? 

Ready or not, here it is—just one line. 

Not pregnant.

Your heart plummets at the stark results, and you release a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. 

The sting of tears gathers at the corners of your eyes, and a single teardrop slips free.

Yoongi swiftly brushes away your tears, his touch a comforting blend of warmth and reassurance, his fingers tenderly tracing the curve of your cheek.

“Not the results you were hoping for?” 

Yoongi’s voice carries a mixture of empathy and concern, his eyes locked onto yours, searching for the emotions hidden within.

Tears cascade down your cheeks in a torrent, your sobs escaping in uncontrollable waves. With a mix of frustration and despair, you discard the test, shielding your face in trembling hands. “I don’t know,” you confess through the emotional turmoil, your vulnerability laid bare.

He cradles your hands, gently freeing your tear-stained face from its hiding place. Drawing you into a cocoon of warmth, he envelops your trembling form in a tender embrace. His fingertips dance soothingly along your back, a silent promise of unwavering support as you release the weight of your emotions on his shoulder.

“It was negative,” you choke on a stifled cry, “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“You were hoping for a positive.” He murmurs warmly against your ear, sending delightful shivers down your spine. Damn it, he’s right. The test has consumed your thoughts for days, and a part of you had secretly wished for a positive result. Fuck.

“I didn’t realize I wanted that,” you sob, clinging to his embrace as if your very existence depended on it.

“It’s okay, babe. To be honest, I’m a bit disappointed too,” he confesses in a tender voice as you slowly pull away from him, locking eyes.

In his eyes, you search for any sign that he’s just saying that to make you happy, but the determination, love, and care in those beautiful brown eyes tell a different story. He wanted the test to be positive too. He wants to have a kid with you. The thought finally hits you, and you begin to cry again.

You ask in disbelief, your body still shaking with the aftermath of tears, “You want to have a baby with me?”

“Yeah,” he looks at you tenderly again, kissing your tear-stained cheek. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“I mean, we haven’t been together long,” you begin as your crying turns into small sobs, your heart slowing down gradually.

“Babe, we’ve known each other for over ten years. Spent so fucking much time loving each other, without telling the other. It’s not about the time, it’s you.”

At this, tears well up again, a cascade of emotions unleashed by his beautiful words. 

Your heart leaps and somersaults because, damn it, he’s right. Maybe you haven’t been ‘officially’ together for that long, but the bond you share spans years. It feels natural, like the coming together of two souls that have known each other intimately for decades.

As he speaks, his words paint a vision of a future you never dared to imagine. 

“I want kids in the future, and I want them with you,” he declares, his sincerity echoing through the forest. You sob at the beauty of his words, your heart swelling with emotion. 

“You’ll be an awesome and fearless mom. You’re strong, incredible, and your heart is so big and full of love,” he continues, each compliment a brushstroke in the portrait of your relationship. 

“With you, I want everything. Why waste any more time?” he asks, his soft chuckle carrying the weight of a promise for a future filled with love and possibility.

In the wake of his heartfelt confession, you’re overwhelmed by the cascade of loving and wonderful words that have poured from his lips. You yearn for everything he’s just described, and the intensity of your desire propels you into a kiss that speaks volumes. 

It’s not just a simple meeting of lips; it’s a fervent exploration, a hunger for all of him. 

The kiss is messy, tears and saliva mingling to create a salty sweetness on your tongues. Yet, in this raw and unfiltered moment, you find solace because, for the first time, you’re not just kissing; you’re tasting the promise of a shared future.

“Damn. I want that too.”

Your moan escapes into his mouth, a symphony of pleasure, as your hands entwine in his long hair, pulling with an urgency that draws a deep groan from him, echoing in the intimate space of your kiss.

As you softly pull away, the realization hits that the tears have ceased, replaced by a new and electric tension. A surge of desire courses through you, prompting you to grind your body against his, teasing and stoking the flames of arousal that now dance between you.

“What does this mean?��� 

You ask, the taste of salt still lingering on your lips as you lick them. The remnants of your earlier mood dissipate, making room for a lighter and happier atmosphere.

“That I’ll fuck you raw,” he smirks at you, his eyes turning dark with desire.

“Make you nice and round.” he strokes your stomach before cupping your clothed core.

You release a sultry moan, “Fuck, yes.”

You stroll alongside Yoongi, hand in hand, your cheeks likely marked with the remnants of tears, yet you’re beaming, the joy evident. With Yoongi by your side, nothing else holds significance.

As you return to your friends, you catch the intrigued glances they shoot your way, a silent curiosity lingering in the air, though no words are exchanged.

You settle into the chair with Yoongi, the contours of his lap perfectly accommodating your form as you nuzzle your head against his chest, finding solace in the rhythmic beat of his heart.

You feel the weight of curious eyes on you, a silent conversation unfolding in their gazes, laden with unspoken words yearning to break free.

“We’re thinking about heading home tomorrow.” Hoseok starts, his voice carrying a subtle air of decision with each sip of his beer.

“So you can savor a few days of solitude before your vacation bids farewell.” Namjoon chimes in, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

You exchange glances with him and offer a gentle, appreciative smile. Your heart swells with gratitude for the sweetness and thoughtfulness your friends never fail to show.

Seokjin chimes in with a smile, “I miss my girlfriend too.”

“We’ll drive you to the station tomorrow.” Yoongi says, his hands intertwining with yours, a gesture that speaks volumes of comfort and support.

As the night unfolds, a cascade of laughter and clinking beer bottles paints the scene. Hoseok, with his infectious energy, pulls you into a dance, and the rhythm of the music becomes the soundtrack to a night filled with camaraderie and unforgettable moments. Laughter echoes around the campfire, weaving together a tapestry of joy that lingers in the memories of friendship.

“Friday at the bar, don’t be late!” 

Hoseok’s enthusiasm resonates in his voice as he envelops you in a warm, anticipatory hug. Then, he turns his exuberance towards Yoongi, squeezing him tightly, a bear hug that elicits a gruff grunt from your usually composed boyfriend.

“Absolutely, can’t wait for the gang to reunite!” Your words ring with genuine joy as you share heartfelt hugs with Namjoon and Seokjin. Even Yoongi, typically reserved, offers reluctant but sincere goodbyes in the form of tight hugs.

As their figures gradually blend into the bustling station crowd, you continue waving, the distance adding a bittersweet tinge to your farewell. The echoes of laughter and shared moments linger, fading with each step they take, leaving you with a mix of nostalgia and anticipation for the next reunion.

“What should we do now? So much alone time.” 

Yoongi’s voice, soft and filled with the promise of undisturbed moments, lingers in the air as you both face the van. The question carries the weight of endless possibilities, a canvas awaiting the strokes of your shared desires in the quietude of alone time.

As you both enter Holly, the air crackles with a newfound anticipation. Leaning into Yoongi’s side, you murmur your plan, your words a bold invitation that sets the atmosphere ablaze. 

“You drive us back to our campsite,” you start, the door closing behind you, “and then I’ll fuck you senseless.”

Yoongi chuckles, the sound a tempting melody in response to your boldness and the unmistakable glint of desire in your eyes. “Bossy,” he teases, the word laced with a promise of playful surrender.

As he ignites the engine, the subtle purr of the vehicle syncs with the quiet hum of anticipation. Driving back to your campsite, the warmth of your touch on his thigh acts as a silent yet palpable connection, a prelude to the intimacy awaiting both of you.

With Holly’s engine silenced, you pounce on him, the urgency in the air charging the atmosphere. Your hands glide up his thigh, boldly exploring the terrain beneath the fabric. A daring grip on his clothed dick elicits a soft, impassioned moan, your name escaping his lips like a whispered prayer.

“Impatient much?” 

He chuckles, the sound a harmonious melody to the rhythm of your teasing palm. Your deliberate touch prompts him to throw his head back against the headrest, surrendering to the escalating desire coursing through every fiber of his being.

“Yeah, I’m already so wet. I just want you inside me, Yoon.” 

Your words, laced with a sense of urgency and desire, spill out as you hastily discard both of your pants and underwear, the anticipation building in the air like an electric charge.

“Shit,” he mutters, closing his eyes, savoring a soft breath as you unzip his pants. With his assistance, you deftly pull down both his boxers and pants, leaving them pooled at his knees.

Without hesitation, you straddle him. The confines of the front seat are a bit tight, creating an intimate space that’s not entirely uncomfortable, but charged with anticipation and lust.

His arousal is evident, and you tease him by grinding your core against his throbbing length. The dual response, a twitch and a moan, sends shivers down your spine. The symphony of his pleasure fuels your desire, and you savor every intoxicating sound escaping his lips.

With a confident grip, you guide his dick to your eager entrance, then descend upon him in one seamless motion. The delicious stretch and the raw sensation, liberated from the confines of a condom, draw a heartfelt exclamation. 

“Fuck, you’re so big,” you gasp, relishing the intimate connection that electrifies the air.

His husky voice, laced with desire, breathes out admiration, “Damn, you’re so tight, taking me so well.’” His hands confidently find your hips, anchoring themselves in a rhythm that mirrors the growing intensity between you.

Your movements become a rhythm of urgency, bouncing in his lap with a fervor that sets a relentless pace from the very beginning. The sensation of fullness overwhelms you, and the impending climax rushes towards you like a tidal wave. 

Damn it, the pleasure is so exquisite, so consuming, that you can’t help but surrender to its intoxicating embrace.

Your breath comes in furious pants, a symphony of desire echoing in the air. Fingers entwined in his hair, you tug hard, prompting a hiss of pain from him as you practically impale yourself on his cock. 

“Fuck!” The expletive escapes your lips in a primal scream, a raw expression of the overwhelming pleasure coursing through every fiber of your being.

Yoongi’s hold on your hips tightens, his movements synchronized with yours, creating a rhythm that feels like a shared heartbeat between you. With a firm grip, he guides your ascent and descent, an intimate dance of passion and connection.

“Babe,” he pants, his gaze locking onto yours with hooded eyes. “I won’t last much longer.”

You pant and moan his name, “Same here.”

You roll your hips over his, desperately seeking release, while one of your hands trails down to your clit, vigorously rubbing it.

With a few intense strokes on your clit, a surge of pleasure radiates from your core, and you feel a release building up. You let out a breathless moan, calling his name as your vision momentarily blurs. As your body succumbs to the waves of ecstasy, Yoongi takes control, guiding you up and down by your hips, plunging into you with fervor, seamlessly melding with the throes of your orgasm.

