#that two of you admitted reading through before

[mythicalmaven]

19 Lando fluff and smut please

Secret Desires - Lando Norris

Loved writing this! <3 If you guys want a part 2 where the whole ordeal continues (including Lando’s awkward encouter with Max) let me know!😂❤️

Masterlist ↳pairing: Lando Norris x female!verstappen!reader ↳word count: 4,6K ↳Summary: In which the reader is Max Verstappen's twin is Lando's friend & he accidentally confesses some things to her while he's drunk. The day after when he apologizes, it leads to something more. ↳content warnings: friends to lovers, reader is Max Verstappen's twin, lando is drunk and accidentally confesses something to the reader, suggestive content, flirting, dirty talk, sexting, sending nudes, phone sex, masturbation (both f! & m!), praise kink, fluff, smut, 18+ (MDNI!), confessing feelings ↳prompts used: 19 - "Do you have any idea how many times I thought about you.. with my hand down my pants"

You sighed deeply, sinking back into the comfort of the guest bed in your older sister's house, the covers wrapping around you like a warm embrace. The room felt different compared to your Monaco apartment, but it was cozy, filled with the nostalgia of growing up with your family as you saw the pictures hanging on the wall. Pictures of your parents, of you and your twin brother Max, of you and Victoria & so on.

You traded your own bed for the guest bedroom at Victoria's house back home in the Netherlands for the week, to spend some time with your sister again to catch up. After a long night of chatting with Vic, you finally decided to call it a day, though sleep was far from your mind.

Just as you were about to close your eyes to at least give sleeping a try, your phone lit up on the nightstand, a soft buzz drawing your attention. You reached over lazily, expecting a random notification, but your heart skipped a beat when you saw the name flashing on the screen: Lando

Your best friend, your partner in crime, and the guy you’d been secretly in love with for longer than you’d care to admit. The guy who made your heart race with a single smile and had you questioning your sanity every time you felt his touch linger just a little too long. Even though you refused to admit it to anyone with a passion. Stating that the way you felt about Lando was nothing more than two flirtatious friends. You knew you were lying to yourself and your facade was starting to crumble. And now he was texting you, at this hour?

Unlocking your phone, you were met with not one, but several messages from him. You squinted at the screen, reading the texts slowly as they loaded, your eyes widening more with each one.

Lando: Y/n… Lando: Fuhk.. why are you sooooo hotttt? 🥵 Lando: Do yhu have any idea howw many tiems I thout about you… with my hnd down my pantss Lando: *1 image attached* You felt your face heat up instantly, a wave of flustered shock washing over you. He send a photo that you had posted on your story on Instagram today, a photo of you in a cute bikini set at the pool at Vic's house.

What the hell? Lando was… Was he really saying what you thought he was saying? Your mind spun, trying to process the drunk, typo-riddled texts. You knew he must have had a few too many drinks tonight; he mentioned going out to a party with the grid earlier. But this?

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, your heart racing as you tried to think of a response. A thousand emotions crashed through you at once—embarrassment, confusion, a thrill of excitement. You could barely breathe.

You: Lan, you're drunk as fuck. Go to sleep 😂

you typed back quickly, hitting send before you could second-guess yourself. You barely had time to process your own message before another one from Lando popped up.

Lando: Drunk on love 🤭

Your heart did a somersault in your chest, and you felt your cheeks burning even hotter. What was he doing? Your pulse thudded loudly in your ears as you stared at the screen, fingers frozen above the keyboard, unsure of what to say. Before you could collect your thoughts, your phone buzzed again, but this time, it was a call.

Max’s name flashed on the screen.

You answered, bringing the phone to your ear. “Max, what the hell—”

“Sorry dat ik zo laat bel,” (sorry for calling at this time) Max's voice was low and slightly slurred with a laugh. “Maar ik zag dat je online was, dus dacht, jij bent nog wakker. Wilde je alleen even een seintje geven dat de kans vrij aannemelijk is dat je vannacht nog dronken appjes krijgt van Lando.” (But I saw that you were online, so I figured you were still awake. Just wanted to give you a heads up that it's very likely that you'll receive some drunk texts from Lando tonight)

You rolled your eyes, stifling a laugh of your own. Of course, your twin brother knew exactly what was happening. “De kerel is echt gewoon laveloos en hield zijn mond maar niet dicht over je. De hele rit terug naar zijn apartment bleef hij maar zeuren over hoe hij je moest appen over iets geheimzinnigs. Dacht ik waarschuw je even.” (The guy is absolutely hammered and he wouldn't shut up about you. Kept yapping about how he had to text you about something secretive. Thought it would be nice to warn you)

“Te laat, is al gebeurd” (too late, he already did) you replied with a chuckle, glancing back at Lando's messages. “Had al zo’n vermoeden dat hij dronken was haha.” (I already figured he was drunk)

“Dacht ik al,” (I thought so) Max chuckled. “Hou het een beetje netjes, ja? Ik wil hier niet meer van weten dan ik al doe.” (Please keep it decent, yeah? I don't want to know any more about this than I already do)

You could almost hear the grin in his voice. “Maar ik moest hem echt thuisbrengen, de jongen was niet meer te houden.” (But I just had to bring him home, couldn't keep him at bay anymore)

“Dank je, Max,” (Thanks, Max) you said softly, biting your lip. “Je bent een goede broer.” (You're a good brother)

“Altijd,” (Always) Max replied. “Ik moet wel weer ophangen nu, voordat ik Kelly en P wakker maak. Succes met je dronken vriendje.” (Gotta hang now tho, before I wake up Kelly and P. Good luck with your boyfriend)

“Max, hoe vaak moet ik nog zeggen dat Lando en ik gewoon vrienden zijn” (Max, how often do I have to tell you that Lando and I are just friends) you said, rolling your eyes.

"Als jij jezelf niet zo voor de gek hield, waren jullie al lang samen" (If you didn't keep lying to yourself, you two would have dated a long time already) and with a last chuckle, he hung up.

You flopped back onto your bed, your mind racing, Lando’s texts still staring at you from the screen. Your fingers shook as you picked up your phone again, reading his words over and over, your stomach flipping with nerves and something else, something hotter, more dangerous.

With a deep breath, you tried to shake it off. Lando was just drunk, you told yourself. He didn’t mean it. It didn’t mean anything… Right? But the way your heart fluttered at the thought of him thinking about you like that, the way your skin prickled with excitement at the idea that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way…

You forced yourself to put the phone down, closing your eyes and trying to ignore the wild thoughts racing through your mind. It was late, and you needed to sleep. But as you drifted off, your dreams were anything but peaceful. Lando's words echoed in your mind, and you found yourself imagining all the things he might have done while thinking about you, the way he might have said your name, the way his hands might have—

You woke up, flustered and breathless, your body tingling in a way that was all too familiar. The morning sun was peeking through the curtains, but all you could think about was Lando, and the way his words made you feel things you’d tried so hard to ignore.

Around the same time, somewhere in Monaco, Lando jolts awake.

"Fuck" the single word comes out as a hiss, his head pounding from the hangover. His phone screen glares back at him, a series of messages and a notification from Max catching his blurry gaze. He squints, his heart starting to race as fragmented memories of the night before come flooding back.

He fumbles to unlock his phone, praying he didn’t do what he thinks he did. But the evidence is right there, the bold lettering of your name above the most mortifying message he could ever have sent, full of typos, but easily desiphered as 'Do you have any idea how many times I thought about you… with my hand down my pants?'

“Shit, shit, shit,” he mutters, running a hand through his messy curls, anxiety flooding his system. What the fuck had he done? His fingers move of their own accord, tapping out a frantic apology.

Lando: Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry.

You: Good morning to you too. How is your headache? 😉

He cringes at the situation, a mix of playful and mocking. His mind races, grasping at straws to somehow make this situation less embarrassing.

Lando: I don’t even remember sending that. I’m so fucking sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, pretty sure I wasn't thinking at all. I didn’t mean it.

A lie. He did mean it. But he’s not ready to admit that just yet.

You: Oh, you definitely weren’t thinking, lol. But hey, maybe you should apologize to Max too, since you apparently spilled some beans about me to him. 😆

Lando’s eyes widen, horror painting his features. “Oh, fuck,” he groans, rubbing his forehead. He types back, heart racing.

Lando: What did I say? Please tell me I didn’t—

You: Relax, nothing too scandalous. Just enough for Max to find it disgusting.

Despite himself, a small laugh escapes his lips. He can picture Max’s reaction, the exaggerated gagging, the inevitable jokes he’ll have to endure.

Lando: I’m so sorry. Are you mad at me? I don’t want you to think I’m some idiot who can’t control himself.

You: Nah, I’m not mad. You were drunk, it’s not like you meant it anyway, right?

He swallows hard, your words hitting too close to home. A dry response forms on his screen.

Lando: Yeah, sure.

But deep down, he knows it’s not true. He’d thought about you like that more times than he cared to admit, a dangerous longing simmering beneath the surface of your friendship.

You: Hey, at least now I know I looked hot in yesterday’s bikini post.

Heat floods his cheeks. You’re playing it off, but there’s a hint of something in your words, a subtle curiosity. He swallows, fingers hovering over the keyboard before he types back, heart pounding.

Lando: Stating the obvious.

He can’t help the grin tugging at his lips as he imagines your reaction. It’s risky, but you don’t seem upset, and he’s willing to test the waters.

You: Oh? So you think I’m hot?

Lando: Didn’t know that was up for debate.

He’s toeing the line, the thrill of it sending a spark through him.

Lando: U really not mad? I’d hate to make you uncomfortable.

You: Mad? Nah. Flattered, maybe.

He blinks at your response, surprise mingling with a rush of arousal. Flattered? His mind reels, thoughts scrambling as he tries to figure out what to say next.

You: I have to admit tho, when I first got that message, I thought you’d sent something different than my own instagram post…🤭

His breath catches, heart skipping a beat. The implication is clear, and he feels himself growing hard at the mere thought of you expecting a more explicit photo from him. He shifts uncomfortably, typing out a teasing response.

Lando: So, you’re saying you opened it anyway, even though you thought I sent you a spicy picture? 😉

You: Shut up.

He laughs, imagining the flustered look on your face. It’s too easy to picture, and he leans back against his pillows, biting his lip.

Lando: Where are you?

You: In bed. Why?

Lando's breath got caught in his throat. A dangerous idea takes root in his mind, one that’s equally thrilling and terrifying. He knows he should stop, should draw the line before it goes too far. But something in your responses, the playful edge, the hint of curiosity, makes him want to push further.

Lando: Just curious. 😉

His mind races, and before he can second-guess himself, he snaps a quick photo. It’s not much,—just him lying back on his bed, shirt unbuttoned halfway, his abs on display and his hair a mess. He was still wearing the same outfit as yesterday, apparently not changed out of it. But there’s something undeniably suggestive in the way he looks at the camera, the flush on his cheeks, a knowing smile on his lips as he sends it with a caption.

Lando: I can send you one for real if you want to see one.

His heart hammers in his chest as he waits for your response, the seconds dragging by agonizingly slowly. Then your reply comes in, teasing and playful.

You: Kinda daring coming from the guy who was apologizing 10 minutes ago for accidentally sending his best friend a text about thinking about her with his hand down his pants😉

Your words send a thrill through him, the boldness of it, the way you’re not backing down. He can’t resist pushing a little further, fingers trembling with anticipation.

Lando: You didn’t seem too disgusted by it.

The moment stretches out, his breath catching as he waits for your reply. The tightness in his dress pants becoming significantly worde.

When it comes, it’s more than he expected. 

You: I wasn’t. Actually, it was kinda hot.🫣

His eyes widen, arousal spiking as he reads your words again and again, disbelieving. Is this really happening? 

Lando: Yeah?

You: Yeah.

He swallows hard, a wicked idea forming in his mind. He glances down at the growing bulge in his pants, his arousal straining against the fabric. His hand moves almost on its own, snapping a quick picture of his hand palming himself through his dress pants, the outline of his erection unmistakable.

Lando: What about this? Still hot?

Your response is almost immediate.

You: Fuck, yes.

The words send a shiver down his spine, desire flaring as he imagines your reaction, the way you must be looking at your phone. He wants more, needs more.

Lando: Your turn.

There’s a pause, then a photo comes through. His breath hitches at the sight of you, flushed and flustered, the soft curve of your cleavage visible just above the red lace of your bra. It wasn't too naughty, but enough to send Lando reeling. 

He groans, his hand moving down to rub himself through his pants, a low moan escaping him as he imagines what’s beneath that thin fabric.

Lando: Fuck, babe, you’re killing me.

You: Good.

The playfulness in your response only fuels his desire, and he knows he should stop, should take a breath before this spirals out of control. But he doesn’t want to. Instead, he hits record on his camera, aiming it down at his crotch as he begins to palm himself through the fabric.

The video is short, just a few seconds of him rubbing himself, a low groan slipping from his lips. He ends it with a whispered “fuck,” his hand slipping beneath the waistband of his pants to give himself a teasing stroke before the video cuts off.

He sends it without thinking, heart racing as he imagines you watching it, the way your breath might hitch, the way you might bite your lip.

You: You’re really enjoying that, huh?

His breath hitched at your words, every sensation heightened as he slowly works himself up and down inside his dress pants, unable to contain the soft groans leaving his lips.

Lando: I do. Feels amazing... I wish you were here with me.

His hand is shaking now as he types out his next message, his arousal growing with every word.

Lando: Show me more.

There’s a beat of silence, and then another picture comes through. This one is more daring, more revealing. You’re under the blankets, one leg exposed, the other hidden beneath the covers. The waistband of your red panties is just visible above the edge of your blanket, your hand resting suggestively on your lower stomach, fingers reaching just into your panties.

Lando: Fuck, babe, that's so hot

Lando's breath catches as he stares at the photo you sent, his mind racing with all the things he wants to say, all the things he wants to do. He decided to take the leap and press the button to send you a facetime request. You accept it almost immediately, his heart pounding as your face fills the screen. You look flustered, lips slightly parted, and he swallows hard.

“Hi,” you say, your voice breathless, almost shy.

“You’re really fucking beautiful, you know that?” Lando murmurs, his voice thick with desire as he admired your flushed face.

You blush, your eyes darting away from the screen for a moment before you look back at him. “I think you’re the one who’s supposed to be embarrassed right now, not me.”

He grins, the playful tone of your voice sending another jolt of arousal through him. “Oh, trust me, I’m plenty embarrassed. But I’m also…” He hesitates, his gaze dropping down for a moment before he meets your eyes again, his voice dropping to a lower, huskier tone. “... really turned on.”

Your breath catches, and he watches as you shift on the bed, the movement causing the camera to reveal a little bit more of your cleavage and the red lace bra you were wearing. His eyes are drawn to the exposed skin, mesmerized by your body.

“What are you wearing?” The question slips out before he can stop it, his eyes dark with desire.

You glance down at yourself, then back at him, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. “Not much.”

He groans, his hand tightening around his phone. As he speaks, his other hand drifts back down, brushing over the ever-growing bulge in his pants again. “Can I see?” The words are thick with anticipation, his voice trembling slightly as he palms himself, the sensation sending a wave of pleasure through him. He bites his lip, letting out a quiet moan that he can’t quite suppress.

You hesitate, your teeth worrying your bottom lip as you consider his request. Then, slowly, you change your camera angle and pull the blanket down just a little, revealing the soft skin of your stomach, the red lace of your panties, the soft curve of your thigh. Lando feels a jolt of arousal shooting through him, and he has to bite back a groan. It’s just enough to tease, to make him want more. 

“Fuck, Y/N…” His voice is rough, strained, as he shifts on the bed, the fabric of his pants suddenly feeling too tight, too restrictive. His hand presses harder against his length, his breath hitching as the friction sends sparks of pleasure shooting through him.

You giggle, your eyes sparkling with a mix of nervousness and excitement. “You like what you see?”

“Like?” He shakes his head, his eyes glued to the screen. “I fucking love it.”

Your cheeks flush a deeper red, and you lean back a little, giving him an even better view of your body. His mouth goes dry as he takes in the sight of you, the way the red lace clings to your skin, the hint of cleavage peeking out from beneath your bra. He can see the way your chest rises and falls with each breath, the anticipation, the arousal clear in your eyes.

“Your turn,” you murmur, your voice barely more than a whisper, but it’s enough to send his heart racing.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. With one hand still holding his phone, he shifts back on the bed, his other hand moving to the waistband of his pants. His fingers fumble with the button, his hands shaking slightly as he pops it open, his eyes never leaving your face.

Your breath hitches as he unzips his pants, his erection straining against the fabric of his boxers. He pauses for a moment, his eyes flicking up to yours, seeking permission. When you nod, he slides his hand into his boxers, his breath coming out in a shaky exhale as he wraps his fingers around his length.

“Fuck…” The word slips out as he strokes himself slowly, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he forces them open again, needing to see your reaction. His voice trembles, laced with a mix of desire and restraint, each moan escaping his lips growing louder as he quickens his pace.

Your eyes are wide, your lips slightly parted as you watch him, your hand moving down towards your panties on their own accord, fingers brushing lightly over the fabric “Fuck, that's hot, Lando…”

He groans at the sound of his name on your lips, his boxers now pushed low enough to reveal his cock, hand moving faster, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through him. “Touch yourself for me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “Please.”

You bite your lip, waiting just a moment before you slip your hand beneath the waistband of your panties, a soft gasp escaping you as your fingers make contact. The sight of you, the way your body arches slightly, the soft, breathless sounds you make, is almost too much for him.

“Fuck, babe, you’re so fucking hot…” His voice is barely more than a growl as he watches you, his own hand moving faster, the pleasure building inside him, threatening to spill over.

“What would you do to me if I was right there?” you ask, your voice a breathless whisper.

His eyes darken, his grip tightening around himself. “I’d start by kissing you, slowly… working my way down your body.” His voice is rough, each word laced with longing. “I’d touch you everywhere, make you feel so good. Then I’d…” his words getting cut off by his own moan.

“Tell me,” you encourage, your own voice trembling with need.

“I’d bury my face between your legs, make you scream my name,” he groans, his strokes becoming more erratic as he imagines it, his mind filled with nothing but thoughts of you. “F-Fuck, I want you so bad.”

You moan at his words, your fingers moving faster as you picture it, your body aching for his touch. “Lando, I…”

“Keep going,” he whispers, his voice thick with desire. “Tell me what you’d do to me.”

“I’d touch you,” you breathe, your voice trembling as your fingers move in sync with his. “I’d wrap my fingers around you, just like you’re doing now… make you feel so good, Lan”

He whimpers at your words, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he imagines it, the sensation of your touch almost too real. “Fuck, Y/N, I need you…”

“Imagine it’s my hand, Lan” you whisper, your voice laced with seduction. “Imagine I’m right there with you…”

His moans grow louder, his hips bucking into his hand as he follows your words, his mind filled with nothing but thoughts of you. “I’m so close…”

“Me too,” you whisper, your breath hitching as you feel the pleasure building, your body trembling with anticipation.

“God, you’re amazing,” he pants, his voice filled with praise as he watches you, every movement driving him closer to the edge. “You’re so perfect… I want you so bad…”

Your voice is a breathless moan as you reach the brink, your body arching off the bed as the pleasure consumes you "F-Fuck, Lan, I'm coming"

“Fuck, baby, I’m right there with you…” His voice is ragged, his body tensing as he teeters on the edge, every muscle tightening in anticipation. You watch, breathless, as his hand moves faster, more desperately, his grip tightening around his length.

Then, with a strangled moan, he tips over the edge. His hips jerk, and his head falls back against the pillows as he cums, thick ropes of it spilling out and covering his abdomen. You can see the way his abs contract with each pulse, his hand still working himself through every last wave of pleasure, milking himself until he’s spent. His eyes remain locked on yours, his breathing heavy, a mixture of satisfaction and lingering desire in his gaze as you both ride the waves of your shared climax.

For a few moments, the only sound is your ragged breathing, both of you staring at each other through the screen, the intensity of what just happened hanging heavy in the air.

“Fuck…” He laughs breathlessly, his head falling back against the pillows as he runs a hand through his hair. “That was…”

“Amazing,” you finish for him, your own laughter bubbling up, your cheeks still flushed, your body still trembling slightly from the aftershocks. “Holy shit, Lando…”

“Yeah.” He grins, his heart still racing as he looks at you, the reality of what you just did slowly sinking in. “Are you… okay?”

You nod, your smile softening as you look at him. “Yeah, I’m okay. More than okay.”

His heart swells at your words, relief flooding through him. He’s about to say something else when you shift on the bed, the blanket slipping down a little further, giving him a glimpse of your bare shoulder.

“Lando,” you murmur, your eyes meeting his through the screen, a mischievous glint in your gaze. “If that was just a taste, I can’t wait to see what happens when we’re see each other again.”

The promise in your words sends a shiver down his spine, his mind racing at the thought of having you, really having you, right in front of him. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you have no idea what you’re doing to me…” His voice is a low whisper, his eyes still dark with desire.

“Maybe I have an idea,” you tease, your smile widening as you settle back against the pillows, your gaze never leaving his. “When I fly back to Monaco in a few days, maybe you should pick me up from the airport... and then we can do this again, but then in real life”

His heart skips a beat at your words, excitement and anticipation flooding through him. “You mean that?”

You nod, your smile softening, your eyes filled with a tenderness that makes his chest ache. “Yeah, I mean that. I want you, Lando. All of you.”

His breath catches, the sincerity in your voice, the way you’re looking at him, making his heart race. He knows, in that moment, that this isn’t just about sex, about fulfilling a desire that’s been simmering beneath the surface for years. It’s about more, so much more.

“Y/N… there’s something else I need to tell you,” he says, his voice steady but laced with emotion.

Your gaze softens, sensing the seriousness in his tone. “What is it, Lando?”

He hesitates for just a moment, gathering his thoughts before he continues. “I’ve been in love with you for so long. It’s not just about my text last night or about what we just did. I've been feeling like this for a while. It’s everything. Every time we’ve laughed together, every time you’ve supported me, every time I’ve seen you smile... I’ve been falling for you more and more.”

You feel your heart swell at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest. Finally ready to admit it out loud. “Lando... I’ve felt the same way. I’ve just been too scared to admit it.”

He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, relief washing over him. “You have no idea how happy that makes me. I’ve wanted to say something for so long, but I was afraid I’d ruin what we have.”

“You haven’t ruined anything,” you say softly. “If anything, you’ve made it better.”

A wide smile spreads across his face, his eyes shining with emotion. “I’ve never been so thankful for getting drunk.”

You laugh, the sound light and filled with joy. “Me neither, Lando. Me neither.”

There’s a moment of comfortable silence, both of you just taking in the reality of what’s been confessed.

“So… when I fly back to Monaco in a few days, maybe we could start something real?” you suggest, your voice hopeful.

“I’d like that,” he replies, his heart swelling with happiness. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Then it’s a plan,” you say, a smile tugging at your lips.

"God, I wish I could kiss you now" he whispered, a small hint of disappointment in his voice.

And with that, you both know that this is just the beginning of something truly special, something that’s been waiting to happen for far too long.

Masterlist

[whispersingojo]

Tipsy Kisses~

Content ✮ fluff,tipsy!Satoru x sober!reader

Summary ✮ you come home from a mission to you lovely partner Satoru tipsy, trying to make good for himself food.

Word count ✮ 1.7k

You were currently at Jujutsu High, but typing away at your computer. You were completing a report of the mission you had just returned from hours before. You groaned, leaning back in your chair stretching. Your arms stretched out above your head, eye closed.

“What are you doing here sensei?” A familiar voice asked, causing you to open your eyes and look towards the door of your office. It was Yuji! A smile formed on your face, “oh nothing, just finishing up a report for my recent mission,” you replied, closing your laptop, “what are you still doing up? Shouldn’t you be asleep?” You asked, taking on a parental role for just a moment.

“Oh, heh,” yuji laughed nervously, “sukuna is a chatterbox tonight, so it’s kinda hard to sleep ya know?”

You nodded, packing up your things to go home, “well don’t stay up to long. Maybe take a lap, yeah?” You patted Yuji’s shoulder, “take care.”

Yuji nodded with a tired smile, “right!”

Soon enough you pulled up to the shared home between satoru and you. Unlike Satoru, you preferred the simple, somewhat older home. Somehow, when you two were moving in together, you had convinced him to downsize his home into a small, quaint house. You wanted the house to feel lived in, rather than play proper within your own home. Eventually, Satoru grew to love the smaller home, but he would never admit it.

You put your car in park, grabbed your things off of the passenger seat and stepped out. After locking the door to the car, you went and grabbed the mail from the bottom of the driveway. Flipping through the envelopes, which were a mix of bills, letters, and junk. You began walking back up as you read through the contents printed on the front of each envelope.

You approached the front door of your home. You quickly grabbed your keys from off your pants, searching through the plentiful amount you had stored up. Eventually you found the key, shoving the key in and turning it.

You open the door, music filling your ears and making you smile. As you stepped into the hours, closing the door and taking off your shoes, the smell of food it your nose. Not just any food…burnt food? Satoru, unlike what you expected when you two go together, was a good cook for the most part.

You slipped on your house slippers and began walking to the kitchen, the smell of burnt food becoming more prominent. As you turned the corner, you were met with a nearly crying Satoru leaning over the stove.

You couldn’t help but laugh quietly to yourself, making him snap his head around. His glasses were covered his eyes, but you knew exactly what was going on in his head.

“You’re hooooome!” He wobbled over to you, hugging you close. You laughed a bit louder, putting your things down to return the hug, “are you drunk, bluebell?” You asked, able to smell a small amount of alcohol on his breath.

”no! He replied in a childish tone. He stood up straight and crossed him arms, “I’m 100% sober currently.”

You had recently bought him the stuff to make a mudslide, which was an alcoholic drink made with icecream and a coffee liqueur. It was sweet alcohol, which is why you knew he’d like it.

You laughed quietly, pulling on the collar on his shirt to bring him down to your level, “sure, bluebell,” you replied, placing a kiss on his cheek. You picked up your things off the floor and moved them to the table, just incase ‘sober’ didn’t see them and tripped.

You made your way over to the burn food on the stove. It was quite literally just a couple of black rocks in a pan, “so uh…what you makin?” You asked, turning your head to glance back at him.

Satoru came up behind you and put his chin on your head, “I’m clearly making black rock stew can’t you tell?” He joked, a pout forming on his face, “I was trying to make eggs but I keep burning them,” he whined. Satoru wrapped his arms around your waist and put his face into the crook of your neck, “can you make them for me, love? I keep fucking it up,” he asked, sounding genuinely upset over his inability to make himself food.

You laughed, turning around In his arms to look at him, “you’re cute when you’re drunk,” you smiled, placing a kiss on his forehead, “I’ll make you some eggs ok? You just sit right over there and they’ll be done in a giffy, bluebell.”

Satoru let go of you and wobbled his way over the table where you had sat all your stuff. He pulled out the chair and fell quite dramatically into it. You knew he was playing up how drunk he was, since he didn’t enjoy drinking or getting drunk in general. Regardless, he was being cute so he was gonna get what he wanted.

You quickly threw out the black, burnt rocks in the pan and gave it a wash, not wanting the new eggs to taste burnt. You opened the fridge, pulling out the eggs and milk and setting them on the counter.

“How was the mudslide?” You asked, pulling a bowl out of the cupboard.

“It was good, honestly,” he replied, returning somewhat back to his normal self, “I could still taste some of the alcohol so I was only able to have half of what I made,”

“That’s good I’m glad. Now do you want fluffy eggs or normal eggs?” You asked, cracking a few eggs into the bowl.

“Hmm fluffy,” he replied, taking his glasses off and cleaning them with his shirt.

You began mixing a small amount of milk into the eggs, which helps make them fluffy. You hummed to yourself softly, putting the milk away. You turn in the stove, put a little bit of butter in the pan so the eggs don’t stick, and wait for the pan to heat up.

You couldn’t see it, but Satoru was staring at you. He loved watching you do mundane things, like cooking or cleaning. He enjoyed doing those tasks with you too, unlike before. You showed him the enjoyment of keeping a household together, instead of paying someone else to do it for him. Satoru stood from his chair, walking towards you. His arms snaked around your waist, holding you close to him. He set his chin on you, not saying a word.

You smiled, enjoying his quiet closeness. You dumped the eggs into the pan, hearing the sizzle as you grabbed a spatula.

You two stayed there in silence, just enjoying each other. You pushed around the eggs in the pan, watching them slowly clump together. Satoru placed a kiss on your head, before letting go to grab the two of you plates.

