#this masterlist is mostly request based

[amethystarachnid]

BET

⤷ JAMES B. “BUCKY” BARNES

ᯓ★ Pairing: James B. “Bucky” Barnes x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, angst and fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: not requested but taken from MARVEL bingo

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 10k (damn this surprises me too)

ᯓ★ Summary: When Bucky Barnes suddenly starts talking to you you don't think much of it and when he asks you out on a date you couldn't be happier, Bucky truly is everything you could ever want in a man, a man that really loves you...At least that's what you thought until you discovered that it was real all just a bet.

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of virginity and virginity loss, small mentions of a smut scene

ᯓ★ AU: college au

ᯓ★ Request: not requested

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests closed)

ᯓ★ Masterlist

ᯓ★ If you are a Charles Xavier fan click on this link!

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language and this isn’t proof read

The music is loud, pulsing through the walls of the frat house as Bucky sits slouched on a couch, one arm draped lazily over the back. The night is already wearing on him, but he knows he’s going to be here until Sam and Steve call it a night, which—based on the collection of red solo cups by their feet—might be a while.

They’re all trading stories from the semester, voices buzzing with that blend of laughter and cheap beer. Sam is in the middle of recounting his latest dare when he nudges Bucky’s arm, catching his attention.

“Bet you couldn’t last a month with someone like her,” Sam says, nodding toward the corner of the room.

Bucky glances up, following Sam’s gaze until he spots you. You’re perched near the bookshelf, alone and fidgeting with your drink as you flip through a book someone left behind. He’s seen you around campus before, usually with your nose buried in a novel or surrounded by a pile of textbooks. There’s something unassuming about you, something quiet and untouchable. His friends know he’s more the type to go for a party girl—someone loud, someone who doesn’t ask too many questions.

“What, the bookworm?” Bucky scoffs, raising an eyebrow. But his friends don’t let up, and soon Steve and Sam are egging him on.

“You’re always chasing the same type,” Steve chimes in. “What are you afraid of, that she’d actually challenge you?”

Bucky laughs, rolling his eyes. He knows he should shut it down, but their teasing digs at him, scratching at that competitive edge that’s always lurking just beneath his smirk.

“All right,” Bucky finally says, shrugging. “I’ll do it. One month.”

His friends exchange knowing grins, slapping him on the back. But as soon as the words leave his mouth, Bucky feels a strange knot settle low in his stomach—a feeling he’s not used to. He brushes it off. It’s just a game, a challenge. It’s not like he’s actually going to care.

The next day, you’re tucked into your usual corner in the library, surrounded by a fortress of books. You barely notice him when he walks up, leaning against the edge of the table with a casual confidence that doesn’t match the usual quiet of the space.

“Mind if I join you?” His voice is smooth, low enough that you almost have to lean in to hear him clearly.

You glance up, surprised to see Bucky Barnes standing there, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You’ve seen him around campus—he’s hard to miss with that leather jacket and effortlessly messy hair, the type of guy who always has someone laughing beside him.

“Sure,” you murmur, unsure of what else to say as you move your books aside, offering him a seat. You’re used to people mostly ignoring you here. It’s your refuge, your sanctuary. So when he sits across from you, stretching out as if he belongs there, it feels jarringly out of place.

“You look like you’re buried in work,” he observes, nodding at the mountain of papers in front of you. “What’s got you so busy?”

You hesitate, but something in his easygoing manner convinces you to answer. “Just…assignments. Trying to keep up with everything.” You give him a small smile, your guard still up but feeling oddly curious.

“What’s your major?” he asks, and the question catches you off guard. Most people don’t bother to ask; they assume or don’t care enough to wonder. He listens as you talk about your studies, nodding, asking small questions. Before you know it, you’re telling him more than you intended, falling into an easy rhythm that surprises you.

It becomes a pattern. Over the next few weeks, he finds reasons to run into you—at the coffee shop, in the library, even in the quad between classes. Each time, he stays a little longer, asks a little more, his eyes holding yours with that subtle intensity he wears so well. At first, you’re wary, cautious of his attention. But Bucky is good, easing his way in like he has all the time in the world, his jokes and questions slowly weaving a thread of trust between you two.

And Bucky? He’s surprised at how much he finds himself drawn to you. Each time you laugh, he catches himself watching, feeling something strange and warm unfurl in his chest. There’s a gentleness in you, a quiet intelligence, that keeps him coming back even as he reminds himself this isn’t supposed to mean anything.

But the longer he spends time with you, the more he feels the weight of what he agreed to, creeping up on him every time he catches your smile, every time you look at him like he’s someone worth knowing.

He tells himself it’s just part of the bet. But deep down, he knows he’s starting to cross a line he never meant to touch.

It’s been a few weeks since Bucky started spending time with you, and against every reminder he gives himself, he’s found himself looking forward to it more than he wants to admit. He tells himself it’s harmless—he’s just getting to know you, just finding ways to pass the time. But he knows he’s lying, especially when he starts finding excuses to see you outside of the library or when he catches himself glancing at his phone, hoping for a text from you.

One night, back at the frat house, he’s lounging with Sam and Steve again, half-listening to their conversation when Sam nudges him.

“So, Barnes. How’s it going with the bookworm?” Sam asks with a knowing smirk. Bucky rolls his eyes, trying to brush it off, but Sam isn’t so easily deterred. “Don’t tell me you’re catching feelings.”

Bucky scoffs, forcing a laugh to keep the truth buried. “It’s going fine. Like I said, a month’s no problem.”

Sam exchanges a glance with Steve, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Let’s make this interesting then. If you really want to win this thing, you’ve got to take it further.”

Bucky’s jaw clenches. “Further?” He has a bad feeling about where this is going.

Steve raises his eyebrows. “Come on, Buck. You’ve been hanging out with her, sure, but we’re talking about actually making her fall for you. Ask her out, and, you know—” He raises an eyebrow meaningfully.

“Sleep with her,” Sam adds bluntly, laughing. “Seal the deal, and there’s two hundred bucks in it for you.”

Bucky hesitates, that uncomfortable knot tightening in his stomach again. He tells himself it’s just a stupid bet. He’s done things like this before—gotten close to people just to prove he could, had plenty of meaningless hookups that never meant a thing. He’s Bucky Barnes, the guy who doesn’t do commitment or complications. But for some reason, picturing it with you makes him feel…off.

“Fine,” he says after a beat, his voice steady, betraying nothing of the uncertainty he’s trying to ignore. “Two hundred bucks. Done.”

The next day, he texts you, his fingers hovering over the keys a little too long before he finally sends, Hey, you free Friday? Let me take you out somewhere nice.

When you see his message, your heart skips a beat. It’s been a while since anyone has asked you on an actual date, and even longer since you’ve felt genuinely excited about someone. Bucky’s been different from the start—warm, attentive, and surprisingly easy to talk to. You’ve caught yourself looking forward to his company, replaying the moments he laughs at one of your jokes or leans in close enough for you to catch a hint of his cologne.

After a second, you type back, Yeah, I’d love to! You add a smiley face, feeling almost giddy as you press send.

The days leading up to Friday drag by, each one marked with bursts of nerves and anticipation. You spend a little more time getting ready than usual, finally deciding on a simple but pretty dress that makes you feel confident. When Bucky picks you up, his usual leather jacket replaced with a dark button-up, you feel a thrill of excitement. He looks genuinely happy to see you, his eyes scanning over you appreciatively as he gives you a lopsided grin.

“You look amazing,” he says, his gaze warm. There’s something softer in his eyes, something that makes you blush.