Your fingers thread through his hair, gripping and releasing in a rhythm matching the intensity of your movements. With each passionate kiss to his neck, you leave behind a trail of bites that elicit a symphony of pleasurable sounds from him, creating a delicious melody of desire beneath you.

Your name escapes his lips like a fervent prayer, a raw confession of imminent release as he gasps, “Fuck, I’m gonna come, babe,” the words laced with urgency and desire.

In the throes of pleasure, you hiss, “Fill me up, Yoon,” your moan a seductive melody as you sink down on him again, deliberately clenching your walls around him.

“Shit!” he grunts, his release flooding into your welcoming warm pussy.

“You’re absolutely amazing, babe,” he says, his voice dripping with so much love that it envelops you like a warm embrace, making you feel like you could swim in its depths.

“As are you, Yoongi.” You murmur into his ear, wrapping him in a big and warm hug, your breath steadying against the curve of his ear.

You make a conscious effort to savor every fleeting moment of these last few days of your trip, acutely aware that the return to your mundane daily lives is inevitable.

Your period has finally made its appearance, adding a bit of a damper to your spirits and contributing to your already sour mood, but you try not to dwell on it.

You embark on what feels like a magical ‘date,’ where the warmth of a campfire, the sizzling sounds of grilling, and the joy of each other’s company create a perfect, intimate evening in the cocoon of your campsite.

In the familiar rhythm of your camping routine, Yoongi takes the lead at the grill, but tonight, the dance of preparing the meat and chopping vegetables becomes a shared symphony. Surrounded by the serene seclusion of the forest, the campfire’s glow paints a warm ambiance on your faces, casting playful shadows that dance and flicker. 

As you skillfully turn the vegetables over the crackling flames, a wistful sigh escapes your lips. “I’m going to miss this when we get back home.”

“We can always go camping on the weekends,” his voice, tinged with a hint of nostalgia, carries the weight of the inevitable return to reality. Yet, his smile, soft and bittersweet, speaks volumes of the preciousness he finds in the present, a moment cocooned in the dancing flames and the quiet murmur of the forest.

“Yeah, I’d love that,” your smile mirrors the warmth of the flickering flames, an unspoken promise to seize the simple joys of weekends and the solace found under the stars. 

“What are we gonna do when we get back home?” 

As the flames dance, casting a glow on your contemplative expression, you can’t help but sigh, the question lingering in the air like the smoke from the crackling fire. Poking at a charred vegetable in playful defeat, you turn to Yoongi, a mix of curiosity and anticipation in your eyes, as if the answer lies in the shadows painted by the dancing flames.

His gaze locks with yours, a quizzical expression playing on his features. 

“What do you mean?” He asks, and you can sense the curiosity dancing in his eyes, eager to unravel the depths of your thoughts.

As you voice the concerns lingering in your mind, your eyes search his face for a glimpse of understanding. 

“How are we going to make it work, Yoongi? We’re both workaholics.” You sigh, a smile playing on your lips, a mix of worry and anticipation painting your expression as you contemplate the intricate puzzle of your relationship.

His eyes flicker with a thoughtful gleam as he ponders your question, a soft ‘ah’ escaping his lips, carrying with it the weight of consideration and the promise of an honest response.

With a sigh, you add, “And I don’t want our relationship to fail,” as you skillfully pull the vegetables off the fire, their sizzling sounds a backdrop to the sincerity in your voice. The tray in your hands becomes a vessel for both grilled sustenance and the weight of your heartfelt words.

Yoongi expertly turns the sizzling meat, his eyes focused on the grill as he addresses your concerns. 

“First off, I don’t think it’ll fail,” he reassures, the aroma of barbecue blending with the warmth in his words. “We don’t have to see each other every day, although I’d like that very much. You are always welcome in my home or at the garage anytime. And we can do stuff on the weekends,” he adds with a hopeful voice, his smile matching the flickering flames as he places the perfectly grilled meat in a clean tray.

Your eyes light up with enthusiasm. “That sounds nice,” you respond eagerly, reaching for two plates as the prospect of a shared future with Yoongi takes on a tangible, comforting shape.

“I just hope we can make it work.” You express with a hopeful lilt in your voice, the sincerity of your desire for a future with Yoongi shining through.

“I know we can.” He reassures you, his voice carrying a quiet confidence that matches the unwavering belief in your love.

Together, you savor each bite, the conversation flowing effortlessly between dreams of future destinations, the nuances of work, and the tapestry of life itself.

As dawn unfurls its radiant hues, you embark on an early morning hike through the forest, the sun casting golden ribbons through the foliage. The breathtaking spectacle of the sunrise filtering through the trees paints a memory you know will linger, a vivid scene etched in your mind, a treasure to carry with you as you reluctantly prepare to drive home later in the evening.

Hand in hand with Yoongi, you traverse the winding trails, enveloped in a comforting silence that needs no words. The stillness is a serene companion, allowing you to immerse yourselves in the natural symphony of your morning hike—the heady scents of the forest filling your noses, and the ethereal dance of dewy fog casting a mystical spell before you.

Returning from your invigorating hike as the sun climbs the sky, the lure of a sizzling farewell lunch beckons. 

Determined to make the most of your remaining moments in this woodland haven, you opt to ignite the grill one last time, infusing the air with the savory aroma of grilling meat and vegetables before bidding adieu to the serenity of the forest.

The atmosphere takes a bittersweet turn, the air thick with a sense of impending departure. Yoongi tends to the grill, the sizzle of meat a poignant soundtrack to your shared melancholy. 

You attempt to uplift the mood, filling the air with music that usually brings joy, but its lively notes seem to echo the underlying sadness that has settled between you two. As the speakers play on, both of you navigate the delicate dance between creating a facade of happiness and the somber reality of impending separation, etching the moment with shared glances that speak volumes.

“I don’t want to leave.” You force a laugh, the sound devoid of any genuine mirth. It resonates with an emptiness, a profound hollowness that mirrors the depth of your reluctance to part ways with this place.

“I know. Me neither. But we both have work tomorrow.” Yoongi confesses with a sigh, as if attempting to absorb every detail of this moment in nature. The bittersweet truth hangs in the air, a poignant reminder that, despite parting now, the prospect of future camping trips offers a glimmer of solace.

“It sucks.” You declare, your chopsticks attacking the innocent food on your plate as if it were the source of your frustration. A heavy exhale follows, a gust of annoyance and disappointment that echoes your sentiments louder than words ever could.

In the aftermath of your meal, a heavy silence descends as you both quietly consume the last moments of your enchanted getaway. Once the plates are cleared, a symphony of clinks and clatters follows as you meticulously dismantle the campsite and tidy up the van. 

Each fold of the bed, every item stowed away, feels like sealing away a fragment of the magic you’ve experienced.

As you pack with a heavy heart, the memories of this time resonate within you, a bittersweet melody. This retreat has been more than a mere escape; it’s been a rejuvenating balm for your weary soul. 

And unexpectedly, amid the rustling leaves and crackling campfire, you discovered more than tranquility—you got Yoongi, a devoted and caring partner who has etched himself into the canvas of your heart more than before.

As the final pieces are carefully stowed away, Yoongi’s voice breaks the silence, “Let’s head home.” 

Casting a wistful glance back at the forest, you feel a twinge of longing, realizing just how much you’ll miss this tranquil sanctuary. With a mix of reluctance and anticipation, you join Yoongi in Holly.

“I’m ready,” you declare, a determined spark in your eyes. 

“Let’s go.” You add, as if ushering in a new chapter, the engine’s hum signaling both an end and a beginning.

In the whirlwind of days since Yoongi bid you farewell at your apartment, work has morphed into a chaotic dance of demands. Despite the relentless pace, your passion for your job propels you forward, a driving force pushing you through the challenges with unwavering determination.

The ache of missing Yoongi has become a relentless companion, one that tightens its grip especially during the chaotic intervals between your demanding job tasks. In the relentless storm of work, the absence of Yoongi weighs heavy on your heart. 

The saving grace amid the chaos is the lifeline of texts exchanged during your fleeting breaks—a comforting escape when the demands of your job threaten to engulf you completely.

Yoongi has been engulfed in a torrent of tasks himself, with a queue of eager customers awaiting the magic touch of his expertise. The relentless stream of demands has formed an impenetrable barrier, rendering it impossible for you to reunite with him since that bittersweet moment he dropped you off.

Exhausted from a taxing day at work—navigating irate customers and orchestrating the intricate dance of formulating next year’s marketing strategy—you feel the weariness etched into every fiber of your being. 

Yet, fueled by a deep longing to be with Yoongi, you summon the last reserves of your energy and embark on a drive to his garage.

The brief journey from your workplace to Yoongi’s garage unfolds in a mere 15 minutes, the streets whispering tales of anticipation beneath the tires of your car.

You enter through the door, finding Yoongi engaged in conversation with a client. A warm smile graces your lips as you exchange pleasantries. Yoongi, visibly taken aback by your unexpected visit, manages a surprised expression. Making your way to a cozy corner at the back of the garage, you settle into a small lounge area with a plush couch and a quaint table – a designated spot for clients to wait while Yoongi tends to their automotive needs.

The plushness of the couch cradles your body, its soft embrace a welcome comfort. You surrender to its inviting texture, your eyes drifting lazily downward as relaxation takes hold.

In the gentle embrace of slumber, time becomes a blur, and you awaken to a tender caress on your cheek. A radiant gummy smile and affectionate eyes welcome you back to consciousness.

“You didn’t have to make the trip if you’re exhausted, love.” He remarks with a soft chuckle, playfully poking your nose.

“I couldn’t wait to see you.” You admit with a playful pout, rising from the couch. Yoongi chuckles at your expression, then turns back to the car he was tending to while you napped.

You pull your gaze away from Yoongi’s enticing figure, a mischievous spark in your eyes. His black coveralls, stained with a mix of grease and oil, only seem to enhance his rugged appeal. The plain white shirt beneath, now more of an art canvas of his work, adds an unexpected allure. Unable to contain the fire building within, you confess, “You look so damn sexy in those black coveralls.”

His hair is tousled, as though his hands have navigated through it in moments of frustration. A subtle hint of anticipation makes you unconsciously lick your lips, and with deliberate steps, you close the distance between you.

Yoongi’s laughter resonates through the garage as he continues working beneath the hood of a sleek red car. Unconcerned about the specifics of the make or model, you saunter over, a mischievous glint in your eyes. Playfully, you grab hold of the belt loops on his coveralls, tugging him closer, his frame melding into yours with an enticing collision of desire.