As the eggs finished up, you turned off the stove and moved the pan over into another burner.

Satoru set the plates down next to you, as well as forks he grabbed as well. You served the eggs onto the plates, putting the pan back on the burner to cool before washing.

As you two sat down, you noticed a smile on Satoru’s face, “what you smiling about over there?” You asked, taking a bite of your food.

“oh nothing…you just make me happy is all,” he replied, also taking a bite.

You began thinking for a moment, putting your fork down, “you purposely burnt those eggs didn’t you?”

Satoru chuckled softly, “maybe,”

You laughed, “how did you know I was coming home?”

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” he gave you a wink.

You rolled your eyes, picking the fork back up.

The two of you continued to eat your eggs, talking about how your mission went. It was nothing special, just in and out like usual. When you finished up your plate, Satoru stood up and took both his and your plate to the sink. It warmed your heart how much of a gentleman he was becoming.

“wanna watch a movie?” Satoru asked, beginning to wash the dishes.

“Sure! Lemme get a shower. you pick a movie, I’m too tired to do so,” you replied, walking over to the left side of satoru.

You gave him the eyes you always gave him when you wanted a kiss. He looked at you, chuckled a bit, and gave you a kiss. You giggled to yourself happily and skipped away, going to take a nice hot shower- which is what you needed after a long day.

Once you had finished up with your absolutely amazing shower, you quickly dried your hair and put on some comfy clothes. Nothing felt better than a good shower and clean clothes to you. You made your way out into the living room, where Satoru was sat on the couch looking through whatever streaming service he had chosen.

You took a seat next to Satoru, leaning into him curiously, “any decision on what we’re gonna watch?” You asked, watching him scroll through the movies.

“How about A Few Moments of Cheers? It looks cool, it came out in June,” he replied, reading the reviews and summary.

“Sure!”

Satoru pressed play on the movie, started to get comfortable on the couch. He laid across the couch, allowing you to crawl on top of him and lay your head on his chest. Satoru grabbed the blanket on the back of the couch, throwing it over the both of you.

The warmth of both the blanket and Satoru’s body made you instantly tired, the sound of his heartbeat in your ears didn’t help either. You tried you best to stay awake, but the exhaustion of the day was getting to you. You ended up falling asleep a few minutes into the movie.

You woke up a few hours later, the room was dark and the tv was off. You noticed you were still in the same place, and when you turned your head up to look at Satoru, he was passed out. You smiled, nuzzling back into the same spot you were just in. He was breathing softly, his heartbeat slow and steady. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath and letting it out.

“I love you, bluebell,” you whispered softly. Soon enough, you fell back asleep in his arms.

[bunnys-kisses]

Your writing is so good! I hope this request is okay.

Could I please order some chocolate cake and shortbread squares please with some juice for Carlos sainz. Maybe friendly rivals. :))))

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! there's tons of things to order from it! i really enjoy making these and i love what ya'll have prompted me! so thank you! and for this lovely anon i hope that you love this story!

chocolate cake ("do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day.") + shortbread squares ("you're just mad that that my cock fits perfectly in you now. must be a blow to the ego that we're a perfect match.") + juice (cockwarming) served by carlos sainz jr (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, cockwarming, (friendly) rivals, driver's room sex, semi-public sex, secret relationship, a lot of kissing

"you drive me crazy, mi amor." carlos said as he started to unzip his driving suit, your hands were on him in return. your lips were dangerously close together.

"please." you replied, "i don't think this is the hottest you've ran." you leaned in to seal the deal as he got the driving suit off of his shoulders. his lips tasted like heaven, he even used the lip balm that you suggested.

you and carlos were like thunder and lightning on the track. he had the speed while you had the power. and together you made quite the storm. some would call you rivals, but when it was the two of you alone in the driver's room long after everyone went home, you were more like lovers.

it was late into the evening, most had gone home. and you two were supposed to be in your respected motor homes for the night. but george and charles were doing you both favors while you two had some alone time in carlos' driver's room.

"i think he went out to dinner." charles shrugged when an assistant asked where carlos went.

and george's excuse was the tried and true method, "you know how she always walks for miles when she's on the phone with your mother." followed by a laugh. you owed both of these men so much.

the door to the driver's room was locked and you slowly got out of your driving clothes and could feel carlos' gaze on your body. you knew he loved the site of you, your curves that you had. you could easily drive him wild.

"don't look like a dog, sainz. have a little respect."

he shifted in his seat on the couch and palmed through his briefs. he licked his lips. he leaned a little bit and asked, "do you see that? that's what happens when i think about you all day."

you watched him get his cock out of his briefs and relaxed further against the couch. his smile hung and you felt a stutter in your heart. you hated how he could read you inside out and backwards. damn, sainz. but yet you were enticed to come closer and eventually got onto his lap. the both of you near naked, at least your bottom halves were.

you even got yourself out of the printed socks you wore today. you were still in your sports bra while he was shirtless. you looked into his dark eyes and smiled at him, "see what happens when i think about you all day?" then smiled.

carlos palmed our breasts and pressed his face between them. he looked up at you with those doe eyes that could put deer to shame. he replied, "i can hear your heartbeat."

you combed your fingers through his hair as you rubbed your bare pussy against his cock. you swallowed, "i thought about you all day." you held his face and looked down at him, "i have to be honest. you make racing fun, my red rider." then with a little help you sank down onto his cock. your toes curled.

"shit."

"fuck."

"come here." you said as you pulled him in for anther heated kiss. you didn't ride him. due to the hour of the day (or rather night), you two could go slower. you could cockwarm him while your lips got familiar with his. you held his face once more and he wrapped his arms around you tightly. he gazed up at you almost with love and you smiled before you kissed once more.

you hated to admit it but, you liked cockwarming him. and if you could've been in the motor home together tonight without having to worry about being too loud for your teammates, you would've happily had the comfort of a shared bed.

at least there was the off-season. you had, without the prying eyes of the press, moved some of your belongings to his home. it was a spare lip gloss here, your spare retainer, there were a few more mercedes shirts in the closet. even a stuffed animal that carlos got you after you won your second gran prix (winning twice meant it wasn't a fluke).

"you feel good against me." he said with a smile.

"oh shut up, sainz." you arched your back a little bit as his cock nudged against one of your sweet spots and it made you feel hot all over.

he chuckled, warmth in his voice as he said, "you're just mad that that my cock fits perfectly in you now. must be a blow to the ego that we're a perfect match."

you looked down at him and held onto his face a little tighter, "oh, i've seen your cock compared to some of the others. i think that maybe danny or max will suit me just fine." you moved your hips a little and watched carlos melt a little, "if i want something that doesn't bruise my cervix, maybe your teammate charles will a work.. or maybe my own teammate."

carlos made a face, "you better not be running off into george's arms. if you know what's good for you." then shuddered when you started to move a little more. he groaned against you. he knew that you'd have to cockwarm him again and sometime soon.

you two kissed while you continued to move against him. he held onto you tightly while you rode his cock. the kisses became messier the more you moved against him. it was hot and left a fire in your gut.

you both didn't last long, carlos' dirty words in your mouth as you rode him on the couch. he said to you, "next time. next time i'm keeping you on me all night. sleep together like that. i want to wake up and feel you." he said as he groped your breasts. you could feel your heartbeat in your chest as you reached your climax.

your toes curled once more as you panted heavily. you pulled him into another hot kiss. you whimpered into the kiss while he held onto you, meeting you staggered pace. he groaned into the kiss as he finished inside of you.

you both slowed down and you rested against him for a moment as you tried to catch your breath. he kissed the side of your head with love. you held onto his shoulders and composed yourself.

"next time, sainz." you said as you patted his chest, "we're doing this all night. and it'll be after i beat you on the track." that rival streak was coming out of you as you gazed at him.

he chuckled and looked at you, "sure, mi amor. now why don't we get dressed before someone tries to find us. our lie can't work forever." then kissed up your chest.

"yeah, george and charles have done enough for us tonight." you knew you'd get an earful from your teammate, but at that moment when you watched carlos redress. it was worth it. <3

[ultravi0lence14]

Don’t Delete The Kisses

dean winchester x fem!reader

1.2k | fluff

summary: dean couldn’t bare to leave you when him and sam went on hunts. but the thought of kissing you when he got back home kept him going.

the memory of dean’s kisses were all you had when he would leave for long hunts.

every time, you would wait by the bunker door as sam loaded up the impala, holding onto dean as he assured you that him and his brother were going to be okay.

you had faith in them, they had been doing this for a long time after all. but with all the times they’ve died, been brought back to life, and even sent to hell, you were bound to worry a little.

before he’d get in the impala, dean would always press a lingering kiss to your cheek, telling you that he would kiss your lips when he got home. you didn’t understand why at first, but dean finally admitted that if he were to kiss your lips before a hunt, he’d never want to leave.

the eldest winchester always was a protecter. being accustomed at such a young age when watching sam. so even though he knew you were more than capable to handle yourself, the feeling of leaving you alone in a massive underground bunker where he was too far to keep you safe always had him worried.

you never wanted to be on the battlefield, always wanting to stay at home with bobby, read lore books, and give tips and advice to other hunters when needed.

but bobby had passed away, leaving you in the hands of the infamous winchester brothers.

not wanting to leave the only home you knew at first, you were adamant on not leaving with sam and dean and living a life on the road. but after the bunker came into the picture, and dean crawled his way into your heart, the past two years had gone by in a blur.

sitting and waiting for the boys to call was all you did at first, but after realizing some alone time would benefit you, the copious amounts of books moving into the bunker became something sam and dean got used to.

before the phone would ring with sam and dean on the other line, you’d be found in your room, book in hand as you absorbed new worlds and forms of literature. when that got too much for you, you’d find yourself sat in front of a tv, a new show playing every other week as you went through them pretty quickly to sam’s concern.

but you would still have that nagging feeling of dean’s absence. it settled deep into your bones, having you miss him so dearly it almost hurt sometimes.

he was the first boy you ever truly loved, and you’d be damned if he was torn away from you.

so you waited. waited for the fateful moment when the roar of the impala could be heard. when dean would come down the stairs and instantly go and try to find you. for when he did, dean would not waste a second in crushing his lips to yours; finally getting the feeling of you close to him again.

today was no different. sam and dean had been on a case in missouri for the past week tracking a vampires nest, and you couldn’t wait until they came home.

castiel had stopped by a couple days ago, but he had to leave quickly when the angels in heaven needed his assistance. you were left alone, reading the lore books that you hadn’t picked up in the bunker while playing online sudoku with charlie.

you had ventured into the kitchen only a half hour ago, grabbing a small snack before finding comfort in your bed. a new book was opened on your lap while an episode of your favourite tv show quietly played in the background.

the calming atmosphere you had created was quickly broken as the door to the bunker opened, the sound of boots clambering down the stairs as sam and dean’s voices flooded through the air.

you smiled to yourself, sitting up in bed and patiently waiting for dean to find his way to your room. when the door creaked open, you couldn’t help a wider grin breaking out onto your face as dean’s tall frame stood in your doorway.

he didn’t waste a second. coming to you in two long strides as he pushed you back onto the bed and smashed his lips onto yours. his hands found a home on your face as yours quickly went to his hair, threading your fingers through the strands as his moved from your cheeks down to your shoulders.

breathing in heavily as you pulled away, dean moved off of you so he could lean against the head rest of your bed. moving to pull you forward until you were attached to his side.

dean’s lips instantly went to your forehead, placing a delicate kiss before resting his head on yours. “god baby, i missed you so fucking much.” he all but breathed out, allowing you to curl deeper into his side.

placing a kiss on the inside of his arm, which was wrapped around your shoulder, you lifted your head so you could properly look into his eyes. “i missed you too. far too much than i should’ve actually.”

all dean did was laugh, shaking his head as he moved his chin to rest on top of your head. “thought sam was going to punch me for how much i was talking about you.” all you could do was lean up to place a quick kiss on his lips, slightly leaning back so your faces were close. “that makes us even then.”

for the next couple of hours, you and dean just calmly rested in your bed, quietly talking to each other about the case and what you had been doing for the past week.

the two of you could’ve stayed there forever if it wasn’t for sam peaking his head in and asking what you two wanted for dinner. when you all agreed on something, sam offered to go pick it up, promptly leaving as you moved to get off of dean’s chest.

“thinking of making some cookies for dessert, wanna join me?” you sat on the edge of the bed, dean reaching over to wrap his arm around your waist. only moving to rest his chin on your shoulder after your proposal of a sweet treat. “i’d be stupid to say no. cmon sweetheart, sam will be back soon.”

that’s how you spent the rest of your evening. baking with dean as you waited for sam to come back with dinner. ending the night as you and dean watched a movie to help you fall asleep.

dean looked down at your sleeping frame, stroking his fingertips up and down your arm as he wondered how he got so lucky.

he had a place to stay, his brother helping him fight the supernatural, and his girl by his side. what more could dean possibly want in life?

dean sometimes found himself thinking back to all those years ago, when he broke into sam’s apartment at stanford to bring him back into the hunting life. he was a 26 year old who spent his time with meaningless one night stands, leaving them in the morning and spending his energy on finding his dad. back then, dean didn’t think his life would get this good.

brushing your hair back from your face, dean realized he wanted to cherish each moment he got to kiss your lips. he wanted to remember what it was like to kiss your forehead, or even the small section of your palm. for forgetting what it was like to feel your love seeping into his pores through your delicate kisses would possibly be the worst thing to ever happen to dean winchester

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hii i’m not sure if you’re taking requests or not but if you areeee

Can you write smth about Ford x reader where they obviously got a crush on each other (but they dont confess they’re shyly dumb) but the crush got bigger bc reader decides to peck Ford on the cheek as a “Thank you” bc he helped them with smth, yanno yanno :33

Ps: I really really love your writing waaa keep up the good work!!

The crush you harbour on Ford and him on you was the least subtle thing ever, everyone could see the way you looked at each other as though the other hung the stars in the sky; you were both smitten kittens but were too scared to admit it for one reason or another.

You didn’t know when exactly you started having a crush on Ford, you merely assumed that was always the case ever since you met the man with the beautiful brown eyes, and you were perfectly content with that but what you weren’t content with was how everyone wanted you to confess.

‘He doesn’t like me like that, I’m not sure he likes anyone within a romantic aspect.’ You’d use as your excuse whenever anyone brings up the fact that you had yet to bear your heart to Ford.

‘Then you haven’t seen the way he looks at you.’ They’d respond and you could only look at them as though they’ve grown a second head. However they spoke the truth as Ford was equally as infatuated with you and would find himself pushing back the work he didn’t think required all his attention, all in favour of spending time with you whether it be star gazing or anomaly hunting.

Ford couldn’t remember the last time he felt light on his feet, head in the clouds and as though he was thirty years younger then he actually was and it was all thanks to you. While he wants to confess he found himself unable to do so when he looked into your eyes and found everything he could ever wish for within them; only to end up speechless as your eyes flickered with multiple emotions at once as he remained stood still as a statue, staring at you with a fondness within his eyes as you spoke random things to fill the silence.

This half attempts to confess -or lack there of an attempt- was enough to annoy the people close to you both as Stanley wants to put his head through a wall, Dipper vowed to himself to never be this bad and Mabel was on the verge of screaming at you both to kiss and get it over with at this point; the slow burn was killing her with how hesitant or chocked up you both become in each others presence.

They just wanted you two to cut the bullshit and start being a couple, solely just to make up for the months they’ve all have to suffer from seeing you both obviously pine for one another.

So currently you and Ford were looking for a so called ‘flying pig that may or may not be waddles parent or ancestor’ as Mabel had said to you both that very morning. So when Ford asked dipper if this was true, you swore you’ve never seen a boy sweat as much as Dipper did when he tried his hardest to convince you both that such a creature exists within the woods; you and Ford shared a look that spoke your unwillingness to believe, before agreeing to go out and look for this flying pig that may or may not be waddles’s ancestor.

‘Even if this flying pig is waddles’s ancestor, wouldn’t waddles also have wings by that logic?’ You asked.

‘Not necessarily my dear as the wings could be a hereditary trait that can skip multiple generations and appear in someone later down the line.’ Ford replied as he pushed up his glasses that were slipping down his nose, ‘however even I have to admit that this flying pig phenomena being real is slim to none despite everything else we’ve encountered here.’ He adds and you couldn’t help but laugh.

‘Then the billboard should read as this: Gravity falls, we’ve got everything to satisfy a diehard supernatural fanatic, just no flying pigs.’ You said in a goofy voice as you playfully nudge Ford in the side as he smiled softly, looking at you and feeling his heart become full; but before he could say anything a demonic squeal echoed throughout the forest causing you both to stop just as the birds stopped chirping.

Ford instinctively stood in front of you protectively as you tried to deduct where the blood curdling squeal came from. ‘What was that?’ You whispered my resting your chin on Ford’s shoulder as he reached for the gun at his hip upon instinct.

‘No clue dearest but I believe we might’ve found our anomaly.’ Ford replied lowly for only you to hear, only for the sound of wings beating filled your ears as a plump silhouette of a winged creature could be seen from a distance. You couldn’t help stop yourself from commenting ‘that could be a thousand things before it could be a flying pig-‘ just before you could finish the sentence the plump silhouette must’ve spotted you as it started flying towards you both at high speed; it was downright frighting.

‘FLYING PIG!’ You screamed the moment the figure got close enough to identify as both yourself and Ford ran began to run away from it as fast as your legs could carry you. ‘And here I thought Mabel had eating too much of that edible glitter and hallucinated.’ You added as Ford quickly took your hand in his, intertwining your fingers as he pulled you with him to hide behind a random tree, pulling you in close to his chest where you could hear his heart against your ear.

The demonic flying pig flew past you and it was them did you notice how massive those wings were for a creature that was of the same size of an average adult pig, but still it was scary to see a pig with teeth as sharp as razors; what was even more scary was the fact that pigs would eat anything and everything. You cuddled up closer to Ford instinctively as he held you close in order to comfort you. ‘It’s okay my dear, it’s gone now.’ He whispered against your head, kissing it as his hands rubbed up and down your back. ‘It must’ve gotten mad that we were within its territory and felt the need to scare us off.’

‘Well consider this officially scared off.’ You muttered against his turtlenecks finding the honest comfort and protection within his scent as you allowed it to invade your senses.

‘We’ll go back home and forget that we were almost flying pig food and watch some movies while drinking hot chocolate. How does that sound my dear?’ Ford asked and before his brain could comprehend what had happened, you had kissed his cheek and Ford felt his cheeks blossom with heat and his eyes widened.

‘That sounds perfect as long as I’m with you to do all of that of course.’ You replied softly as you looked at Ford with a soft, almost pleading expression and Ford felt his resolve crumble to dust as he averts his gaze from you.

‘I would love nothing more my dear.’ He admits and you were quick to clutch his hand in yours and drag him from your hiding place and begin your walk back to the shack, all the while keeping your wits about you in regards to one flying demon pig. ‘Then it’s a date!’ You exclaimed as you could hear Ford choke on nothing behind you, which only made you smile.

You’ll tell Mabel that you didn’t see a flying pig, but got a date out of trying to make up for the disappointment.

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Words Unspoken (mattt Murdock)

Summary: you're so glad to have Matt around

Warnings: fluff

WC: 590ish

Read on Ao3!

-

New York City’s nighttime hum surrounded the two of you, the faint glow of streetlights casting long shadows down the alley. The chill in the air was a stark contrast to the warmth radiating between you and Matt Murdock as you stood close enough to hear his steady, controlled breathing.

You glanced up at him, his features softened by the dim light. Despite his blindness, Matt’s presence was always so focused, like he could see you better than anyone else ever had. His sharp senses must have picked up on your accelerated heartbeat or the way you shifted from one foot to the other, nervous energy buzzing between you.

The fight with the latest gang causing havoc in Hell’s Kitchen was over, but the tension between you and Matt still lingered, thick and palpable. For months now, the two of you had danced around this unspoken thing, working side by side to protect the city while never quite acknowledging the pull that drew you together.

Tonight, though, something was different. He had gotten closer during the fight, his body brushing against yours more often than necessary, his hands lingering just a second longer when he pulled you back from harm. And now, here you were, standing so close, his chest rising and falling just inches from your own.

Matt tilted his head slightly, lips parting as if he were about to say something, but the words never came. Instead, there was that silence again—the silence that made your heart race faster than the fiercest battle.

“I know you want to kiss me,” you said suddenly, the words leaving your lips before you could stop them. It wasn’t a challenge, but a simple statement. The tension had built too much, and you were done pretending that you didn’t feel the same way.

Matt’s lips twitched into a small, surprised smile, and for a moment, he said nothing. His fingers flexed at his sides, almost as if he was contemplating reaching for you, but he held back.

“I do,” he admitted softly, his voice rough but sincere, as if he had been holding back those words for longer than you could imagine. His face tilted towards yours, his lips hovering dangerously close, and you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

The city noise seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you in this small, intimate moment. The world might have been falling apart outside this alley, but here, with Matt, it was quiet.

"Then what are you waiting for?" you whispered, leaning in just enough to close the distance.

A barely audible laugh escaped him, the smile fading as he closed the gap between you, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was at once soft and intense. The electricity that had been building for so long finally surged through you, and the world around you disappeared completely.

For once, Matt didn’t hold back. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and you could feel his heart beating just as wildly as yours. Every touch, every gentle press of his lips against yours, spoke the words neither of you had dared to say until now.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, Matt rested his forehead against yours. He smiled softly, a contentment in his expression that you hadn’t seen before.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he whispered.

With a grin, you brushed a strand of hair from his face. “I think I do.”

--

tags!

EVERYTHING PERM: @nekoannie-chan @kjs-s @notyourtypicalrose @mistressofallthingsgeeky

MARVEL PERM: @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @late-to-the-party-81 @capsthot @kenzieam @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes

MATT MURDOCK: @hallecarey1 @yarrstyleeza @sloppyzengarden

[alwaysmicado]

Callisto I

10.2k | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | pt. 9

Series Masterlist | Joel Masterlist | previous | AO3

Warnings: no outbreak AU, implied age gap, emotional hurt/comfort, weed, mention of domestic violence, toxic dynamic, graphic vomiting, emotional rollercoaster, fluff Summary: Your car ride home from the beach is...eventful. Joel does something special for you to express his feelings. A/N: This part was going to be much too long, so I split it in two. It was important for me to post part I of Callisto before my birthday, and I’m so excited that I finally get to share it with you. Happy reading & please let me know your thoughts if you’re up for it. Thank you for your continued support, guys! ♡ Dividers by @/cafekitsune. Songs: Backburner by NIKI & My Exes by Snake City

“Why do you keep coming back?”

You bring the joint to your lips, your fingers brushing lightly against his as he passes it over. You take a deep drag, letting the familiar burn of the weed settle into your lungs before you exhale, slowly, the smoke curling into the night air. It’s a slow haze, softening your anger, making it easier to breathe even if only for a little while. 

The pressure in your chest doesn’t lift—it never does, not really—but the weed at least dulls the edges.

For now, anyway.

The streetlight casts long shadows on the chipped concrete, bathing you both in a murky orange hue. You sit side by side on the curb, the shared joint passing lazily between you, the quiet of the night only disturbed by a dog barking further down the road.

Simon leans back, his shoulders slumped, the hood of his jacket pulled up, obscuring most of his face. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, tracing the outline of his jaw, the way his lips curl around the joint. You hate how he still looks good to you, even after his latest stunt. 

“Why do you keep coming back?” he asks again, his voice low and gravelly, as if he already knows the answer but wants to hear you say it. “If all we do is hurt each other?”

You shrug, looking up at the stars, or what little of them you can see through the haze of city smog. You know the answer, but it feels too pathetic to admit out loud. The truth? It’s not that simple. It never has been.

“Maybe because the pain is addicting,” you whisper, your voice barely cutting through the stillness. “It’s like…a twisted dance, and we can’t stop stepping on each other’s toes.”

Simon smirks, and you catch the briefest glimpse of that crooked smile that makes your heart race. “You always were poetic,” he mutters, his tone tinged with both affection and scorn. He passes you the joint again, and this time, when your fingers brush, it sends a jolt through you—familiar, electric, dangerous.

You take a drag, letting the smoke cloud your thoughts, dull the ache. “I mean it, Simon,” you say, the words coming out slower now, heavy from both the high and the weight of them. “We know how to hurt each other in all the right ways. It’s almost like…we’re better at hurting than loving.”

He chuckles, but it’s empty, hollow. “Maybe we were never supposed to love in the first place,” he says, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Maybe all we’re good at is fucking things up.”

There’s no denying the truth in his words. You’ve been here before, countless times, caught in this cycle of destruction, breaking each other apart piece by piece, only to come back together, craving the chaos more than the calm. Simon would get restless after a while, he’d cheat and lie, you’d find out, you’d scream, cry, threaten to leave, and then—somehow—you’d end up in his arms again.

It was exhausting, suffocating, but it was also magnetic. You didn’t know how to leave. And neither did he.

You sigh, flicking the ashes of the joint onto the ground, your hand trembling slightly. “It’s fucked up, isn’t it?” you say, more to yourself than to him. “The way I can’t seem to let you go, even though I know you’re bad for me.”

He tilts his head, a smirk tugging at his lips as he studies your face for a moment. “Have you ever considered that you’d be a lot happier if you just admitted to yourself that you like it?”

He reaches for the joint, his fingers brushing yours for longer this time, deliberate. “You can keep telling yourself I’m the bad guy all you want, babe,” he says, his voice low, “but we both know you ain’t innocent in this either. You like it. The fighting, the drama, the sex. You like what we have.”

Your stomach tightens at his words, because there’s a part of you that knows he’s right. 

You’ve said things, done things, you’re not proud of. Screamed in his face, hurled insults meant to wound, thrown plates that shattered like the fragile remains of your relationship. And then, when the storm passed, you’d pull him into bed, your anger melting into a desperate kind of need. It was all you knew—this toxic spiral that twisted love and pain together until you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

“Maybe,” you admit softly, feeling the weight of your own guilt settle on your shoulders. “Maybe I do.”

Simon turns to you then, his gaze locking with yours, and for a moment, you can see the cracks in his armor, the vulnerability he never lets anyone else see. “So, what are we doing here?” he asks, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “We’re just gonna keep doing this? Over and over?”

You swallow hard, the question hanging between you like a knife. You know the answer, even if you don’t want to admit it. You’re stuck in this loop, and neither of you knows how to break free.

“I don’t know,” you say, your voice barely audible. “I don’t know how to stop.”

Simon leans in closer, his breath warm against your cheek, and for a second, your heart races with that familiar, dangerous anticipation. “We don’t have to stop,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “We can keep this going; keep fucking up, keep hurting, keep loving. It’s what we do.”

You let out a small, tired laugh, and shake your head. “Yeah, Simon, great plan,” you say, your tone light, almost condescending, though there’s no real bite behind it. “Let’s just keep breaking each other into pieces. That’s gonna end well.”

You don’t even have the energy to fight properly. It’s all too much, and you’re too tired. Tired of the fights, the back-and-forth, the constant cycling through pain and passion like it’s the only way you know how to exist together.

He watches you closely, his gaze unwavering, as if he’s trying to figure out what you’re thinking, waiting for you to snap at him, to tell him off. But you don’t. You can’t. You feel the exhaustion settle in your bones, making it impossible to muster up any anger.

Why is it so difficult?

What the hell is wrong with you that it’s so difficult for him to love you? To not hurt you? You wonder if it’s something about you, something broken deep inside, something that makes you impossible to love. 

You’ve tried, haven’t you? You’ve bent yourself to fit the version of you he seems to want, the version that’s easier, less complicated, less demanding. But no matter how much you bend, no matter how much you give, it’s never enough.

What is it about you that’s so unlovable?

“I’m sorry, you know,” Simon murmurs, taking a long drag from the joint.

You blink, your head feeling light, detached, like you’re floating just above the surface of yourself. The words come slower now, softer, like you have to pull them from some faraway place.

“For what?”

You hear yourself ask the question, but it feels distant, like it’s not really you speaking. The world around you is muffled, like you’re wrapped in cotton, the sounds, the lights, all muted. Simon’s face swims in your vision, and for a moment, you focus on the way his lips curve as he exhales, the smoke curling lazily from his mouth. You watch it drift up, swirling in the air between you, and it’s almost beautiful, the way it moves, weightless and free.

Simon glances at you, his eyes half-lidded, bloodshot, but there’s something in his gaze—something that makes you feel a tug of recognition, though your mind is too foggy to grasp what it is. He takes another drag, slower this time, and when he speaks again, his voice is soft.