“Thanks,” you mumble, smiling as you walk beside him. He leads you to a small Italian place tucked away from campus, the kind of cozy, dimly lit restaurant you wouldn’t have expected him to know about. The conversation flows easily between you two, laughter spilling out as you talk about classes, hometowns, and childhood memories.

The night feels magical, almost surreal, and you start to wonder if maybe, just maybe, there’s something real here. Every time his hand brushes against yours, a spark shoots up your spine. And when he reaches across the table, fingers lightly grazing your wrist as he laughs at something you said, your heart flutters in a way that’s both thrilling and terrifying.

After dinner, he suggests taking a walk, and soon you’re strolling through the quiet streets, the chill of the night air making you shiver just slightly. Without a word, Bucky slips his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. It feels so natural, like you belong there.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been on a date this nice,” you admit, smiling up at him, your voice soft.

He chuckles, though it sounds slightly strained. “Really? I find that hard to believe.”

You shrug, trying to brush it off. “I guess I’ve just never…met anyone like you before.”

There’s a flash of something in his eyes—guilt, maybe, or regret. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced with that charming grin. He steps closer, his arm slipping from your shoulders, and you hold your breath as he cups your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

“You’re pretty amazing, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice low.

You feel like the world has stopped, your heart pounding in your chest. This is the moment you’ve been dreaming of, the moment where everything finally falls into place.

But for Bucky, something sharp and painful twists inside him. He can feel the weight of what he’s doing pressing down on him, can see the way your eyes look at him with such unguarded trust, and it’s enough to make his stomach turn. He’s never felt guilty over a stupid bet before, but right now, the idea of hurting you feels unbearable.

“Hey,” he says softly, his hand still on your cheek. “You trust me, right?”

Your eyes widen, and you nod slowly, too caught up in the moment to notice the tension in his gaze. “Yeah,” you whisper, a small smile forming on your lips.

He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours as he takes a steadying breath. “Good,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. Because if he’s going to go through with this, he tells himself he has to believe that none of it matters—that he won’t let himself care. But even as he kisses you, his lips soft and warm against yours, he knows he’s lying to himself.

The days after that first date drift into a series of moments that feel surreal, almost like they’re happening to someone else. You find yourself checking your phone at odd times, waiting for his texts, smiling down at your screen whenever his name lights up. Bucky is a part of your routine now, and it feels strange, thrilling even, like there’s this magnetic force that draws you to him despite every bit of caution you try to hold onto.

Every time you’re with him, the outside world fades. He makes you laugh with stories about his friends, leaning in close, his voice warm and low as if he’s sharing some secret just for you. You catch yourself stealing glances when he’s not looking—at the way his jaw clenches when he’s lost in thought or how his eyes soften when he looks at you, a mix of curiosity and something you can’t quite name.

It’s after one of your study sessions at the library that Bucky invites you over to his dorm room for the first time. He tells you he’s got some old movies you’ve probably never seen, and, honestly, he’s right—you’d never pictured Bucky as the type to own black-and-white classics, but that’s exactly what he has, a surprisingly large collection lined up on a low shelf near his TV. He insists you pick one, and soon you’re sitting side by side on his couch, your legs tucked up beneath you, feeling almost shy in the soft glow of the screen.

The movie starts, but his arm stretches along the back of the couch, barely brushing your shoulders. The faintest touch sends electricity through you, but you stay quiet, not wanting to ruin the moment. Then, halfway through the movie, he shifts, glancing at you.

“You can get closer, you know,” he murmurs, his eyes glinting with something mischievous yet gentle.

Your heart flutters as you scoot closer, until you’re tucked into his side, his arm draped around you in a way that feels possessive yet comforting. He smells faintly like cedar and something distinctly him, a scent that’s becoming familiar. Before you know it, your head is resting on his shoulder, his hand absently tracing patterns on your arm, and you feel like you could stay there forever.

Time slips by in a collection of small, perfect moments. There are more dates—little coffee shops tucked away from campus, a bookstore where he buys you a copy of a novel you mentioned in passing, a late-night diner where you both end up after laughing so hard that you can’t breathe. You never expected him to be so attentive, so eager to listen to your stories and learn every detail about your life. He even surprises you with your favorite snack on study nights, tossing it to you with a grin before leaning in close to steal a bite for himself.

One evening, after a long day of classes and a surprise text from Bucky inviting you over, you find yourself curled up on his couch once again. This time, he’s stretched out beside you, one arm tucked under his head while the other rests around your shoulders. His fingers brush against your arm absently, and you can’t help but notice how natural this feels. It’s terrifying, too, the way he seems to melt into your life so effortlessly, as if he’s always been there.

You glance up at him, catching him mid-laugh as he recounts an embarrassing story about Sam, who apparently tried to show off on a skateboard and ended up with a sprained ankle.

“You’re terrible,” you tease, nudging him with your shoulder, though you’re laughing too.

“Oh, come on. It was hilarious,” he insists, grinning down at you. He tilts his head, his gaze dropping to your lips for just a second, and your laughter fades as something shifts between you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask softly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He shrugs, the corner of his mouth twitching in a faint smile. “I just…can’t believe you’re real sometimes.”

The words catch you off guard, and for a moment, you’re too stunned to reply. But then he leans down, his lips brushing yours with a tenderness that makes your chest ache. The kiss deepens slowly, each touch feeling like a promise, and you lose yourself in the warmth of his embrace, forgetting every doubt, every insecurity that ever kept you guarded.

As the weeks pass, you find yourself falling harder than you ever expected. Bucky seems to find every crack in your armor, every scar and hidden fear, and instead of pulling away, he draws closer, listening to your stories and letting you into his own in ways that leave you breathless. He’s there to listen on your tough days, wrapping his arms around you and murmuring words of reassurance. He’s there on your good days, too, laughing with you, pressing kisses to your forehead as if he can’t believe his luck.

One night, you’re back on his couch, cuddled up under a thick blanket as a storm rages outside, the rain tapping against the windows. You’re nestled against him, his arm holding you close, and he’s quiet, his fingers tracing patterns along your shoulder absentmindedly.

“Bucky?” you ask, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Hmm?” he murmurs, his gaze dropping to yours, his eyes soft and warm in the dim light.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. “For everything.”

He frowns slightly, shifting so he can look at you fully. “You don’t have to thank me for that,” he says, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Being with you…it’s the easiest thing in the world.”

You smile, warmth spreading through your chest, and he kisses you again, slow and soft, like he’s savoring every second. It’s moments like this that make you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re finally safe with someone, that this is something real.

But for Bucky, each moment with you is a double-edged sword. He’s never felt this way before—this calm, this…connected. Every time you laugh at one of his jokes or lean against him, trusting and unguarded, he feels that awful twist of guilt, the memory of that stupid bet lurking in the back of his mind.

He’s supposed to ask for more. That’s what Sam and Steve were expecting, weren’t they? They wanted him to win the bet, to seal the deal and prove he could pull this off. But every time he thinks about going further, about pushing this relationship into a place where he can’t turn back, he feels that nagging ache, that quiet, gnawing feeling that he’s crossing a line he can’t uncross.

He knows he needs to tell you. He needs to come clean, but every time he opens his mouth, the words get stuck in his throat. You look at him with those bright, trusting eyes, and he can’t bring himself to shatter the way you see him. So he holds his silence, hoping that somehow, he can bury the truth forever, that maybe you’ll never have to know.

One evening, as you’re lying together on his couch, you let out a contented sigh, resting your head on his chest as his hand traces lazy patterns along your back.