A husky grunt escapes him, “I’m filthy, babe,” he warns, yet he willingly surrenders to the allure of your touch, leaning into the intimacy that lingers between you.

“I couldn’t care less.” 

You declare boldly, diving in for a kiss that speaks volumes of your longing. Your hands venture southward, seizing the firm curve of his ass, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him.

Abandoning his tools, he seizes your cheeks, intensifying the kiss with a hunger that mirrors a man starved for the taste of your touch.

“I missed you so much.” He breathes as he pulls away, gazing at you with a tender intensity in his eyes.

“Me too. Yoongi, I want you.” You plead, your hands tracing the contours of his body until they rest on his chest, where the steady beat of his heart becomes the rhythm to which your desires dance.

“Fuck. Now?” 

He chuckles, running a hand through his tousled hair, and you bite your lip, nodding with eyes that plead for the immediacy of desire.

“You’re so needy. I love it.” He murmurs before diving back into your mouth, a breathless kiss igniting between you. His hands find your ass, squeezing it possessively, eliciting a moan that vibrates through your bodies. 

He guides you toward a navy car, and as your legs meet the cool hood, he gently eases you down onto it. The surface sends a shiver in your spine, but the contrasting warmth of arousal floods your senses, creating a delicious tension in you.

You meet his gaze, finding his eyes already dilated and hooded, a hungry anticipation shimmering within them, ready to consume you whole.

His hungry gaze traces every curve of your body, and you catch the subtle motion of his tongue moistening his lips, a clear sign of the anticipation building within him.

He skillfully slips off your shoes, smoothly unzips your pants, and lets them cascade down your body, the fabric whispering against your skin before landing in an eager heap on the floor.

You draw your legs up, finding a perch on the sleek hood of the car, a tantalizing contrast of warmth against the cool metal that sends a shiver of anticipation through your body.

You part your legs, a silent invitation beckoning him to immerse himself in the feast that awaits, an unspoken promise lingering in the air.

“Damn. I can already see how wet you are, fuck,” he remarks, his gaze lingering on your wet panties before slowly dragging them down to join your pants on the floor.

His rough and calloused hands explore the warmth of your pussy, gently teasing your clit, eliciting a moan of pleasure from you. “Such a perfect little pussy. All mine,” his voice drips with possessiveness, sending a delicious shiver down your spine as a surge of lust courses through your body.

He gracefully drops to his knees, and in an electrifying moment, his warm, skilled mouth claims your pussy, causing an immediate arch in your back as waves of pleasure surge through your body.

His tongue dances expertly over your sensitive folds, collecting the intoxicating essence of your arousal, each stroke sending tremors of pleasure through your core.

“Fuck, Yoongi.” 

Passion courses through you, and you moan uncontrollably, your hands tangling in Yoongi’s hair as you pull, eliciting a deep groan from him, sending shivers of desire through your entire being.

The scenery is nothing short of breathtaking, a sinful feast for the eyes. As he gazes at you, those once deep brown eyes now bordering on black, you can’t help but feel a magnetic pull, an intensity that sets your heart ablaze.

His relentless suction is met with the playful dance of his tongue, teasingly exploring the depths of your pussy. The sensation is so intense that your eyes involuntarily roll to the back of your head, lost in the ecstasy of the moment.

“If you continue with that sinful tongue, I won’t be able to hold back much longer,” you pant above him, and you can practically feel the wicked smirk against your sensitive folds.

His nose occasionally brushes against your sensitive clit, sending electrifying waves of pleasure through your body, and you can feel yourself going feral with an overwhelming surge of arousal.

He skillfully switches it up, his hot mouth returning to your throbbing clit as two of his fingers expertly delve into your core. Your back arches instinctively, and you can’t help but moan his name, breathlessly exclaiming, “Shit, Yoongi!”

With a swift and deliberate motion, he thrusts his two fingers into you at a relentless pace, unerringly targeting your sweet spot from the very outset.

Sensations intensify; your clit pulsates with an insistent rhythm, the coil in your stomach winding tighter with each passing second. Every breath quickens, and it feels like you’re on the verge of snapping at any given moment.

“Shit, I’m coming!” 

You pant, your body thrashing above him, arching in the throes of ecstasy. A ringing noise echoes in your ears as he continues to lick you through the waves of your orgasm. When he finally pulls away, you find yourself instinctively closing your legs around him, overwhelmed by the lingering sensations of pleasure.

“Fucking hell, Yoongi. You are incredible with your mouth. Come here and give me a kiss.” 

You yank him up by his shirt and draw him in for a passionate kiss. You can taste the remnants of your essence on his lips, but you don’t mind.

He moans into your mouth and abruptly pulls away, fixing you with a gaze filled with both need and unbridled lust.

He tugs at your shirt, demanding, “This. Off.” 

Without hesitation, you comply, raising your arms for him to swiftly pull it over your head and drop it to the floor. Now seated on the hood of the car, clad only in your bra, you’re relieved to find that the metal beneath you has warmed, erasing any lingering chill.

He playfully gropes your breasts, his eyes smoldering with desire. 

“Off with this too,” he commands, a hunger evident in his voice.

You unclasp your bra, letting it fall down the car to the floor. Yoongi hisses as he takes in your fully naked body, “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

His words pierce through you, igniting a fire within, and you sense your nipples responding to his gaze, hardening with a subtle ache.

“Shit.” An involuntary moan escapes your lips, your body ablaze with sensation and desire.

“Why am I the only one naked again?” You chuckle seductively, fingers teasingly pulling at his coveralls.

You strip away his coveralls, letting them cascade to a pool at his feet. Now free from the constraints of it, he leans in for another intoxicating kiss, the air charged with the promise of desire.

You notice the unmistakable outline of his dick through his boxers, and you teasingly pull away, whispering with a seductive smirk, “Those need to go.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, swiftly dragging the fabric down his legs to join the rest of your clothes on the floor.

You eagerly tug at his shirt, mirroring the way he assisted you earlier, revealing the contours of his body free from the constraints of the grease-stained fabric.

You glide your hands over his sculpted chest, tracing the lines of his toned torso and the softness of his tummy, evoking a light chuckle from him. “Damn, you’re irresistible,” you moan. “Every inch of you, I love.” Your whispered words in his ear accompany a firm grasp on his throbbing cock, teasing it with a few playful strokes.

He seizes your breasts, skillfully rolling a sensitive nipple between his fingers, eliciting a sensual moan of pleasure from your lips.

He gently guides you back, allowing your hair to cascade around your face, creating a frame that accentuates the desire etched in your features.

As he explores the curves of your body with one hand, the other skillfully strokes his dick, aligning himself with the heat of your eager folds.

Your patience wearing thin, you feel his tantalizing cock on your folds, gathering traces of your essence. The plea escapes your lips, “Please, just fuck me already.”

He indulges in a lustful chuckle, his words dripping with desire, “So needy and impatient.” 

He glides into your warmth with a single, seamless thrust, reaching the hilt effortlessly. A moan of pleasure escapes your lips, savoring the exquisite sensation of how perfectly he stretches you.

He establishes a relentless rhythm, driving into you with a firm grip on your hips. The car sways and rocks in sync with each powerful thrust, creating a symphony of passion and movement.

The intensity builds, and you gasp, questioning between pants, “The car’s in park, right?” as he unerringly targets your sweet spot, delivering each stroke with precision and pleasure.

He chuckles between breaths, his laughter a sensual melody in the air, “Yeah, it’s not going anywhere.”

Lost in the ecstasy, unsure where to anchor yourself, your hands find solace on his strong arms, gripping tightly as if to merge with the intensity of the moment.

As he relentlessly pounds into you, your intoxicating moans harmonize with the rhythm, your velvet walls clenching around him, eliciting a hiss from his lips. “You’re always so damn tight,” he growls, the raw desire in his voice echoing the fervor of your entwined bodies.

“Hey, Yoongi,” caught off guard, you hear a familiar voice calling Yoongi’s name from behind. Your heart races, realizing it’s too late to shield yourself from the waves of embarrassment flooding over you. Mortification takes hold, leaving you vulnerable and exposed.

“I wanted to see if you were done with my car.” Jungkook’s voice startles you, and as you turn, you’re met with wide-eyed disbelief written all over his face. He stands not far away, his eyes seemingly on the verge of popping out of their sockets. With a gaping mouth, he appears utterly speechless.

“Ah–, Jungkook…” caught in a scandalous embrace with Yoongi, the sudden intrusion of Jungkook startles a moan from your lips. Your eyes lock with his, and as Yoongi continues his relentless pace, the intensity of Jungkook’s unwavering gaze heightens the illicit thrill. 

Your body responds, walls clenching around Yoongi, a confusing mixture of embarrassment and arousal coursing through you. 

Why isn’t Jungkook looking away? 

And why, against all logic, does it only turn you on even more? Fuck.

As the symphony of primal sounds, a mixture of Yoongi’s guttural groans and the rhythmic slapping noises, reverberates through the garage, Jungkook finally seems to snap out of his trance.

“Fucking shit, I’m so sorry!” 

Fumbling for apologies, Jungkook hastily covers his eyes and spins around, as if attempting to erase the explicit scene he’s unintentionally stumbled upon. 

“I’ll come back later!” He shouts, almost sprinting out of the garage, leaving an awkward air lingering in his wake.

Yoongi’s powerful thrusts continue, unyielding. He leans down, his intense gaze fixating on your face. His voice, low and venomous, slices through the heated air, commanding, “Never moan another man’s name again,” as if marking his territory with each impassioned word.

In the absence of your response, his hands assertively claim your breasts, skillfully pinching both nipples. An involuntary twist of pain courses through you, a visceral reaction to his unrelenting touch.

“Did you hear me?” 

His voice cuts through the charged air, a stern demand echoing in the garage, his eyes eclipsed by a profound intensity that demands your attention.

“Fuck! Yes! I won’t do it again!” 

In a breathless chorus of affirmation, you surrender, the raw urgency in your voice harmonizing with the rhythmic cadence of your panting breaths as the impending release surges through you.

With a final series of primal thrusts, he withdraws from the depths of your pussy, leaving you tingling, breathless and confused.

“Follow me,” his command hangs in the air, and with a firm yet gentle pull, he guides you off the car and onto your unsteady feet.

As he guides you through the garage, both of you naked and exposed, you can’t help but inquire breathlessly, “Should we lock the door?”

He smirks, his voice a low rasp as you arrive at his office. 