“You know what.” He hands you back the joint and you take it, and you inhale deeply, the burn in your lungs calming your nerves.

“Then why’d you do it?” 

He hadn’t even tried to hide it this time. You heard the story from someone else first, a smug, offhand comment meant as a joke. Simon, with his arm slung over your shoulder, laughing along like it was nothing, like you weren’t standing right there, feeling the ground crumble beneath your feet.

“I was drunk as fuck ‘cause they kept bringing shots after shots after shots, and she took advantage of that like you wouldn’t believe. That’s what those girls do, and shit, I wasn’t the only one they got like that—Ben, Jake, Alex, Teddy too, I think.”

All of them in relationships, one to be married in two weeks, one with a baby on the way. 

Disgusting.

“It’s so easy for you, isn’t it?” you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Simon furrows his brow, turning to you, confusion flashing across his face. “What do you mean?”

You shake your head, unable to look at him directly, your gaze fixed on the joint between your fingers. “Going through life, knowing nothing is ever your fault,” you murmur. There’s no anger in your tone, just a tired sort of resignation, like you’re saying something you’ve known all along.

“What are you talking about?” he scoffs. “Nothing’s ever been easy for me. I fucked up royally, yeah, I get that, but it wasn’t my fucking fault. I didn’t even wanna go to the damn club, but Alex wouldn’t stop begging, so I gave in.”

“You see?” you say, your voice quiet, but firm. “You’re fine as long as Alex was the one who made you cheat. It’s all good ‘cause the stripper took advantage of you, right?” You can hear the bitterness in your own voice.

“You don’t need to change or grow, ‘cause, what’s the point, your parents fucked you up anyway. It’s your boss’s fault your coworkers complain about you, it’s the cops’ fault that you got a DUI, and it’s my fault that you resent me.”

You watch Simon’s face as the words sink in, the flicker of defensiveness in his eyes, the way his jaw tightens.

“And I know that deep down you really do believe all that.” You pause, staring at him through the thick fog clouding your mind, your body sinking deeper into the concrete. “So, I guess my question is…why even bother with me anymore?”

“Baby…”

“No, I’m serious,” you say, cutting him off, but there’s no fire in your voice, just a dull weariness that matches the slow pulse of your heartbeat. “Why? Why keep me around when you could be happy, doing what you wanna do, without me holding you back?”

Simon sighs deeply, running a hand through his hair, his shoulders slumping. “I wouldn’t be happy without you.”

“But I’m not enough for you,” you whisper, tears inadvertently filling your eyes. “I’ve never been enough. Despite trying everything in my power. I’m not enough for you.”

Simon doesn’t answer right away. He takes the joint from your hand, inhaling deeply, staring at some distant point in the darkened parking lot. The quiet stretches, thick and uncomfortable, and for a moment, you think he’s not going to answer at all. But then he finally sighs, rubbing a hand over his face like he’s trying to buy himself more time.

“What do you want me to say?” he mutters. “You know I’m not always good with words or expressing feelings and all that shit…but you’re wrong. You’re everything to me.”

He hands you the joint and you shake your head, a mirthless laugh bubbling to the surface. “Yeah, that’s why you fucked a stripper and had unprotected sex with me right after. Do you hear yourself?”

He exhales exasperatedly as he leans back, palms pressed against the cool concrete. “It’s not– it didn’t mean anything,” he says, his voice defensive. “It’s not like I’m looking for someone better than you.”

“Then why?” you press, your voice shaking now. “If I’m so important to you, why do you keep lying and sneaking around? What’s the point?”

He sighs again, louder this time, like he’s tired of this conversation before it’s even really begun. “I don’t know, okay? I get restless sometimes. I’m not…thinking when I do it.” His thumb brushes over the back of your hand, a small, almost absent-minded gesture that makes your heart clench. “It’s not like I’m trying to hurt you. I’m really not, baby. And It doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

His hand tightens around yours, grounding you in the moment, and for a second, you almost feel comforted.

Almost.

But then, like a flash, the memory hits you—sharp, vivid, paralyzing.

The pain shoots through your wrist all over again, that awful, sickening crunch echoing in your ears. You’re back in the ER, the blinding white lights overhead making your eyes burn, your head pounding as you sit there, staring at the sterile walls. You’d made up some story, but the nurse looked right through you, her eyes filled with pity.

You remember how you sat there, waiting, your body aching but your mind empty, not even able to cry a single tear. Just numb. Completely detached from yourself, like you were watching it all from the outside.

You remember the young doctor, the one who stitched you up. His voice was light, conversational, doing his best to distract you from the deep gash in your wrist. He told you about how his daughter had just started kindergarten that day. How proud and terrified he and his wife were, how they’d taken a hundred pictures of her in her little backpack. How she was such a happy, bright girl, full of curiosity and excitement.

You could barely listen, but you remember the way his voice softened when he said, “I just hope she always knows how loved she is.”

That was the part that stuck with you.

The way his voice cracked just slightly when he said it, like he was imagining all the ways the world could break her. How someone could end up hurting her like someone hurt you. And as you sat there, the needle pulling your skin back together, all you could think about was how far away that feeling was—how you had no idea what it felt like to be that loved, that safe.

You swallow hard, looking down at your intertwined hands. “You’ve said that before, you know. When you drove me home from the hospital.” Your voice is soft, almost too quiet, but the accusation is there.

Simon stiffens. His grip loosens slightly, and you can see the flicker of guilt in his eyes, but it’s the kind of guilt that runs shallow, just skimming the surface. His jaw clenches, and he pulls his hand away.

“I thought you were over that,” he mutters. 

You stare at him for a moment, then let out a soft, bitter laugh. “Yeah, sure,” you say with a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes, your voice dripping with sarcasm. You hold out your hand to him, the small scar visible on your wrist, faded but undeniable. “Totally over it. Look, it’s almost like it never happened.”

Simon’s face falters as he hesitates, then takes your hand gently, his thumb brushing over the scar as though trying to erase it with that simple touch.

“I wasn’t right that night,” he murmurs, his eyes locked on your hand before you pull away. “You know I’m not…I wasn’t right.”

You chuckle and take the joint from him. “Yeah, I know.”

He’s silent beside you, his fingers twitching like he wants to reach for you again but doesn’t know how. You can feel his eyes on you, heavy with unspoken words, but you don’t look at him. Instead, you take a slow drag from the joint, letting the smoke fill your lungs.

“I’m not doing that anymore,” Simon says quietly.

You don’t respond. You don’t even look at him. You smoke in silence, absentmindedly rubbing over a faded bruise on your leg.

“The past few months were nice, weren’t they?” Simon’s voice cuts through the silence, tentative, like he’s testing the waters. “I mean, we were fine, right? You were happy?”

You nod, exhaling slowly as the smoke leaves your lips. “I was happy, yeah.”

“Then let’s go back to that. I don’t wanna fall asleep without you in my arms again.” He moves closer, his hand reaching for your chin, gripping it gently, so you’ll look at him. His eyes are wide, pleading, the same look he always gives you when he’s trying to pull you back in. “I’m sorry for hurting you.”

Which time?

“Hey, I mean it.” He turns your head back, his grip tighter now. “I’m trying to be better for you, I really am. Just…tell me what you want me to do to make it right and I’ll do it. Anything.” 

“You know, I never wanted you to become a better person for me, Simon,” you say softly, removing his hand from your chin, and letting it fall to his side. “I wanted you to look in the mirror, and realize that you’re a fucking asshole, and change for yourself. I wanted you to realize you’re turning into the very man you always told me you’d rather die than become.”

He stares at you for a moment, then shakes his head as the mask he so carefully wears is slipping. “You love doing this, don’t you?” he mutters. “Pushing, prodding, trying to make me feel like shit.”

You curl your arms around your legs, pulling them close to your chest, your voice calm. “If the shoe fits…”

“Oh, really?” he scoffs, his voice dripping with venom. “You think you’re so much fucking better than me, don’t you? Well, let me tell you this, princess. You’re not as fucking perfect as you think you are, and if you think other people can’t see that, you’re hallucinating.”

“I don’t think I’m perfect, Simon. I wouldn’t be here if I did.” Your voice is softer than you intend, like the weed is suppressing your strength to yell. “I wouldn’t be here if I did.”

“Then why the fuck are you here if you hate me so much?”

“‘Cause I’m an idiot.” You bring the joint to your lips and inhale deeply. “I’m an idiot who can’t let go. ‘Cause I still think you could be better if you just tried. If you stopped listening to your friends, if you stopped drinking, if you stopped blaming me for every shitty thing that’s happened to you in the last five years.”

He’s shaking his head before you even finish. “I don’t do that.”

“Yes, you do.”

“And your solution is to just up and leave without telling me where you are? Very mature.”

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. “I can’t talk to you, Simon. Every time I try, it’s like I’m talking to a wall.”

“You could talk to me if you actually wanted to,” he snaps back. “But it fits your narrative better when you can storm out, make your big scene, and go enjoy your little power trip. That’s what you do, right? It’s easier than actually being a grown-up and talking things out with me.”

“You’re delusional,” you mutter, brow furrowed.

“I’m delusional?” Simon’s laugh is hollow, his eyes flashing. “Yeah, right. I think you’re the one who’s lost it.”

You feel the words leaving his mouth before he even says them, the familiar sting of what’s next, and it’s like watching a car crash in slow motion. “Like you’re any better than me. Look who the fuck’s talking. Her mother’s daughter.”

There it is. The blow he always lands when he’s desperate to hit you where it hurts.

It’s his ace, the easiest way to throw you off-balance, to bring you down to the level where you feel vulnerable and he can control the conversation again.

You feel an old pain rising to the surface, but instead of letting it show, you smile. It’s not a real smile, but a small, knowing curve of your lips, the kind that hides everything you refuse to let him see. You’re not taking the bait this time.

“She had to go to the hospital again,” you murmur, your eyes on the joint as you bring it to your lips for one last drag. Then, you stub it out on the curb, watching the ember fade. “Thanks for asking.”

Simon’s face falls, the sharp edge of his anger crumbling away. “Shit, babe, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to–”

“Oh, you know,” you cut him off with a casual shrug. “It is what it is.”

“Why didn’t you–”

“‘Cause you were balls deep in a goddamn stripper, Simon,” you interrupt, your voice cold and flat. “I can’t rely on you.”

His face twists in frustration, but his eyes soften, and if you weren’t as high as you are, you’d see the little lines of guilt written all over his face. He reaches out to touch your shoulder, his hand hovering for a second before he gently rests it there.

“Baby, you know you can rely on me,” he says softly. “We have our problems, sure, but I always have your back.”

You roll your eyes, but he presses on, his voice earnest. “Look me in the eye and tell me it’s not true.”

Your eyes meet his. You know exactly what he’s referring to.

That one thing he holds onto as proof, as his trump card, the one time he truly came through for you when it mattered most. The time you thought you’d lose everything. If it’s not your histrionic mother he uses against you, it’s this.

“You can’t hold that over my head for the rest of my life,” you say, your voice steady but sharp. “You don’t get to help me when I need you most and then throw it in my face every time things get hard. That’s not how this works.”

His hand falls from your shoulder. He knows you’re right, but he doesn’t want to admit it. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I’m agitated. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

He shifts uncomfortably beside you, his fingers twitching in his lap as he glances away. When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter, hesitant. “Is she gonna be alright?”

You nod, but there’s no relief in it. “Mhm.” 

There’s a long pause, heavy and suffocating, like an unseen barrier between you two. The night air is crisp, and your bare legs peeking out beneath your skirt are starting to get cold. Simon breaks the silence first.

“Baby, look at me. Please.” 

You blink slowly, your eyes struggling to focus as everything around you starts to blur. The edges of Simon’s face seem to dissolve into the night, his features soft and indistinct, almost like he’s not really there. But you find him again, his eyes, his nose, his lips, his disheveled hair. He looks…lost. It’s rare to see him this vulnerable, this unsure.

How beautiful.

“Can we go home?”

You don’t hear him, not really. All you hear is the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor echoing in your ears. It’s distant but persistent, a steady pulse that reminds you of things you’d rather forget. Then, a disembodied voice, calmly announcing that, “This could have been prevented. This is your fault.”

The words float through your mind, circling, wrapping tighter and tighter around you.

“Baby?”

You try to focus on Simon’s face again, but it’s hard to think, hard to find the words. Everything feels slow, muffled, like you’re moving underwater.

“I have to go,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, like the words are slipping away from you even as you say them.

He tenses up immediately, his brow furrowing. “What do you mean, ‘go’?”

“It means I’m tired, Simon. It means I can’t do this anymore.”

The silence that follows is deafening, like the world has suddenly come to a standstill, waiting for the inevitable fallout. You can practically feel Simon’s frustration pulsing off him.

But as you tilt your head, your gaze wandering over his face, the familiar lines of anger are there, yes. But beneath that, hidden in the set of his shoulders, in the way his hands rest uncertainly in his lap, you can sense something different. Fear. Real fear that this time, you might actually mean it. That this time, you might actually leave.

He doesn’t say anything as you stand up, your legs trembling beneath you, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst out of your chest. The world spins around you, dizzying, your vision blurred, and you stumble. Instinctively, Simon reaches out, steadying you with his hand.

But you shove him away immediately, your skin burning where his fingers brushed yours. You can’t let him touch you right now. If he touches you, you know you’ll crumble. You know you’ll fall back into his orbit like you always do.

And you may just be unable to afford that anymore.

But then, like a shadow moving through the haze of your high, Simon is suddenly in front of you—close, too close. His presence is disorienting, his words pouring over you before you can even process the distance he’s just closed.

“You don’t mean it,” he says, low and sure, like a statement of fact, as if he’s already decided this for you. His eyes lock onto yours, and it feels like you’re sinking into them, the pull of him as strong as ever, like gravity. He knows how to make you feel small, like your words hold no weight next to his certainty.

“I love you,” he whispers, and the tenderness in his voice makes you shiver, even though your mind screams for you to stay strong. His words wrap around you, weaving through the cracks in your resolve. His face is so close now, his breath warm against your skin, and you can’t tell if it’s the weed or the way he’s looking at you, but everything feels…slower. Softer. Like you’re slipping into a warm, dangerous comfort.

“You know how much I love you, don’t you? Yeah, I messed up, I know I did. But don’t let this ruin us. We’re too good together for that.” His voice is so gentle, hypnotic…irresistible.

“Simon…”

He steps even closer, the space between you disappearing as his hands find yours. His touch is warm, grounding, and despite the cold night air biting at your skin, his presence feels like shelter. He squeezes your hands softly, and your heart stumbles over itself.

“Don’t walk away from me,” he whispers, pleading. “Don’t walk away from us. We’re not perfect, but we belong together. You’re my family, baby. You’re all I have in this godforsaken world. You’re the only person who’s ever made me feel like I matter…like I deserve love.”

It’s incredible, really, how easily he can break you down, how he can strip away all your defenses with just a few words. He knows exactly which buttons to push, how to weave his need for you into something that feels like love, something that feels like safety—even though you should know better.

He sees it, too. He sees the way your resolve falters, the way your eyes flicker with that familiar softness, and a satisfied smile curls on his lips. He knows he’s got you. He always knows when he’s won.

“C’mere,” he says gently, his hands sliding up your arms, pulling you toward him, and despite every instinct telling you to run, you let him. You let him hold you, let him wrap his arms around you like a protective shield against the world.

Your body sinks into his, your cheek resting against his chest, and you can hear the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your ear. Each beat is a rhythm you’ve known for years, one that’s soothed you through your darkest moments, even as it’s caused some of them. His scent wraps around you, familiar and intoxicating, like the remnants of a home you’re desperate to return to. You let yourself drown in the warmth of him, in his steady presence that has helped you through so much. His hand strokes the back of your head, his touch soft, soothing.

It’s messed up how right it feels.

How comforting it is to be here in his arms, even when your heart is breaking inside.

“I love you,” Simon whispers again, his breath warm against your temple. “I’m so sorry for everything. I’m so fucking sorry. But you’re all I have, babe. I need you.”

You close your eyes, biting back the sob that threatens to escape. His words seep into your skin, and you want so desperately to believe him. 

You love him. God, do you love him. Even when it hurts. Even when it breaks you. And right now, with his arms around you, you miss him so deeply it feels like a hollow ache in your chest. You don’t want to be without him. He’s the only thing that’s ever felt like family to you. The only person who knows all your scars, all your flaws, and still pulls you close.

“I need you too,” you whisper, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. It’s the truth, as ugly as it is.

Simon holds you tighter, his arms enveloping you, and for now, you let yourself sink into the comfort of it. Into the warmth of his embrace, into the way his hand rubs slow circles on your back like he’s trying to erase all the hurt, all the broken pieces between you.

You let him tell you he loves you, let him soothe you with his words, let him promise you the world, even though deep down, you know you’ll both end up in the same place again.

And before you know it, you’re slipping into the passenger seat, the door closing behind you with a soft, final click.

“You okay, darlin’?”

Joel’s voice pulls you back, the deep rumble of his question cutting through the fog of memories clouding your mind.

You blink, taking in the familiar interior of his car, the hum of the road beneath the tires, the soft glow of the dashboard lights illuminating his profile. The past feels too close, too heavy, pressing on your chest like you’re still stuck in it. But Joel is here, real and solid next to you, grounding you in the present.

“Yeah,” you answer quietly, your voice a little rougher than you mean for it to be. “Just tired.”

You see him glance over at you, concern evident in his eyes, but he doesn’t push. Not this time. He’s trying his hardest not to pry, not when he knows you need space. He just nods and keeps his eyes on the road, his hand resting on the gearshift, close but not touching.

“We’re almost there,” he says after a beat, his voice gentle, steady—so different from the frantic beat of your heart.

You nod, staring out the window at the darkened streets passing by. It’s quiet this late at night, and the drive back to your place feels longer than it should. The weight of the past few days lingers like a shadow, gnawing at the edges of your mind, making it hard to breathe. 

You can still see Laura’s hand on her bump, the way her sad eyes looked at you like you were in the wrong. You can feel Simon’s arms around you, the way he pulled you in even when you should’ve pushed him away. The way you couldn’t help but let him.

But you’re not that person anymore. This is different. Joel’s different.

Your stomach churns, a wave of nausea rising so suddenly it feels like the world tilts. You grip your bandaged hand tighter, shift in your seat, trying to breathe through it, but the sensation intensifies. You can taste the bitterness of the meds in your mouth, the stress squeezing your chest like a vice as cold sweat starts spreading on your skin. The movement of the car only makes it worse, and you know what’s coming.

“Joel…” you manage, your voice strained, barely above a whisper. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Huh?” His head snaps toward you, eyes widening with concern as he sees how uncomfortable you are. “Shit. Hang on.”

Without hesitation, he tightens his grip on the steering wheel and scans the street for a place to pull over. It’s late, but the road is still lined with parked cars, neon signs glowing from nearby buildings. Finally, he spots a small gap along the curb. He turns on his blinker and slows down, smoothly guiding you toward the side of the street.

You fumble desperately with the seatbelt, your fingers trembling and uncoordinated as nausea hits you like a wave. Before you can manage it yourself, Joel leans over, his hands quick but gentle as he clicks the seat belt free. “Here,” he murmurs, and the moment the belt retracts, you’re already reaching for the door handle.

The second the door is open, you lurch out onto the sidewalk, the city air thick with petrichor from the short downpour that made you leave the beach earlier. The nausea hits hard, and you bend over, retching violently onto the pavement. It’s mostly bile, bitter and burning in your throat, and each wave of sickness feels like it’s tearing through your body. You grip the door for support, your hands shaking, your body trembling from the sheer force of it.

You hate this. The vulnerability, the pain, the utter helplessness of it all.

Joel moves quietly, reaching into the glove compartment for tissues. He doesn’t crowd you, just watches carefully, his expression tight with worry. He’s there, but giving you the space you need. After grabbing the tissues, he steps out of the car, making his way around to the back. You can hear him rummaging in the trunk, though your focus remains on trying not to accidentally cough up your lungs. 

“Goddamnit,” you choke out, your voice strained as another wave of nausea forces the last of the bile from your body. It burns, raw and painful, your whole frame trembling as you lean over. Joel is next to you, hovering, trying to be there, but keeping his distance. 

“I hate this,” you whine dramatically, your head pounding as you try catching your breath. 

Once you feel like the worst is over and your stomach is settling, you straighten up and look at Joel through watery eyes. He’s smiling at you sympathetically, taking a step closer to wipe your mouth and chin with a couple of tissues.

You’re about to tell him not to touch you, but the concentrated look on his face and the deft but gentle motion of his fingers put you in a trance. He’s cleaned your mouth and wiped away your tears before you could even say anything.  

“Do you remember how hot I looked in that short red dress?” you murmur, furrowing your brow at the unexpected pain coming from your sore throat. 

“Yeah, how could I not?” Joel chuckles as he opens and hands you the water bottle he had waiting for you in his back pocket.

“Good,” you nod before swishing a mouthful of water, and spitting it out onto the concrete away from you. You take another sip, letting it cool your throat before you cap the bottle and look into Joel’s eyes. “I want you to think of that really hard and forget everything you just saw, okay?”

He just smiles at you, touching your shoulder with his warm hand. “Sweetheart, you’re vastly underestimating my attraction to you. You think a little puke’s gonna deter me? If you weren’t in pain, I’d kiss you no problem.” The way his eyebrow automatically twitches makes you roll your eyes. But it also warms your heart. 

“You’re disgusting,” you say, trying your hardest not to smile. 

“Says the girl who wiped snot off my face and kissed me while I was sweaty and gross after rolling around in bed with a fever. Guess we’re both disgusting, then.” 

“Hm,” is all you manage to get out, a tiny smirk on your face, but it falters just as quickly as you suddenly feel like you’re going to throw up again. 

“No, no, no, please, no,” you murmur, terrified, clutching the open car door for dear life. Your body tenses up, desperate to avoid another wave of sickness. You can’t do this again.

“I’m right here,” Joel whispers softly, his hand coming to rest on your back. He begins rubbing slow, soothing circles, his touch gentle and steady. There's a hint of helplessness in his voice, as if he wishes he could do more, but knows this is all he can offer right now. “It’s okay, just breathe.”

You focus on his hand, the warmth of it cutting through the cold sweat covering your skin. The nausea grips you, but Joel’s steady touch draws you back, grounding you. Your breath steadies, and when the sickness passes, you focus on the warmth of his hand, his touch comforting in a way you didn’t expect.

You’re usually not one for people being around, let alone touching you, when you’re vulnerable like this. The only time you’d allow anyone to get this close is during sex. But that’s different. Especially with Joel.

No one else gets to do the things he does with you. Not that you’ve ever admitted that to him.

He’s seen you at your most unguarded—tied up with your ankles behind your ears, covered in sweat, drooling, crying, bruised from his hands, begging for release, and confessing all the depraved things you’d let him do to you if he’d just finally let you come. He’s seen you laid bare, stripped down to nothing but raw desire and submission. And in those moments, there’s nothing but trust and desire between you two.

It’s freeing. Being able to let go of your body and mind so completely.

But this?

The idea of Joel witnessing you vomiting bile on the side of a dingy city street while your hand is bandaged, your face contorted, and your body shaking like you’ve been dragged through hell…

Not good. Especially after what happened.

You don’t know how to navigate this new territory with him, and the last thing you want is for him to see you weak like this. Not when you’re already feeling fragile.

You’re embarrassed, your cheeks burning from the humiliation of it all. You know this moment will haunt you on sleepless nights when your mind drags up every cringe-worthy memory. But right now, there’s an unexpected comfort in knowing he’s here.

“I think it’s over,” you say quietly, almost afraid to voice it, half-expecting your body to betray you again just because you dared to say it out loud. But it doesn’t. The nausea ebbs away, leaving only exhaustion in its wake. It’s over.

“Okay,” he murmurs, his voice low and reassuring. “Just take your time. Don’t rush it.”

You inhale deeply, drawing in the cool night air. The city smells faintly of petrichor and there’s a soft hum from the distant traffic, cars rolling by on the nearby streets. It all feels surreal, like the world is far away from the small bubble you and Joel are in.

The steady circles he traces on your back continue, grounding you further. You let your eyes close for a moment, soaking in the calm of the moment.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, not looking at him.

He shakes his head, his brow furrowed in worry. “You got nothing to be sorry for. Do you think you’re okay to go on now?”

You nod and swallow hard, the sting in your throat making you wince. You manage a weak, half-hearted smile, though the world still feels off-kilter. “Yeah, I think so. But if I start dry-heaving again, just do us both a favor and push me out of the moving car, okay?”

He smirks, his lips curling in that familiar, teasing way. “As if I could ever deny you something,” he says softly, his humor not quite hiding the concern in his eyes. “Let’s get you home, darlin’.”

He pauses, like he wants to say more, his mouth opening slightly as if searching for the right words, but he holds back. Instead, he just watches you carefully as you make your way back into the passenger seat, waiting until you’re settled before gently closing the door behind you.

You lean your head back against the seat, eyes half-lidded, the weight of everything pressing down on you like a heavy blanket as you continue your way home.

The words are there, inside you, loud, persistent, trying to break free; but you can’t. Where would you even start? What’s the point in revealing more of yourself? What good could come from it?

Nothing. That’s what.

Nothing.

You watch the city lights blur outside the window, your thoughts darker than the night. Your life feels like it’s crumbling, piece by piece, slipping through your fingers no matter how hard you try to hold on. And once again, you know—deep down—it’s your own doing. It always is. No matter how many times you try to make things right, it always ends up the same way.

When Joel finally parks in front of your apartment building, the car idles quietly, and he takes a moment to gather his thoughts. You can feel him looking at you, trying to find the right words. You don’t move, your mind still preoccupied with your own self-doubt.

“We’re here,” Joel says, a soft smile on his lips. He’s trying, you can tell, but you’re too far gone, too lost in your own spiral. When you don’t respond, his smile falters, but he presses on, determined to lift the weight between you.

“I was thinking…” he begins, his voice light. “I could cook for you tomorrow if you’re up for it? I remember I owe you a nice dinner, and no, it’s not just frozen pizza this time. It’s a frozen pizza with a side salad.”

He grins, hoping to coax a smile out of you, some kind of response. But you don’t laugh. You don’t even crack a smile.

Joel clears his throat and shifts slightly in his seat, his fingers drumming anxiously on the steering wheel. He’s trying to pull you out of whatever hole you’ve fallen into, but you can’t meet him halfway. You don’t have the strength.

He looks at you, his heart sinking as he takes in your sad, distant eyes. It’s like you’re not really here, like you’ve drifted somewhere far away, unreachable. How he wishes he could climb inside your mind and pull out whatever it is that’s weighing so heavily on you, take the burden for himself.

“Darlin’?” he repeats softly.

You blink, refocusing, but the smile you give him doesn’t reach your eyes. “Hm?”

“Can I cook for you tomorrow? You could come over to mine after work, or I can come here. Whatever you prefer.” There’s a hopeful smile on his face, a softness in his gaze, and the way he looks at you, almost like a puppy waiting for a treat, makes your stomach twist painfully.

You remember the dinner with Tommy and Maria, cursing yourself silently for agreeing to go. It’s not that you don’t love them—you do—but the thought of sitting through that dinner, of having that conversation with Tommy, feels like a nightmare.

“I can’t tomorrow.”

Joel’s smile falters the slightest bit, but he remains undeterred. “How about Saturday? I’ll plan something nice for us. Something I know you’ll love.”

Oh no.

You want to say it so badly it physically hurts.

You’ve been better, haven’t you? Over the past year or so. You’ve tried—really tried—to keep your cool, to express your feelings in a healthy way, or at least something close to it. You’ve worked hard to stop falling into that old mentality where uncomfortable emotions make you feel cornered and you end up lashing out. You’ve made progress. 

You’re not the same person you used to be. He’s not Simon. You don’t act like this anymore. You’ve outgrown this. Don’t do it. Don’t say–

“You’re free on a Saturday?” 

Joel blinks, the confusion clear on his face. “Yeah, like always when I’m not working,” he says, unsure where this is coming from.

“Oh,” you murmur. “Would’ve thought you already had plans with your, uh…with Jan.”

How subtle.

“I’m not planning on seeing her again,” Joel says simply.

You glance at him. “You should probably tell her that. Didn’t really seem like she knew when she was fondling you under the table.”