“Bucky?” you whisper, your voice soft.

He glances down at you, his fingers pausing as he meets your gaze. “Yeah?”

You hesitate, then take a steadying breath. “I…I think I’m falling for you.”

The words hang in the air, vulnerable and open, and for a second, his face goes still, his eyes widening just slightly. Then, his expression softens, and he tightens his arms around you, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. But as he kisses you, the warmth of his touch hiding the flicker of guilt behind his eyes, a single thought haunts him.

She deserves the truth.

That night, Bucky barely sleeps, lying awake with the knowledge that he’s in far too deep to ever come out of this unscathed. Every soft breath you take beside him reminds him of how much he’s risking by staying silent. He knows he has to tell you, but he’s terrified—terrified that this fragile, beautiful thing you’ve built together will shatter, that you’ll look at him with betrayal instead of trust.

In the morning, he makes a decision. He’ll find a way to tell you, he promises himself, but he wants one more day, one more memory before he risks everything. Just one last perfect day where he can pretend that none of it was ever a lie.

So he takes you out, leading you down to the pier just as the sun begins to set, casting the sky in hues of pink and gold. You laugh, leaning into him, and he wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur, watching the waves lap against the shore.

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice soft. “It is.”

But as he stands there, holding you close, he knows that the beauty of this moment is fleeting, that the truth waiting in his chest is too big to ignore. And tonight, when he finally gathers the courage to tell you, he knows there’s a chance he’ll lose you forever. But for now, he lets himself savor this last quiet moment, memorizing the feeling of you in his arms, the warmth of your laughter as it fills the air.

For now, he holds onto the hope that maybe, somehow, you’ll understand.

The sunset fades, leaving the world painted in muted purples and blues, but neither of you seem ready to break away from each other. Bucky holds you close, feeling the steady rhythm of your breath against his chest as if it’s his own. He knows he should say something—that he needs to say something—but the words seem so impossible now, tangled up in his chest. The truth would ruin this moment, shatter whatever he’s built with you. And so, he tells himself it can wait just a little longer.

As the evening slips into night, Bucky leads you back to his dorm room, his hand intertwined with yours. You can feel the heat of his palm, the way his fingers wrap around yours as if he never wants to let go. The air feels charged, every touch electric, each shared glance simmering with something that feels fragile and exhilarating. Neither of you says much, as though speaking would break the quiet spell between you.

Once you’re inside, Bucky hesitates. He turns to you, his expression vulnerable, softer than you’ve ever seen it. "You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand.

“I want to,” you say, the words escaping before you can even think. There’s no hesitation in your voice, only a gentle certainty that makes his chest tighten. The way you look at him, so open and trusting, makes his heart ache with a mix of guilt and longing.

Bucky’s eyes search yours, lingering for a moment that stretches into forever. He reaches up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before his fingers trail down to your jaw, cradling your face as if you’re something fragile and precious. Slowly, he leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s softer than any before. It’s unhurried, tender, as if he’s savoring every second.

The kiss deepens, and you can feel yourself melting into him, your heart pounding so hard you think it might burst. His hands move to your waist, steady and grounding, and he pulls you closer until there’s no space left between you. You can feel the strength of him, the warmth radiating through his clothes, and it makes your head spin.

Before long, you find yourselves tangled together on his bed, the world outside fading into nothingness. Each kiss is deeper than the last, each touch laced with a longing neither of you can deny. There’s a gentleness to Bucky’s movements, a quiet patience as he explores the curve of your shoulder, the softness of your waist, as if he’s memorizing every inch of you. He’s slow and careful, constantly looking at you as if to make sure this is what you want.

“Are you okay?” he whispers, his voice rough with barely-contained emotion.

You nod, feeling breathless but certain. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

His eyes darken, filled with a tenderness that makes your chest ache, and then he’s kissing you again, deeper this time, his hands skimming over your skin with a reverence that leaves you feeling cherished. You lose track of time, surrendering to the way he makes you feel—safe, wanted, like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

When you finally fall back against the bed, your bodies wrapped around each other, you’re exhausted yet filled with a warmth that feels all-encompassing. The reality of what just happened settles in, but instead of feeling nervous, you feel at peace, secure in the quiet intimacy that has grown between you.

Bucky shifts beside you, pulling you closer until your head rests against his chest, his arm draped protectively around your shoulders. The steady thump of his heartbeat lulls you into a peaceful daze, and you feel his fingers trace small circles on your back, soothing and grounding.

You’re both quiet for a long time, the silence comfortable as you bask in each other’s presence. Eventually, though, you feel a need to tell him something you’ve been holding back, something you hadn’t planned on revealing but that feels right to share in this moment.

“Bucky,” you begin softly, lifting your head to look at him. He gazes down at you, his eyes warm and attentive, as if you’re the only thing he sees. “I…I want you to know that this was my first time.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re afraid he’ll pull away, that he’ll think you were too inexperienced or that you should have told him sooner. But he doesn’t flinch or hesitate. His hand moves up to gently cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin.

“Your first?” he echoes, his voice filled with a mixture of surprise and something that sounds almost like reverence.

You nod, feeling your cheeks heat as you look down, suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah…I wanted it to be with someone who made me feel safe. Someone I trusted.”

Bucky’s chest rises and falls slowly as he takes this in, his expression softening. He seems almost humbled, like he’s just been given something rare and delicate. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead before resting his own against yours.

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. There’s a vulnerability in his gaze, as if he’s holding back a hundred things he wants to say but can’t find the words for.

You smile, the last traces of your nervousness melting away. “Thank you, Bucky…for making it so special.”

He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you like he’s afraid to let you go. “I’d do anything to make you feel special,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

You nestle into his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling safe and cherished in a way you never have before. And as you lie there, drifting between sleep and wakefulness, you wonder if this is what it feels like to be truly, deeply in love.

But as you fall asleep in his arms, Bucky lies awake, his heart heavy with the weight of everything he’s kept from you. He knows he should be content, that he should just let himself savor this night and the closeness you’ve shared. But the memory of that stupid, careless bet gnaws at him, a dark cloud looming over everything.

He runs a hand through his hair, staring up at the ceiling, feeling torn between the desire to protect you from the truth and the fear that he’s already crossed a line he can’t uncross. The realization that you trusted him enough to give him something so deeply personal makes the weight of his lie even heavier, almost unbearable. He swallows hard, tightening his hold on you as he resolves to tell you the truth—soon, somehow, even if it means risking everything.

But tonight, he lets himself stay silent. He closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of your hair, the warmth of your body against his, and allows himself to believe, if only for a moment, that this can last.

The morning sunlight filters softly through the blinds, casting warm, golden patterns across the bed. You stir beside him, your movements gentle as you wake up, and Bucky watches you with a quiet awe, his heart racing as he takes in the peaceful expression on your face. For a moment, it feels like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

You blink up at him, your face lighting up with a sleepy smile that makes his chest tighten.

“Good morning,” you murmur, your voice soft and a little shy, as if the night is still too fresh, too beautiful to fully believe.

He grins, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Morning,” he replies, his voice low and warm. His fingers trail down to your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, and you squeeze back, a shared moment of silent understanding passing between you.

The morning stretches on in a gentle haze of quiet touches and soft words. Bucky makes you coffee, insisting you stay curled up under his blanket while he brings it over to you, and you laugh, watching him with a mix of affection and disbelief. This side of him—the playful, thoughtful side—is something you never expected to see, and it makes you fall for him even harder.