“I don’t give a fuck.” He declares, the audacity in his gaze intensifying. “Seems like you like being watched. Just like in the forest, huh? Don’t think I didn’t feel you clench around me as Jungkook watched you get fucked.” 

With purpose, he propels you toward the couch in his office, ruthlessly clearing half of its contents to the floor. Pillows and discarded clothes cascade, creating a scattered pool at your feet.

In a low, demanding tone, he orders, “On all fours. Couch. Now.” 

As you hasten to comply, he positions himself just behind you, prompting a swift bend on his firm couch. The assertive grip on your ass intensifies, sending shivers down your spine.

“I’m going to fuck a baby into you.” 

He pants, desire thick in his voice as he strokes his dick, aligning once more with your eager pussy. “Make you nice and round, babe,” he grunts, the raw intensity of his thrusts sending waves of pleasure through you as he effortlessly slips back into the depth of your core.

“Fuck!” The sensation is even more constricting than before, and the provocative baby talk is pushing you to the edge. It’s utterly sinful, igniting something primal within you.

He pins you forcefully against the unforgiving couch, driving your head down, each powerful thrust causing it to shift and creak in protest, mirroring the intensity of your entwined passion.

Your senses are on the verge of overload, the relentless pleasure almost too much to bear. Thoughts dissolve into a blissful haze, and all that remains is the exquisite sensation of him sliding perfectly between your thighs.

“I bet you’ll look so incredible carrying our baby,” he pants, his grip tightening on a makeshift ponytail of your hair as he pulls you upwards with a low moan.

“Fuck!” 

You arch your back, relishing the delicious pull on your scalp that sends electrifying shivers down your spine.

You’re completely lost, a symphony of pants and moans escaping your lips. All you can do is surrender to the overwhelming sensation of his incredible thrusts.

His fingers leave a fiery trail as they wander from your hair to one of your breasts, teasingly groping. “Damn, your breasts will get bigger too,” he breathes, his words a sultry promise echoing in the heated air.

“Though I like them just as they are.” He murmurs in rhythm with a punctuated thrust, his voice a seductive melody harmonizing with the passionate dance between you.

At the sound of his words, a surge of desire courses through you, causing your walls to instinctively clench around him. He responds with a sharp intake of breath, a symphony of pleasure echoing in the intimate space between you.

“You like this, don’t you?” 

His voice, low and sultry, fills the room as he pulls on your hair once more, a tantalizing twist that sends a shiver down your spine. A subtle burn lingers, a delicious reminder of the electrifying sensations between you.

His name escapes your lips in a breathless moan of agreement, words failing to convey the intensity of the moment.

As he relinquishes his grip on your hair and breasts, his hands now firmly anchored on your hips, he rasps, “You look forward to being all puffy and swollen, don’t you?” 

His voice carries a seductive promise that sends shivers down your spine.

As the peak of pleasure beckons, the intoxicating blend of his presence within you and his lascivious words has you teetering on the edge. It’s as if the mere fusion of his dick in your pussy and the erotic cadence of his dirty words might propel you into climax without any further touch.

Attempting to vocalize your pleasure, a choked moan escapes your lips, a visceral symphony echoing the tightening coil of your body.

As he relentlessly thrusts, plunging into the depths of your pussy, he smirks and provocatively questions, “Are you coming, babe?”

In a fervor, you attempt to nod, your head resting down on the couch, eyes tightly shut, and hands clenched in the grip of pleasure.

His voice rumbles with desire as he commands, “Come on my dick,” his grip on your hips tightening, forcefully pulling you onto him, the unmistakable sound of flesh meeting flesh echoing through his office.

You release the tightly wound coil within you, and a warm flood of your essence envelops his pulsating dick. Colors dance before your eyes, a vivid symphony of sensations, as he, too, begins the pursuit of his own intoxicating climax.

His fervent praise echoes through the room as your moans and pants harmonize with the symphony of pleasure. 

“Shit, you feel so good.” His words, like a sultry melody, intensify the rhythm of ecstasy.

His raspy voice, saturated with pleasure, reverberates in the air as he relentlessly delves deep, bringing you to the brink. “Almost there, babe,” the promise of climax hangs in the room, each thrust a pulsating step toward an imminent release.

His fingers carve ephemeral imprints into the canvas of your hips, a testament to the intensity of his grip. With a primal and forceful thrust, he spills into you, a guttural exclamation escaping his lips, “Fucking shit!”

He persists in his rhythmic thrusts, a seamless dance that continues for what feels like an eternity. The symphony of heavy panting fills the air, a harmonious testament to the intoxicating pleasure enveloping both of you.

As he tenderly withdraws from the embrace of your walls, a bittersweet ache lingers. 

The ebbing warmth of his departure leaves a void, and you sense the telltale trickle of his semen tracing a tantalizing path down your trembling thighs. His appreciative hisses and groans echo the shared intimacy, turning the aftermath into a mosaic of shared passion.

With a resounding smack, he playfully ignites the fire beneath your skin, “You look so hot like this,” he remarks, his words carrying a teasing heat that matches the fiery imprint on your ass.

With a mischievous twirl, you shake your ass provocatively, a sassy smirk dancing on your lips, “Don’t I always look hot?”

He chuckles at your brattiness, delivering another firm slap to your ass, “Always, and I can’t get enough of you.”

You finally turn around, sitting down on the couch, to face him, licking your lips with a mischievous glint in your eyes, “I love you so fucking much, Yoongi,” your voice filled with a mix of passion and sincerity that leaves no room for doubt.

He smiles, his touch tracing a delicate path along your cheek, “Fuck, I love you too, babe,” his words carrying the weight of a thousand emotions, a confession that lingers in the air like a sweet promise.

Love saturates the atmosphere, wrapping around you both so tightly that the soft rumble from your stomach escapes like a playful secret, painting a grin on his already handsome face.

Your stomach protests again with a subtle growl, and he chuckles, the sound like a melody blending with the tender kiss he places on your lips. 

“Hungry, babe?” he teases, the warmth of his laughter echoing the affection in the air.

Amidst the afterglow, you share a playful chuckle, the joyous sound filling the room. 

“Yes, I’m starving,” you confess, relishing the delightful nakedness and the shared intimacy of the moment.

As the Friday sun dips below the city skyline, a wave of contentment washes over you. 

Work today was surprisingly pleasant, but what truly fuels your excitement is the anticipation of reuniting with your friends at the bar later. The prospect of laughter and camaraderie lights up your evening horizon.

After a demanding day at work, you sought refuge in the comforting embrace of Yoongi’s home. The soft sanctuary of his sheets cradles you, offering solace and a much-needed respite from the challenges of the day.

As you reluctantly peel yourself away from the embrace of the bed, a tangle of limbs and sheets left in the wake of a time filled with passion, you’re greeted by the stark reality of time ticking away. Your naked form, a canvas marked by the shared intensity, moves with purpose. In the urgency to locate your scattered clothes, a playful smile dances on your lips. 

“We have to get ready now, or else Hoseok will kill us if we’re late!”

“We’ll make it,” his laughter, a melodic assurance, echoes through the room as you engage in a hasty scavenger hunt for the garments that will shield your modesty. 

Triumphantly seizing the clothes, there’s a playful finesse to your actions as you toss his attire in his direction, a comical dance of urgency and amusement. 

With effortless efficiency, you transform from the cozy intimacy of his home to the bustling anticipation of the cityscape. Your steps echo determination, a rhythm set by the pulse of the impending night. Brisk and purposeful, you navigate the urban terrain, a seamless transition from the quiet haven of his house to the lively rhythm of the city streets. 

The search for a bus becomes a quest, an adventure laced with the promise of vibrant encounters awaiting you in the heart of the metropolis.

Entwined in the lively hum of the crowded bus, you and Yoongi carve out a cozy haven amidst the kaleidoscope of humanity. Hand in hand, your fingers dance in silent symphony, finding solace in the familiar warmth of each other’s touch. With your head nestled on his shoulders, you embark on the journey to the bar to meet up with your friends.

As you step into the lively ambiance of the bar, the infectious melody of your friends’ laughter orchestrates a beacon, guiding you unerringly to their gathering. Their exuberant joy reverberates in the air, making them a vibrant constellation impossible to overlook amidst the bustling backdrop of the bar’s chatter and clinking glasses.

“Hi,” you join the lively cluster of your friends with a warm greeting, sliding seamlessly into the open space next to Jungkook, who graciously makes room for both you and Yoongi. 

A subtle, rosy hue paints Jungkook’s cheeks a bright red, mirroring the flush that graces your own face as you and he share a shy glance, deliberately sidestepping prolonged eye contact in the midst of the gathering.

“You’re late,” Hoseok’s voice carries a mockingly stern tone as he playfully rolls his eyes at your belated entrance, his knowing gaze signaling that he’s well aware of the delightful reason behind your tardiness.

“Hey,” a collective greeting resonates from the group, their eyes discreetly flickering between you and Yoongi, deliberately sidestepping Hoseok’s playful comment.

Your warm smile encompasses the group as you inquire, “How have you all been?” 

Your eyes sweep across each face, a genuine affection evident, and you add, “I’ve missed you.”

Namjoon passes a pair of beers your way, and with a subtle gesture, you gracefully direct yours to Yoongi, ensuring he has two. Opting for a bottle of water, your choice doesn’t escape Namjoon’s notice, though he maintains a thoughtful silence.

Jungkook, still blushing beside you, stammers out, “It’s going well. I’ve landed more modeling gigs, and some are even international!” He chirps with infectious happiness, sharing his success with the group.

“Wow, that’s incredible, Kook,” you pat him on the shoulders, your touch conveying genuine pride and admiration. Feeling him tense beneath your hand, you can’t help but marvel at how he’s fearlessly pursued his dreams.

“The trip was amazing; I actually got contacted because of the pictures I uploaded to my Instagram,” he boasts with pride, and the table erupts in cheers. Everyone is genuinely happy for him, celebrating his success. 

You can’t help but notice his still lingering blush and how he subtly avoids making eye contact with you.

You shift your gaze to Hoseok, who’s casually sipping his beer. Sensing your lingering attention, he speaks, “Not much has changed since our last chat,” a warm smile playing on his lips.

You chuckle and take a sip of your water, scooting closer to Yoongi at your side, the warmth between you growing with every inch.

Seokjin’s infectious chuckles draw you in, the sound a delightful melody weaving through the air. “When I came home, my girlfriend had orchestrated a full-scale rearrangement of our entire apartment,” he shares, laughter dancing in his eyes. 