Joel exhales deeply and shifts slightly, turning his body toward you, trying to make sure you hear him. “I did tell her, and she does know,” he says firmly. His gaze softens as he looks at you, his voice gentler now. “Sweetheart…I’m not gonna pursue anything with her. And I wouldn’t have agreed to the date if I’d known it would hurt you.”

You shake your head, not wanting to let the conversation go where it’s headed, your thumb rubbing over your wrist brace. “Can we please not talk about this right now?” you murmur, your voice tight, barely holding it together. “I’m sorry for bringing it up. Thank you for driving me home, I’ll see you– “

“I didn’t sleep with her,” Joel interrupts, his voice firm. “We had a good time, but that’s it.”

You blink, furrowing your brow and tilting your head slightly as his words begin to sink in. He watches you, waiting for your response, but when it doesn’t come, he shifts again, trying to close the distance.

“Hey,” Joel says softly, reaching for your left hand, his fingers gently wrapping around yours. He rubs your skin with his thumb, more to soothe himself than you. “I didn’t sleep with her.”

He searches your face, waiting for a reaction, any reaction. But you just sit there, unmoved, your expression frozen in place. There’s no relief, no anger, no hint of anything. Just…nothing.

The silence stretches, and Joel’s heart sinks. He doesn’t know exactly what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this. Maybe he thought you’d smile, maybe he even hoped you’d fall into his arms, that this would be the moment things would start to feel okay again. But you’re distant, your face unreadable.

His eyes scan yours, searching desperately for something to hold on to, and what he finds hits him like a punch to the gut.

“You don’t believe me.”

You meet his eyes for just a second longer, a sad smile tugging at the corners of your lips before you nervously look away and whisper, “Look, I’m, uh– I’m extremely tired right now and this close to crying, so I’m gonna go upstairs and call it a night, okay?”

But Joel doesn’t let go of your hand. His grip tightens, just a little, his voice strained. “You really don’t believe me. You think I’m lying to you.”

“I don’t– Can we please do this another time?”

“I’d love to, but I feel like it’s important that we–” 

“Joel.”

“–get this sorted out, so you don’t–”

“Joel, please.”

“–keep on thinking I’m a liar. I didn’t know you thought that ab–”

“Jesus Christ,” you snap, your voice trembling with frustration, “don’t you hear what I’m saying?” Without waiting for a response, you push open the car door and step out, the cool air hitting your skin. “I can’t fucking do this right now.”

The door slams shut behind you with a hard thud, cutting through the quiet of the parking lot.

Joel watches you for a moment, taken aback, then quickly follows, stepping out of the car. His eyes are full of concern, his brow furrowed as he watches you pace, but his voice is calm, steady, trying to reach you.

“Darlin’, I do hear you,” he says, taking a cautious step closer. “And I’m sorry, we don’t have to talk about it right now, I just…”

You spin around, exasperated. “You just what?”

“I just wanna know that you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, Joel,” you say, rubbing your temples. “Why in the world wouldn’t I be?”

He opens his mouth, trying to form a response, but before he can say anything, you cut him off, the words spilling out like a dam breaking.

“But it doesn’t even matter, okay? It doesn’t matter if I’m fine or not. I don’t have time to think about it.” Your voice cracks slightly, your throat constricting as you try to keep control. “Because now I gotta get to bed, so I can go to the office early tomorrow, ‘cause afterwards I’ll be sitting at a table with Tommy, who probably fucking hates me now. Do you have any idea how much that fucking sucks?”

Your voice lowers, the vulnerability creeping in despite your efforts to hold it back. “What if he…doesn’t want me in his life anymore?”

Joel shakes his head, vehemently. “Darlin’, that’s nonsense. He’s not mad at you. If anything, he’s mad at me. And I’m sorry for not asking you first, but you gotta understand that I was worried about you and thought this was the best solution.”

“Oh sure, yeah,” you scoff, bitterness lacing your words. “You know so much fucking better than I do. That’s it, right? Yeah, of course. Don’t you get how fucking weird this all is? It’s exactly what I was afraid of. You all talking about me behind my back, pitying me, judging me, and figuring out that you’re better off without me. That I’m not who you thought I was. That I’m not able to give you what you want.”

Joel hears the panic in your voice like he did yesterday, the way it’s rising, how your words are becoming more frantic. He gets the sense you’re not hearing him anymore, not really. You’re caught up in your own head, lost in the whirlwind of your fears. His mind flashes back to Tommy’s words. He can see it now, the way your frustration, your hurt is morphing into something darker, more overwhelming.

God, how he wishes he could just pull you into his arms right now. Hold you, protect you from the weight of everything that’s crushing you. But he knows, deep down, that he’s part of that weight. 

No matter how good his intentions might have been. 

“That’s not what happened at all,” Joel says, his voice calm, measured, even though his heart is racing. “We didn’t talk about you like that. I just needed Tommy to help me figure out where you might be, and I’m so glad he did. It was nice…sitting with you, holding your hand…”

You shake your head. “Good night, Joel.”

“Look, I– I know you’re going through something right now that makes you think I’m insincere,” he blurts out, “but I need you to know that I’m really just trying to help you.”

Your body stiffens, his words hitting a nerve. “I don’t need you to help me,” you snap. “I don’t wanna be your little damsel in distress, that’s not who I am.”

Joel flinches at the bite in your words, but he doesn’t back down. “I know that. And that’s not how I see you. I know you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself.” He pauses, his eyes searching yours, desperate for you to understand.

“But allowing help from the people who love us isn’t about being weak or incapable. You may not see it right now, but I’m on your side. And if anyone’s weak it’s me, ‘cause I can’t stand seeing you in pain like this.”

You sigh deeply and murmur, “I’m gonna go now,” your voice flat as you turn toward your apartment.

Joel steps forward cautiously, not wanting to push too hard, but he can’t just let you walk away without saying more. “I get it, it’s all too much. But please, just…don’t shut me out, okay? Call me if you need anything. Doesn’t matter if it’s the middle of the night. I’ll be here.”

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of his promise, but you’re too drained to respond. All you can do is nod.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he says softly, his voice full of regret. “I wish I could take some of this off you, make it easier somehow. But I’m not leaving, alright? Not now, not ever. ”

You nod again, your throat too tight to speak, and turn away, walking toward your apartment. Joel watches you go with his hands falling uselessly to his sides, his heart heavy, knowing there’s so much left unsaid, but hoping—praying—you’ll let him know when you’re ready.

Wow, well done.

Sitting on your sofa, you stare blankly at the black TV as the silence of your apartment settles around you, your mind already starting its cruel commentary.

That’s for sure going to make him think you’re a mentally stable person. No, seriously, why wouldn’t he want to be with you?

The thought twists inside you like a knife, but you can’t help it. The voice in your head is relentless, mocking your every move, dissecting your behavior from earlier.

You think you’re slick, don’t you? Pushing him away so you don’t have to face your feelings. Aren’t we way past that?

You sigh deeply as if that would quiet the storm inside you, but it doesn’t. Your self-reproach lingers, heavy and biting.

Still, you drag yourself to the kitchen, forcing yourself to eat a few bites of the leftover pasta sitting in your fridge. It’s tasteless, going down like sandpaper, but you know you need something in your stomach before you can take the painkillers. Your body aches, every muscle tensing under the weight of the unresolved strain still coiled within you.

You wash the food and the pills down with iced tea, grateful for the cold sweetness, because water turns your stomach right now. The pasta, the tea, they’re just fuel—a necessary evil before you can move on and hopefully find some peace in your sleep.

After you’ve eaten, you strip off your clothes and step into the shower, letting the hot water rush over you. You stand there for a while, eyes closed, trying to wash away everything. Joel’s concerned face, the hurt, the frustration, the embarrassment of how you acted. You let the water pound against your skin, hoping it’ll somehow cleanse more than just the sweat and grime from the day.

When you finally step out, you feel a little more like yourself, a little more human. Still shaky, but better. 

By the time you crawl into bed, exhaustion drags you down like an anchor. You pull the blankets tight around you, hoping to find some comfort even though the dread of the day ahead lingers. Your phone is already in your hand, and you pull up Netflix, choosing something mindless to drown out the sound of your own thoughts. The chatter of the show hums in the background, but your mind barely registers it.

Your eyes grow heavier with each passing minute, and the warmth of your bed starts to pull you toward sleep. Everything starts to blur as the fatigue takes over.

But then, just as you’re about to drift off, your propped up phone vibrates loudly against the bedside lamp. The screen lights up, a small notification appearing at the top.

Joel Miller.

Your heart skips a beat, a strange mix of relief and anxiety rising in your chest. You blink away the sleep and swipe the notification open.

It’s a voice message, and the length—four minutes—makes your heart sink. You’re not sure you can handle whatever it is he has to say right now. It feels too heavy, too soon.

Your finger hovers over the play button, your mind running wild with possibilities.

What if something happened to him? What if he’s telling you he doesn’t want to see you anymore? What if you scared him off for good? Why else would the message be so long?

Before you can spiral further, another notification pops up.

Joel: Sleep well, baby 😘 

You blink, staring at his message, and you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. He’s being sweet. Maybe this isn’t what you’re bracing for.

You take a deep breath, your heart still beating a little too fast, and press play.

At first, there’s a small pause, like he’s gathering his thoughts. Then you hear his voice coming through the speaker, soft and gentle, the familiar rasp of it cutting through the quiet of your bedroom.

“Hi darlin’. It’s me, Joel…Miller…obviously.” 

Your smile widens. He’s such a dork.

“I know it’s late…and you’re probably already in bed. But I, uh…I wanted to say something. I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I didn’t want you to go to sleep without hearing this.”

He sounds like he always does, calm, collected, but he’s being careful with his words. You shift under the covers, feeling more awake now, your body attuned to every note in his voice.

“I know you’ve been going through a lot on your own, and I don’t wanna make it worse by pushing or prying where I shouldn’t. But I just want you to know…I’m here. I’m here for you, no matter what. You don’t have to handle it alone, okay?”

There’s a small pause, and you hear him exhale, like he’s letting go of something he’s been holding in for too long.

“I don’t know if I always say the right things, and God knows I’ve messed up plenty…but you mean a lot to me. More than I can put into words right now. And I, uh, don’t expect you to have all the answers. Hell, I don’t even know if I do. But I wanna be there with you, figure it out together…if you’ll let me.”

Another deep breath.

“You’re never not on my mind, sweetheart, and I just…wish you could see yourself the way I see you. I felt it the first time I saw you, you know? You stood there, the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. And then you looked into my eyes. You looked into my eyes and that was it for me.”

Joel’s voice softens even more, almost like he’s afraid you’ll drift off before he’s finished. “I was thinking about Saturday, too. I got something in mind that I think’ll be good for both of us. Nothing big, just…I think you’ll like it.”

There’s a brief silence on the line as if he’s gathering himself, and then you hear it—the faint strum of a guitar. Your breath catches in your throat.

He’s playing for you.

His voice, low and gentle, hums the opening notes of a country tune you’ve never heard before. The sound drifts over you, warm and comforting, like being wrapped in a blanket of soft clouds and something that feels like home.

You close your eyes, letting the music take you, and as Joel begins to sing, his voice carries a depth of emotion that reaches deep inside you. The lyrics flow, full of a quiet tenderness, and you sink into the sound, letting it wash away your troubles:

“I’m just a lonesome traveler, Drifting down this road, But darlin’, when I’m near you, I know I’m not alone.”

You just listen, your heart swelling with the softness of it, with the fact that Joel is doing this for you. Never in a million years did you see this coming. 

The song continues, the melody sweet and simple, his voice lulling you further into a sense of calm. It feels like everything else fades away—the weight of your past, the uncertainty of the future—and all that’s left is this moment, this gentle connection between you and him.

As he reaches the end of the song, his voice drops to an almost-whisper:

“But darlin’, when I hold you, I know I’ve found my home.”

The final note lingers in the air of your bedroom, and for a moment, you just lie there, your heart full, your body completely relaxed. You can barely keep your eyes open now, the edges of sleep tugging at you.

Still, you gather all of your remaining energy to text him back. You need to.

You: I’ll bring snacks on Saturday

You: Ever thought about switching careers btw? Cowboy boots, a hat and you’d make a fortune. Groupies, fame, rich old ladies letting you run wild with their credit cards…

You’ve barely pressed send when Joel responds. 

Joel: Groupies, huh?

You can practically hear the smirk in his voice. Another buzz.

Joel: Nah, sweetheart. My music comes from the heart. It’s only for the people I love. Not for anyone else.

Thank you for reading! previous | Series Masterlist | AO3 | next

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[runariya]

I am in love with that Jk merman story of yourssss , you are such a talented author !!!! Keep it up with the good work .

Even i want to request a prompt after that story because i believe only you have the capability to bring that prompt to life (only if you want to write ofcourse, no pressure )

I have never read an ABO fic with enemies to lovers troupe in modern era , I mean just imagine them being the high-school academic rival wolves who can't bear standing eachother

but the moment they turn 18 and their wolves will develop some special senses and powers, they both will realise that they both are actually mates . damnnn now image the strong pull their wolves will feel towards eachother making them go crazy ( their wolves will fall in love with eachother the moment they will recognize eachother as mate and start rebelling their human counterparts and start convincing them to love eachother too .)

and how bad they will try to hide it , deny their wolves forbid their animal counterparts from eachother only to fail miserably in the end because yeah that mate bond will win 🥹

You can choose any BTS member you want because I love and enjoy reading all seven of them so go for any member you want .

Borahae 💜 , no pressure if you are not interested in writing this prompt , I will still adore you and your work 💜 😘 so feel free to reject this request if you want .

part of the prompt game pairing: alpha!Jungkook x omega!female reader genre: fantasy!AU, "E"2L, ABO, high school romance warnings: Jungkook's the most pitiful teenager in all of existence, bad handling of emotions/feelings, a lot of cliques, denial, a little bit of physical fighting, mentions of blood, lmk if I forgot smth word count: 2.754

a/n: tysm for all your compliments, I'm so flattered 🫂 I've tweaked your request a tiny bit to fit the character of OC better and left out marking etc. bc they're still so young 🥹 hope that's okay 💕

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

He hates you.

No, he loathes your entire existence.

That Miss Perfect attitude, excelling in everything you do as if it’s the easiest task in the world. You’ve been enemies since high school started—not because either of you declared it so, but because Jungkook simply can’t stand you.

You, on the other hand, are oblivious to this feud, always kind and friendly towards everyone, especially Jungkook. He doesn’t understand how you do it, staying so humble and kind towards him when he takes every opportunity to throw jabs your way, or cause you minor inconveniences, like not holding the door open or letting you trip more times than he can count.

It’s infuriating to watch you be so lovely, especially when you’re not only the smartest but also the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen—something he will never admit. Ever.

“Jungkook?” Your soft, sweet voice startles him. He’s been too busy glaring at the papers scattered before him, his thoughts circling back to you. There's no one else in the lecture hall, and he didn’t even realise you’d entered. You seem to appear out of nowhere, catching him off guard. “I think you dropped this.”

You’re smiling again, that blinding smile of yours, starry eyes sparkling with joy, courteous as ever. He wants to scream. He doesn’t want this treatment from you, not when you’re a little older than him—well, only two months, but still. You’re 18 now, with your wolf, while he’s not, which only deepens his resentment. Once again, you’re ahead, better at something.

The whole school talked about your wolf. Despite your gentle nature, everyone was shocked to learn after your first turn that you’re an omega—one of the very few in the city, the only one known in school. It’s yet another thing Jungkook can’t stand, especially now that everyone, wolf or not, showers you with attention.

“Not mine,” Jungkook lies through his teeth, eyeing the pencil still held out towards him in your small, delicate hand, your nails perfectly manicured.

“Oh…” you murmur, glancing down at the pencil, your brows drawing together in disbelief. Of course, you don’t believe him. “But it’s got your initials, and it’s the one you’re always using.”

Damn you! Of course, you know it’s his favourite. He should’ve seen this coming.

“You think I’d use it after your germs have contaminated it?” Jungkook scoffs.

“That’s not very kind.” You purse your lips, those beautiful lips.

“It’s the truth, ___.”

“Is it okay if I keep it?”

What?! “What?” Jungkook can’t believe his ears. Why would you want to keep it?

“Can I keep your pen? It would be a waste to throw it away, especially when it looks so cool.” You repeat, smiling again.

The pencil is cool, and Jungkook has half a mind to just snatch it back, but he won’t give in. He won’t concede even the smallest defeat.

“I don’t care,” he grumbles. It’s enough to make you burst with joy, your face lighting up as you clutch the pencil to your chest.

“Thanks, Jungkook! You’re so kind!”

“Whatever.”

And ‘whatever’ indeed, because seeing you every day with his pencil, as if it’s the most precious thing in the world, drives him mad. He regrets his decision. He wants it back. It’s his, and what’s his should stay his, but it isn’t—and it makes him livid.

Livid in a way that fuels his pettiness, pushing him to new lengths to make your life difficult. He puts fake spiders in your bag, bumps into you when you’re struggling with your food tray in the canteen. But all of it is in vain, because you’re an omega—everyone’s darling. Every time something inconvenient happens to you, a horde of people rushes to your aid.

This alone is enough to make Jungkook reconsider his actions—or rather, the attention he’s giving you. It’s not like you care. It’s not like you treat him any differently when he’s mean. So what’s the point? At some stage, he’s not even sure why he started all this, why he loathes you so much. If he’s honest, you’ve never actually wronged him. Not once. And now, he’s running out of ways to break you, to show everyone your true colours, because no one can be this perfect, right?

It’s the Friday before his birthday weekend when you approach him again, this time holding a small present. You look up at him as he stands by his locker.

“Hey, Jungkook,” you say softly.

“What do you want?”

“Uhm, I know Sunday’s your 18th birthday and… well, I know you didn’t invite me to your party, which is totally fine! Don’t get me wrong! But I just wanted to give you this because it’s a big birthday, right? So, yeah…”

The tiny gift is wrapped in floral paper with a neatly tied bow, and it looks exactly how he imagined your presents would. It screams 'you', and he’s unsure what to say. He reckons he should just take it and thank you, but the way you’re looking up at him, so small and kind despite knowing you weren’t invited, bothers him like a sock slipping off mid-walk.

Jungkook reluctantly takes the present, ignoring the slight relieved droop of your shoulders and how your warm, soft fingers brushed softly against his.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, his eyes transfixed on the gift.

“Happy birthday, Jungkook. I hope it’ll be everything you wanted and beyond.”

And with that, you turn away, a light spring in your step, your hair moving behind you like a fairy’s wings.

Jungkook doesn’t waste any time after you leave, ripping the gift open in a rush of curiosity, only to freeze, stunned, when a tiny jewellery box is revealed to him. He’s never received any jewellery before, and the fact that it’s a gift from you—a female ‘stranger’, no less—makes his nerve endings prickle with discomfort. The idea of receiving something so personal feels wrong somehow, and yet, despite this strange feeling creeping over him, he still finds himself opening the small red box.

Inside, nestled on an equally red velvet cushion, is a delicate necklace with a pendant that bears his initials. It’s the prettiest necklace he’s ever seen, and the worst part is that he can already picture himself wearing it, the style so perfectly matching his aesthetic that it’s rather unsettling.

He carefully takes the necklace from the box, letting it twist and turn in the sunlight, the metal gleaming ever so mesmerising. But that’s when he notices an engraving on the back of the pendant, and as he peers closer, he fights the urge to rub his eyes.

You’ve had ‘alpha’ engraved onto it. There’s no way anyone could be so bold as to assume another person’s future rank, and yet here you are, making such an assumption about him. Jungkook can’t help but think maybe he was right all along—there’s something strange about you. You’re just a little too perfect, a little too confident in your kindness, a little too bold in your presumptions.

Shaking his head, he lets the necklace fall back into the box, snapping it shut and tossing it carelessly into his locker, fully intending to forget about it sooner or later. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

Saturday night and Sunday come and go in a blur of noise, people, and anticipation. Jungkook has invited practically everyone he knows to his birthday party, hoping that with the arrival of his wolf, his mate might finally be revealed as well. But no one who attends is his mate, and this realisation drags his mood dangerously low. He feels a nagging stab in his chest that he can’t shake, made even heavier by the recurring thought that you, little Miss Perfect, were right all along—Jungkook has become an alpha, just as you predicted. Typical.

What infuriates him even more is that on Monday morning, as you—like always—walk past his locker on your way to the lecture hall, the world seems to slow around him. He watches in disbelief as you suddenly stop, staring at him with wide eyes that shimmer with unshed tears. You look stunned, but more than that, you look happy, as though you’ve just discovered something wonderful. And then, in the midst of his confusion, his inner wolf starts to go wild, barking ‘mate’ over and over again, leaping with excitement inside him.

It should be a moment of joy, a moment where he feels relief and happiness in finally knowing who his mate is. But instead, all Jungkook feels is denial, a desperate refusal to accept the truth, even though, deep down, he knows that you’re everything he ever wanted in a mate.

Still, he turns away from you, ignoring the way your face crumples, the way your bright, hopeful tears turn into ones of sadness, the way you rush past him with your head down, leaving his wolf whimpering in confusion and hurt. Jungkook tries to convince himself that this can’t be real, that it can’t be right, even though every part of him knows it’s exactly what he wanted, what he’s been waiting for.

In the days that follow, he struggles to keep up his usual routine of tormenting you, making snide remarks whenever he gets the chance, but there’s no joy in it anymore. You’re not kind to him the way you used to be, not anymore. You don’t smile at him, don’t even really smile at anyone; instead, you accept his cruelty with a resigned, sad look in your eyes and a forced, brittle smile that never quite reaches your eyes.

Each day, it becomes harder and harder for Jungkook to suppress his wolf, who clearly isn’t on the same page with his cold treatment of you. His wolf growls at him, restless and unhappy, frustrated with the way things are. And Jungkook knows—he understands why—but he feels trapped.

How could he possibly make things right after all he’s done to you? How could he ever redeem himself after letting his bitterness and resentment carry him so far? It doesn’t help that the necklace you gave him is now tucked securely under his shirt, the cool metal pendant resting against his chest, near his heart, multiplying the ache that’s slowly but surely forming there as well. He fiddles with it absentmindedly, the action soothing in a way he can’t explain, though it only makes the guilt grow.

“Jungkook?”

He no longer startles when you appear, his wolf always sensing your presence before you even speak, and your voice has become so quiet, so broken, that it doesn’t have the same effect it once did.

Looking at you now, standing there with your eyes downcast and your voice soft, makes him wish he could take it all back—every harsh word, every petty action. He wishes he could go back and rewrite everything, build something good between you instead of tearing it down. But it’s too late for that, far too late, and he knows it.

When he doesn’t respond, you gather the courage to continue, your voice wavering slightly. “I know it’s random, but I noticed your grades haven’t been as good as they used to be. I know you’re not the kind of person who needs help, but… if there’s anything I can do, just let me know, yeah?”

He wants to snap at you, wants to push you away, but he’s so exhausted—exhausted from pretending he doesn’t care, exhausted from pretending he hates you, and most of all, exhausted from fighting this undeniable bond between you.

Tears prick at his eyes, overwhelming him with guilt, frustration, and something else he can’t quite name. He’s so fed up with himself, so trapped in the mess he’s made that he doesn’t know how to fix it, doesn’t even know where to start.

“Hey… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” you say, your voice tinged with panic now as you shift nervously on the spot, your hands reaching out towards him only to pull back, unsure of what to do. “I’m sorry…”

“Stop!” Jungkook yells, and the sound of his own voice surprises him. You flinch, your entire body recoiling as if he’s physically struck you, your trembling hands clasping tightly in front of you.

“I… I’m sorry.” Your bottom lip quivers, and before Jungkook can say anything else, you turn and run, disappearing down the hall, leaving him standing there with the misery of his guilt pressing down harder than ever.

To think it couldn’t get worse was the stupidest thought Jungkook ever had, because it got worse. Not only did his little outburst suffocate him in guilt, but it also made you avoid him every chance you got. It also didn’t help that most people noticed your changed persona, adding one plus one and recognising Jungkook as the culprit.

He doesn’t fault them, doesn’t really mind the insults coming his way, of being heartless for not wanting a mate like you, when he knows they speak the truth. He doesn’t deserve you, doesn’t deserve someone who he clearly hurts without a true reason.

And the way his inner wolf retreats now from him too, is something he understands as well, because there’s literally nothing he could do to mend what he’s broken.

It’s one afternoon after classes have just finished, and he’s walking out of the school when he notices you cornered against the wall by some other alphas, three in total. Jungkook’s immediately enraged, and it’s then that his wolf rises to full strength, baring his teeth and growling violently.

You’re clearly uncomfortable, clearly scared of what might happen, especially when one of these alphas gets in your face, giving you no way to escape. The last straw for Jungkook is when one runs his filthy finger along your beautiful face.

“Hey!” Jungkook roars, storming towards the alphas who have now turned to laugh in his face. “Back off.”

“What?! She’s fair game.” One mocks, while you’re still pressed against the wall, but your eyes are hopefully locked onto Jungkook.

“I said back off my mate.”

They do, but only to now lunge at Jungkook, thinking that outnumbering him will shoo him away. But it doesn’t—Jungkook won’t let anyone else touch you, his wolf and himself ready to do anything to protect you. And so, Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to take each one of them down.

Driven by adrenaline, he doesn’t notice the sting of the hits he couldn’t block, but it’s nothing compared to the urge to protect you with all he has, all he is.

One after the other falls to the floor, while blood trickles from his split lip, knuckles burning and swollen, his chest still heaving, his wolf still angrily jabbing at the air.

“Jungkook?” His eyes snap up to you when you call for him, and he’s relieved to find no repulsion or fear in them when they lock onto him.

“Are you okay?”

“Thank you,” you nod, and his wolf wags his tail, barking mate, deafening all his other senses.

“Good."

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologising?”

You hesitate, and it makes him feel powerless all over again, but eventually you whisper, “Because I’m not who you wanted.”

It’s broken, it’s defeated, and it’s everything he never wanted his mate to say, because it’s not the truth. Never was. Never will be.

“But you are.” Jungkook tries to smile, despite knowing it’s not hopeful or kind, but sad in all the ways his decisions led it to be.

“I am?”

Seeing your eyes gradually returning to their lively, sparkly self is more than he ever wished to witness, more than he ever should receive, but everything he ever wanted.

“You are. Always were.”

And with that, he opens his arms, stepping over the still-groaning alphas to get closer to you.

With a push off the wall, you sprint into Jungkook’s arms, tears of relief running down your cheeks as he embraces you like you wished he would from the start. But it doesn’t matter, because no time apart could ruin the feeling of him embracing you and your bond.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook mumbles into your hair, inhaling the magnificent scent of you.

“It’s fine, everything’s fine.”

And as you cling to him, your wolves finally as content as you are, you know that you’d never change a thing, because it’s better to be loved willingly than with no other choice.

[wordsarelife]

—mine

pairing: theo nott x fem!reader

summary: your’s and theo's relationship throughout the years

warnings: canon typical violence near the end, mentions of the war, blood and death

note: feel free to request stuff for the christmas calender!!

theo was startled by a sudden voice who called out his name, he turned around, the book he was about to push into the empty space still in his hand. 

"nott" you had muttered, arms crossed and the surprised expression on his face when he turned around had almost made you lose it. you quirked a brow at the missing reaction. "i guess you don't even know my name?" 

"sorry" theo winced and you could see how umcomfortable he was simply because he knew nothing about the person standing in front of him. 

"don't feel too bad" you shrugged. "didn't know yours until you borrowed my favorite book for four weeks and i had to beg madam pince to tell me the name of the person who had it" 

"well, sorry again" theo held the book in your direction. "you can have it now, if you still want it" 

you completely ignored the book, until theo sighed and put it back in the empty space on the shelf where it belonged. "guess not" he muttered to himself. 

"so, tell me, theodore nott" you followed him back to the table with his things. "what tempts a guy like you to borrow a book like that?" 

"well, without meaning to insult you, i'd say it is more male literature than female isn't it?"

"you're a moron if you really think something like female or male literature exists" you sat down in the chair across from him. "i wouldn't declare sherlock holmes as male literature, more preciously i would say that most boys are too daft to even understand half the things arthur conan doyle mentions and to your information i'm taking great insult to whatever the hell you just said"

"geez" theo's eyes had widened, he found you a bit odd, annoying even, but he couldn't help but feel all the same intrigued. "like what you just said isn't an insult. most boys are too daft, huh?" 