You’re both lounging on his bed, your legs tangled together, talking in low voices about everything and nothing. He tells you stories about his childhood, tales about him and Steve getting into trouble, and you share your own memories, laughing as he reacts with wide eyes and exaggerated shock.

It feels so real, so natural, that you almost forget about everything outside this room, about the possibility that this could be something fleeting. You feel like you’ve found a place that’s safe, a person who makes you feel more like yourself than you ever have before.

But in the quiet moments, when you catch him staring at you with that far-off look, you wonder if there’s something he’s not telling you, a hesitation lurking behind his gaze. You don’t press, not wanting to shatter the peace between you. But part of you wonders if you’re seeing a glimpse of something deeper, something you’re not yet ready to confront.

As you leave his dorm room later that morning, he kisses you softly, lingering as if he’s trying to memorize the taste of your lips, the feel of your hand in his. There’s an unspoken promise in his touch, a silent assurance that this isn’t the end.

Later that afternoon, you make your way back to the frat house, humming softly as you climb the steps to Bucky's door. You left your notebook there, a little blue book you’re pretty sure you’ll need for your upcoming assignment. You barely slept last night, too caught up in the warmth of his touch, the memory of his whispered words that lingered long after you left his dorm this morning. You’re nervous, too; you feel so much for him that it scares you.

As you approach his room, laughter drifts out into the hallway, low voices filtering through the partially open door. You recognize Bucky’s laugh, the familiar sound stirring warmth in your chest, but the laughter feels different, carefree and loud. And then you hear a familiar voice—Sam’s—cutting through, low and joking.

"Guess she fell for it pretty hard, huh?" Sam’s voice sounds amused, lighthearted, as if he’s talking about something trivial.

You freeze, your hand hovering inches from the door. Something about his tone makes you hesitate, a strange, unsettling feeling creeping into your chest.

"Come on, Bucky," Sam presses, “don’t act all innocent now. I saw you this morning, looking like you just won the lottery.” You can hear the grin in his voice, a laugh bubbling beneath it. “So? How was it?”

Bucky laughs, the sound uncomfortable, but he doesn’t argue. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, his voice casual, light. “It was… good.”

You feel a stab in your chest, a faint panic that tells you to leave, to walk away before you hear any more. But your feet don’t move, and you find yourself listening, every word driving another splinter into your heart.

Steve’s voice joins in, chuckling. “Well, you earned it, man. She had no clue, huh?”

“No clue,” Bucky murmurs, his voice softer now, almost unreadable. You can picture him there, maybe rubbing the back of his neck the way he does when he’s nervous. But the words are there, undeniable.

Sam laughs again, louder this time. “And hey, bet’s a bet,” he says, and then there’s a pause before you hear the unmistakable rustling of bills being exchanged. “Two hundred dollars, as promised. Can’t say you didn’t earn it, though—you even managed to get her into bed. Didn’t think you had it in you, but here we are!”

Your vision blurs, the words echoing in your mind, distorting into something raw and jagged. Every affectionate touch, every gentle kiss, every whispered promise from the past few weeks twists into something ugly, something unrecognizable. You feel sick, the image of Bucky’s earnest smile, his soft words about wanting to make you feel special, tainted beyond repair. Everything you felt for him, the trust you’d handed him so freely, crumbles beneath the weight of their laughter.

Slowly, you turn and leave, gripping the strap of your bag tightly as you make your way out of the frat house. You don’t let yourself cry, not yet, not when you still feel the echo of his betrayal throbbing in your chest, too raw, too painful to acknowledge fully.

Hours later, you’re back in your dorm room, your heart aching as you sit in silence, the truth settling over you in waves. Part of you wants to believe it was a misunderstanding, that maybe there’s an explanation you’re missing. But the memory of their laughter, the casual way Sam handed him that money, makes the truth impossible to ignore.

A knock on your door interrupts your thoughts, and your heart skips a beat as you hear Bucky’s voice calling your name softly from the hallway. It’s just him now, his voice hesitant, almost as if he senses that something’s wrong. You take a steadying breath, steeling yourself before you answer the door.

When you open it, Bucky’s eyes light up, and he steps forward, a soft smile on his face as he reaches for your hand. “Hey, you,” he murmurs, his voice warm. But when he sees the look on your face, he pauses, his smile fading. “What’s wrong?”

For a moment, you can’t bring yourself to speak. You can only look at him, trying to reconcile the gentle, caring person you thought you knew with the man who took a bet to seduce you. You pull your hand away from his, ignoring the confusion in his gaze as he watches you.

“Were you even going to tell me?” Your voice comes out quieter than you intended, a dull ache threading through every word. “Or were you just going to take the money and pretend it never happened?”

Bucky blinks, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Tell you what? I—I don’t understand.”

A bitter laugh escapes your lips, and you look away, wrapping your arms around yourself as if it’ll keep you from falling apart. “Don’t play dumb, Bucky. I heard you. I was at the frat house earlier, and I heard everything.”

He freezes, his face going pale, and you see the truth in his eyes, clear as day. He opens his mouth, stumbling over his words. “Y/N, I—I didn’t… I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”

The admission twists the knife deeper, and you feel yourself trembling as you look back at him, tears stinging your eyes. “So, it’s true, then? All of it? This whole… this whole thing was just for some stupid bet?”

He reaches for you, his expression desperate, his hands hovering just inches from your arms. “Y/N, please. Just let me explain. It wasn’t like that, I swear. It started that way, but then… then it became real. I fell for you, okay? Everything we did, everything we shared—it was real.”

You shake your head, pulling away from him, the anger and betrayal simmering beneath the surface. “Real? You think that makes this okay? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Your voice breaks, and a tear slips down your cheek before you can stop it. “I trusted you, Bucky. I thought… I thought you cared about me.”

His face crumples, and he takes a step closer, his hand reaching out as if to wipe away the tear on your cheek. “I do care about you. More than anything, Y/N. That’s why I wanted to tell you, I just—”

“Wanted to tell me?” you interrupt, your voice shaking. “When, Bucky? After you cashed in your winnings? After I found out on my own?”

The silence stretches between you, heavy and unbearable, and Bucky’s shoulders sag as he looks away, guilt etched deeply into his face.

“Do you even realize how humiliating this is?” you continue, your voice a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “I trusted you with something… something I’d never given anyone. And the whole time, it was just part of a game to you.”

His eyes snap back to yours, filled with anguish, his voice barely a whisper. “It was never just a game, not after the first night. I swear, Y/N, I was going to tell you everything. I just… I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You didn’t want to lose me?” you repeat, laughing bitterly. “You lost me the moment you made that bet. You had no right to… to play with me like that, to make me believe that any of it was real.”

He looks at you, his blue eyes full of desperation, his voice breaking. “Y/N, please. I know I messed up. I know I hurt you, but I need you to believe me when I say I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“Just stop,” you whisper, the weight of it all crashing over you. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to make me feel sorry for you when you’re the one who lied.”

Bucky’s face falls, and he drops his gaze, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I know. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But please, just… give me a chance to make it right.”

Your heart aches, torn between the memories of every gentle touch, every whispered word, and the undeniable truth of his betrayal. Part of you wants to believe him, wants to believe that somewhere in all of this, there was something real. But the pain is too deep, the wound too fresh, and you don’t know if you can ever look at him the same way again.

“I can’t do this,” you say, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I can’t just forget what you did. You hurt me, Bucky. And right now, I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

He flinches, as if your words physically hurt him, and he nods slowly, a look of resignation in his eyes. “I understand. I’ll… I’ll leave, if that’s what you want.”