“I thought the nesting phase happened later in the pregnancy, but now I don’t know where my stuff is, and neither does she.” The room erupts in laughter, and you find yourself clutching your stomach, the ache from amusement almost as sweet as the camaraderie in the moment.

“That sucks man,” Taehyung remarks, his laughter lingering in the air.

“What about you Tae?” Namjoon asks him with a smile.

“Ah, life’s the same old rollercoaster, but that vacation? Absolutely necessary.” He shares, his smile a vibrant punctuation to the story in his eyes.

“Spill the tea, Joonie. What’s been brewing in your world since we got back?” Yoongi takes a leisurely sip of his beer, a conspiratorial glint in his eye as he nudges Namjoon, inviting a glimpse into the tapestry of his recent adventures.

“I took that girl from the dating app out on a date,” he confesses, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Turns out, she’s not just nice; we’re practically living parallel lives. It’s uncanny how much we have in common.”

“That’s wonderful, Joonie!” you beam like a lovesick fool. “I’m genuinely thrilled for you. Wishing you all the best, and I hope things work out perfectly for you two.”

Wrapped in Yoongi’s comforting embrace, you surrender to the warmth, a lovesick fool drowning in the bliss of his arms.

You catch the heavy sigh escaping Jimin’s lips as he nurses his beer, and with a knowing look, he confesses, “The vacation was incredible, but reality hits hard. Work hasn’t changed a bit, and I’m already feeling drained,” he laments, taking another sip of his beer.

Seokjin raises an eyebrow, taking a hearty gulp of his beer, “Why the hell is your face as red as a tomato, Kook? What’s wrong?”

Everyone’s gaze converges on the youngest, and the deepening shade of his blush is impossible to ignore. You sense the topic at hand, your cheeks mirroring the rosy hue. Yoongi, nonchalant, chuckles beside you, adding to the collective curiosity in the room.

“Why the laughter, Yoongi?” Namjoon quirks an eyebrow inquisitively. 

As he scans the expressions on both you and Jungkook’s faces, it becomes evident how you both go out of your way to avoid each other’s eyes.

“Something definitely went down between you two,” Hoseok chimes in, his voice filled with playful curiosity.

Jimin suddenly becomes intensely interested, leaning over the table to scrutinize both you and Jungkook. “Spill the details,” he demands with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Nothing happened!” Jungkook blurts out, raising his arms in a hasty defense, desperately trying to shield his crimson face. You, on the other hand, find solace in staring at the floor, unable to meet the curious gazes probing at your secret.

The guys persistently badger Jungkook for more information, but he clams up, sealing his lips tighter than a vault. Frustrated, their attention shifts to Yoongi once again.

Yoongi, nonchalant, raises his beer to his lips for another sip before casually revealing, “He saw us fuck.”

Jungkook lets out a dramatic groan, his hands shielding his eyes as if the vivid image of you and Yoongi in the throes of sex is still burned into his mind. The other guys, practically choking on their beers, sport eyes as wide as teacups, thoroughly amused by the revelation.

“What?” Taehyung practically yells, laughter bubbling up so much that his eyes glisten with tears. He turns to Jungkook with an incredulous expression, as if seeking confirmation for the unbelievable revelation.

“Why the hell were you watching them?” He interrogates Jungkook, genuine curiosity mirrored in the eyes of the entire group.

Jungkook finally glances at the group, his voice trailing off hesitantly, “I came to pick up my car at Yoongi hyung’s garage…” His eyes wander across the faces of the group, finally locking onto yours.

“And they were... at it,” his eyes reflect a blend of hurt and discomfort, “on the hood of my damn car,” he states with a stern and definitive tone.

A collective gasp fills the room, and all eyes turn towards you. 

Your gaze immediately drops to the floor. 

The realization hits you like a ton of bricks – it was Jungkook’s car. 

The hurt in his eyes now makes sense; he adores that car. The frustration builds as you grasp that Yoongi was well aware, yet said nothing! There will definitely be a conversation about this later, dammit.

“Gross!” Taehyung scowls and audibly scoffs, taking an exaggerated sip of his beer to mask the disbelief etched on his face.

Seokjin shakes his head in amused disbelief, his words carrying a playful scolding. “Aish, you’re not teenagers anymore! You’re in your thirties for God’s sake.” Laughter erupts from Teahyung, Namjoon, Jimin, and Hoseok, echoing the sentiment.

Namjoon bursts into earnest laughter, his words carrying a teasing tone. “Forgot to lock the door? Rookie mistake.”

Jimin raises his beer high in the air, a mischievous glint in his eye. “A toast!” you all turn towards him, curious about the unexpected celebration.

“To ___!” Jimin bellows, breaking the silence, and with some hesitation, the rest of the group chimes in, including Yoongi. You can only watch them with a mix of surprise and amusement.

“She finally got that office fuck!” Jimin exclaims with contagious joy, and the rest of the group erupts in laughter so uproarious that it turns heads throughout the entire bar.

Author’s note (2): OMG! This is the end of Friendcation 😭 What a wild ride it has been to write it. But so, so good. What first started as an idea because my sister and brother-in-law were going on a roadtrip in their van around Europe, birthed this lovely story 😭

I truly want to say a big enormous thank you, to you. Yes, you! Thank you so much for all the time you have spent reading this series – I really hoped you liked it. I appreciate every single one of you, you guys are amazing 💜

If you liked it, please consider commenting (even an emoji is fine!), or reblogging or getting in touch with me in an ask – I don’t bite, I’m very nice I promise. It’s also completely fine if you don’t want to do any of those things too, no pressure!

Please stay happy and healthy 💜

Author’s note #3 (very important): when I wrote this chapter, I’d simultaneously been reading @kithtaehyung’s 3tan series, and without even realizing it, I had written a scene similar to hers. They do it on a desk—, and I know, yes, in many fics the characters do it on a desk, but to me, this was enough for me to say something was wrong with my work. It wasn’t even that similar in the wording or the specific scene, but to be on the safe side, I have rewritten the scene in question. ✨

Taglist: @idkjustlovingbts, @constancelayon, @wobblewobble822, @ktownshizzle, @moonchild1, @ultimatefangirl0, @baechugff, @jimintaemin, @parapiop7, @fckkntired, @iluvfndms, @citypop-princess, @tarahardcore, @bergandysam, @massivelyfullenthusiast, @tatyhend, @gimeow *strikethrough means tumblr isn’t letting me tag you :( **you can still be added to the taglist, just drop a comment here, on any chapter or the masterlist and I’ll add you 🌸

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[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 11

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 3.7 K

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

You spent your days wandering after Elain like a lost puppy. Everywhere she went, you weren’t far behind. You weren’t sure why you felt so drawn to her, but her presence brought you a sense of peace and comfort. She accepted you the way you were. Not that Feyre or Nesta didn’t, but Elain didn’t ask questions or look at you with pity, as you often found the other two doing. While you didn't talk much, Elain had no trouble putting you to work in the gardens on the roof of the House of Wind. Your knowledge from growing up in the mountains, farming, and cultivating in a harsh environment was invaluable. Elain welcomed your insights on deep-rooting plants and flowers that could withstand the torment of Ramiel mountain storms.

Sleep didn’t come easily, often disrupted by cold sweats when your mate managed his way into your dreams. Many nights you chose instead to bathe, sit on the balcony, or wander the great halls of the house. Feyre seemed content to leave you under the care of her sister, returning to her own home on the river, back to her old life and her baby boy. Nesta, too, filled her time, heading out early in the morning to train with her Valkyries. She offered for you to join her, but you politely declined, not quite prepared to leave the mansion's walls.

As soon as the sun crested the mountaintops, you would be out of your room and in the large kitchen, preparing your own food. You still opted not to join the rest of them for dinners, finding that the food they often ate unsettled your stomach with its complex flavors you hadn’t yet grown accustomed to.

After you had eaten, you would be on the roof of the manor, hands in the dirt, pulling weeds, tending to fresh blooms, and trimming away the rest. Elain would find you hours later, her wide-brimmed sunhat tied below her chin and a smile on her face. Often, Lucien would come to find her in the midafternoon, pulling her away for some task or another, with a coy, cheeky smile playing on his lips. She would disappear for the rest of the afternoon, and when you had finally finished tasks that should have taken less than half the time, you would wipe the sweat from your brow, shower, cook dinner, and try to sleep before the sun went down, hoping to get a few hours in before your mate found his way back in.

You hadn’t seen the elusive Cassian, who appeared to still be in Windhaven. You learned through whispered conversations between Feyre and Nesta that it was another Illyrian training camp. Unlike Azriel, Cassian seemed much more involved with the soldiers, so it brought you no small amount of relief when you overheard that Cassian’s stay would be extended a few more days.

On a particularly challenging night, when you couldn’t will yourself to sleep and the sun had long since set, you finally threw back the sheets and made your way to the kitchen, looking for anything to do.

Pouring through cabinets, pulling out various bowls and plates, and scouring the pantry, you decided to make a childhood favorite: cranberry cookies. You mixed the ingredients at a much slower pace than Elain, measuring them solely by heart and the memories of your mother, her hand over your own as she stirred the bowl, humming softly. The rhythmic motion of stirring the batter, combined with the sweet, tart aroma of cranberries, filled you with a bittersweet nostalgia. 

As the cookies baked, you leaned against the counter, watching the firelight dance on the walls. The familiar scent enveloped you, bringing back fleeting memories of simpler, happier times. Your mother’s laughter echoed faintly in your mind, mingling with the crackling of the fire.

You were so lost in your own mind, you didn’t hear the door to the kitchen open, and didn’t even turn to look until you heard the sound of clanging behind you. When you whipped around, Azriel was standing at the end of the island by the door, placing a pile of weaponry on top of it. His face was covered in dirt and grease, with black smudges around his eyes, which only highlighted how light his hazel eyes were. He wore the leather armor you had seen him in before, also covered in dirt and grime, and his hair was a wild mess.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t think anyone was in here.”

You paused for a second, your hand perched tentatively on the edge of the counter as you took him in. You hadn’t seen him since the night he brought you here, and you weren’t sure if he had been busy or just avoiding you. Either way, you didn’t mind. “It’s fine,” you said, turning back to the stove and leaning against the counter.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, still pulling various knives out of hidden pockets around his armor.

You jostled your legs lightly against the cabinet. “No, not really.”