"maybe daft is a bit too harsh, i admit that" you rolled your eyes, a smile on your lips, "but i'd say most are too impatient to read those books, yes"

"well, you're not wrong about that" theo nodded "i can't remember the last time one of my friends touched a book that wasn't part of a class" 

"that's quiet sad, i'd say"

"i agree" theo smiled. "so, now that we're on the same page, do you mind telling me your name? i feel like i deserve to know it"

"no" you grinned just as the smile vanished from his face. "i decide when you deserve to know, theodore nott" you left him sitting there, speechless about the sudden rejection. 

you never actually told theo your name. he only found out when you managed to borrow the memoirs of sherlock holmes for two months straight. 

the next time that the two of you talked was a few months later, at the beginning of december. snow had fallen and the hogwarts grounds had turned into a beautiful white landscape. 

the snow was poudry, but you managed not to slip as you made your way through it. your body tightly wrapped in layers of clothing, the thick ravenclaw scarf almost reaching up to your eyes as the falling snow hit your face. 

"not the right weather for a stroll, is it?" theodore nott had caught up to you, not exactly spotting the right outfit for the wuthering cold. 

"well, i know there's a reason you're a slytherin and not a ravenclaw, but i would've expected you to be just a little smarter, nott" 

theo looked down on his clothes just as you did. "i was actually just going for a smoke"

"in the middle of a mild snowstorm?" you quirked a brow. "i'd say it's not the right weather to be doing that either"

"you're a real know-it-all" 

"tell me something new, nott" you rolled your eyes "it's exhausting to always be right, you know?"

"i bet it is" theo shrugged sarcastically. "there had to have been a reason you got sorted into ravenclaw"

"well, as said before, i can see why you weren't" you shrugged with a grin. 

theo sighed. "another dig at the outfit, really?" 

"well, considering you're standing here discussing with me and getting yourself wet, i'd say i'm allowed to keep judging your outfit" 

"fair point" theo nodded and you were surprised he gave up so easily. "are you coming or what?" he asked, ready to walk back inside.

"no" you shook your head "you go ahead though, wouldn't want you catching a cold, who would faint during potions then and entertain the rest of the class?"

"hey, that was one time" he called, as you walked away "how did you even hear about that, we're not in the same potions class?"

you just shrugged and send him a smile over your shoulder. he was standing in front of the doors to the castle, soaked from head to toe and you had to admit, theodore nott was a (beautiful) sight for sore eyes. 

it wasn't like you minded theo's company, but you noticed how he started hanging around the places you frequently visited during the weeks to come. 

theo had it especially easy when he realized that you stuck to your routines during the week, making it impossible for him to miss you once he had figured it out. 

monday and wednesdays after class were spent in the library, doing homework or reading a book from your list. tuesdays you helped madam pomfrey in the infirmary, healing minor injuries or filling up medicine cabinets. thursdays were reserved for your friends, playing card games or just spending time together in the common room, you always found something to do. 

fridays were flexible and you often decided what to do spontaneously. sometimes you did a little tutoring, on other fridays you helped madam pince sort through books and put them back where they belonged or you continued reading the book you had begun reading that week. saturdays and sundays were for remaining homework, hogsmeade visits and drafting letters to send back to your family on the start of the next week. 

"you're not being slick, you know that?"

it was a friday and you were putting away books, when theo kept lingering around you, like he had done that past week. 

"what?" he asked, looking up from the book in front of him, a confused tone to his voice, clearly trying to mask that he knew exactly what you were talking about.

"well, i was sure you knew stalking was considered a legal offence" you noted.

"stalking?" he repeated. "i'm not stalking you"

"now, you're not not stalking me, are you?" you send a tight-lipped smile in his direction. "i do admit that it might be a question of definition, though" 

"aren't you a bit full of yourself if you think i would be stalking you"

"that was offensive" you rolled your eyes "and i'm pretty sure i'm not imaging you turning up everywhere i went this past week. and considering i didn't know you until a few months ago, i'd say that you only started doing that recently"

"well, i didn't"

"okay, you didn't" your shrugged and turned back to the shelf, reaching for another row of books from the trolley beside you, before you pushed them in a row one after the other. 

theo furrowed his brows, surprised by you just letting him get away like that. he knew he wasn't being slick, hell, he even knew that he was behaving like a stalker. you weren't wrong in the slightest and theo felt a bit called out by your words. but on the other hand, you hadn't said anything about being opposed to the idea that he really did go everywhere you did.

you waved at him, before you pushed the trolley into the next row of shelves. it didn't take long for him to follow, already making a decision in his mind. 

"go out with me" 

if he had startled you, you didn't show it. you didn't even blink at his suggestion, rather ignoring him like he was a fly on the wall, as you continued reaching for books on the trolley.

theo pushed the trolley to the side and stepped into the empty space. the next time you tried to reach for a stack of books, you touched his chest instead. 

"you're still here, nott" you noted the obvious. 

theo had to admit that he was a tad bit unsettled by your ignorance. he wasn't sure if you really hadn't heard him or if you just ignored the question, because he had made you uncomfortable. 

"you know, normally stalkers don't look so scared" you smiled mischievously. 

"i'm not stalking you, but i can understand if my company made you uncomfortable and i apologize if i have gone too far"

"you're a bit weird, you know that?"

"this is a serious topic, y/n" 

you smiled at the honesty in his voice and sighed. "do you really think if you were making me uncomfortable or i was scared of you i would continue to speak to you?" 

"well, no—"

"i'm not a child, theodore nott, i can voice when i'm annoyed, but i respect your manners" you smiled "and if anyone follows me around like a lost puppy, i'm glad it's someone with at least a little intellect"

"little intellect?" theo repeated offended. 

"you might be smarter than i thought, but you're really bad at this" 

"i know" 

"well, would you now let me sort in the rest of these books? you're kind of in the way"

theo, nodded, the disappointment flashing over his features just like a wave of water. "i guess that's a no" 

you waited until he had stepped aside and pushed the trolley back in it's original position. your hands reached for the row of sherlock holmes books and you held them up at him like a trophy. "that means yes, obviously" 

theo spent exactly three days brainstroming what to do for your date. his friends tried their best at helping him, more than interested to finally hear something about the mysterious girl theo had been infuriated with these past weeks. 

"is she that hideous?" blaise asked on the third day of theo's hard thinking.

"what?" theo raised his brows, he had been too deep in thought to even hear his friend.

"blaise just asked if your girlfriend was hideous, i'd hit him if i were you" mattheo shrugged, stiring the pot. it had been a particular slow morning and he had to admit that it would be quiet entertaining to see blaise and theo fight each other. 

"five galleons on blaise" enzo added, before theo was able to say something. 

"have a little faith in him" pansy said next to theo. "he might not look like it, but the boy has a wicked right hook"

"this is just embarrassing" draco threw the newspaper down in front of him. 

"what?" pansy giggled "the newspaper or that theo and blaise are going to slap each other even more stupid"

"take a guess"

"guys" theo sighed, annoyance already taking over the worry that was bubbling inside him. "i'm not going to fight blaise and y/n is not my girlfriend"

"no yet" enzo wiggled his brows.

"y/n, huh?" mattheo said with a mischievous smile.

"oh god" all colour drained from theo's face. "please tell me the two of you didn't hook up with each other"

"close to it" mattheo shrugged. "she tended to my wounds in the infirmary once and i could tell she had the hots for me"

"wasn't she the one who said you had the charm of a troll and the brains to match?" blaise offered with a smirk.

enzo's mouth almost hit the table infront of him by how fast it flew open. "that was y/n?" he giggled.

theo had to smile. "that does sound like something she'd say"

"she sounds lovely" draco nodded sarcastically "but at least she never saw mattheo naked. that does make her at least a little likable"

"i already love her" pansy quickly said, before draco could continue his judging. "seems like she knows how to handle little annoyances" 

"i'm not a little annoyance"

"yeah" theo nodded "you're a quite big one, actually" 

theo couldn't tell what had led him to the idea for your date, but he had known in that moment what the both of you should do. 

"so hot chocolate was your huge idea?" you smiled as you sat down in the booth across from him, the server already putting down two mugs with steaming hot drinks in front of you. 

"i saw how your friends gave you their hot chocolate packages after dinner and figured this might be something you liked" he shrugged "and before you call me a stalker again, i'm just very attentive to those around me"

you giggled as the grandma at the table next to you send you a worried glance at theo's words.

"he's harmless" you laughed in a way to assure her. 

theo managed an awkward wave and the woman turned away quickly.

"well, it seems those around you are very attentive too" you giggled. 

"i'm sorry" theo tried to hide behind his mug, feeling a tad bit ashamed at the awkward encounter, but having to laugh at the same time. 

"don't be" you smiled honestly "rather tell me something i didn't already find out by snooping around"

"you snooped around?" theo exclaimed surprised. 

"i had to get even, after you found out everything about me" you shrugged "i met this lovely boy, i think he goes by the name enzo, who told me a whole lot about you"

"oh god, no" 

"quite interesting to hear about all those things from someone who has no interest in sleeping with me"

"what? i don't—“

"so you don't intend to sleep with me?" you smiled. "don't be ridiculous, theodore nott"

"i'm just not used to being this straightforward, admittedly"

you completely ignored the surprise swinging in his voice and went on with your story. "enzo did give me some exciting information and i wanted to talk about one thing in particular"

theo was ready to close his eyes and open them back up after you had screamed and left him sitting alone at the table. he had to admit that he wasn't particularly proud of his dating history (or lack of) before he met you and he was sure you weren't happy about that either. 

"before you say something" he interrupted you, before you were able to let the words slip past your lips. "i'm not like that anymore, i was young and not interested in a relationship and just wanted a bit of fun—"

"what are you talking about exactly?" you asked, a susprised smile on your face. 

"that wasn't what you wanted to talk about, was it?" theo asked and you shook your head giggling. 

"i mean, don't let me tell you what to talk about" you managed to say between your laughter. "we can talk about your previous hookups if that's something you'd like to discuss"

"i'd rather not" theo shook his head and his cheeks turned rosy. 

"fine" you smiled "now back to my question: how did you manage to play out that prank on professor binns in our third year?"

theo's features relaxed at the simple question and he smiled, recalling the memory. "so it all started with a ridiculous idea from mattheo and me getting roped into something stupid again"

you spent the rest of the night talking and ordering one hot chocolate after the other. there was not one second of awkward silence, even as theo brought you back to your common room. 

"i had a lot of fun tonight" theo smiled, hands sinking into the pockets of his trousers. 

you had admired how well dressed he was when he had come to get you in the afternoon. 

"me too" you said honestly. "i can't wait for the next one"

"so there will be a next one?" 

"don't be ridiculous, theodore nott" you smiled, before telling the password to the eagle ontop of the door. "of course there will a next one" you slipped into the common room and away from the smiling boy in front of it. 

"are they weirder than you?" 

the voice startled theo, as he was standing in front of the shelf in the library. he turned around, not surprised that it was you who had asked that question. you mostly started your conversations in the middle, without so much as a hello or some kind of warning. 

"what?" theo wasn't sure what else to ask.

"you friends of course" you shrugged, like that had been obvious "we've been together for a month and i've never even met them" 

"well, you have met them" theo corrected. "like in the hallways or during dinner" 

"you know what i mean, theodore" you rolled your eyes. "i don't think a grunting sound could be classified as me meeting someone"

"that's just blaise, honestly" theo muttered "but pansy waved to you during dinner more than three times now"

"theo" you pushed "either something is completely wrong with them or me and i'd like to know what it is, now" you sighed, before you added "just say if you're ashamed of me or something, i know i can be a bit rude to people i don't know"

"tesoro" theo sighed "i'm sorry that i let you think that. they're just annoying, that's all"

"and you thought they would scare me away?" you smiled, touching his cheeks with your hands. "you stalked me for weeks and i'm still dating you, aren't i?"

"that's never gonna be funny" he called after you, as you walked out of the library. "fine, breakfast at the slytherin table for you tomorrow" 

"aye, aye" 

"she's not hideous" was the first thing you heard when you sat down at the table the next morning. 

"well, you aren't either, zabini" you smiled, not even fazed by his assumption. "even though theo warned me about you" 

"burn!" enzo called, exchanging a high five with pansy. 

"i'm so glad we finally get to meet" pansy smiled. "i've just been waiting to have another girl around, it sometimes gets to much with all the testosterone"

"i don't know how you manage, honestly" you smiled.

to say theo's friends and you hit it off immediately would be an understatement. it took approximately ten minutes for you to become part of the group. enzo and you had been friends before, unlikely study partners, after you had helped him on a potions assignment once. pansy was ready to keep you by her side for the rest of the year and even blaise took a quick liking to you.

mattheo and draco were harder to break. mattheo, still having a pretty hurt ego about you turning him down the year before, was sure that you were just dating theo to get back at him for whatever reason and draco was just not interested to have any relationship past a simple hello and goodbye. 

you didn't mind their antics, even if theo repeatedly apologized for it. 

yours and theo’s relationship lasted for exactly two years. theo broke up with you one day after your anniversary.

the break up was painful, the fight that followed even more and still, you held him that evening, both of you understanding the severity of your situation and the war that was waiting to happen.

“theo” you cried, rushing through the ruins of the courtyard just months later. 

you had been on different sides after all. you had followed harry potter into the war and theo had been bound to his father and to the promise the man had given to the dark lord. just like draco, mattheo, pansy, blaise and enzo. 

your friends had gotten lost in the fight and despite not being supposed to, you were desperately screaming for them. 

you ran back into the castle, not having found theo outside. you send curses at the death eaters that tried approaching you, having more luck than an actual plan. you were simply determined to find him. 

you were thrown down to the ground as the doors of the room of requirement suddenly appeared and flew open. just as quickly as they had opened, they closed again, spitting out people in the procress, before the fire was tamed behind the doors. 

harry potter, hermione granger and ron weasley were standing up from the ground slowly, black powder darkening their cheeks and clothes. 

it took a moment for you to realize who the other two people were, as you quickly got up from the ground. 

draco was breathing just as heavily as blaise was, both trying to fill their lungs with air. 

“oh god” you mumbled, before you finally started moving, your legs guiding you into the direction of your friends, falling into their arms and pressing them close to you. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry” you cried. 

blaise and draco held onto you just as tight, not being able to let you go as they cried into your hair.

“be honest, draco” you said when you broke the hug, completely ignoring the trio next to you. 

“theo” draco muttered, knowing what you were talking about immediately. blaise and him exchanged a look. 

“is he dead?” you asked, heartbreak already burning in your limbs and throat. you were ready to mourn, ready to lose your life just like him. he had died for the wrong cause, but you hoped, heart heavy in your chest, that death was more forgiving than his life had been. 

“we don’t know” blaise finally said. “we got seperated in the halls, theo—he was looking for you i think”

“i have to find him” you muttered, touching each hand of the boys in front of you. “stay safe” you kissed both of their cheeks, before you turned on your heel, running down the corridor opposite of where you had come from. 

“theo!” you called once more, running up the stairs and through various hallways, hopeless to ever receive an answer.

“y/n” a voice called and you almost crumbled from the surprise it reached you with. hope was hard to keep and you had thought, really thought, that he was dead. 

theo wasn’t dead, but close to it. he was laying on the ground, his back against the wall, while the rest of his body was bathing in his own blood. his cheeks were empty of any colour, lips dry and almost blue as he looked up at you with tired eyes. 

“oh god” you muttered in shock, slipping onto the ground beside him, your uniform soaking up the blood like it was water in the lake. your hands touched his chest and the big glass shard that was stuck inside of it. theo hissed in pain. “sorry, sorry” you whispered. 

“they surprised me as i came down the corridor” he explained. “i was looking for you”

“you found me now” you whispered once more. 

“i don’t think they meant to do this” sweat dripped from his forehead. “they were kids, not older than fourteen, but they left and they took my wand”

“oh god” you repeated as you shook your head, holding his face in your blood soaked hands and kissing his lips softly.

“i thought you were dead” tears slipped over his cheeks and you shook your head crying. 

“i’m gonna help you” you said quickly, before reaching for your wand and using it’s magic to extract the glass from theo’s body. he was winding on the ground, the pain probably unbearable. but you had to do this in order to help him. he would heal, he would survive and that was all that mattered to you in this moment. 

“i don’t want to fight” theo cried “not for them, not against you” 

“i know, my love, i know”

the healing had begun, slowly but surely his wound closed up, only leaving behind the blood around you and the worry on your face.

“come on” you said, as soon as he looked less pale. you took his hand and he followed you through the corridors of the castle, standing next to you when you had to fight death eaters, even beginning to send curses himself. 

“you don’t have to fight, theo” you called over the loudness of the fight. “confringo! i don’t want you to fight against him” 

“i’m not leaving you” theo called back, his voice nearly drowned out by the deatheater across from him, who was screaming curses and uttering threats about theo’s betrayal at the same time. “he doesn’t mean anything to me”

“what?” you send the deatheater flying against the wall, effectively knocking him out. your wand was now facing theo's death eater too.

“i don’t care for my father” theo said, before he too send the man flying. “i only care for you and your well being”

you made sure it was safe, before you pulled him in and kissed him so passionately that you almost forgot you had ever been apart. “don’t ever let me go again, theodore nott” 

“i wouldn’t dare, y/n l/n” 

you took his hand, walking back into the entrance hall, looking if you were needed anywhere. that’s when you saw them coming over the bridge. 

“he’s here” you said, pushing theo behind you if there was really anything you could do to save him. “he’s—“ you paused, as the both of you walked closer up behind the rows of people already standing in the courtyard.

“harry…?” your voice was quiet, as you adressed the boy you had put all your hope in. someone you hadn’t known well, not well enough to be on first name basis, but what did it matter now that he was. what was he?

“harry potter is dead!” voldemort announced loudly, while the deatheaters broke into laughter. 

ginny weasley dashed forward with a heartbreaking scream. “no! no!”

“stupid girl! harry potter is dead, from this day forth you put your faith in me” you looked down onto the ground in front of you and then back at theo, who looked like he was being painfully tortured by voldemorts words. he too had set his hope into harry.

“it’s done” you said softly. “the war is over”

“we lost”

“harry potter is dead!” voldemort repeated once more “and now is the time to declare youself. come forward and join us.. or die”

your ears were drenched out by the wailing sound in your head. it was loud that you missed everything neville said. you pressed your eyes close, wishing to be anywhere else. to be free from this destiny, but you knew you could never just leave. you wouldn’t be able to leave all these people behind. 

it was theo‘s voice that woke you from your half sleeping state. the word he muttered was foreign on his tongue, but ignited a flame inside of you immediately. 

“harry”

your eyes snapped open like a gun shot had rung through the air. but it wasn’t the sound of a gun. it was harry potter, who was running and firing spells at voldemort. you just had seconds to react, before the fight broke out again, no end in sight. 

you had never thought to be happy that a war continued.

but continuation meant that you hadn’t lost yet. there was a chance to win as long as harry potter was alive. 

when voldemort finally dies, it’s nothing like you ever imagined. he bursts into the air, pieces by pieces disappearing until only his wand is left. 

the deatheater in front of you let’s his wand fall to the ground and you don’t have any interest to finish the job as you sank into theo‘s arms. content is flashing through your body and immediate tiredness is dragging you down. theo holds you as all your weight crashes against him. 

you‘re tired of fighting and of war and death and fear. there is nothing in your head, apart from the thought that you will never have to endure all of that again.

theo and you went away after the war.

you travelled europe for a year, before you came back to hogwarts to finish the school year you were still missing. 

theo got a job at the ministry, you started working at hogwarts. he proposed to you the day that you signed the contract. 

your wedding was beautiful. pansy and luna were your bridesmaids. draco and mattheo were theo‘s groomsmen. all of your friends were there. you had even invited the golden trio, it was only thanks to them that the both of you were still alive and able to celebrate your connection.

“you lost your bow again, robin!” theo picked up the little pink bow and clipped it to his suit, knowing that your daughter was way too busy to even hear him call for her. 

“maybe you should just give up” you suggested, picking up luke who was softly hitting your leg, seemingly tired of walking. 

“but she looks so cute with it!” theo protested, the disappointment sipping from his voice as he pushed the trolley through the wall. 

“it‘s no use if she always loses them” you shrugged. “what is it? like the tenth one you’ve gotten her in the past month alone? just wait until she’s older, love”

theo sighed, but nodded at your suggestion. 

“grace, robin” you called, looking around the people in front of you to spot your girls. 

“well, lucky you’ve got me” mattheo popped up next to you, robin in his arms, as he threw a wink in your direction. 

“why are you even here, mate?” theo asked annoyed “you didn’t have any children the last time i checked”

“well, theres still a few women we’re not a hundred percent sure about yet” pansy joked as she appeared in front of you. “hey sweetheart” she kissed your cheek, before she took luke out of your arms. 

“haha” mattheo rolled his eyes. “i was just accompanying my nieces and nephew’s like a good godfather and uncle should do”

“nope” theo shook his head. “you’re still not grace’s godfather, one daughter of mine has to be enough, riddle” 

“yeah, yeah” mattheo shook his head, clearly not caring about anything theo said “we’ll get there eventually”

“no, we won’t, that’s the point—“ 

“hello nott” blaise greeted, draco following, scorpius and grace behind him. you sighed in relief, glad you daughter had not gotten lost.

“blaise” theo nodded, while you went around the trolley, hugging both men. 

“amazing style choice” blaise pointed against his chest and theo's eyes fell down on his own chest, having completely forgotten about the bow he had pinned there. “looks great on you, mate”

“it’s robin’s”

“sure, keep telling yourself that” blaise said with a sarcastic smile “i heard denial is a river in egypt, y/n”

you giggled, but promptly stopped when theo elbowed you. “you’re my wife. mine” he muttered between clenched teeth, but clearly joking. 

draco took a look on his watch. “there are places we have to be, aren’t there?” he set a hand on both scorpius’ and grace’s shoulder, who were talking to each other excitedly.

“of course” you nodded, following your friends to the platform and hugging your daughter so close, as if that might make her leaving a little less hard. “stay with scorpius, sweetheart. stick together, the both of you” you advised. 

“i think isaac was trying to safe a department for the three of you” blaise told you daughter, who smiled gratefully. 

“yes, mum” grace nodded, before you swapped places with theo, who was already crying. 

“write to me every week, honey!” he declared. “stay far away from professor trewlaney and close to your mother as soon as she’s back at work”

“theo” you shook your head “she should have space to develop” you watched grace and scorpius board the train, waving as it slowly left the station.

“i’ve seen people develop at hogwarts!” he shook his head “it lead to a pregnancy in your case, tesoro”

blaise and draco choked on their spit simultaneously.

“that was after i became a teacher and you know it, dear husband”

mattheo held robin away from him, to take her in fully. “were you made there too?” he muttered, more to himself than anyone in particular.

“mattheo!” draco, pansy and you scolded loudly. 

“hey guys!” enzo appeared behind you suddenly, startling all of you. “oh no, they’re already off, aren’t they?” 

you nodded sadly, feeling sorry for the poor bloke who couldn’t arrive on time if his life depended on it.

“half an hour too late” draco exclaimed with a look at his watch. “as always”

“well you know the traffic is being a bitch” enzo slapped a hand to his mouth, before he took a quick look at evie next to him. “sorry, love. well everything’s been a b-word since jacky started forcing me to use muggle transportation.”

“i do not envy you one bit” mattheo shrugged.

“well, evie” enzo shrugged “the train is gone, but i hear that the weasleys have this super cool car, that—“

“no!” you shook your head, taking the little girls hand in yours. “i’ll take her!” 

“so get-together at yours or what, nott?” mattheo asked “gonna have to know which of your kids were conceived in hogwarts” 

“mattheo!” all of you scolded at the same time.

[jetii]

So excited you are taking requests! I love your work ❤! Could I request a S(ish)FW (language and innuendos ok, basically anything except actual smut) with Prompt #56? I was thing fem Jedi!reader and Crosshair having a snarky/flirting conversation post mission? Maybe leads up to implied sexy times, I'll leave that up to you.

This prompt was so Crosshair lol thank you for requesting it!

Grateful

Pairing: Crosshair x Jedi!Reader

Words: 3,132

Tags/Warnings: fluff, canon-typical violence, arguing as a form of flirting, a gratuitous amount of swearing, some making out but nothing too crazy

Prompt: 56. “I-I don’t know if I want to yell at you or fuck you.” / “Surprisingly that is not the first time I’ve heard that.”

500 Follower Celebration Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“Eyes up, General.” Crosshair's smooth voice sounds in your ear. “You’ve got company.”

You quickly pocket your datapad, taking a look around the forest. You don't see anything, and you look up at the tree where you know Crosshair is perched, the tip of his rifle just barely poking through the leaves. 

"How many?" you ask, keeping your voice low.

"Just one, but it's a big one."

You take another look around the trees. "Where is it? I don't see anything."

"You will."

“That’s not helpful,” you grumble, turning back to your datapad, tapping on the screen to wake it back up. The screen lights up, and you go back to your notes, continuing your read through as you walk through the woods, your eyes flicking up every so often to glance around you.

Nothing.

Your eyes focus back on the datapad. You’re still searching for an elusive herb that is supposedly native to this planet, one which is a rare and valuable medicinal ingredient. It’s not uncommon for Jedi and other medics to search for them, though it was a pain to do so. Making matters more complicated was that this planet was so far removed from the Republic that you were risking getting into trouble just by being here. 

The natives had yet to be contacted by the Republic, so your presence was an unknown to them. You don't even know if they're civilized enough to communicate with you, and if they were, whether or not they'd be hostile to you.

What you do know is that you’d be punished if you were caught on this planet without permission, and the last thing you wanted was to be sent to the AgriCorps. Again.

Crosshair, of course, thinks you're stupid for even thinking about searching for this herb. He had made a point to tell you exactly what he thought as the two of you set off earlier this morning. You’d left Tech and Echo behind to repair the ship’s systems, while the two of you went out to explore, Hunter and Wrecker doing the same in the opposite direction.

Crosshair was less than pleased at the idea, but he'd agreed to go with you anyway, even if his reasoning was more to ensure you wouldn’t get yourself killed.

As much as you hated to admit it, the sniper was probably right. Your chances of actually finding this herb was slim. You'd spent several days searching for it already, and your only reward was sore feet and an empty vial. You didn't even know how the plant was supposed to look, other than the brief description provided to you by a Jedi Master who had been on this planet before and some poor quality photos.

Small, white, fragrant flowers. Leaves long and thin, shaped like a star, growing in groups of five.

You were sure there was plenty of vegetation that matched the description on this planet. Hell, it was a forest, and it seemed like everything was green. The only problem was finding the right one.

You had no idea how long you had until the flower stopped blooming, and the plant lost its medicinal value. If you didn't find it soon, you'd have to leave, and then you'd be forced to return home empty handed, without the rare herb and with no explanation as to why you'd returned without it.

And worse, Crosshair would be proven right.

The thought of that alone was enough to make you want to find the damn thing.

You walk a few steps farther, pausing at a small clearing in the forest. You glance at your datapad again, checking your notes, then scan the ground for any sign of the flower.

"It's not there."

You look up. You don't see Crosshair anywhere.

"Where are you?" you ask.

"Behind you."

You turn and look, and you still can't see him. "Well, if you're going to criticize my choices, the least you could do is get down here and help."

"I am helping. By keeping you alive."

You scowl. "Where the hell are you?"

"You should really watch your language, General."

You roll your eyes. "Come down here and help me," you say.

"Help you with what?"

You jump and turn, letting out a surprised yelp when you see Crosshair standing next to you, the butt of his rifle resting on the ground, one hand resting on it, the other on his hip. His helmet is still on, and you're unable to read his expression. You hadn't heard him approach, and it had startled you, enough so that your hand had gone to the lightsaber at your waist.

"What is wrong with you?" you demand.

He tilts his head. "I didn't realize you were so jumpy.”

"Yeah, well, if you weren't always hiding in trees and making creepy comments, I wouldn't be," you grumble, releasing your hold on your saber one finger at a time.

"If I wasn't always watching your back, you'd be dead," he retorts.

"Yeah, yeah," you mutter. "You're the only reason we're not all dead."

"You're welcome."

You let out a sigh and roll your eyes. You’re sure he’s smirking underneath his helmet, and you're not entirely sure how you feel about it. There's something about him that irritates you, that gets under your skin, but he's also the only one on the squad that seems to pay attention to you. And he does a good job of it, too.

It's strange, really, because he seems to notice things about you that nobody else does. He knows when you're annoyed, or upset, or when you need to eat. He can tell when you're not sleeping well, or when you're tired, or when you're distracted. And when you're focused, like now.