You nod, wrapping your arms around yourself as he takes a step back, his gaze lingering on you one last time before he turns and walks toward the door. Just as he reaches it, he pauses, his hand resting on the doorknob as he glances back at you, his voice soft, broken.

“For what it’s worth, Y/N… I love you. I know I don’t deserve to say that, but it’s the truth.”

You don’t reply, staring at him with tear-filled eyes as he finally steps out of your dorm, the door closing softly behind him. The silence that follows is deafening, and you sink to the floor, the weight of everything crashing down as you realize that the person you thought you loved never truly existed.

The days blur together in a haze of heartbreak and emptiness. You go through the motions, attending classes, completing assignments, and showing up to study groups, but it all feels mechanical, like you’re on autopilot. It’s as if something inside you has shut down, leaving only an echo of who you were before you met him, before he became the center of your world.

It doesn’t take long for your friends to notice the change. They ask if you’re okay, if something happened, if maybe you just need a break. But you give them the same answer each time—a nod, a small smile, and an assurance that you’re just tired. It’s easier than explaining the mess of emotions tangled inside you, the hurt that seems too big to fit into words.

Late at night, lying alone in your dorm room, you can still feel the warmth of his arms around you, the softness of his voice in the quiet hours when he’d whisper promises you thought would last forever. The memory feels cruel now, tainted by the knowledge that it was all built on a lie. And yet, despite everything, you miss him. You hate yourself for it, but you miss the way he looked at you, the way he made you feel safe, special, as if you were the only person in the world who mattered.

Bucky isn’t doing any better. In fact, he’s a mess. Days have passed, but the guilt, the emptiness—it lingers, gnawing at him, refusing to let him move on. He can barely sleep, haunted by the look in your eyes, the betrayal, the hurt he put there. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees you, hears the way your voice cracked when you told him you didn’t know who he was anymore. And the worst part is, he doesn’t blame you. He knows he did this, that he ruined everything, and now he has to live with the consequences.

Sam and Steve notice almost immediately. Bucky, the confident, charming guy they’d known for years, looks hollow, as if he’s carrying a weight he can’t shake. He barely speaks, keeps to himself, and they rarely see him at the frat house anymore. Instead, he spends most of his time shut up in his dorm, a shadow of the person he used to be.

One evening, as the sun dips below the horizon, Sam and Steve exchange a glance, silently agreeing that they need to intervene. They knock on his door, and when he doesn’t answer, Sam pushes it open, finding him lying on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Hey, man,” Sam says, stepping inside. Steve follows, closing the door behind them as they both approach Bucky’s bed.

Bucky doesn’t react right away, his gaze still fixed on the ceiling. But eventually, he sits up, running a hand through his hair, looking exhausted and defeated.

“What’s up, guys?” he mumbles, though his voice lacks any real curiosity.

“We should be asking you that,” Steve says, his tone softer than usual. “You haven’t been yourself lately. Ever since things ended with Y/N, it’s like… you’re a completely different person.”

At the sound of your name, Bucky’s face falls, and he lets out a long, shaky breath. “Yeah,” he says quietly, almost to himself. “That’s because I am.”

Sam frowns, studying Bucky’s expression, the guilt etched into every line of his face. “Look, man, we didn’t mean for things to get this serious. But if you cared about her, really cared… why didn’t you just tell her the truth from the start?”

Bucky shakes his head, his hands gripping the edge of the bed so tightly his knuckles turn white. “I don’t know,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I was scared, I guess. I knew I’d screwed up, and every time I tried to tell her, I just… couldn’t. I thought I could fix things, somehow, make it up to her without her ever finding out.” He lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Stupid, right?”

Steve sighs, sitting beside him on the bed. “Not stupid, just… a mistake. A big one, yeah, but you’re not the first guy to mess up. You’re just… Bucky, this isn’t like you. I’ve never seen you like this over anyone before.”

Bucky looks away, a sad smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That’s because I’ve never felt this way before. Not like this. I love her, Steve. And I threw it all away over some stupid bet that meant nothing. I hurt her in ways I can’t even fix.”

Sam places a hand on his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “So what are you gonna do about it? You can’t just sit here, wallowing. If she meant that much to you, then maybe you owe it to her—and to yourself—to try and make it right.”

Bucky laughs, but it’s empty, hollow. “And how am I supposed to do that, Sam? She told me herself she doesn’t know who I am. She doesn’t trust me. I don’t deserve another chance.”

Steve exchanges a look with Sam, and then he says, “Maybe. But you can’t just give up without trying. If you really love her, Bucky, you have to prove it. Show her that you’re not just the guy who hurt her, that you’re willing to fight for her. And if she doesn’t take you back… at least you’ll know you tried.”

Bucky sighs, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stares at the floor. “I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me. I don’t even know if I deserve it.”

Sam crosses his arms, his expression softening. “Look, man, I get that you’re hurting. But don’t you think she’s hurting, too? She’s probably out there feeling just as broken, wondering if anything between you was ever real.”

Bucky swallows hard, his chest tightening at the thought. He knows you’re hurting, knows you trusted him with something precious, something he didn’t deserve. And knowing that he’s the reason for your pain… it’s a feeling he wouldn’t wish on anyone.

Over the next few days, Bucky wrestles with himself, caught between the fear of making things worse and the desire to show you that he’s truly sorry, that he wants to be the man you thought he was. He writes and rewrites texts he never sends, shows up outside your dorm but never works up the courage to knock. He’s terrified, but he can’t ignore the way his heart aches for you, the empty, gnawing feeling that only seems to grow with each passing day.

Finally, he decides to try one last time. He doesn’t know if you’ll listen, doesn’t know if you’ll even give him a chance. But he has to try—to give you the truth, no matter how painful it might be.

And so, as the evening sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over campus, Bucky finds himself standing outside your dorm, his heart pounding as he gathers the courage to knock. He knows this is his last chance, that this is the moment that will decide everything. And he only hopes, as he takes a deep breath and raises his hand to the door, that you’ll give him the chance to show you that he’s not the man who hurt you—that he’s ready to fight for you, no matter what it takes.

The knock on your door is soft, almost hesitant, but it’s enough to pull you from your thoughts. You’ve been lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to find the strength to move forward, to somehow patch yourself up after everything that happened. When you open the door, you see him standing there, his eyes filled with an uncertainty that’s almost heartbreaking. He’s gripping a small notebook in his hands—your notebook, the one you left in his room—and his gaze is fixed on you with a desperation you’ve never seen before.

“Hi,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You don’t reply right away, the sight of him dredging up the familiar ache in your chest. Part of you wants to slam the door and hide, to keep yourself safe from any more hurt. But you don’t. Instead, you meet his gaze, forcing yourself to remain steady.

“Hi,” you reply, your voice guarded.

He shifts on his feet, glancing down at the notebook before offering it to you. “I, uh… you left this. Thought you might need it.”

You take it from him, feeling the familiar weight of it in your hands. “Thanks.”

A heavy silence hangs between you, one that neither of you seems willing to break. Bucky swallows, his face creased with an anxious, uncertain look that makes him seem vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen before.

“Can we… can we talk?” he asks, his voice almost pleading. “Please. I know I don’t deserve it, but I just need to say a few things. If you don’t want to listen, I’ll understand, and I’ll leave you alone. I just… I need you to know the truth.”

You hesitate, but finally, you nod, stepping back to let him into your room. He steps inside, closing the door softly behind him, and takes a seat in the small chair by your desk while you remain standing, arms crossed protectively over your chest.