Azriel walked over to the sink, pulling off his gloves and attempting to unbuckle the vambraces on his forearms, which seemingly gave him trouble. He gripped the leather belt in his mouth, attempting to pull them apart. When he still couldn’t, you walked over to him. “Let me help,” you offered.

Azriel extended his arm to you, turning it upwards so you could better see the buckles, which you made quick work of. “Thank you,” he whispered.

As you undid the last belt, the armor fell from his arm into your hands, heavy and worn. He flexed his scarred hands and arms, the veins and muscles beneath protruding as the places where the belts had dug into his skin burned a dark red color. You held the heavy armor in your hands and considered how much the rest of the armor must have weighed. “Would you mind doing the other?” he asked.

You shook your head and took his other vambrace, undoing it and placing it next to the first on the counter. He shook his hands out, laughing lightly to himself. “You’d think after so many years of doing this I’d be able to undo my own armor.”

“I’m sure you would have gotten it,” you reassured him as he turned on the faucet, allowing the water to stream over his filthy hands. He cupped them, then brought the water to his face, scrubbing at the skin, the dirt and grease smearing more into his skin as he did so, water flinging around and landing on the counter. You took a step back to avoid the splash. He peeked out from his hands, “Sorry,” he said.

You turned to a drawer, pulling out a washcloth. “Stop,” you told him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He seemed surprised at your touch, turning to look at you, water dripping from his hair and off his face. “You’re making it worse,” you laughed.

Azriel threw you a soft smile as you ran the cloth under the water, rubbing a bit of the bar soap into it until it suds up. He turned, leaning his hips against the lip of the sink, his scarred hands braced on either side of him as you prepared the rag. You wrung out the cloth, grabbed a tea towel hanging from a cabinet, and draped it over your shoulder. Stepping in front of Azriel, who towered over you, you noticed he lowered himself slightly, his face now just above your head.

You reached up, the damp cloth in your hand, and began wiping the dirt from his face, careful and deliberate in your movements. His skin, hardened and tight against his cheek and jawbones, softened under your touch. You avoided looking directly into his eyes as you traced the cloth down his nose, over the curve of his lips, and along his chin, revealing his beautifully tanned skin beneath. When you brushed your fingers over his brows, water dripped from the overhang into his eyes, and you laughed softly. “Sorry about that.”

He only smiled back, “It’s fine.”

You steadied his face with your other hand, gently pushing his hair back from his temple as you washed his forehead. Your mouth parted slightly in concentration, and when you finally managed a glance at Azriel, you noticed he was focused on your lips. You quickly closed them, a flush creeping up your neck. You continued to clean him, even after the dirt was gone, your touch becoming softer, more lingering as you traced the lines of his face. The intimacy of the moment hung between you, both hesitant to break the delicate connection.

The sudden dinging of the stove pulled you out of your trance, and you stumbled backward slightly. Tossing Azriel the tea towel to dry his face, you made your way over to the stove, trying to steady the fluttering in your stomach as you pulled the tray from the warmth of the oven.

Azriel chuckled, “My face is now the cleanest part of my body.” He dried his face with the towel, his hair still sticking out wildly, now damp from the rag.

“You’re welcome,” you noted, trying to sound casual.

He threw the rag and cloth into the sink. “Thank you.”

You pulled a cookie from the tray, taking a bite as the warmth melted on your tongue. Azriel washed his hands again, drying them before coming over to the stove. He kept a fair amount of distance between the two of you, a stark contrast to the closeness you had shared moments ago when you could almost press your body into his.

The room seemed quieter now, the air thick with unspoken words and unacknowledged feelings. You looked at Azriel, who was now examining the cookies with a sort of detached interest. “Want one?” you asked, offering the tray.

He nodded, reaching for a cookie. “Thanks.” He took a bite, the soft crunch filling the silence.

His eyes rolled back, closing shut as he leaned back slightly. “Mmm.” He let out.

“I know, right?” you replied, grabbing another cookie.

Azriel opened his eyes, taking another bite. “These are fantastic.”

“An old family recipe.” You brushed your hands together to get the crumbs off your fingertips.

“Do you bake a lot?” he asked.

You used to. When you lived with your mother, you were always baking something, using ingredients you could find in the woods or trade from other fae living nearby. You had even made these same cookies for your mate to seal the bond. Baking had once been a constant in your life, with some baked good always cooling on the windowsill of your cabin. And then, one day, you just stopped. “I used to,” you said quietly.

“You should start again,” Azriel replied, wiping his hands on his armor.

You took your time pulling the rest of the cookies from the tray, placing them onto a platter. “Maybe.”

Azriel watched you meticulously stack the cookies before placing a towel over the top. “How are you doing?” he finally asked.

You didn’t look up from your task, placing the baked goods in a breadbox. “Fine.”

“You seem to be doing well.”

You went to the sink to wash the pan. “I think I’m doing well, given the circumstances.”

You scrubbed the pan more than necessary, unwilling to turn and look at him.

“I think this is the most you’ve ever spoken to me.”

“Well, all the other times the circumstances were a bit different,” you replied, drying the pan, still not turning to him.

Azriel didn’t respond, waiting to see if you would say anything else. 

When you didn’t, he merely said, “I’m sorry for what happened.”

You paused, the pan still in your hands, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. You finally turned to him, meeting his hazel eyes, now clear and free of grime. You felt a slight pang of fire start in your stomach, biting back what you wanted to say. “It happened,” you responded instead.

“If I could have stopped it, I—” You let the pan slip from your hands. Whether you lost your grip or the water caused it to be slick, you were unsure, but it clattered to the floor in a loud cacophony of bangs.

“Don’t,” you said, finally looking at Azriel, who seemed to be already moving to pick up the pan. “Don’t start that,” you warned.

“I just—” He continued.

You glared at him, the small flame in you growing higher. “You could have done something.”

“At the time, I didn’t even know where you were, I just heard you—” he said, making his way over to you. You took a step back.

“You could have done something before then.”

Azriel stopped, seemingly puzzled. “You told me yourself that you knew about her circumstances. You said it: her life was hard.” Your eyes scanned his as he took in and seemed to now understand what you were referencing. “You saw how she was with you when you touched her.” The flame in you grew into an inferno. “You saw how she slunk around the camp and hid from the males. You saw how she was battered, bruised.” You shook your head, trying to shake her face, bloodied and beaten, from your mind. “You knew. And you didn’t do anything.” You gulped back tears rising in your throat.

Azriel reached one hand out to you. “It’s complicated, Y/N.”

“Nothing about this is complicated,” you shot back. “You knew what was happening, and you were complicit.” You shook your head as silver lined your eyes. “Gods—did you know what they were doing to her? To all of them?”

Azriel’s mouth fell open as he stammered out, “I knew they were physically aggressive to them, but—”

“Did you know they were raping her?”

Azriel stopped in his tracks. “No,” he said.

You were unconvinced, just crossing your arms around yourself and shaking your head. “You had no clue?”

“No, if I had known, I would have—”

“What?” You asked, glaring at him. “Stopped them? You didn’t seem to care much when you knew they were beating her.”

“Illyrian culture and society, it’s—it's very old-fashioned,” Azriel continued.

“We don’t live in the old days,” you interrupted.

“Y/N, I’m trying to help them.”

“By letting them stay there?” you asked.

“They don’t want to leave,” Azriel offered.

“Anthea tried to escape. Did you know that?” A tear fell down your cheek.

Azriel paused again. “I didn’t.” He took a second. “But I’ve offered the others to leave, and they refuse.”

You yelled out, “They’re terrified to leave!” The tears began to run more. “What else do they know? Their entire life is brutality, and males taking advantage of them, hurting them. They are breaking every single day. They’ve never known kindness. How do they know to leave if anytime they defy someone, they are brought near death? How do they know there is anything out there other than that?”

Azriel just looked at you, his hands open in front of him, mouth slightly agape as you pushed the tears from your face. “You are promising them a life they can’t imagine exists. And none of you can see that because you don’t know what it is to suffer at the hands of someone else.”

Azriel’s eyes grew dark. “You cannot tell me I don’t know suffering.”

“Not theirs!” you yelled back.

He raised his voice, “I know my own suffering!”

You stepped back slightly, your hand hitting the sink as you recoiled from his yell.

He continued, his voice strained with emotion, “I know what it is to be hurt at the hands of those who should care for you. I know what it is to have your body brutalized. I know what it’s like to try and scrub your body clean of them and not feel any cleaner.” His eyes were black as you gripped the sink. “Do not tell me I do not know what it is to suffer.”

Your voice trembled as you said, “Then you should know what it is to have someone watch as you are hurt and no one steps in to help.”

Azriel’s eyes remained locked onto yours as your breath wavered slightly. “What do you want from me?” he asked.

You paused, unsure of what to say.

“Do you want me to burn it to the ground?” he asked, his face still tense. “Do you want me to rip them from their homes?” He gestured around himself. “Do you know what will happen if I do that? If I suddenly take them all?” He stared at you as you gulped down the fear. “I will have thousands of Illyrian soldiers banging at my doorstep. All of ours. Now, I know you’ve been living your little life of luxury up in the mountains, but those soldiers can kill faster than anything you’ve ever seen. They will tear this country apart bit by bit. Now, do you want that?”

You couldn’t hold back the tears any longer, and they flowed freely as you hardened your own stare. “No.”

Azriel’s black eyes stayed fixed on yours. “Then don’t tell me how to govern these people.” He stammered slightly, “This—this is a delicate system and it requires finesse, not brute-fucking force.” He stopped, bringing his hand to his eyes and rubbing them. “I just—I want them out. I want this to be done. But I can’t change the mindset of thousands in one day. And I won’t risk the lives of everyone by being reckless.”

He looked at you, his face softening slightly. “I can’t do that.”

The tears poured from you as your heart beat wildly, your fingers gripping the sink with white knuckles. Your breath escaped you in ragged gasps as your body froze.

“Y/N,” Azriel started softly, “I’m sorry.”

You whimpered as he moved towards you, wincing back when he raised his hand. “No!” you screeched.

Azriel stopped, looking distressed. “Y/N—” he pleaded.

You dropped from the sink to the floor, curling into a ball as you cried. Azriel stood over you, stunned. “Y/N,” he repeated, his voice desperate.

You rocked back and forth, knees pulled to your chest, heaving out heavy sobs, unable to even fight back.

Azriel stooped down, and as he did, you pulled back even more, choking on your sobs. “What—what can I do?” he asked, helpless.