The two of you spend a moment staring at each other, neither of you saying anything. You can practically see the smirk on his face, and you narrow your eyes, not trusting him. He's the most unpredictable member of the squad, and he always seems to catch you off guard. He seems to take great pride in it, too, and you don't appreciate it.

"Whatever," you finally say, turning back to your datapad and looking at it again. The description of the herb and its supposed medicinal value was all well and good, but the picture of the plant was very generic. It looked like pretty much every plant in this damn forest.

"Do you actually have any idea what you're looking for?" he asks, stepping up next to you.

You give him a withering look, and he just stares back at you.

"No," you hiss. He chuckles, a low, warm sound that makes your skin prickle. "You wanna tell me what's so funny?"

"Not really," he says, his helmet turning towards you.

"Asshole," you mutter, turning away from him and scanning the ground. He's still staring at you, and the feeling of his eyes on you makes your skin crawl. "Do you mind?"

"No," he replies, his voice low. His helmet tilts to the side as he watches you, and you can feel your cheeks growing warm. He's close, and it makes you feel uneasy, but you don't back down, and he doesn't move.

“Look, if you don't want to be here, you can leave," you say, turning to him, your voice rising.

He takes a step closer, and you have to fight the urge to back away. You stand your ground, and he leans closer, the black visor of his helmet mere inches from your face.

He scoffs. “And get blamed when you disappear and die on this planet? No thanks."

"You'd love that, wouldn't you?"

He shrugs. "Wouldn't matter to me," he says. "But I like to think of myself as a loyal soldier. Wouldn't leave a comrade behind, no matter how idiotic the mission. Or the person.”

You roll your eyes. He's just trying to piss you off, and he's succeeding.

"You're insufferable," you hiss. "Get lost, and stop following me. That's an order."

He chuckles, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Can't," he says. "I'm stuck with you."

"Why?"

He doesn't answer, just shrugs.

"Then just leave," you mutter, turning and walking away. You hear him follow behind, but you don't bother to look. You know he'll keep pace with you.

You walk in silence for a few minutes, before he speaks.

"What exactly are we looking for, anyway?"

"Are you actually going to help, or are you just gonna complain?"

"Complain, probably."

"Then leave."

"Not until you do."

"Ugh," you groan. "Fine. Look for anything with long, thin leaves, and white flowers."

"What does it do?"

"You don't care."

"Probably not, but I'm asking anyway."

"It's for an antidote," you reply. "For a poison. It's very rare, and expensive, and the only way to obtain it is by harvesting the flower. If we can find one with roots in tact, we can bring it back with us and grow our own. But the only place it's grown is here, and the blooming season is only a few days and then it's over."

"Sounds like a lot of trouble," he comments.

"It's worth it," you argue. "This could save thousands of lives."

"So, what do I look for?" he asks. You give him a look, and he shakes his head. "What? You asked for my help. Tell me what to do."

"Fine," you sigh. "The flower is usually found growing at the base of a tree or shrub, and the roots are long and deep, and it has a unique scent."

"Unique how?"

"I don't know, it's like..." You wrinkle your nose, thinking. "Like... honey and mint, I think? It's hard to explain. I don't really smell it myself, but that's what I was told."

Crosshair stares at you for a moment, his hands flexing. He looks like he's contemplating something, but doesn't say anything. Instead, he just turns away, walking into the woods.

"Cross?"

"Keep your eyes open, and don't die," he calls back.

"Where are you going?"

"To find your precious herb," he replies, waving over his shoulder.

You roll your eyes. "Just don't get lost!"

He doesn't answer, disappearing among the trees.

You continue on your way, stopping every so often to check the ground for any sign of the flower, and then move on. The day passes slowly, and you feel yourself getting more and more frustrated. Your frustration only grows when you see the sun starting to set, the sky slowly darkening.

"Fuck," you grumble, turning and heading back in the direction of the ship. Crosshair had left hours ago, and you hadn't seen or heard from him since. You had no idea where he was, or if he was still alive.

"Cross, you there?" you ask, tapping your comm.

Nothing.

"Crosshair, come in."

Still nothing.

You let out a frustrated huff. He was probably fine, but that didn't stop the worry from creeping up inside of you. It wasn't unusual for him to disappear, but you had expected him to stay close to you, especially after insisting that he stick with you.

"Dammit," you growl, turning back around. You're about to call out for him again, when you hear a twig snap behind you. You go still, your hand instinctively going to your lightsaber, and you spin around, igniting it.

You're not prepared for what greets you.

You're met by a massive, six-legged creature, easily three times your size, and twice as wide. It's covered in thick, shaggy fur, its legs ending in sharp talons. It lets out a growl, its teeth bared, saliva dripping from its mouth.

You're frozen in place, your heart pounding. You can't move, your limbs trembling, and you try to think, to find a way out of this, but you can't.

The creature takes a step towards you, its head lowered, and you can feel the air around you shift as it inhales. It's trying to catch your scent.

You grip the hilt of your lightsaber tightly, willing your hands to stop shaking, trying to keep the blade steady. You’ve fought bigger, more dangerous things than this. You can handle it.

You swallow hard, trying to calm your nerves. You can do this. You're a Jedi.

The creature opens its mouth, a low, rumbling growl echoing in the woods. It's almost on top of you now, and you brace yourself, knowing you have to act, or you'll be dead.

You move forward, swinging your lightsaber towards the creature. It reacts immediately, lunging at you.

A loud shot rings through the forest, and the creature stumbles, its head jerking to the side. Another shot, and another, and the creature falls, the life draining from its body.

You stand there for a moment, your lightsaber humming quietly, the smell of the creature's blood filling the air. You can feel your heart beating wildly, and you know you should be relieved, but you're not. You're angry, and terrified.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You could have gotten yourself killed."

Crosshair is standing next to you, his rifle aimed at the creature, his eyes hidden behind the black visor of his helmet. His hands are steady, his finger resting lightly on the trigger, and you can feel the tension radiating off of him.

Okay, now you're furious.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" you demand, glaring at him. "There’s no way the locals didn’t hear that. We're going to be in so much shit."

"That thing was about to kill you, and all you can think about is how much trouble you're going to be in?"

"Yes!"

He lowers his rifle and pulls off his helmet, and you're met with his usual expression of disdain. "You're unbelievable."

"Where the hell were you, anyway?"

"Helping you," he says.

"Bullshit," you hiss. "If you were helping me, we'd have found the damn flower by now."

He holsters his rifle and digs into the pouch on his belt, pulling out a vial and holding it up.

You stare at it for a moment, not believing what you're seeing. It can't be. There's no way.

"Are you kidding me?" you ask, snatching the vial out of his hand and turning it over. Sure enough, inside is a small, white flower, its roots still intact.

"You're welcome."

"This can't be real," you murmur, your eyes widening as you stare at the herb. It's everything you'd hoped for, and more.

"It is," he says.

You turn to him, your mouth hanging open. “I…”

"It's okay," he says, taking the vial back and handing you his helmet. "You can say it."

“I—I don’t know if I want to yell at you or fuck you.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them, and you cover your mouth with your free hand, your face burning.

His eyebrows shoot up, and he tilts his head.

“Surprisingly not the first time I’ve heard that," he says, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"It just slipped out," you protest. "I didn't--"

"Sure you did," Crosshair cuts in, taking a step towards you. He's close, so close that you can feel the heat of his breath against your skin, and it makes your knees weak. "I've got that effect on people."

"I hate you," you whisper, unable to look away from him.

"No, you don't," he murmurs, leaning in and pressing his lips against yours.

You gasp, but don't pull away, your eyes fluttering closed as his hands rest on your hips, pulling you against him. His lips are soft, his kiss gentle, and you can't help but kiss him back, your arms wrapping around his neck, his helmet dangling from your fingers.

The two of you are pressed together, his warmth surrounding you, and you melt into his embrace. You're not sure how long you stand there, your lips moving against his, your heart pounding in your chest.

You can't seem to think straight, and all you can focus on is him, his touch, his scent, his taste. He takes a step forward, and you gasp as your back hits a tree, his body pinning you there. He takes advantage of the opportunity, his tongue slipping past your lips, exploring your mouth. You moan softly, and he deepens the kiss, his hands gripping your hips tighter.

Your knees are trembling, and you have to wrap your arms around his neck, afraid that you'll fall. He seems to sense this, his hands moving to your waist, pulling you flush against him. His armor is hard, digging into your skin, and you let out a soft whimper, a sound that makes him smirk against your lips.

He breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours, his breath hot against your skin. His eyes are dark and hooded, his cheeks flushed, and he's breathing hard. He doesn't speak, just stares at you, his gaze intense.

"Thank you," you finally whisper.

“For the flowers or the kiss?" he asks.

"Both."

He smiles, and it's one of the first genuine smiles you've ever seen from him. He's beautiful, and you can't help but stare at him, his sharp features, his piercing eyes.

"Come on," he says, pulling back and taking your hand. "Let's get back to the ship before the locals figure out we're here. You can show me how grateful you are later."

Your cheeks burn, and you quickly look away, trying to hide the blush that's creeping up your neck. 

"Yeah, yeah," you mutter, rolling your eyes, though you can't help but smile as he takes your hand and tugs you towards the ship. The two of you walk in silence, his fingers laced through yours. He's surprisingly gentle, his touch light, his thumb brushing over your skin.

You're still not entirely sure what to make of him. He's cocky and arrogant, but he's also protective, and attentive. He notices things that others don't, and he does what needs to be done, even when he doesn't want to. And he doesn't let anyone else tell him what to do.

But most of all, he's the one person who's always been there for you. He's the one who's always watched over you, even when you didn't want him to. And even when he's a pain in the ass, you're glad he's there.

You steal a glance at him, and he's looking at you, his expression soft.

"What?" you ask.

"Nothing," he replies, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Just wondering how grateful you're going to be."

You flush, looking away, and he chuckles, squeezing your hand.

"Shut up," you mutter, trying, and failing, to hold back a smile. You can’t deny you’re looking forward to it.

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia

@spicy-clones @kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak

@lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @puppetscenario

@umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano

@burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @hobbititties @mere-bear

@thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @mali-777

@schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @dreamie411 @sukithebean

@bimboshaggy @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus

@ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay @callsign-denmark

@julli-bee @sonicrainbooms @captn-trex @feral-ferrule @webslinger-holland

@marchingviolist @deerspringdreams @chaicilatte @somewhere-on-kamino @silly-starfish

[jinx-xxed]

Supreme Leader

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; The motivation for this one legit came out of nowhere but I can’t even complain 🫶 this is the best smut I’ve done to date I think

Part of Written in the Stars

Summary; You come back to find Snoke gone… and Kylo Ren has taken his place.

Content; NSFW 18+, AFAB reader, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Commander Reader, aftermath of TLJ, angst to sad fluff, original characters, you get promoted!!!, Kylo’s mean, Kylo gets a lightsaber pulled on him, you have a saberstaff, throne room confrontation turns into throne room sex, fucking on the throne, you’re still not his biggest fan lol, helmet on, gloves on, calling Kylo by his proper title, orgasm denial, overstimulation, inappropriate use of the Force, very dominant Kylo, fingering, unprotected piv sex, riding Kylo, humiliation, degradation, praise, talking about feelings

Wc; 6.2k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

There’s a sharp ping that comes from the device imbedded into your metal arm cuffs, overriding the silence mode you have it set on and making you startle. You grumble to yourself, pausing your work to tap a few things on the screen and project a smaller screen above it. There it reads the message: all troops involved with mission-76653 cease operations and return to base immediately. There’s coordinates to the Steadfast attached and not the Supremacy, you note.

“Are you serious?” You snap to yourself. The members of Fleet 74 who came along with you on this expedition stop at your voice, looking back at you curiously. You sigh, lifting a hand and making a circular motion with a finger. “We’re heading back to base, I guess. Direct orders.”

Jaharah begins to protest. “Now? But we haven’t finished-“

“I know. I’m not happy about it either.” You say, a scowl settling nicely onto your features. You traveled all the way out to some planet in the Outer Rim to basically have to go right back. You turn, starting the journey to the speeders you’d left behind that’ll return you to your ship that’s even farther away. The others reluctantly follow. “I hope whatever bastard demanded this realizes we’re still two weeks out.”

Lyra’s hands wring together nervously. “Do you think something bad happened? Maybe the resistance-“

You scoff sharply. “The resistance couldn’t hope to do anything against Snoke’s ship, not as things stand now. This is something else.” Or you’d think so.

You won’t admit that you’re worried about what that ‘something else’ could be.

» ☆ «

The trip back to base was just as annoying as the trip out to the assigned planet was. Traveling in a cramped transport ship for two weeks isn’t the most pleasant thing in the world. But finally, there’s a familiar beeping of the sensors and the filter of hyperspace fades away to reveal the massive Star Destroyer that is the Steadfast sitting amongst the blankness of space.

The ship is brought into the hangar and you immediately get the feeling that something is off. A tension in the atmosphere, a shiver running up your arms beneath your uniform. Stormtroopers stand about in a more stiff manner than usual, and the lower workers of the Steadfast seem to have become as meek as mice. There’s also a tinge of leftover smoke in the air, like something blew up within the Star Destroyer. You glance back at your Fleet members as they exit their ships; they feel it too, but Jaharah shrugs, just as lost as you are.

“General,” comes a sudden voice. You snap back around to see a trooper standing before you. “Your presence is requested in the throne room immediately. And the Fleet’s.”

The throne room? What would Snoke want with you now? And what would he want with your Fleet?

You nod, following the Stormtrooper as he acts like some guide through the Steadfast. You’re sure you could find your way faster than he ever could, but you follow along to be nice. The walk there is long, of course, since the ship is so ungodly huge. The hall turns colder as the throne room doors come into view, and it’s like the tension you felt in the air before becomes about ten times heavier, threatening to weigh you down and prevent you from going forward. There’s Sith Troopers guarding the doors, and you see the members of Fleet 74 who stayed behind waiting there as well.

You look to Chief, your second in command. “What is this about?” You demand in a whisper.

“You’ll see.” She mutters. You don’t like that.

The Fleet gets in to a close formation with yourself at the head. The doors open and you’re led inside. You nearly freeze in your tracks with the sight you’re met with.

Snoke is no more. Instead, sitting in a newly made, imposing throne, is Kylo Ren.

He wears his full uniform, hood pulled over his helmet adorned with the red veins that stick the shattered pieces back together coursing through the black metal. His Knights fan out on either side of the throne, still as statues with their weapons held tightly in their hands. Kylo himself is clearly trying to be every bit as intimidating as Snoke was, with his boots firmly planted on the ground, gloved hands clutching the arm rests, back straight as a board.

You kneel before he even gets the chance to tell you to because somehow, initiating it yourself is less humiliating. You hear the Fleet follow suit behind you. The cold, reflective metal of the floor bites into your knee as you stare at it.

There’s an unnerving silence and you feel his eyes on you. Then, “welcome back, Commander.”

You perk at the title, your head shooting up. “Commander?”

“It seems we’ve both gotten promotions.” Kylo drawls. “Snoke is dead, killed by the Jedi girl in his own ship.”

Liar.

He knows that you know, and he also knows that you know it’s better to keep your mouth firmly shut. The discussion you’ll have later should be interesting.

“I’ve taken his place, and I believe it’s most logical to make you my Commander. Fleet 74 will remain as it is. I’m sure you can handle the extra duties, correct?” He asks.

You dip your head again. “Yes, of course. I’m honored, Com-“ you clear your throat, correcting yourself, “Supreme Leader.” It feels wrong.

He taps a finger against the arm rest. “Then you’re dismissed. You and I will talk later.”

You nod. “Yes, sir.”

You rise with the Fleet, leading them out of the throne room with tense muscles. As soon as the doors close behind you, a few of them clap you on the back, congratulating you on the new position. You can’t share in the celebration, unable to ignore the itch in the back of your mind that you can’t quite get rid of.

What the hell happened while you were gone?

» ☆ «

You’re called back to the throne room an hour later.

You know you don’t have a choice in the matter, the message was very clear in that sense. You either go willingly or you’re sure someone will come along to drag you there. So you put away the report you were filing on your forcefully failed mission and push yourself from your chair. You walk down familiar halls, you try to ignore the tremor in your hands by clenching them into fists.

The path to the throne room is void of life, as if it’s a radioactive zone that nobody wants to enter. The description isn’t far off; it feels like you enter into a cloud of smog that chokes you when you get near and it sends a shiver down your spine. The Dark is heavy, threatening, and thick in the area. It parts for you when you pass through, ever so willing to obey your commands even if it doesn’t belong to you, but you feel it pressing in on every side. You take a deep breath when you see the doors leading into the throne room finally appear around a corner, looming like a beast waiting to pounce.

You push them open without pause, steeling yourself and the nerves that buzz beneath your skin. Your face is set with hard lines, your brows slightly drawn over your eyes and your lips positioned with a small downturn. Cold air and the sharp tang of polished metal hits you when you step inside, the click of your heels against the ever-so shiny floor the only sound.

You quickly take note of the fact that the room is empty. There are no Guards, no Stormtroopers, no Knights. Only him.

There is only Kylo Ren, sitting on a false throne.

You feel his eyes behind that mask trained on you as soon as you enter, crawling along your form and taking in every bit of you. He looks as he did before, his body cloaked in black robes with his hood framing his helmet, hiding it from the light. The throne isn’t the same as Snoke’s, this one has had to be built from scratch like many things after the utter obliteration of the Supremacy. This new chair has clearly taken inspiration given its size, but the energy surrounding it has changed. It isn’t as Dark as people would believe it to be.

You stop a healthy distance away from the dais, your perfect reflection along the floor mirroring your movements. “You requested me, Supreme Leader?” The title feels wrong and foreign on your tongue when referring to him and you struggle to hide the mockery in your tone, though he hears it all the same. There’s a seed of unease that burrows itself in your gut, eager to bloom into something bigger as you stare at the man you’ve worked with for most of your life. All of this was unexpected, and that’s where your problem lies. Kylo did this, he got himself to this position—and you don’t understand it.

His gloved hands brace against the armrests as he stands. You watch him intensely, your body feeling like it’s pulled taut as a bowstring, ready for something that you don’t know about yet. Your breathing stutters in your chest, it quickens with your heartbeat. He walks down those steps, one after another with the grace and power of a leader that knows his strength. There’s a brush against the shields in your mind, a familiar Force signature that’s taunting you, playing a game that you’re not interested in. You recoil from the touch, quickly forcing it away from you and out of your head. It can’t be trusted.

He reaches the same level you’re on but when he tries to take another inch of the space between you, you find your lightsaber in front of you. It screams to life, red beams of plasma coming from either end. It lets out a steady hum through the handle clenched in your palm—a threat, a promise. Kylo pauses where he is and you glare at him over the weapon, the red bouncing off the silver on his helmet.

“What did you do?” You demand, words spat from between your teeth.

“Don’t be stupid.” He sneers, deep voice crackling through the vocoder.

He moves towards you again, unfazed by the deadly lightsaber you have pointed directly at him. His pace is unrelenting and you move yourself backwards, eager to keep the same distance. You bare your teeth, twisting to follow him as he circles you like a predator. “What happened to Snoke?”

There’s a minuscule shake of his head as he observes you. “I told you-“

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Kylo. What did you do?” You say again. You want a straight answer, you want to know what the fuck happened when you were gone. You want to know what happened to the man you were beginning to trust. You remember the hunger he’d had in his eyes when you’d first met him, the insatiable desire for power and to prove himself to whoever dared doubt him. You wonder how that young man would feel seeing himself now like this, standing at the top of the galaxy. And you wonder how much farther he’ll go, if this is where you make the stand for your life because you’re a threat.

“I did what I had to.” He says coldly with nothing but conviction. “You’ll understand.” He got himself behind you, now forcing you to walk in the opposite direction to stay away from him. There’s ripples in the Force, the darkness swirling around you both. You feel him at the shields you keep up, but he’s not trying like he should be to get in. He’s basically just sitting there, occasionally reaching forward to remind you that he’s waiting. It’s a silent plea to be let in, but you won’t listen.

“Snoke was a worthless coward. He was incapable of fighting his own battles. Why do you feel such remorse for him when he’s the one who’s caused you so much pain?” Kylo demands, angry at the idea of you sympathizing with Snoke. You don’t. You never would. You’re glad to see that he’s gone, that you’ll never again have to experience dread when returning back to base. Snoke tortured you both but after knowing of him ever since you were a child, hearing him in your head, that seed of unease blooms into fear. What will happen now? What kind of leader could Kylo Ren possibly be?

You don’t have the chance to ponder it further. The backs of your legs hit the seat of the throne after having been forced up the dais by Kylo who now comes so close it causes you to fall unceremoniously into the chair. Your lightsaber is still active, poised at his throat even as he slams both hands on either armrest, caging you in. “I saved us,” he snarls, “and this is how you thank me?”

Even as Kylo’s presence threatens to rob you of breath, his darkness trying to choke you, you don’t cower. Your lightsaber reflects in your eyes in the same way it does his helmet, the heat from the plasma an uncomfortable presence between you. “How am I supposed to trust you?” You practically throw the words in his face, and you can see the way they make him recoil. It’s barely there, so very slight, but he draws back just a fraction of a centimeter and you hear the creak of his gloves as he grips the armrests tighter. It hurts him, it brings you satisfaction. You feel the flinch in the Force, betraying his true emotions to someone like you who’s more attuned than he realizes.

And then it’s gone. He brushes it aside and replaces that emotion with bristling anger. He reaches past your arm, past your lightsaber without a care, and he grips your chin. You want to thrash against him, want to fight against his hold; it would be so easy with the saber you have against his neck. But you can’t bring yourself to. You let him hold you there as he makes sure you’re looking at him, his fingers digging into your jaw.

“He was going to have me kill you.” Kylo says, tone quiet and blunt as he brings forth information he’d been holding inside of himself for so long, letting it consume him. “That’s why I sent you away.” Scenes flash in your mind, brought to you by Kylo so that you can see exactly what terrified him, to see what caused that sense of fear he had that day he gave you your mission.

Snoke would’ve had you both come to the throne room, and you would’ve thought nothing was amiss. But then he would reveal that he wished to further Kylo’s training after his recent failures, and that you were the key to making him stronger. That key was your own death. Snoke would admit as such, that he wants Kylo to kill you. You could feel it—the rage inside of you, the despair. Snoke had always favored Kylo over you because Kylo had a name behind him, he had a legacy. You were just a kid he picked up off a meaningless planet with a worthless family that had more potential than anyone could’ve ever dreamed. You’d surpassed Kylo in more than enough trials to prove that and yet… it didn’t matter. You were to die to push someone else forward.

“You would’ve fought,” Kylo murmurs, briefly breaking you from the vision, “but you would’ve lost.”

You see what he means. You turned on Snoke, you lashed out with everything you had in you as the Praetorian Guards advanced. You killed all of them, your will to live greater than their own strength, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough against Snoke, who forced you to your knees even as he struggled to do so from your protesting. You could’ve been something, you could’ve been more, but you were just fodder for the machine. You at least looked Kylo in the eyes with your chin held high when he lifted the hilt of his lightsaber. The vision cut out directly after that, and you find yourself heaving for breath.

Your own lightsaber is gone, taken from your grip by Kylo while you watched your death play out. The anger that boils in your gut almost feels misplaced because that future never came to pass, and it never will. Because of what Kylo did. He sent you on a convenient mission to the Outer Rim, as far away from Snoke as possible. Then he took his chances back here, trying to figure out some way to save you, and then the perfect opportunity was laid at his feet.

He keeps his hold on you, forcing you to watch through his own eyes and learn of what he’d gone through. Rey had shown up. The young Jedi girl actually had the gall to deliver herself right to her enemy. She definitely has guts, you’d give her that. She tried and failed to get Kylo to turn away from the Dark Side, trying to make him see the Light. But it didn’t work when his thoughts remained on you and keeping you from Snoke’s grasp. He was too focused on the fact that if the future he saw came to fruition, he knew he’d lose himself entirely. He wouldn’t be able to bear it.

So he used Rey in his schemes, used her as a distraction of sorts. He used her to finally kill Snoke, to free himself and you from his reign. He couldn’t believe it actually worked, that Snoke was truly lying on the floor severed in half. It was like a weight was lifted off his shoulders, a ghoul finally banished from the corners of his mind. It was peaceful, but only for a moment. Him and Rey fought the Guards, and then he tried to get back his grandfather’s lightsaber once more to no avail. The memories from then on are bright flashes, fuzzy images, and explosions—nothing you can make out.

You’re pulled from Kylo’s memories, your jaw slack and your heart racing. It feels unreal, something you can’t believe because you weren’t here to witness it. But if you had been here, you would’ve died. “Now you see, don’t you? I told you that you’d understand. Yet you still can’t bring yourself to trust me. It just disgusts you, doesn’t it?” He says lowly, jabbing at you. “How could you ever bear to trust someone like me?” Someone who saved your life, he wants to add with his mocking tone.

There’s a moments pause where you stare at each other, unsure of what to think or say. You wish you could see him, could see his eyes and his face. Your nervous hand reaches up, attempting to get the latch on his helmet to take it off, but he stops you abruptly. He grips your wrist firmly in a leather-clad hand. You try and fumble for words. “Kylo, I-“

“No. You’ll address me as Supreme Leader. You need to get used to that title.” He snaps, forcing you all the way back into the throne as he comes even closer, his boot sliding between your own and forcing your legs apart. Your breath hitches when he takes both your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head so you can’t do anything stupid like trying to shove him off or drawing your lightsaber on him again.

The rise and fall of your chest quickens when cold air kisses the skin of your stomach, your layers shoved up by his free hand. The leather of his gloves is rough as it skates along the newly exposed area on its way further down. His fingers catch on the waistband of your pants and they don’t hesitate to slip beneath the fabric. Your body feels like it’s been set on fire, your spine pressed so firmly against the back of the throne that there’s nowhere else for you to go, even as you try to scoot away from his burning touch.

You jolt when he grazes your clit, your teeth digging so sharply into your lip that you think you taste blood. He’s moves slow and with purpose, knowing exactly what he’s doing when a low groan rumbles from the back of your throat. You can tell by the way he’s so willing to taunt and tease, by the way his huge body covers your own and boxes you in, that this isn’t going to be good for you. The pad of his index finger traces slow, tortuous circles around your entrance while the heel of his palm makes occasional, light taps against your clit to keep you aware, to keep you anticipating.

“You love to say how much you hate me, and yet you’re always so eager for me.” Kylo spits, his voice guttural when it comes through his helmet, struggling to get past the vocoder as more than just lustful static. He can feel how wet you are, how easily the dark leather of his gloves slides between your folds. His finger finally plunges into your waiting cunt not a second later, a gasp rattling your body. It’s a welcome feeling, one that finally gives the throbbing of your walls something to focus on instead of just aching, empty space.

The thrusts of his finger are lazy, staying at the same easy pace even as you squirm. He’s more generous to your clit now at least, his palm staying firmly against it, providing the friction of rough leather and stitched seams with each in and out of your hole. You whine in pleasure when he finally adds a second finger, the thick digits filling you more completely. They go farther, sink deeper into your heat, finding and pressing against the spot you’re never able to get on your own. Your hands struggle against the hold he has on them, your attempts at freeing yourself as your body writhes having been unsuccessful. You know you’ll have bruises in the shapes of his fingers across your wrists from the strength of his grip.

Kylo enjoys seeing you like this, completely under his mercy and so, so very compliant. It’s rare when he gets what he wants from you—your submission—so he’s relishing in it now while it lasts. His enjoyment is obvious from the erection creating a tent in his pants. You have to avert your eyes from it, trying not to think of the way he’d use it, the way he’d ram into you again and again and fill you with his desire. You can feel your own mounting, a knot in your gut that grows bigger with his ministrations, threatening to come undone.

You’re almost there. You’re standing on the ledge, leaning over the side, ready to fall off into bliss. Just a few more thrusts of his fingers, a few more circles around your clit, and your orgasm will be washing through you. But it never comes despite the way he continues to fingerfuck you, despite the way you can feel it right there and so ready to burst. It’s like something’s blocking it on purpose, a dam built with the sole mission of denying your release. Your eyes snap open, finding Kylo. He huffs a laugh. “What, you think I’d let you cum that easily?” It pisses you off how much he’s liking this. “I’ve barely even started.”