For a moment, he just looks at you, his gaze heavy with regret. Then he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“I know you have every right to hate me,” he starts, his voice barely steady. “I know I messed up in ways I can’t even fix. And I know… I know what I did was horrible. I just—” He swallows, his throat tight. “I just need you to know that it wasn’t all a lie. When we started this… when we first got close, I didn’t expect any of this to happen. I didn’t think I’d feel the way I did.”

You look down, his words stirring a fresh wave of pain in your chest. “But it was a bet, Bucky,” you murmur, your voice trembling. “You… you did all of that just to win some money. To you, it was just a game.”

He flinches, guilt flashing in his eyes, and he nods. “I know. I won’t make excuses for it—I was stupid, and I hurt you. But somewhere along the way, it stopped being about the bet. It stopped being a game. And I started… I started caring about you, more than I’ve ever cared about anyone.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you force yourself to keep your voice steady. “Then why didn’t you just tell me the truth?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair again, his expression tortured. “Because I was scared. I was terrified that you’d look at me the way you’re looking at me now, that I’d lose you. I know that doesn’t make it better, but it’s the truth. I tried to find the right time, tried to find the right words, but I kept putting it off, thinking maybe… maybe I could make it up to you before you ever found out.” He looks down, his voice breaking. “But that was stupid. I should’ve just been honest with you from the start.”

You take a shaky breath, feeling the full weight of everything he’s saying. Part of you wants to believe him, wants to forgive him, but the wound he left is still fresh, still raw. “I trusted you, Bucky,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “I thought… I thought what we had was real.”

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with a desperate sincerity that takes you off guard. “It was real. For me, it was real. And I know that doesn’t change anything, but I need you to know that. I never meant to hurt you, and I’ll spend as long as it takes to make it up to you if you’ll let me.”

You study him for a long moment, searching his face, trying to find some indication of sincerity, something to show that he’s truly sorry. And when you see the remorse in his eyes, the sadness that mirrors your own, you feel something in your chest soften, just slightly.

“Bucky,” you begin softly, forcing yourself to stay strong, “I can’t just go back to how things were. I can’t pretend this didn’t happen. You hurt me more than anyone ever has, and it’s going to take time for me to get past that.”

He nods, his expression resigned, but he doesn’t look away. “I understand. And I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. I just… I just want the chance to prove to you that I’m more than the guy who hurt you. Even if we can’t go back, I want to be there for you, even if it’s just as a friend.”

You let his words sink in, feeling a flicker of hope amidst the ache in your heart. Part of you still longs for what you had, for the closeness you shared, but you know that you can’t rush back into it. If Bucky truly wants a second chance, he’ll have to earn it, piece by piece, day by day.

“Maybe…” You hesitate, feeling vulnerable but determined. “Maybe we can start as friends. Just… friends. No promises, no expectations. If you’re willing to do that, to rebuild things from the ground up… then maybe, someday, I’ll be able to trust you again.”

Relief floods his face, and he nods, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll take that. Anything you’re willing to give, I’ll take it. I’ll prove to you that I can be better. I’ll prove that I’m worth your trust.”

You give him a tentative smile, and for the first time in days, you feel a flicker of hope. It’s small and fragile, but it’s enough to remind you that maybe healing is possible.

Over the next few weeks, Bucky becomes a constant but careful presence in your life. He shows up when you need help with an assignment, offers a listening ear when you need to vent about a long day, and joins you for coffee on campus, keeping the conversation light and easy. He respects your boundaries, never pushing for more, never expecting anything beyond friendship. You’re surprised at how attentive he is, how willing he is to wait, to prove that he’s serious about making things right.

Slowly, the walls around your heart begin to crack. You start to feel comfortable with him again, to let your guard down, if only a little. You catch him glancing at you sometimes, a soft, almost wistful look in his eyes, as if he’s seeing something precious he thought he’d lost forever. It’s in these moments that you remember why you fell for him in the first place, why his smile used to make your heart race, why his touch felt like home.

One day, as you’re both sitting on a bench by the campus pond, he turns to you, a hesitant smile on his face. “I know we’re just friends right now, and I’m okay with that. But I want you to know that I’m grateful for every moment I get to spend with you, even if it’s just like this.”

You feel a warmth spread through you, a sense of peace you haven’t felt in a long time. “Thank you, Bucky,” you say softly. “For not giving up. For being patient with me.”

He reaches out, hesitating for a moment before resting his hand on yours, his touch warm and steady. “I’ll wait as long as it takes. I’ll prove to you that I’m here for you, no matter what.”

And as you look into his eyes, you feel a flicker of something you thought was lost—a tentative, fragile hope that maybe things could be different this time. That he could truly be the person he’s trying to be, the person you wanted him to be all along. And though you know there’s a long road ahead, you’re finally willing to take that first step with him, trusting that maybe, this time, he won’t let you down.

The night is alive with music and laughter as you step into the crowded frat house. It’s your first time back here since everything happened, and you can’t deny the nervous flutter in your stomach as you take in the familiar scene. But tonight feels different—Bucky is by your side, watching you with a gentle smile as he guides you through the chaos of people, his hand warm and steady on your arm.

Over the past few weeks, things between you and Bucky have been slowly mending. He’s proven himself time and time again, showing up when it mattered, respecting your boundaries, and never pressuring you for more than you were willing to give. He’s become someone you can lean on, someone who’s earned back your trust bit by bit. And, to your own surprise, you feel something new blossoming between you—something deeper, stronger, and more genuine than before.

When you reach the main room, you spot Sam and Steve near the keg, both of them giving you a thumbs-up as soon as they see you with Bucky. You laugh, rolling your eyes, but Bucky just grins, shrugging as if to say, They’re harmless.

“Glad you came tonight,” he says, leaning closer so you can hear him over the noise. “I was worried you might skip.”

You shrug, glancing up at him. “Well, I figured it was about time I faced the frat house again.”

He chuckles, a warm, rich sound that sends a spark of something familiar through you. It’s the same feeling you used to get when you first met, when you were just getting to know him, before anything got complicated. Only now, it feels even better—because you’re finally on solid ground with him, without secrets or lies standing between you.

As the night goes on, you find yourself enjoying the party, laughing with friends, and even dancing a bit. Bucky stays close, his presence a comforting, steady anchor amidst the noise and chaos. He’s attentive, offering you drinks and glancing over every so often to make sure you’re comfortable. And every time you catch his gaze, you feel your heart race just a little faster.

At one point, as you’re talking with a friend, you feel Bucky’s hand gently touch your arm, and he leans in close, his voice soft and intimate against your ear. “Want to get some air?”

You nod, letting him lead you through the throngs of people until you step out onto the back porch. The cool night air is a welcome relief from the warmth inside, and you breathe deeply, taking in the quiet calm of the evening. Bucky leans against the railing, watching you with a soft, almost nervous smile, his hands tucked into his pockets.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you something,” he begins, his voice low and steady, as if he’s thought about this moment a thousand times. “I know we’ve been rebuilding things, and I know you wanted to take it slow. But, Y/N… being with you these past few weeks, even just as friends, has been everything to me. And I can’t stop thinking about you. About us.”

Your heart stirs at his words, and you feel a warmth spread through you, a sense of longing that’s been building quietly since the day he asked for a second chance.

“Bucky,” you say softly, stepping a little closer. “I… I feel the same. It’s been hard, letting go of the past. But I think—no, I know—I’ve forgiven you. You’ve shown me who you really are, and… I like that person.”

His eyes brighten at your words, and he reaches out, his hand brushing your cheek as his thumb strokes gently across your skin. He leans closer, his gaze searching your face as if to make sure you’re truly ready for this.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers, his voice barely audible in the quiet night air.