You whimpered again, trying desperately to wrap yourself into your body, to ball up and protect your midsection.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. Please,” he pleaded.

The kitchen doors burst open as Nesta came careening down the stairs, her hair wild and her silk nightdress flowing around her. “What did you do?” she screamed at him.

“Nothing!” he replied, raising his hands in defense.

Nesta dropped to her knees beside you, her hands cupping your face as she examined you. She turned back to Azriel, “Back the fuck up, now,” she commanded. Azriel leaned back, landing on his rear as he scooted away.

Nesta turned back to you, her eyes softening. “Breathe, breathe, love,” she cooed.

She took exaggerated slow breaths, which you mimicked. “Just look at me,” she instructed. “Deep breaths, in and out.” Her hands still cupped your face, steady and reassuring. “You’re doing a good job.”

Her calm, collected presence began to soothe you. “It’s alright,” she murmured gently. “You’re safe here.”

She continued to breathe slowly, deeply, guiding you through your panic. “Everything will be okay,” she promised. “I’m here with you.”

Azriel watched from a distance, his expression a mix of guilt and helplessness, as Nesta patiently comforted you, her voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.

You breathed in and out in sync with her breaths as her thumbs traced the rhythm on your cheeks. “Just breathe. You’re safe,” she repeated soothingly.

From behind, Azriel whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

Nesta hissed over her shoulder, “Shut it.” She turned back to you, “Keep breathing. It’s okay.”

When you finally steadied yourself, you instinctively leaned into Nesta’s chest. She wrapped her arms around your shoulders, murmuring, “It’s okay,” as she ran her hand over your head. “Just keep breathing for me.” She rocked you gently. “You’re safe with me.”

Your breaths grew less choked with sobs as your mind quieted. Nesta continued to remind you to breathe in and out, rocking in time with you, her hand brushing your hair back. “Just calm down,” she whispered.

She looked behind her. “Azriel, make yourself useful. Get me a wet rag.”

Azriel scuffled from the floor, leaning over the two of you to run a rag under water. He wrung it out and handed it to Nesta. She cupped your chin, your eyes meeting hers as she tenderly wiped your face, the coolness soothing your racing thoughts. “It’s okay,” she cooed again.

When she finished, she wiped some water that pooled on your chin with her arm and brushed her thumbs over your eyes. “You’re okay,” she reassured.

Azriel started to speak again, but Nesta, over her shoulder, hissed out, “I think you’ve done enough.”

Nesta wrapped her arms around you, lifting you slightly as you rose with her. “Come on.” Her strength was enough to lift you under your knees, cradling you in her thin but muscular frame. “Let’s go lie down.” You curled into her scent, warm and inviting, reminiscent of your mother, as her heartbeat filled your ears. You gripped at the silk of her gown as she walked towards the stairs. Turning over her shoulder, she instructed Azriel, “We can talk about this later.” She scanned the kitchen, “Clean this up.”

She walked out of the room, still cradling you in her arms, as she brought you through various hallways. Finally, she pushed through doors into an already darkened room. She placed you into sheets that had been tossed and turned in, and smelled of her, as she crawled in next to you. Cradling you to her, she brushed your hair from your face, still shushing you as she did. You pressed your head into her chest as she continued to whisper, “You’re safe. You’re safe with me.”

My lovely readers who have asked to be tagged, you are safe with me: @thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardustt @romantacyreader28 @caroline-books @slytherintaco @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2 @acourtofbatboydreams @quiettuba

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

What's One Night With A Different Knight

Pairing: Jake Lockley x Reader & Marc Spector x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: very brief mention of abuse; not towards the reader just as an idea but besides that I think it's safe here- there's some bickering at the end but otherwise a... relatively cute fic

Genre: very much fluff

Summary: When Marc coincidentally overhears you telling your friend you might dump Jake he steps in to help

***

Jake Lockley. He's been your boyfriend for about 3 months now although at this point you're not too sure he'll keep that title much longer. It's not that Jake mistreats you or anything but, he can be cold, distant. Sometimes it feels as if he's not there even when he's with you, which honestly isn't saying much because these days he's hardly with you anyway. This thing between you, it's new, and you want to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he's going through something he's not ready to share with you because of how new things are. That you can understand, and you don't necessarily want to give up on your relationship if all of this is because he's having a hard time, especially because he was so kind and charming when you met. Although, 'he was so kind when we met' is the beginning of too many stories that end with bruises, restraining orders, arrests, death. So you won't put too much weight in 'he was kind and charming when you met'. You don't want to believe that Jake would ever hurt you but you still don't know him well, and you can only ignore so many warning signs. The more you mull it over the more you think it's time to end things. You just want to figure out the best way to do so.

"El I think I'm gonna break up with him." You mutter to your friend as you walk back from dinner together, the summer nights being perfect for it.

"Jake? I thought you really liked him!"

"I do. Or- I did. These days there's not enough of him around to like. That's the problem." You sigh. "I know he has a life, I mean, so do I but the bottom line is that Lockley isn't putting in effort and I refuse to be the only one that cares in this relationship."

"Maybe you should talk to him about it?"

"Maybe. It's just that it's only been a couple of months, if he's already falling off like this so soon I mean, it seems like he can't be bothered." You shrug.

"I think you should talk to him if you see a future with him in any capacity. But I know you don't have patience for being treated like an option."

"Correct, I don't. I won't prioritize someone who won't prioritize me. I'll think about it though. I just- I'm not going to beg him to be invested in our relationship that's all."

You had no way of knowing that, coincidentally, not Jake but one who shares his body heard a good bit of this conversation. While Jake hadn't told you about his secrets, between Moonknight and his fractured mind, it didn't take Marc and Steven long to find out about you. Considering how little he fronts, it was easy for them to solve the mystery that had him showing up more often. You. They obviously didn't know you personally but they knew enough about you. Marc had particularly taken an interest in you and while Steven would never admit it, because you weren't his girlfriend, part of him liked you a little bit too. They'd both like you to stick around but Marc, unlike Steven, is willing to cross lines if it means keeping you around. Which is why the night after hearing you vent to your dear friend, he's strolling coolly to your apartment with a bouquet of flowers. He knocks on the door with all the confidence in the world, smiling kindly when you open the door, even when he sees the confused look on your face.

"Jake? What are you doing here?" You ask. Marc reveals the flowers from behind his back.

"Now I would've got your favorites but forgive me I'm not sure what they are. I do however know flowers and put together some that show what I feel about you. Blue salvias, morning glories, forget me nots, and a collection of carnations and camellias." Marc says.

"I'm not personally well versed in flowers so I'm not sure what any of them mean but thank you." You chuckle. "And what's up with your voice?"

"I thought it'd be fun to do an accent." He shrugs.

"Oh? Should I do one too?"

"Nah, I love your voice too much." He winks.

"How cute. Did you, really come all this way just to drop off some flowers though?" You ask.

"No. So you'll have to look up their meanings later, I'm actually hoping you can spare a couple hours of your evening for a date. I thought I'd surprise you."

"A date? I'm hardly dressed for a date."

"Well you could wear a paper bag and still be the most gorgeous person in any room we entered, but I'm a patient man, go ahead and get ready. I'll wait."

"Give me 15 minutes." You say ushering him into your apartment.

"Take your time mi amor." Marc says, throwing the endearment in to appear more like Jake.

Marc??? Where are we? Marc sighs at the voice in his head, he'd hoped that both alters would be blocked for most of the evening.

"Jake babe, where are we going?" You call down the hall.

"It's a surprise princessa!" 

"I mean I know, I really just need the dress code."

"Casual is fine, although you'd look perfect in anything."

"So charming this evening." You muse.

JAKE'S GIRLFRIEND?! THAT IS JAKE'S GIRLFRIEND MARC!

Marc rushes into the bathroom and turns on the faucet, glaring at the mirror.

"Yes I know who it is Steven thank you."

WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING?!

"I'm thinking that Jake is about to lose her and I have no interest in letting that happen."

So what's your plan?! To tell her the truth about us?

"No! At least, not tonight. Tonight is just about showing her what she deserves."

That is absolutely mad. Not to mention a betrayal of trust, both hers and Jake's. She thinks you're someone else Marc.

"Yeah, that's kind of the point."

So you're just going to pretend to be him indefinitely?

"No, she's this close to breaking up with Jake so- I'm proving he's not a shit partner."

Right, so that when he fails to deliver after this she'll dump him quicker.

"I'm trying to save their relationship not ruin it!"

You realize if Jake ever tells her about us and she finds out about this she will probably be pissed off

"That's fine because if I don't do this they probably won't even last long enough for Jake to tell her about us."

You've lost your mind Marc, you cannot pretend to be Jake anymore than you could pretend to be me or I could pretend to be either of you

"For a couple of hours, I absolutely can actually."

"Jake? Where'd you go?" Your voice halts their conversation and Marc turns off the sink, swinging open the bathroom door to greet you with a smile.

"Apologies hermosa, I'm here." He says.

"Well, let's go on this surprise date of yours." You say  You've put on a pair of jeans and a mesh sweater over a crop top for the evening, something comfortable but cute since you still don't know where you're going.

"Yes, let's." Marc offers his arm to you and you loop yours through it as you exit your apartment.

"Will you tell me where we're heading now?" You ask him while he leads you through the streets of town.

"I will not, but I'm sure you'll guess before we get there." He says.

"How on earth would I be able to guess before we get there?" You frown.

"Listen closely amor." He says and you allow yourself to take in the sounds of summer evenings. There are people talking, and walking, everywhere, but after a moment you hear faint music, not like the kind playing in restaurants that you pass. It's- carnival music? You can hear the sounds of laughter and screams and the almost obnoxious chimes carnival games are known for and just as you piece it together you just barely pick up the smell of overpriced fair food.

"Are we going to a carnival?" You ask with an excited gasp and though Marc doesn't answer he smiles in a way that tells you you've guessed correctly. Just then you turn a corner and are suddenly met with so many bright lights you're tempted to close your eyes for a moment.

"Surprise." Marc says quietly as you approach.

"I didn't even know there was a carnival in town! This is so cool!" You say beaming at him.

"I thought you'd like it." He smiles softly.

"I love it. Thank you." You tell him.

"Anything for you." He says and he means that. He's not sure Jake would say it but- he feels that way. In this moment, watching you take in the carnival with childlike wonder. He would do anything for you. He's sure of it.

"What should we do first?!" You ask him excitedly.