You practically growl at him, lip drawing up to reveal your sharp teeth, but you know he just finds it amusing. Especially when you try to grind your hips down onto his fingers as if that’ll be enough to break the Force hold he has on your body. You can’t move much beyond that with the way he looms over the throne, his legs pinning yours and your hands still stuck above your head. An involuntary whimper rips from your throat when he moves his thumb to your clit, rubbing at it with more purpose and ferocity and a third finger managing to slip into your eager cunt. Your feet scrabble against the floor, trying to find some kind of purchase as the denial of an orgasm makes you dizzy. You try and swallow the drool pooling in your mouth, the breath of your panting fogging the metal panels on Kylo’s helmet from your proximity.

You give in to begging once tears prick your eyes. Your words are barely more than a whisper. “Please- please, Kylo, just-“

There’s a harsh thrust up into your cunt that has your words falling silent, instead replaced by a sharp, high pitched yelp. “What did I fucking tell you?” He demands, pressing even harder against that spot along your walls that has you seeing stars. You feel like you’re about to explode from the built up tension in your body. “What did I tell you to call me?”

You glare at him, your eyes full of all the fury you can’t manage to get out with your voice. You don’t want to say it. You don’t want to bend to this man who’s held such a ridiculous amount of power over you for what feels like your entire life. Your teeth grind together in defiance, even as your face burns. He hums at that and seems almost happy that you’re going against him. He does love a good fight.

His fingers stall and begin to slowly slide out of you, ready to leave you completely empty and with a simmering need that won’t be taken care of. You jolt, eyes widening. It’s in that moment you find you don’t actually give a fuck about defying him, you just need him to stay in you. “Supreme Leader!” You practically shout, so sudden it even startles yourself. Your next words are quieter, more restrained. “Supreme Leader, please..”

You moan in relief when his fingers take back their positions deep inside your cunt, the sounds of your slick sloshing around filling the empty throne room. “Good,” Kylo says roughly, clearly struggling himself. Your obedience is music to his ears and it does nothing to soothe the ache of his cock still restrained by his pants. It just makes it worse. “Say it again.”

You hate him. You’re probably going to kill him. “Supreme Leader, please-“ you have to choke back your humiliation and death threats, “please let me cum.”

This time Kylo groans, the desperate sound crackling through his helmet. He thrusts his fingers one more time, swiping his thumb along your clit, before he lets you go. The release is instant. Something akin to a scream comes from you with your orgasm, the world around you feeling like it’s shattering. You can barely breathe, pure pleasure wracking your body and sending lightning through your limbs. The dam finally broke, and it feels so fucking good. The unbearable pressure is gone, bliss washing through you like a wave from the ocean as you cum around his hand. “See how nice I am?” Kylo says with heavy breath, barely able to contain himself. His eyes are locked on to where his hand disappears into your pants; he can feel your cum pooling on his glove. “How well I reward you when you’re good?”

It’s all you can do to nod dumbly, too blissed out with your ears still ringing to really comprehend what he’s saying. You don’t resist when your pants are pulled off, your underwear entirely soaked through and baring your sensitive, wet cunt to the cold air. You shiver. Your cloak is tossed aside, your top layers undone to reveal your upper body. You’re barely more than a rag doll when Kylo braces an arm against your back, using it to scoop you out of the throne so he can take your spot. His zipper is pulled down, his boxers lowered so his cock is finally freed, painfully erect and dribbling precum.

He sinks you down to the hilt without hesitation. All the air is punched from your lungs, your body tensing as his length fills you to capacity. Kylo’s appreciative groan is loud and throaty, his fingers digging bruises into your hips. You have to pause for a moment to adjust to the sudden intrusion, feeling so full it’s like you’re not allowed to breathe. Your lips are parted, your nails digging into the ribbed sleeves on his forearms for purchase. His body is warm and muscular beneath your hands.

You struggle to move, still feeling the after effects of your orgasm, your limbs weak and trembling. Kylo makes no effort to help you, his helmet instead tilted up towards you expectantly. “If you want it you’ll have to work for it, Commander.” He says with some twisted amusement. You briefly consider how easy it’d be to reach forward and wring his neck.

But you put that aside, swallowing your broken pride. You unfortunately want his cock more than that. The first thrust is bliss, pleasure filled shocks coursing through you like a live wire. You and Kylo moan in tandem, both of you finally getting some form of relief. Your movements are slow at first, trying desperately to get used to the feeling of his cock splitting you open. His hands travel up your sides, his left glove still soaked in your juices and leaving a trail along your skin. He finds your breasts, encompassing them with large, warm palms that have your head tilting back and your eyes closing. He pinches your stiffened nipples between his fingers, rolling them experimentally as you whine and arch into his touch. Your pace on his cock is steady now, finally having figured out a rhythm.

“Touch yourself.” Kylo orders suddenly, words sounding choked.

Your gaze snaps to him, brows furrowing slightly. “What?”

“Touch yourself.” He snaps again. “If you’re smart, you’ll listen to what I say.”

You glower, your face burning even hotter. He knows you don’t enjoy doing it, which is giving him all the more reason to make you. You hesitate, both not wanting to do as he demands and also not wanting to see whatever repercussions will come if you don’t. Your shaking fingers reach down and find your clit, the bud still sensitive and aching from Kylo’s earlier abuse. Your lip is between your teeth, trying to keep back your moans as you run circles over your clit. The stimulation quickly builds and you can feel that familiar knot forming in your gut again.

Kylo’s helmet tilts up and you can feel his eyes on you. You try not to meet them. “You look pretty like this, you know? Finally fucking listening to me.” He rumbles, giving your nipple a particularly hard pinch and making you writhe in his grip. “Say my name.”

You try to ignore him, ignore his stupid power trip and ego boost. But then he makes his move—one hand comes down to grip your wrist and the other is firm on your hip, completely stalling your movements and messing up your concentration. Your climax steadily begins to fade, a loud and frustrated groan coming from you. “This is stupid.” You snarl at him.

He doesn’t back down. “Say it.”

A harsh breath blows through your nose. You move your head so you can look past him, not wanting to admit that this is what he’s bringing you to. “Supreme Leader.” You mutter, your hips shifting to try and get friction with his cock still hard inside your cunt. He puts a stop to that quickly with a harsh squeeze.

Kylo lets go of your wrist to instead grab your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Again.”

“Supreme Leader.” You grit out.

“One more time.”

You grab his forearm, your nails digging deep enough and with such fury that they’ll leave marks. It’s the least you can do. “Supreme Leader.”

“Good girl.” He murmurs, thumb running along your lower lip. You want nothing more than to sink your teeth into it until you taste blood. “You’ve done so well.”

His following thrust up into you has you forgetting what insult you were going to say. Both of his hands rest on your hips now, keeping you steady as he fucks you mercilessly. You bend forward, gripping his shoulders as some kind of anchor, punctuated moans spilling endlessly from your mouth. His helmet is downturned, the forehead of it resting against your sternum as he watches his cock disappear inside of your cunt, slick smearing along the front of his pants. He uses his Force to swirl against your clit, creating a sort of buzzing sensation that quickly brings that knot back and sets your blood ablaze.

“A commander reduced to a fucking cocksleeve. So good for my dick, aren’t you?” He breathes, words made even more gravelly by his vocoder. “Fuck.” You can only nod along and whimper, your brain fucked into useless mush.

You grip him tighter when your second orgasm finally bursts, your walls spasming around his cock and making him curse even louder. Cum gushes from you, dripping along your folds and making a further mess of Kylo’s pants. You cry out when he keeps thrusting into you, everything throbbing and overly sensitive for his harsh pace. You can’t think straight, you can only dig your teeth into the padded armor of his shoulder as tears well and threaten to fall.

His cock twitches, his hips stuttering. He gets in a few more thrusts before he’s cumming at last, a slew of cusses mixed with grunts and groans falling from his mouth. You hum in pleasure when you feel his warm spend filling your cunt to the brim, effectively coating your walls white.

Neither of you can move for a couple of minutes after. You don’t know how long you sit there for, your body finally relaxing and your eyes closing. He doesn’t pull out, his cock softening inside you and making sure you stay plugged full of his cum. You’re tempted to fall asleep before Kylo’s hands are leaving your hips and instead coming up to undo the latches on his helmet. There’s a hiss of air as the mechanisms slide out of place and he’s able to take it off. His black hair falls around his face, sweat drenching the ends.

You struggle to lift yourself up, but you want to see him. Your hands shake from exhaustion when they reach forward, taking his cheeks in your palms. He looks so tired. His sigh tickles your skin, his eyes closing at your touch. He seems significantly more relaxed now, his body letting go of its tension and his Force signature becoming something calmer. You can feel the weight shift as he leans into your right hand. His arms circle around your back, somehow pulling you even closer.

He swallows before speaking. “I was… afraid.” He mutters. “Afraid without you here… and yet I had to do it. Otherwise I’d lose you.”

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his lips gentle as they brush along your collarbone. “I was afraid that I would fail. That it would’ve all been for nothing.” He continues. He sounds so quiet, quieter than you’ve heard him in a while. You run your fingers through his hair. “I just… I’m glad I sent you away.”

“Me too.” You mumble, your eyes trained on the back wall as your mind runs. You’re finally coming to terms with the fact that your death had almost been set in stone at the hands of Snoke. Coming to terms with the fact that your lifelong teacher was going to have you executed by his star pupil, and the fact that Kylo decided to save you and possibly get himself killed instead. The fact he did everything he could to make sure you wouldn’t come back to a death sentence. You swallow thickly. “Thank you.”

He stills at those words. They’re the last thing he expected to hear from you and it makes him uneasy. He doesn’t say anything, and that’s okay. You know he can’t. Besides, it’s easy to gather what he wants to say from his Force in this moment of vulnerability. An apology is at the forefront; an apology for taking things out on you again. He doesn’t regret it, but he didn’t mean for it to happen. Then underneath that there’s longing that’s still lingering from when you were gone. He wanted nothing more than to see you, to know you were okay. He’s more than happy to have you in his arms now.

You pull yourself out of his thoughts, blowing out a tired sigh and resting your head on his shoulder. He wraps his cape around you to protect your mostly-naked form from the chill of the throne room, his warmth bleeding into you. You’re content to just sit here in his lap, and he seems content to let you. He relaxes back into the throne, cradling you against him with his soft breathing ruffling the hairs on the top of your head.

You’re together. You’re alive. That’s all you need in this moment.

[volklana]

Glorious

Title Comes From This Song:

Request: I decided to combine these two-

-Could I please request a modern Sihtric who is clearly suffering from PTSD because let's be honest he would. And he keeps trying to push you away because he thinks he's too much to handle

-I'd love a fluffy first date Sihtric x reader fic. With all the creative freedom to you!

Warnings: Mentions PTSD and smoking

You leaned against the brick wall, trying your friend’s phone number only for it to once again ring out, and you sighed, hugging your top against your body to try fight back at the cold a bit. 

The club was going to be closing any minute now and you had no idea where your friend had gone to, and truth be told this wasn’t the first time she had done this to you. 

You put your phone back in your purse and weighed up your options, you could hang out in this ally (a side door off the club) another little while longer in the hopes she got back to you before the club closed, or you could admit defeat that she had gone home with some guy and hail yourself a cab home alone.

You tried her one more time, and this time you really did feel like crying.

You had only come out tonight for her, even though you had been really going through it lately, she had managed, as always, to guilt trip you into going out to the club, and now here you were alone and depressingly drunk and she was nowhere to be seen.

“Are you okay?” a voice suddenly called through the depths of your despair and you turned your head to find the most beautiful man you had ever seen propped up against the wall, leaning on one leg, inhaling a cigarette and looking at you with big worried eyes.

You shook your head sadly and he pushed himself away from the wall and came towards you.

“Do you need help?” he asked kindly and you shook your head softly but accepted the cigarette he offered you anyway, dipping your head towards the flame of his lighter to light it.

“My friend has abandoned me,” you offered as an explanation after you exhaled, “She always does this shit to me and yet I never learn.” 

“Sounds like a shitty friend,” he said truthfully, but sadly and you nodded because he was right.

“You got anyone else you can call?” he asked and you smiled at him, but shook your head.

“I’ll be okay, I’ll get a cab.”

“Is that safe? On your own?” he asked, looking into your eyes with concern and it was only then in that light that you realised he had two different coloured eyes, one a bright blue and the other a honey brown.

An expression you could not quite read crossed his face and you realised you had been staring, and you snapped to your senses “I’ll be okay,” you repeated once again but he didn’t look convinced.

“Sihtric!” a stern voice called from the doorway and he snapped to attention immediately, “Break time is over get your ass inside.”

The door slammed and Sihtric stomped his cigarette out. 

“I’ve gotta go,” he rushed “But I really wish you wouldn’t get a taxi alone,” he added “I would offer to walk you home but I gotta do the close up.”

You smiled, heart genuinely warmed by his concern and maybe it was the drink, or maybe it was because no one had shown genuine care for you in a long time, but you pushed up onto your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “You are a kind man Sihtric, but I will be fine.”

You both made your way towards the door and Sihtric reached for your arm, “I didn’t catch your name,” he rushed and you giggled “It’s y/n,” before you headed back upstairs to the dancefloor and he watched you go before he made his way back into the bar. But he repeated your name in his mind over and over again so he would not forget.

“And you just let her go?” Osferth asked, wiping down tables, while Sihtric was cleaning glasses.

“Ya didn’t even ask for her number?” Finan quirked his head up from where he was counting tills and Sihtric deadpanned.

“It wasn’t like that guys, she wasn’t even interested in me.”

And even if she was, he thought she is too good for me.

“No?” Osferth smirked, catching Finan’s eye “But you were interested in her!” 

“Oh shut up I don’t know why I even told you guys,” Sihtric snapped, his cheeks tinged red with embarrassment.

“We’re not open yet, love,” Finan said, startled to have found a shy figure in front of the bar when he emerged from the cellar with a crate of beer in hand.

“I know,” you said shyly “But I was wondering if maybe Sihtric was here?”

Finan stopped in his tracks and a sad smile broke out across his face “He’s off today love, he won’t be back until tomorrow.”

You almost stood to attention and repositioned your bag on your shoulder as you rushed out “Okay, that’s no problem.”

“I could call him for you if you need him?” he offered and you shook your head profusely “No, no don’t bother him on his day off, it was honestly nothing. I’ll just be on my way.” 

“Wait. Woah, just hold on there a second,” he pleaded, coming around the bar and halting your departure “Maybe I could give him your number? Tell him you were looking for him?”

You felt suddenly embarrassed and foolish. Would he even remember who you were from the brief conversation you’d had a few nights ago. He was absolutely gorgeous; he must have girls queuing up to talk to him all the time. Damn was he even single?

But you suddenly realised Finan was still in front of you waiting for an answer and you nodded shyly “Sure,” and accepted the notepad and pen he handed you and scribbled your name and number, and you scarpered out before he you could change your mind it wasn’t until you left that a huge smile broke out across his face at the brackets beside your name (the girl from the ally)

Sihtric had barely hung up his leather jacket in the coat room when Finan burst in and scared him half to death. He chose not to make a big deal of the way he flinched so as not to embarrass him.

“Am I, or am I not your best friend?” he beamed and Sihtric looked at him dumbfounded.

“It’s a simple question, am I your best friend or not?”

“It depends on what you want.” Sihtric laughed.

“Ah but my friend it’s not a matter of what you can do for me, but rather what I can do for you,” he extended his hand and Sihtric locked in on the folded piece of paper in his hand.

“You only get this on the promise that you actually message her,” Sihtric nodded and unfolded the note, his heart beating a thousand beats a minute at your number.

He had searched the crowd for you every single night since your first encounter and he’d began to give up all hopes of finding you again.

He turned the crumpled piece of paper over and over in his hands on his break, trying to come up with what to say to you. Sihtric had never been confident with girls, he always fell easily, but could never fully open himself up to someone in case he got hurt, and he had spent his whole life being hurt.

He sent the message, a simple ‘Hey, this is Sihtric,’ and nearly vomited with anxiety.

“I’m so sorry, I’m not even sure what I was doing turning up like that yesterday,” you apologized and he couldn’t help the small smile and the way his heart fluttered “No, I’m so glad you did I was hoping I would bump into you again,” he replied honestly and you smiled in relief in your bed. 

You were surprised with how easily the conversation between you and Sihtric flowed, you were messaging non stop for days and then he called you unexpectedly on his walk home one night and you ended up talking way into the early hours of the morning. 

Days turned into a week or two, and you and Sihtrc never went a day without talking but thanks to his working evenings and weekends and your hectic job, it seemed impossible to plan a day to meet in person.

But soon calls were not enough and it turned into facetimes and you found yourself falling more and more for those eyes by the day.

Until you decided enough was enough and bit the bullet. 

“Are you working tonight?” you messaged as you were applying the finishing touches to your makeup. Your friend had once again begged you to come out, and this time you agreed, only with the hopes of seeing Sihtric again.

“I am love,” he replied sadly, “Did you want to call?”

You felt bad not replying, opting to hopefully surprise him when he saw you later. 

And his eyes nearly popped out of his head when you propped yourself up at the bar and asked for a drink.

“What are you doing here?” he beamed over the music and you swirled your straw around in your glass.

“My friend wanted to go out tonight, I think she’s got a new guy on the go.”

“And you?” he rushed, huge eyes taking in your club attire and his mouth went dry.

“I came here to meet a guy,” you teased and his heart fell into the pits of his stomach but he nodded quickly, hoping to mask his devastation. He didn’t.

“Sihtric,” you rushed, standing up and reaching for him “The guy I’ve come to meet is you!” You smiled up at him softly, realsing he had completely misunderstood you.

He looked to where your hand was in his and smiled shyly, twisting his hand to hold yours over the bar, and then brought your hand to his lips and placed a kiss there.

“Loverboy,” someone shouted and Sihtric sprang to attention “Could we get some shots over here?”

“I gotta-”

“Go- go!!” you urged laughing before making your way out onto the dancefloor. 

Sihtric kept his eyes trained on you all night, even though he was supposed to be working. He watched you beaming, smile contagious as you threw your hands up in the air, hair swishing to the beat and he was jealous. Jealous of everyone you danced with and jealous of how carefree you were, dancing as if nobody was looking. He realised with a gnawing feeling in his chest that you were free, truly free and it was a foreign concept to him. He was always on high alert, always awaiting the next danger, either real or perceived. 

He had always been like this. Clinging to the sidelines, watching from the safety of the shadows. Where he wouldn’t draw attention to himself, where he wouldn’t be perceived. 

You, on the other hand, you could let yourself be free, you let yourself live in the moment, not waiting for the next punch, the next fight or the next betrayal. He wondered briefly if his upbringing had been different, less violent, less hungry and less clinging to sheets in moldy apartments if he too could let himself go the way you did.  A deep sigh left his lips and he genuinely wondered if he could even have a place in your world, and then he felt selfish, maybe he should cut things off before he even tried to become part of your world, he would be a weight around your neck and he would never forgive himself if he was the reason you lost that sparkle in your eye. 

He jumped because Osferth was suddenly behind him and he hadn’t seen him approach, and he followed Sihtric’s  line of sight and smiled fondly when he saw you.

“I am under strict instructions to tell you that I am covering the rest of your shift and you are to go have fun.”

Sihtric whipped around and studied his young friend carefully, “But you never work the bar?”

“Tonight I do, so go and dance with your lady.” 

You watched in delight as Sihtric came out from behind the bar, and you fully expected him to make his way over to you but he walked right on past you towards the stairs and your stomach flopped a little. 

“The fuck is he doing?” Finan demanded and Osferth argued that he must be too nervous “Go after him. Please go after him,” he urged you from across the room and both of them silently cheered when you followed in his wake. 

You knew exactly where you would find him, out the side door smoking a cigarette and you were right.

“Did I make a mistake coming tonight?” you asked, voice small, “Sihtric we’ve been talking non stop. I just thought- I thought that you liked me,”

“I do,” he begged, turning to face you “I really like you. It’s me y/n,” he swallowed harshly and sighed, running his hands through his hair “I’m a lot okay? I’m carrying a lot of baggage, and I watched you tonight, look at you. You’re gorgeous.You’re a goddess and I will drag you down.” 

“So you’re bowing out before we’ve even tried?” you countered “You’d rather decide what I can handle for me instead of giving me the chance to make my own mind up?” 

He slumped against the wall, feeling like his heart was going to beat out of his chest, and you watched him in pain until you spoke again “Or are you bowing out first to try and protect yourself? It doesn’t hurt so much if you’re the one who decides it’s over first right?” 

Sihtric stopped breathing for a moment because he had never been read so clearly in all his life. You saw right through him.

“You don’t get it,” he said sadly “I can’t be carefree the way you are. I’m a lot to carry, I’m heavy and I’m- I think I’m fucked up, I’m different to everyone else.”

“Maybe I do get it,” you answered back “You’ve made up my story for me Sihtric but you don’t know the things I’ve come through to get to where I am right now, and I’m telling you this, you think you’re protecting your heart by shutting everyone out, but I promise you, you are only hurting yourself.” 

Sihtric considered you for a moment, eyes glassy before he blinked.

“You deserve someone- someone whole. Someone who hasn’t seen the things that I’ve seen, done the things that I’ve done. Don’t you get it? It’s not my heart I’m trying to protect, it’s yours. I don’t want to taint you with my darkness.” 

“Sihtric,” you cried, taking his hands in yours, delighted that he let you and didn’t pull away “I can’t even imagine what you’ve gone through to put up these walls and I’m not expecting you to just trust me, but can you trust that I am a big girl and I can handle a lot more than you think, and I would at least like to give us a try. Don’t you think we at least deserve to try?” 

Sihtric closed his eyes, head resting against the brick wall and you could feel his pulse, “I want to. I want to so fucking bad but I don’t know how to let you in,” he admitted. 

“Sihtric, look at me,” you pleaded and reluctantly he opened his eyes to meet yours “We don’t have to figure it all out tonight. All I ask is that you don’t push me away just because you’re scared?”

He nodded, eyes locked on yours “I’m sorry,” he told you gently, and you leaned up on your tiptoes to pull him into a hug.

“We haven’t even had a date yet and you’re already trying to get rid of me, that’s a new record, even for me.”

Sihtric laughed into your shoulder despite himself, and he released the breath he didn’t even know he was holding, feeling the tension leave his neck and shoulders.

“I did try to tell you I was a lot,” he countered and the two of you laughed, washing away the tension of the last few moments.

“Can I walk you home?” he offered after a few minutes in your embrace and you nodded.

“That was my plan all along,” you admitted and he smiled shyly. 

He just walked you home that night, refusing your offer to come up. Insisting that he at least take you on a proper date, after his embarrassing melt down at the club he felt he at least owed you that. You insisted on being on a call with him, his whole walk home so he wouldn’t be alone and he honestly didn’t know which gods to thank for sending you his way. 

“Will you finally tell me where we are going?” you begged, tugging on his hand and he smiled mischievously, “Can’t you just let me surprise you woman?” he teased and you fell in pace beside him happily.

He buzzed the doorbell of a studio apartment and you really had no idea where this boy was taking you, and as you stepped into the elevator he sensed you were going to ask him again, so he sighed and took your hand in his “We are almost there just be patient.”

The elevator doors opened and you stepped into what looked like an artist’s workshop/studio.

You took in the whole scene in front of you with childlike wonder before finally settling on Sihtric who was looking at you sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck, before he made his way over to a workbench and picked up a little wicker basket with a picnic and a bottle of wine inside.

“You mentioned that you loved painting but never get the time to do it anymore, I figured we could have some wine and paint a little?” His cheeks were tinged pink and he looked so embarrassed “It seemed really romantic in my head, I guess-we can do something else if you want-”

-”Sihtric,” you cut him off, tears in your eyes as you made your way over and cupped his face “This is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me,” you cried and the shy smile of relief that crept over his face was the cutest thing you had ever seen.

You had mentioned painting in passing weeks ago to Sihtric when he mentioned that he was an amateur photographer, but you had no idea that he would remember something as insignificant as that.

“Come on let me see?” he begged, and you swiped him away.

“My masterpiece is not complete yet,” you shooed him and he took another sip of his wine, you continued painting until a sudden flash pulled your attention and Sihtric was sat there with his camera in hand looking guilty. 

“I’m sorry,” he laughed “But you look so cute when you are concentrating, your little tongue poking out.”

You laughed shyly and applied the finishing touches before you sat back.

“Are you ready to see my masterpiece?” you laughed and he was out of his seat like a shot.

“Is that…Is that me?” he said flabbergasted “Y/n, I’m gonna cry, this is amazing!” 

“I tried my best to capture you. I fear it doesn’t do you justice though, you are more beautiful in person.”

Sihtric had to swallow a few times to genuinely gather himself unable to process the emotions he was feeling for you in the moment.

“Can I keep it?” he said so genuinely that you were rising to come stand beside him, “Sihtric,” you sighed reaching up to place a kiss to his cheek when he suddenly turned his face to capture your lips, hands flying up to cup your face, and you leaned into the kiss, kissing him back hungrily, and it was like a dam of wanting had burst open.

He backed you into an empty workbench, lifting you onto it and you locked your legs around his waist.

When your hands found your way into his hair he moaned suddenly into your mouth and you couldn’t help but capitalize on the moment, by running your other hand down to the waistband of his jeans and tugging at his belt as he attached his lips to your neck.

“Please,” he was begging, but he wasn’t even sure what he was begging for, more friction, more hair tugging just more of whatever you were willing to give him.

It had been months since anyone had touched him this way and he was afraid he wouldn’t last. Not when you made those precious sounds beneath him, or when you raked your nails along his back. His back that was marred with scars, but if you wanted to mark him he would wear those marks proudly.

He sucked on the soft skin of your neck as he moved inside you and your breathing quickened, he knew you were near.

“Let go. Let go for me,” he urged “I’ve got you.”

And you came around him with a cry, it was all he needed to let go himself.

Grunting from somewhere deep within his chest as he came apart.

You hissed when he pulled out and he went away to fetch some paper to clean up with.

“Gods, you are glorious,” he mused, as you sat up. brushing his fingers through your hair and tucking a strand behind your ear, you smiled at him hazily and he muttered “Just glorious,” again, before he dipped in to steal another kiss from your swollen lips.

Sihtric took your hand and led you through the flashing strobe lights and loud music.

He pulled you close and moved your body in time with his. Running his hands down your sides, grabbing your ass and grinding against you.

He knew his friends were watching but he didn’t care. All he cared about was you and you wanted to dance.

If you were able to nurse him through the nights he woke up screaming in terror, or anytime a loud or sudden noise startled him, he could do this for you.

And he was having fun, he couldn’t remember the last time he laughed so hard at your goofy and carefree dance moves.

The strobe lights above you made you look like nothing short of an angel and not for the first or last time, Sihtric thought you were glorious.

And he wished he could find the words to tell you that for the first time in years he felt weightless, carefree and safe, like you had taken a chisel and chipped away at all the heavy concrete blocks that were weighing him down, instead he settled on kissing you with all his might and he didn’t need to tell you.

You knew. 

Tagging:

@canyonmoon-2 @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @whitedarkmoonflower @thenameswinter99 @foxyanon

@acdassenza @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @gemini-mama

@troyottonick @alexagirlie

a-beaverhausen nebulamorada izzydlb knight-of-flowerss

justcuriousandbored

[lady-boketto]

Gaming Headcanons (Call of Duty)

A/n: This is not canon at all and I thought it would be fun to think about what kind of games and gamer the CoD men would be

Price:

Price does not have a lot of gaming experience but he likes to be included in game nights

He's the one who rages the most when he is playing games (but it's mostly when he is playing multiplayer games)

Price prefers board games rather than digital ones (likes the atmosphere that is created when gathering around the table with close friends to sit down and have some fun it)

Don't ever ask him to play poker because he can and will kick your ass (unless you are a poker legend or you manage to cheat without him noticing)

He has his own personal chess board to play with (it's a nice quality wooden one that's not too big so that he can bring it with him to pass time when he doesn't have access to the internet)

Gaz:

A true master of gaming, like there's no game out there that this man won't be good at

Also kind of a sore loser when someone finally manages to beat him, Gaz kind of lets out this big sigh and crosses his arms over his chest while looking off into the corner but he doesn't stay this way for long, it more of a 'in the moment' situation (Gaz is more frustrated that he wasn't good enough to win this round but knows there will be other chances)

Gaz equally enjoys playing digital games as much as he does when he plays a board game (his favorite board game to play is monopoly, since he can get very strategic while he plays and is very easily annoyed when he's sitting in monopoly jail)

Soap:

Johnny is the person who tries to tell stories over the mic only to realize that he's been on mute for the past ten minutes (the rest of the group was wondering why he was so quiet all of the sudden)

He also has a Nintendo switch ( He has a Nintendo lite in the color blue) but he loves playing Mario Kart or any of the Mario Parties and loves it when you get frustrated when he steals first place or star from you (he gives his famous laugh and pecks your cheek while telling you how much he loves you while committing the vile act)

Trolls/griefs a ton. He thinks it's funny when other players scream curse words at him and never misses an opportunity to provoke them even further. (he laughs his ass off when they rage quit or if he has to read their attempt to argue back at him in the game chat)

He actually likes spending multiple hours on a game. Grinding to get the best stuff just so he can brag about it the next day.