You feel your heart skip a beat, and you give him a small, almost shy nod, your pulse racing as he leans in, closing the distance between you. The moment his lips meet yours, it’s like the world melts away, leaving only the warmth of his touch, the softness of his mouth against yours. It’s gentle at first, tentative, as if he’s afraid of breaking the spell. But as you respond, his hand slips to the back of your neck, pulling you a little closer, deepening the kiss with a quiet, aching intensity.

When you finally pull away, he rests his forehead against yours, both of you catching your breath, sharing a smile that’s equal parts relief and joy.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice full of warmth, “I promise, I’m not going to mess this up again. I want this with you—for real, no games.”

You smile, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. “Good, because you’re stuck with me now.”

He laughs, pulling you into a tight hug, and you bury your face in his shoulder, feeling a happiness you haven’t felt in a long time. You’re finally ready to move forward with him, to start fresh, knowing that this time, it’s real.

maybe I should've made it more angsty? I love angst, request angst people! lol

[chocolilies]

─── messy sheets. ꒱

( ୨ৎ. roronoa zoro x fem!reader. . .ᐟ

one of zoro's many favourite things about dating you is how you pick up on each other's mannerisms.

◟ꪆ୧ nsfw (afab!reader, thigh riding, groping, fingering) porn with a tiny bit of plot, though the plot is mostly fluffy! based on this request! spreading my titty fiend!zoro agenda... reblogs and comments are appreciated a lot!! (⁠ʃ⁠ƪ⁠＾∇⁠＾) !

w.c : 3.2k.

also on ao3 + op masterlist !

“don’t ever come back here again!”

“you don't own the ship, asshole! I'll go wherever I want!”

dodging a kitchen knife, zoro slammed the door to the galley shut, stomping down the corridor as anger seethed through him. 

“can’t even get a drink in peace,” zoro growled as he clutched at one of his swords, pushing open the door to your room, having half the mind to turn back around and slice the cook up a bit until he set eyes on your bed. 

he found you sprawled out horizontally over the covers, one of his too-big-for-you shirts pulled over your sleeping body, head falling off of one of the pillows, while you hugged the other tight against your chest. 

now, one thing zoro loved about dating you was seeing just how much you influenced each other. 

when you’d both first joined luffy’s crew, you’d snap and whine at him for napping at the most random intervals of time, kicking him awake or simply complaining very loudly with nami about how he used his free time, driving the swordsman up the walls. 

yet after all that time spent grumbling about his sleeping habits before you’d gotten together (and maybe a bit more after that), here you were. messily spread out on your shared bed with drool running down your chin, taking one of those naps you once objected so much against. 

he held in a laugh, his tiff with the cook fizzling away in his mind as he took in your sleeping figure, the light from the afternoon sun shining into the room and hitting you in an almost angelic way, which for zoro, you were nothing but. 

he carefully propped up his swords against the wall, shaking his shoes off before silently moving towards what you’d both silently agreed on was his side of the bed, though thanks to the way you had moved around in your bed, were now occupied by your bare legs. 

zoro had once heard about how you moved around a lot during your sleep, having heard nami’s complaints about your sleepy kicks or slaps back when you used to share a bed with her, always laughing loudly at the way you would shy away from her in embarrassment, unaware of how squirmy you were asleep. 

surprisingly enough, though, the moment you started to sleep alongside zoro, you stopped moving. maybe it was because of his incredible pain tolerance (since one slap from you would hardly register as painful) that your movements didn’t stir him awake, or maybe it was because of the unyielding grip he had on you the moment his arms found your wriggly body. 

he found it hilarious that it was the latter. 

zoro carefully took both of your ankles in one hand, pushing your legs and subsequently moving your body so you were lying in a more “appropriate” manner, though considering the many times he’d ended up horizontal on a bed, he shouldn't really be judging. 

once he’d made enough space for himself, he let go, kneeling on the mattress before pulling his shirt and haramaki off, polloping himself down on the bed as soon as he’d flung them across the room (something he knew he’d get reprimanded for later).

a grunt left him as he tried to get comfortable, arms immediately spread out instinctively to find your body, wrapping them around your waist and dragging you across the already messy covers into his chest. 

you let out a whine as the rough movements forced you to let go of the pillow you’d been cuddling, though seemed to immediately calm down once you subconsciously realised whose arms you were now in. 

“messy girl,” zoro murmured as he looked around the state your bed’s covers were in after what he assumed had been less than an hour (he clearly recalled you screaming at luffy for something or other a bit before he’d wandered into the kitchen), craning his head so he could press a sloppy kiss against your cheek. “mean, too. napping without me…”

he adjusted the arm underneath you so it was right against your neck, not wanting for you to grow uncomfortable with it digging into your waist, watching as you immediately rested your head against his warm bicep, letting out a soft noise of content. 

his other arm, though, had completely other plans. he moved it from its place around your waist, dragging his hand underneath the oversized shirt of his you’d stolen, placing his warm palm right above the elastic band of your panties, chuckling as your body shivered in response. 

one thing you'd quickly learned about zoro the moment you'd started dating was that he loved your tits. 

he'd once “joked” about throwing all of your bras overboard one day in which you'd walked out of your room without one, eyes trained to your chest each time you walked by, not shying away from showing his attraction to you in that state, though you (and everyone else who had heard his proclamation) knew he was fully capable of doing it. 

zoro's hands were on you every chance you got, taking your tits into his hands and squeezing like they were stress balls, thumb and index slowly working on your pebbling nipples, chin perched on your shoulder and just watching, never making a sound except for the sighs or grunts that would leave him in response to your own whimpering noises. 

sometimes it wasn't even sexual. sometimes he just found comfort in groping you, playing with the flesh as you say in his lap working on something or as a stress reliever after a particularly gruelling battle. 

this, he thought as slid one of his legs between yours, was not one of those times. 

zoro leaned down to press kisses to the exposed skin of your shoulder, leading a trail right up to the spot behind your ear, smirking as you shivered in response to the soft blow of air from his breathing. 

“...’ro.” you mumbled sleepily, hand moving to cover the one that had started playing with your tummy, stirring awake due to his movements, completely different to how zoro could sleep through wars if he wished to. 

“mornin’,” he joked breathlessly into your ear, deciding to continue teasing as he nibbled at your ear lobe, making you squeak and try to move away. “hey, hey, stop moving.” 

“stop bitin’!” you slurred out tiredly, swatting at his face with a huff, knowing it was probably pulled into an annoyingly smug look. 

“can't… ‘specially not when you look this cute in my shirt, all sleepy…” 

“you get turned on by the weirdest things…” you groaned, already feeling his hand start to move up your abdomen, going directly towards his two favourite things. 

his teeth immediately sunk into your neck in response to your little insult, taking advantage of your body's natural reaction to the pain to finally grab at your tits, tugging at your nipple almost immediately, his other arm moving from the position he'd previously put it in to grab at your other tit, not wanting to leave out any of your two girls.

“you’re so pervy, zo… y’re no better than-” your words were cut off as you moaned out in surprise at the immediate attack on your slowly pebbling nipples, the action sending shockwaves through your body, arms lying stiff at your side as you tried to decide what do with your hands, teasing words fizzling away in your mind, too busy enjoying the way your boyfriend was massaging your chest. 

“don't.” zoro growled into your ear with a pinch to your nipples, a high pitched whine leaving your mouth at the little retaliation, knowing full well what was about to leave your mouth, not wanting to think about the perv-cook when he was in the middle of playing with his girl's tits. 