"Whatever you want, it's your surprise. We can do it all, ride every ride, play every game, eat everything from every stall, win every prize they've got, we can just walk around, we can ride the same ride a hundred times if you want. I'll do whatever makes you happiest." Marc says and you smile so sweetly he's sure his heart is fit to fly out of his chest and into your hands.

"Let's start with the swing carousel." You say pointing out the ride.

"Of course." He nods leading you both to the line. He's quiet as you make your way to the front and onto the ride but he holds your hand even after you're sat in your swings waiting for the ride to start. After a few moments, the ride lifts into the air and begins spinning in large circles, taking all of you with it. Marc watches you as you happily look around at the rest of the carnival from the vantage point this ride gives you. There's a childlike wonder to your happiness that when he's looking at you he feels at peace like every problem he's ever had is dissolving. It's a feeling he wants to hold onto. When the ride ends you and Marc take turns picking what order to hit the others in. Honestly, he'd let you decide every step he takes if you wanted to, but you insist that he have some say in the evening.

"I didn't take you for the carnival type Jake." You say after you've ridden most everything there is to ride here. The use of Jake's name is like a bucket of cold water in Marc's face and he has to remind himself not to react outwardly.

"I don't know that I'd say I am actually but I am the make you happy type, cariño." Marc says kissing your cheek.

"You're so cute tonight." You giggle. "We have to ride the ferris wheel before we go." You point at the large brightly lit up wheel.

"Alright but before that let's play one of these games, yeah? Tell me what prize you want and I'll win it for you." Marc says.

"You don't have to do that Jake." You shake your head.

"I want to. Go on, pick a prize." Marc tells you. You look at the different games around the carnival and your eyes eventually catch on a stuffed raccoon. It's big with blue eyes and paws and ears and feet and it's hanging over one of those impossible ringtoss games.

"Do you think you could win one of those raccoon toys?" You ask, pointing at it.

"Easy." He nods.

"Well the bottle ring toss is notoriously hard usually. Don't take it too seriously." You tell him as he walks up to the booth with you.

"Trust me princessa, I've got this." Marc winks at you before buying his rings from the attendant who looks extremely bored.

"Alright." You laugh.

"Watch this." He turns slightly to the side and tosses the rings in rapid succession, making every throw with surprising accuracy.

"Wow." You say.

"Told you it'd be easy." Marc says throwing his arm around you. He points at the stuffed raccoon you wanted and the game attendant pulls it down with a shocked congratulations.

"Thank you Jake." You say kissing his cheek.

"Of course amor. To the Ferris wheel now, yes?"

"Yes! Let's go!" You smile, clutching the raccoon closely. Your Ferris wheel ride is peacefully quiet and when you eventually return to the ground, Marc walks you back to your apartment. You chat idly as you walk, catching up about how you've been since you last saw each other and before you know it, you're at your apartment door.

"I had an amazing time tonight." Marc says.

"Me too. I dunno what's up with you tonight but, I like you like this." You say with a small smile.

"Yeah? Me too." He smiles. You place a hand on his shoulder to lean up and kiss his cheek shyly.

"Text when you get home, okay?" You say.

"Of course amor." He nods.

"Goodnight Jake." You say softly.

"Goodnight mi vida." He breathes out as you step into your apartment. You almost don't want to close your door because it means the night is over but you do and Marc leaves, whistling happily to himself as he was back to their flat. It's not until he makes it all the way back that a voice rings in his head.

If we didn't share a body hermano I would kill you right now.

Marc looks at the nearest reflective surface to see Jake glaring at him.

That was my girlfriend! What the hell are you doing?!

"Hey, if not for what I did tonight she'd probably be your ex girlfriend by morning. She was ready to dump you just the other night. You should be thanking me." Marc says.

Marc, that's Jake's life. It's not your place to meddle, we agreed to let each other have our things. You overstepped seriously. 

This time it's Steven who steps in, gentle but scolding.

"I just saved his relationship. That girl deserves better, all I did was show it to her."

Not only have you fundamentally destroyed the trust of their relationship but you've set an expectation you don't even know if Jake can maintain! At best you've strung her along and at worst you have to maintain this lie which can only lead to a million other problems because when you eventually start to care for her and hearing her call you Jake starts driving you crazy and you're tempted to tell her the truth you won't be able to because at that point you'll be in so deep that she'll never speak to either of you again if you do tell her.

"I gave her exactly what kind of relationship she should have, now Jake either has to step up or lose her for good."

And when he doesn't fill this weird bar you've set up because he's not you, then what? Because she was about to dump him until you stepped in, right? 

First of all who said I couldn't fill it?!

"If you can be that for her why haven't you?"

It's none of your business Marc

Case in point. He's not gonna do what you did. You've just created this unnecessary contradicting person for her and there was literally no reason for that.

"Whatever, she deserved a nice night."

You're ignoring the part where she is MY girlfriend and you had no right to take her out! Just because she doesn't know there's more than one of us doesn't mean it's okay to take advantage of that!

"If she's your girlfriend. Treat her well and we won't have this problem."

The only problem is you meddling

"God you two are such nags. I saved your relationship tonight Jake. I won't apologize for it because you're lucky you can still call her your girlfriend right now." Marc rolls his eyes and walks away from the mirror and their conversation. Yeah maybe he should've left well enough alone but you deserve nice things and even if it means you leave Jake for not being enough, at least you should know that someone will give you everything you deserve.

Meanwhile, after you've showered and changed you look up the meaning of those flowers he brought you, the blue salvias mean 'I think of you', and morning glories mean 'affection', forget me nots are self explanatory, the different colored carnations mean everything from my heart aches to I'll never forget you and the various camellias have meanings of longing and other dramatic declarations of love, at least according to a website you found. It's a very thoughtful collection of flowers, more emotionally expressive than Jake has been for most of your relationship but it's something that warms your heart as you lay in bed thinking about your date. An absolutely perfect date.

***

[papercorgiworld]

Nifflers steal money, Ominis steals hearts

Post-Hogwarts Ominis

You meet Ominis at a fancy party.

Bill gets you in trouble, you’re a bit of an idiot and Ominis is a sweet but sneaky Slytherin.

A/N: Apologies for the cheesy tittle. Word count: 962. Sebastian fic coming up next.

“Ominis, just have a look around and pick whoever you like. No one is going to say no to someone like you.” Ominis forced a smile, nodded and turned on his heels. He was annoyed by everything that strange uncle of his had just said. “Have a look around” he mumbled frustrated as he looked for a way outside of the ballroom. Someone like me he sighed, what’s that even supposed to mean? Finally he found a door that led outside. The fresh air and silence made him relax. His shoulders dropped and he loosened his tie.

His parents had given him a list of what they expected him to find tonight. Someone who’s wealthy, good looking, well connected, and no beast lover or muggle-hugger. Nothing on that list mattered to him. Part of him just wanted the exact opposite just to finally be free of his family. However, with Anne gone, Sebastian on a warpath and his family as disturbing as ever Ominis was in desperate need of someone. He knew this. So part of him was hoping to find someone interesting.

He dropped his head and remembered the glas of alcohol he was holding. He brought the glass to his lips and downed it all at once. This was going to be a long night. He sighed and turned on his heels to head back inside.

“Give it back!” Suddenly Ominis turned to where the call came from. He quickly realised that it wasn’t meant for him. Somewhere further in the gardens someone was arguing. “You can’t just steal things! What are you even doing here! Give it back! Who’s is this even?” Ominis followed the voice and when he arrived he heard a heavy sigh. “You know in how much trouble we are.” Clearly whoever was stressing hadn’t noticed him.

Ominis immediately noticed that even though this person was obviously stressed out, there was still something so gentle about the way they argued. This is probably why Ominis kindly offered help. “Can I help? You seem to be in some sort of trouble?” Now you led out a shocked gasp. Busted. Panic struck you like lighting. “Uhm…uh…” Was all you could manage to say. “I heard something was stolen.” Ominis said as he took a step closer. “Yes! But I will return everything he took! I promise! He means no harm.” Everything you said sounded like a desperate plea not to get mad.

Ominis was very confused at this point. “The thief is with you?” Only just now Ominis noticed that there was indeed someone else. You had jumped in front of them when you noticed Ominis. You were protecting a thief. Ominis frowned when again you only produced stutters instead of words. He took a few steps closer to try and sense more about who was behind you.

“Is that a Niffler?” Ominis asked a little shocked. Now you were definitely panicking. Your eyes widened and out of reflex you tried to explain everything in one breath. “He must have falen asleep in my bag and I did’t check. And. And. It’s the shiny things. He can’t help himself. It’s a Niffler. He doesn’t know what stealing is. It’s my fault! I should have checked my bag.” Ominis smiled at the ranting and the obvious panic in your voice. He was just about to reassure you, when you continue. “Are you blind?” After only a moment of silence, you confirmed it yourself. “You’re blind!” You said relieved. “Bye! Come on Bill.” You yelled as you snatched your Niffler and ran opposite of Ominis.

“Really?” Ominis said to himself. He was a little annoyed by your approach of the situation, but he was also amused by you. You were definitely the most interesting thing around. He smiled smugly as he remembered exactly what kind of magic surrounded you, how you smelled and how your voice sounded. He would easily find you. Ominis returned to the party with confidence. He got himself a drink. After some small talk here and there, he finally found you. He followed your voice and when he heard you laugh for the first time his heart skipped a beat.

Ominis took a sip and put his glass on a table as he walked up to you with a small smile. “Care for a dance?” He said as he laid his hand on your lower back. Ominis smirked without shame as he felt your body tense as a new wave of panic hit you. This was a little mean of him. Surrounded by people you had no choice but to say yes out fear that he might spill your secret.

“Yes.” You finally said with a shaky voice. Ominis led you to the dance floor. He pulled you a little closer than necessary, simply because he could. Though, he quickly felt the need to reassure you. He was a Slytherin and a Gaunt, he knew how to play games like these and he did enjoy the control he had over you, but felt no need to abuse it any further. “I won’t tell anyone about… Bill? Was it right?” You stared at his face for a moment. You notice he was sincere and relaxed a bit. “Thank you. That is very kind of you.” You said sheepishly. Ominis smiled and you relaxed even more. “It’s Ominis Gaunt? Right?” You asked quietly, almost a whisper. “Yes.” Ominis answered as he worried about how she knew and what she might think of him.

After a moment of silence you speak up, hesitation in your voice. “About me running away earlier. I’m sorry that was rather rude. I’m normally a nice person, but I panicked. So, uh, sorry.” Ominis smiles as he listens and slowly falls in love.