Soap also does occasionally broadcast his game play with others (because he likes to look back on the memories when he feeling alone or that he just needs something to cheer his mood up a little)

Ghost:

Ghost is the type of person who would say they only play multiplayer games but likes to secretly play the cozy single player games like animal crossing and Stardew Valley (he rant to you about how unfair Isabella is when rating his island a mere 3 stars or how he often forgets to go back to his house before 2 am because he was too focused on the monsters and loot in the mines.)

Even though he doesn’t mind online multiplayer games to play with the rest of squad 141, he also doesn’t mind to play co-op games with you (his favorites to play are it takes two or playing some version of call of duty zombies on a split screen, he takes pride in protecting you in co-op games or he shyly admits a thank you when you revive him)

He just likes strategic games in general, you will find him often playing chess with Price ( when you watch them play, they always take the longest time possible to make their move, it seems like they both go through every possible move until they find the best position to move forward but the game is always interrupted by something that needs one or the other’s attention)

[nyzfiles]

Hey! I just found your blog and have read the works you’ve put out so far(they’re really good!). Could I please request a fic with IVE’s Yujin?

Where her and reader have been dating for a while now but lately reader has been rejecting Yujins advances whenever she tried initiating sex with her which, of course, Yujin respected. But, when she was on social media and saw the comments under your posts she realized why. (Which was because of the hate you were receiving about your body). When Yujin found out she decided to gently bring it up with you which resulted in you breaking down. Alright, to get to the point Yujin shows how in love with your body and how perfect she thinks it is by making love to you and kissing every inch of your skin(especially your stomach). Thank you!(sorry, I couldn’t think of how to make my explanation shorter)

a/n : hi anon! thank you so much for the request, i love this idea and body worshipping is top tier!

warnings - smut (minors and men dni!) sorta angst?

tags - soft dom!yujin x sub!fem reader, reader is very insecure, body worshipping, nipple stimulation, cunnilingus (reader receiving), fingering, yujin is just VERY in love with reader !!

word count - 1.3k

you and yujin have been dating for close to 8 months now. she's been the most attentive, loyal, and affectionate girlfriend you could ask for. in the beginning of your guys' relationship you had an amazing sex life, yujin is very much a giver and you get to benefit from that.

recently, you've been starting to reject her advances whenever she tries to be intimate with you and it's left her confused and quite honestly a bit hurt. of course she would never pressure you into anything but she can't help but wonder what's changed.

about two days ago she was scrolling through her instagram when she came across your most recent post and hearted it. out of curiosity she went to the comments and was heartbroken by what she saw. a bunch of people who claimed to be her fans were body-shaming you and leaving horrible comments.

she closed the app, deciding she would bring it up with you once she figured out how to do it gently. it all made sense now why you had stopped wanting to be intimate with her, she never imagined people would be making you feel so horrible about yourself.

now, she watches you sitting on the other end of the couch, a sad expression on your face as you scroll through your phone. "is everything alright?" she asks, concern evident in her voice. you just nod, giving her a small smile before looking back down at your phone. she sighs, placing her hand on your leg and caressing it gently. "baby...what's going on? things haven't been normal for months." she says, worry plaguing her mind.

you look back up at her, tears stinging your eyes as your lip quivers. "i've just been feeling really down about myself..." you whimper, your voice breaking as you try to confide in your girlfriend. she looks at you with sympathy, pulling you into her arms as you break down and start crying.

she kisses the top of your head, whispering softly to you as she strokes your hair. "baby, those people don't mean anything to us. i love you, and i love your body. you're so beautiful." she reassures you, tilting your chin up to place a soft kiss on your lips. "promise me you'll block anybody who makes you feel like this." she whispers against your hair, still holding you close.

you nod, starting to relax in her arms as your tears stop. "this is why you haven't wanted to have sex with me, isn't it?" she sighs softly, looking down at you. you nod, feeling a little embarrassed as you admit it to her. "i didn't want you to have to look at me and realize that all these people are right." you sniffle, wiping away the rest of your tears.

she shakes her head, cupping your face in her hands and kissing you again. "they're not right. you are beautiful, hot, sexy, stunning, and everything else in between. i am lucky to have you." she confesses, trying to show you how serious she is. you nod slowly, wrapping your arms around her. "let me show you how beautiful i think you are..." she mutters, hands cupping your ass as you sit in her lap.

you look up at her apprehensively, chewing on your lip before nodding your head. "okay..." you agree, giving yourself to her. she smiles, threading her fingers through your hair before kissing you slowly. she picks you up, hands gripping your thighs as she carries you into your guys' shared bedroom without breaking the kiss.

she gently lays you against the bed, hovering over you as her lips trail down your neck. "i can't believe how beautiful you are. how did i get so lucky?" she mumbles against your skin, hands moving to the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head. you blush, arms going to cover your stomach before she stops you. "don't. i want to see every inch of you tonight." she says, moving your hands and kissing the palms on each of them.

you watch as she undoes the clasp on your bra, throwing it on the floor beside the bed. she cups your tits, flicking her tongue over your hard nipple. you gasp softly, playing with her hair as she sucks, licks, and bites your nipples, switching between them. your moans spur her on and she kisses down to your stomach, her lips lingering there.

her mouth kisses every inch of your stomach, dampness pooling in your panties. "so fucking stunning." she whispers, gripping your waist as she kisses above the waistline of your panties. your eyes sting with tears as she worships your stomach, kissing every stretch mark and praising you.

she slowly peels your panties off, groaning softly when she sees your cunt glistening. "so pretty and wet for me." she smiles, fingers teasing your folds. you whine, your cunt clenching as her finger disregards the spot you need her the most. "please..." you mutter, heart pounding as you watch her. she leans in, placing your legs on her shoulders before running her tongue through your folds. you let out a long moan, hand tangling in her hair as she flicks her tongue over your sensitive clit.

she hums against you, the taste of you making her own arousal grow. she grips your thighs tighter, sucking on your clit and swirling her tongue around it. you throw your head back in pleasure, toes curling as your arousal leaks out of you. "feels so good..." you whimper, grinding your cunt against her tongue. she chuckles softly, slowly easing her tongue inside of your tight cunt.

you gasp, stomach tightening as she curls her tongue inside of you. your nails are practically digging into her scalp as she tongue fucks you and rubs her nose against your clit. the knot in your stomach gets tighter and you cry out her name as your thighs squeeze her head and your cum coats her tongue.

she swallows every last drop, pulling back and licking her lips as she looks at you. "tastes so sweet." she smiles, kissing her way up to your body until she reaches your lips. you laugh tiredly, wrapping your arms around her to bring her closer to you. "you're so pretty." she sighs happily, two fingers slowly rubbing your clit. you blush, bucking your hips slightly as she takes them and parts your folds.

she gently pushes her fingers inside you, making you moan and grip her biceps. her thumb rubs your clit while her fingers fuck you, her mouth leaving dark purple hickeys along your collarbone. "y...yujin..." you gasp, breath hitching as she curls her fingers against your g-spot. she smirks against the spot on your neck she was sucking on, thumb pressing harder against your clit.

you start to ride her fingers, eagerly chasing your second orgasm of the night while she leaves love bites all over your neck, collarbone, and tits. your nails dig into her biceps as she pumps her fingers deeper and moves her thumb faster, making your eyes roll back. the familiar feeling of your stomach tightening washes over you and your legs shake as your orgasm washes over you.

she slowly fucks you through your high, slipping her fingers out and licking them clean. she lays down on the bed beside you, pulling you into her arms as she kisses you sweetly. "i love you so much, you know that?" she smiles, forehead resting against yours. you nod, snuggling yourself closer to her. "i love you too." you mutter, letting her hold you as you drift off to sleep.

[crushpunky]

rafe and kook!reader - a cabin in the woods

planning on this being multiple parts. the idea is inspired by "when we are together" by the 1975, enjoy <3

When Kelce had mentioned a trip to his aunt and uncle’s farm, the boys had initially been hesitant. A cabin out in the middle of nowhere, no parties, barely any wifi, various farm animals, and no chicks? Hard pass. However, after a week of y/n spouting off all the various activities they could do (“Hiking! Come on, you guys love hiking!” “When have we ever gone on a hike?”), they all caved and packed into Rafe’s Jeep.

Y/n leaned out the window of the passenger seat, the wind blowing through her hair as she listened to the music playing softly on the radio, trying her best to drown out Topper and Kelce’s incessant snoring, before stifling a yawn.

“You’re really not going to go to sleep?” Rafe asked, tearing y/n’s heavy eyes away from the trees racing by them. The soft glow of the moonlight illuminated Rafe’s face, defining his cheekbones and his signature smirk.

“Then who would keep you company?” Y/n said with a grin, which caused Rafe to chuckle lightly. She rubbed her hands along her goosebump covered arms, the coolness of the night finally hitting her.

“Cold?” Rafe asked, his hand gripping the steering wheel loosely as he stole a glance her way. Y/n shrugged, resting her arm next to his on the center console. He elbowed her arm off teasingly before reaching behind her seat.

“Here.” Rafe handed her a crewneck of his he had ditched earlier in the day. She took it, sliding it on graciously. It smelled faintly of smoke and vanilla… it smelled uniquely of Rafe.

“Thanks.” Y/n said, smoothing the oversized sweatshirt along her body. Rafe glanced over at her, a smile tugging at his lips. As much as he hated to admit it, he loved seeing her in his clothes. He knew it was something friends did all the time, and he shouldn’t read into it, but it always made his heart skip a beat when she’d take one of his shirts or ask for a pair of sweatpants. It was such a simple act, yet it felt so intimate…

“So…” Rafe trailed off, his fingertips tapping on the steering wheel. Y/n look at him, her brows furrowed.

“So what, boy?” Y/n said with a chuckle, crossing her arms.

“How’ve you been?” Rafe said nonchalantly.

“‘How have I been’? Rafe, we hang out like every single day.” Y/n teased.

“I don’t know! I’m not allowed to ask?” Rafe grinned, raising his spare hand in mock surrender. Y/n laughed, rolling her eyes playfully.

“I’m good,” Y/n said, “but I’m going on a trip with these three weird boys though so—”

“‘Weird’? Ouch.” Rafe chuckled.

“Well, I like them… they’re pretty cool.” Y/n said with a smile. Rafe glanced over at her and couldn’t help but smile back. She loved his smile. Not the fake, practiced one he put on around his dad’s friends or whatever Kook chick was flirting with him at the party, his real smile. The one that made the corners of his eyes crinkle and his dimples show.

“Well, I’m going on a trip with a weird girl… I like her too.” Rafe said soft enough to make y/n’s cheeks heat up. She knew he wasn’t trying to be so… irresistibly himself, but his voice and the way the moonlight was reflecting off his face made her stomach flutter.

“Turn into the driveway with the white mailbox.” Kelce said, causing y/n and Rafe to jump, both of them having assumed the boy was still snoring in the back with Topper.

“Jesus, Kelc!” Rafe swore, slamming on the brakes before whipping into the gravel driveway. Y/n grabbed the center console, steadying herself as the Jeep straightened out again.

“How long have you been awake?” Y/n asked, turning around to look at the two boys in the backseat.

“Since you called us weird.” Topper said, rubbing his eyes with a slight groan.

“Here, park next to the fence.” Kelce unbuckled his seatbelt, leaning between the front two seats to point out the window. Y/n turned back, following Kelce’s direction, her eyes landing on the cabin in front of them.

The tall wooden building sat in front of them, the roof almost rising above the trees surrounding it. Sconces adorned the log exterior, illuminating the stone foundation and sizable windows that looked into the cozy home. Along the right hand side, where Rafe put the car into park, a herd of cows gathered near the fenceline.

Y/n opened her door, her feet hitting the gravel harshly before she approached the cows’ curious faces. The animals stared back at her blankly, gnawing on grass.

“Don’t get too attached,” Rafe said, exiting the Jeep. “That’s our dinner for the week.”

“You’re the worst.” Y/n groaned as Topper came up behind her, shaking her shoulders playfully before patting one of the cows on the head.

“Is anyone planning on helping take in bags?” Kelce shouted from the back of the Jeep, his arms filled with various supplies for the week.

“No valet service here?” Rafe joked, grabbing his duffel from the back of the car. Y/n went to grab her bag, but before she could, Rafe picked it up and placed it under his other arm. Her eyes went to meet his, but he had already started off towards the door of the cabin without a second thought. She turned back to the trunk, grabbing an armful of groceries before scurrying to catch up with the boys as they filed into the house.

The interior of the cabin was as beautiful as the exterior. Wooden beams crossed the vaulted ceiling, skylights allowing beams of moonlight to bathe the cabin in a soft glow. A large, stone fireplace sat in the middle of the living room surrounded by couches and chairs. The kitchen sat behind the fireplace, an oversized dining table lined with chairs leading to the thoroughly stocked bar. The subtle scent of oak and cinnamon filled the cabin, mixing with the scent of Rafe that still lingered on the sweatshirt she had on. It was nearly enough to make her autumn-obsessed brain explode.

  “I need this as a candle.” Y/n said, chucking her shoes off before plopping into one of the chairs and inhaling deeply. She felt herself sink into the cushion, soaking in the beauty of the cabin.

“The bedrooms are upstairs,” Kelce said, wiping his shoes on the rug in the entryway. “There’s a set of twins in one, a queen, and a king in the master—”

Before he could even get the words out, the four of them bolted up the stairs, all racing to get to the largest bedroom first. Unfortunately for Topper, Rafe, and y/n, Kelce was the only one who knew where the king sized bed (and bath) were, and flung himself on the bed before any of them could get there first.

“I’m not fucking sleeping with Topper!” Rafe said exasperatedly, his mind thinking back to his obnoxious snoring in the car. Topper scowled.

“You snooze, you lose, Cameron.” Kelce grinned, moving to bring his hands behind his head.

“As the only girl here, I think that I should get the master bedroom. I’m the only one who needs their own bathroom.” Y/n said, crossing her arms. The boys all groaned. She didn’t play the “only girl” card very often, but when she did, it was lethal.

“No! No! I made it here first—” Kelce began to protest before Rafe and Topper hauled him off the bed. Y/n giggled, following them as they tossed him onto one of the twin beds before dogpiling on top of him.

“I can’t fit on a twin bed, looks like the snorers get to sleep together.” Rafe said with a small shrug, leaving Topper and Kelce to stare at each other dumbfoundedly.

“I got us this cabin, I got to the master bedroom first, and now I have to sleep in a twin bed?” Kelce said, flopping onto the bed dramatically.

“But you get to share a room with your bestest friend in the whole wide world—” Topper started to tease but was cut off when Kelce chucked a pillow at his head. Y/n laughed before stifling a yawn, her eyes heavy.

“I’m going to bed,” y/n said, stretching her arms with a groan. Rafe looked back at her, yawning himself.

“Me too.” Rafe said, turning to Topper and Kelce, who simply nodded before waving weakly and crashing onto their respective beds. Rafe followed y/n out the room and into the hallway, the two of them stopping between the doorways to their own bedrooms.

“Thanks for staying up with me.” Rafe said, his voice gravelly from how late it was.

“What would you do without me?” Y/n joked. Rafe chuckled, running his hand through his hair. He knew she was joking, but she wasn’t lying. What would he do without her?

“Listen to some good music, probably.” Rafe retorted.

“Oh come on, you love my music, boy.” Y/n grinned, placing her hands on her hips pointedly. He couldn’t help but smirk, her dramatic pose in his oversized sweatshirt comical. She followed his gaze, glancing down at his sweatshirt before moving to take it off.

“No, keep it. It’s cold in here.” Rafe said, stopping her by grabbing her arm lightly. She looked back at him.

“Thanks.” Y/n said, shrugging the crewneck back down.

“Good night, girl.” Rafe said softly, his eyes not leaving hers as he stepped back towards his bedroom.

“Good night, boy.” Y/n whispered, her hand resting on the door to her room. 

With a final nod, the two of them went off to their respective rooms, their minds still racing with thoughts of each other as they eventually fell asleep.

[graciereadshannigram]

hey fam, my spreadsheet is FINALLY up to date so i am FINALLY getting back to the monthly rec lists! here's the cream of the crop from June :)

as a reminder: the ingredients for a five star rating typically (but not always!!) include some combination of a.) believable characterizations of both Hannibal and Will, b.) compelling plot and/or character arcs, and c.) high quality smut.

that being said, my judgment of the aforementioned ingredients is powered almost exclusively by vibes and as such, is incredibly subjective.

you can find past recs below:

February March April May

and if you have any recs of your own for me, PLEASE SHARE.

without further ado, let's go!

Bring Your Hunger by HigherMagic

Word Count: 22748 Summary: Having two Alphas is practically unheard of. Having three is damn near impossible. Having three like Hannibal, Duncan, and Nigel? All of them not only content to share, but genuinely enjoying each other's company? Well, Will doesn't believe in fate so much as luck, and he's more than willing to admit he's the luckiest Omega in the world.

Show, Don't Tell by StratsWrites, whiskeyandspite

Word Count: 3680 Summary: “The bedroom,” Hannibal murmured. “Do you have the patience to get there?” In answer, Hannibal gripped the backs of Will’s thighs and hoisted him up, settling him onto the kitchen island. After the fall... Will makes Hannibal wait. Just... to see what he would do.

I will read anything where Will purposefully drives Hannibal out of his mind.

to lie in wait for blood by its_the_ratdawg

Word Count: 1907 Summary: They had been sharing a bed since their first night on the run, ever since Will had climbed into bed next to Hannibal and curled around his broken body. In nearly a year that had passed since then, they’d always slept together unless they were enduring the climax of a particularly nasty fight. It had only happened three times. Tonight had nearly been the fourth. Hannibal laid there feeling as awake as he had ever been. Even with a fire built in the wood stove, the bed seemed cold with Will tucked stubbornly against the far side of the mattress, stoic as the cross on the wall above the bed. The pale moonlight streaming in through the window only made the illusion more severe. Just as Hannibal was considering drugging himself to sleep, Will shifted and his breath hitched. Hannibal waited for the rhythm of his breath to resume the slow, sleeping pace he was used to. He nearly jumped when instead he felt Will reach for him, his hand finding Hannibal’s waist. Wordlessly Will pulled Hannibal against him the way a bear might drag its prey to it with a single paw.

Somnophilia is really my thing and I loved this.

Batter My Heart by amarriageoftrueminds

Word Count: 2351 Summary: Hannibal/Will, Hannibal tricks Will into talking dirty. Will has trouble switching off. Hannibal doesn’t mind, and encourages Will to continue their conversations about serial killers while they’re having sex. About one serial killer in particular.

Fuck me, this was so hot.

Blaze by HotMolasses

Word Count: 3008 Summary: The thought slipped from his mind as a warm tingle spread across his skin. Will inhaled again, deeply, and the scent was so good, so very, very good. A soft moan even escaped his lips before he realized what he was scenting, though it wasn’t until he heard the feral, bestial growl in front of him that his brain finally made the full connection, and his eyes flew open in terror. Rut. Hannibal had indeed lost his control. Will’s eyes snapped up to Hannibal’s and he saw them dilating. Will’s throat grew dry and his heart leapt with fear. The Chesapeake Ripper was in rut, and it was because of him.

This author could write anything and I'd eat it up.

A Rising Tide by gleamingwholeanddeadly

Word Count: 3255 Summary: Sleepy, nostalgic talks in a bedroom the same colour as the ocean. Hannibal reflects on how close he feels to Will. Will wouldn't mind getting even closer. OR: Cuddles, unnecessarily florid banter, and graphic morning sex.

Oh I love this author so fucking much.

no amount of crying i can do for you by abbmyg

Word Count: 3763 Summary: Will is driving from Quantico to Hannibal's house in the middle of a blizzard. He never makes it home.

Umm, I'm tearing up thinking about this fic. It hurt. A lot.

i bet on losing dogs (you're my baby) by antiheroblake

Word Count: 2822 Summary: now, all hannibal has is winston

This made me sob. It hurt.

The most dangerous injuries don't leave scars by CulterVenatorius

Word Count: 909 Summary: When Hannibal hadn’t told Will about the encephalitis, thus preventing immediate treatment, he’d been more than aware of the possible outcomes. What he hadn’t been prepared for was that Will might change him and that one day, he might come to regret his decisions.

Ow ow ow ow OW.

Love Letters by Thiefbird

Word Count: 2039 Summary: After Will's funeral, Molly finds a box filled with relics from his past, and confronts the truth of her husband's history with Dr Lecter

WHUMP. This one hurt. In a good way.

Wrong by HotMolasses

Word Count: 4257 Summary: Will roughly rubbed his arm across his mouth again, trying to rub it off. Rub off the scent of Alana, after they’d kissed. After she’d kissed him. Or he’d kissed her? It was mutual. Until it wasn’t. Until Will breathed in her scent, so familiar, so Alpha, so…wrong. He’d pulled back forcibly, unable to hide the expression of revulsion on his face. “I…I need to go.” he said, sweeping his coat off the back of a chair on his way towards the door. “Lock up when you leave.” The weather was crap, and it probably wasn’t smart to drive in the snow while he was in pre-heat, but Will didn’t know what else to do. He needed to figure this out, he needed to talk to the only person who understood him. He needed to talk to Hannibal.

Another damn good reread.

Quid Pro Quo (Just friends helping friends) by QueerCannibal

Word Count: 4840 Summary: Will Graham isn't exactly going to therapy, and Hannibal Lecter isn't exactly his psychiatrist, which is probably why when their conversations turn to unorthodox topics neither of them are entirely guilty about it. Will Graham is stressed, and Hannibal Lecter--as Will's friend--wants nothing more than to help.

ACE HANNIBAL AND TRANS WILL. We love the representation.

a slick delicate sound by destroyedspectacularly

Word Count: 4345 Summary: Hannibal catches Will with one of his students (Matthew Brown) in his office, and takes the opportunity the stupid boy left behind, and finds out some fun new things about one Will Graham in the process. -- “Were you hoping he’d cross the line on his own? Do all the work for you?” “Well, he’s a good student. I know he’d love to do all the work,” Will shut his eyes in shame before he even finished his sentence, “That—that was inappropriate—should we go? I think we should go—”

I LOVE WHEN THEY FUCK IN WILL'S OFFICE ON HIS DESK.

The Porcelain Fawn by EarthsickWithoutYou

Word Count: 4976 Summary: Will falls asleep while visiting Hannibal one evening, and the good doctor carries his guest to bed, unable to resist watching him sleep. But when Will starts having one of his lusty nightmares, Hannibal can't hold his passionate obsession back any longer...

Oh noooo, not Will have a nightmare that turns into a sex dream that turns into actual sex!

Whiskey for One by CarnivalMirai

Word Count: 5364 Summary: Will is bribed by Beverly into driving her to a college party. When he loses his way to the bathroom, he bumps into the host’s father. And oh, is he beautiful. Or: Will fucks his classmate’s father

BEST FRIEND BEV. This probably would have gotten five stars regardless, but the ending was really the cherry on top.

Home and Dry by mokuyoubi

Word Count: 4329 Summary: Um, so, people on tumblr wanted Hannigram phone sex, dick pics, and Hannibal talking dirty, and this is what happened. Will's stuck in a car with Jack and Alana, and Hannibal starts sending him massively inappropriate texts. Tada!

Fuck me sideways, this was perfect.

You'll Go Blind by mokuyoubi

Word Count: 3650 Summary: Hannibal comes home to find Will masturbating in his bed, and it's time for them to finally follow through on the promise of all the texts they've been sending one another. I guess it could be read as a stand-alone, but it would help to read Home and Dry, first.

THE BUILD UP FROM PART ONE (above) MADE THIS SO GOOD.

howl by multifandom_fic_writer

Word Count: 7386 Summary: Prompt: When omegas go into heat, they go feral. Only an alpha strong enough to subdue them is worthy of being their mate. Will Graham has never found anyone to be worthy. After all, there is only one alpha Will wants to submit to – and he doesn’t even know their name.

This was just stupid hot. Okay. That's all.

Dead Men and Sinners by gleamingwholeanddeadly

Word Count: 4890 Summary: He looks at Hannibal and sees what he sees: himself glowing where he stands, blood-red and divine- a vengeful god of death. Protecting what's his. Hannibal steps toward him, and Will sees what's coming next, too. He drops the knife and catches Hannibal's face in his bloodied hands as he presses in to kiss him. The touch of his lips is searing hot against the blood cooling on Will’s skin, and so are his hands grasping at Will's waist. "Nothing," he whispers, kissing Will again intently before he continues, smearing blood between their mouths, "nothing is so moving as watching you act on your glorious wrath." A trespasser makes the mistake of attempting to blackmail Will and Hannibal, which is the last decision he makes. Hannibal shows Will just how pleased he is by his savage protectiveness. Pure filth written for Bottom Hannibal Day

God why is post murder sex so hot?

an ocean in my soul where the waters do not curve by gleamingwholeanddeadly

Word Count: 11540 Summary: n/a

This was fucking gorgeous and beautiful and sad and hopeful and. Wow.

bite down into me by gleamingandwholeanddeadly (something_safe), printersdeadly, printersdevils (tuesdaysgone)

Word Count: 21307 Summary: When Will is diagnosed with encephalitis and has to come cold turkey off his hormonal suppressants, Hannibal does everything within his power to ensure Will's comfort throughout the recovery process. But despite all Hannibal's careful planning, Will is never quite what he expects, and they quickly find themselves entangled in all manner of ways.

FUCK. This was so fucking good.

Keep Me Warm by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 5138 Summary: Will lets out a gasp, which is decidedly the worst thing he could do because Hannibal is on him in a second, pulling him close, tucking him against his chest, and rubbing his hands up and down Will’s body through the mountain of blankets. Will lets him do this, realizing now that Hannibal isn’t here in the present with him, but somewhere colder and less kind where there was blood in the snow and a devastating loss to come. _________________ Will arrives home after walking through a blizzard, fully expecting an angry husband, but instead finds a traumatized little boy, terrified of the cold and haunted by what he's already lost.

This hit all the right emotional notes for me. There's something so sweet about Hannibal being vulnerable with Will, wow. And Will knowing exactly how to react.

The Armor of Patroclus by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 8754 Summary: “You stay with me now, Will.” Hannibal urges, placing him back down so that he can continue compressions. He whispers please with each pump of his hands against Will’s chest and breathes life and love back into Will’s lungs. “You stay with me. You can do that, I know you can.” Hannibal pushes and pushes and begs and goes lightheaded with the lack of air, but he cannot stop because Will still won’t wake up. _________________ Hannibal finds himself on the beach and nearly loses Will along the way.

The angst here was perfect. Utterly perfect. Sometimes you just need some good good angst, you know?

Always In My Mind by swaggnation

Word Count: 19133 Summary: They had, in fact, not died together. And Will was ready to make it everyone’s (Hannibal’s) problem. Or, Three times Will tries to kill himself, and one time Hannibal answers for his sins.

OUCH OUCH OUCH but also this was so sweet and good and mmmmmmmf.

kalos kagathos by zipegs

Word Count: 8176 Summary: Will has always had issues with penetration, but with Hannibal, he discovers he wants to try. Thankfully, Hannibal’s cock is just the right size.

Oh! This had some really great trope inversion and that made it such a nice breath of fresh air.

Elysium by sourweather

Word Count: 2955 Summary: Hannibal finds Will dissociating in the shower. Again. Luckily, he has a creative technique for bringing him back to earth.

I need more showerhead orgasms!! Wish I had Hanni whispering in my ear like he was whispering in Will's. Fuck.

The Law of Meat by gleamingandwholeanddeadly (something_safe), printersdeadly, printersdevils (tuesdaysgone)

Word Count: 85396 Summary: Hannibal wakes alone in a hospital bed, barely able to move, and even less able to accept what Tattlecrime tells him - Will did not survive the fall.

THIS WAS BEAUTIFUL. Chapter 8 was absolutely gorgeous and so well done and so necessary for Will's character development wow.