“m-meanie…” you gasped, back arching at the slight pain that accompanied the pleasure that rushed through your body at his actions, feeling the leg that he'd slipped between your own start to move, the coarse material of his trousers along with the pressure of his thigh pressing tight against your panty-clad core. 

“yeah? ‘m just a big meanie?” zoro grunted, licking at the spot he'd previously sunk his teeth in, slowly but surely moving his thigh back and forth, loving the way your tiny frame jumped and shivered at every stimulation he gave. 

“y-yeah-” breathlessly, you started to move down to meet the movements of his stiff thigh, muscles rippling between your legs despite the little effort it took for him to move like this in comparison to you, who was already growing tired from the constant movements without the help like you usually had. 

“this is me being nice,” he licked a stripe up your neck to the spot behind your ear, where he pressed a very uncharacteristically sweet kiss to, your mind flowing with confusion as to how he could focus on kissing, groping and grinding into you all at once. 

well, considering you were dealing with a man who fought with three swords, you shouldn't be surprised at his dexterity. 

each movement of his thigh against where you needed him most sent waves of pleasure through your tired body, and you could anxiously tell that you were leaving a damp spot on his trousers by the way you were dripping, your boyfriend's ministrations enough to get your pussy soaked. 

it also didn't help that each time he pulled his leg forward, his knee would bump against your already throbbing clit, sending shockwaves up your spine and forcing whines out of your wet lips, saliva pooling in your mouth and threatening to slide down your chin like it previously had been doing during your nap. 

“y’really don't want me to be mean,” he taunted, leaving more kisses across the expanse of skin his too-big shirt exposed for him to touch, fingers letting go of your already abused nipples, a sigh of relief leaving your parted lips at that, focusing instead on groping at the rest.

at your lack of response, zoro grinned, basking in the sounds you were making before he slid his leg out of yours, not missing the way they immediately tried to press down onto it, a horrified sound leaving you at the sudden lack of pleasure. 

“z-zo!” you exclaimed, trying to turn around to look at him, but by the way he had you pressed tightly against, you found that movement to be impossible. “wh-what was that for?” 

your whines were music to his ears, ignoring the way you were squirming in his arms, though his hands continued to play with your tits. “what was what for?” 

he acted like he hadn't just put a pin in your pleasure, instead moving to grind his front against your backside, evidence of his growing pleasure pressing into your ass. 

“mean enough for you now?” 

you whined at his taunt, a gasp escaping you as one of his hands let go of your tits, confusion filling you as to what that lonely hand would be getting up to. 

“‘m sorry!” you whined, finding it slightly ridiculous that you were apologising for simply implying that your boyfriend was being mean, though you would've done anything to get that beautiful pleasure back. “please- please…” 

“please what?” you could hear the smirk in his voice, though by the way his hand was already trailing down your stomach towards your soaked cunt, you knew you wouldn't have to do any more begging except to please him. 

“touch- touch me, pleaseee…” you begged, even though his index and middle finger were already teasing the spot right above your clit, tracing the soft texture of your panties, trying to discern which pair you'd worn that day. 

“there's my girl.” he grinned, pride filling him up as he finally got that initial brattiness out of you, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek as his fingers went up to the elastic band of your underwear, reaching his hand under it and running over your pubic hair, fingers sliding right between your soppy folds. 

your breath hitched in your throat as he immediately found your tiny bundle of nerves, already an expert on how your body worked and what you needed from him, rubbing slow circles into it like he knew you liked, a sharp contrast to the way he'd previously been grinding his leg against it. 

your legs twitched with every movement, your pleasure picking up from where he'd left off, tummy growing warm as he toyed with you, and though you could feel yourself slowly making your way up to your orgasm, you knew zoro wouldn't let you cum just like that. 

“shit, she's a messy girl, jus’ listen to her…” he murmured, referring to the sounds your cunt was making with every move of his finger, adding a second one in hopes that the cacophony of sounds would increase. 

“don't teaseee…” you drawled out, lolling your head back against his shoulder as he peppered kisses all over you, sliding his fingers around the erogenous zones around your clit, sparking pleasure all over you. 

“‘m not teasing.” he grunted, his hips jerking slightly to make contact with your ass, rubbing his erection against you in tandem with his own fingers, though still completely zeroed in on your pleasure. “I jus’ know what she wants.” 

you puffed out your cheeks, though whatever you were about to snap back died in your throat as he finally slid his fingers down to your soaked entrance, teasingly running his fingers around the ring of muscles. 

“fuck, y’feel tight.” zoro groaned, the heel of his palm pressing right into your clit, stimulating your little nub with each twitch of his fingers. 

“gonna fuck me open?” you jeered, out of breath at the continuous amount of pleasure being forced onto your sleepy body, another wave of slick leaving your cunt at the thought of getting fucked. 

“fuck, I wish…” zoro rasped, cock twitching against your back at the shared idea, shaking his head slightly, too comfortable in this position to move around. “not today, though. ‘m just enjoying playing with your little cunt for now.”

he slipped his middle finger into your hole before you could even reply, though he knew you had no qualms with his reply, always admiring his hands and exclaiming how much you loved having them on your pussy. 

his finger immediately found your g-spot, arching it to rub against the spongy spot that made your toes curl, palm still grinding against your clit deliciously. 

“s-so good!” you cried out, one of your hands grabbing at the arm he'd shoved down your panties, nails digging into his tanned skin in pleasure, though no pain registered, too busy playing with your cunt to focus on it. 

“yeah? ‘course it is, it's me.” he said, ego inflating at his own words as you twitched in his arms, slipping another finger into your tight heat to join the attack on your g-spot, his other hand still playing with your tit, warm pleasure building up in your tummy as he worked you out. “‘know you better than anyone.” 

fuck, it almost pissed you off how right he was. 

“no one like me, right?” 

“no one!” you cried out on instinct, moving your hips in tandem with his hand, amplifying the rising pleasure and grinding back on his stiff cock at the same time. “only one for me, zo!”

“atta fucking girl.” he spat out, breathless from the possessive talk and the own pleasure that was rushing through his body, pre leaking from his tip and forming a wet patch against his trousers. “y’close?” 

“mhm!” you shook your head up and down aggressively, moans and whines tumbling out of your mouth as you neared your peak, hand pulling at zoro's arm to alert him of it and ask that- 

“I got you, don't worry.” he sighed, knowing what you wanted before you even said it out loud, pulling his fingers out of you with a loud squelch, pressing his wet fingers against your clit like you wanted and rubbing quick circles onto it, your legs shaking as your hips tried to keep up with the sudden switch in stimulation, though thankful for the help, as it was what you needed to get where you wanted to the most. 

“fu-fuck, zoro! m’so close!” 

zoro knew what that meant. already too familiar with your body and your needs, he knew that that meant to continue whatever he was doing. not to speed up, not to slow down, not to switch techniques, just keep doing what was making his girl scream. 

“it's okay, I got you,” he almost purred, grip tightening on your tit as his hips jutted out to search for stimulation on his leaking cock, although he knew he'd probably be able to cum just by witnessing your orgasm alone. 

“oh god, oh god-” zoro grunted at your words, knowing that he'd usually let out a teasing ‘god’s not fucking you this good, baby’, at your whiny words, smirking as you immediately changed your tune. “zoro! oh, zoro, zoro!

your mouth flew open in a silent scream as you finally reached your peak, riding out your orgasm with help of zoro's fingers, that were quickly covered in slick by the way you'd came, soaking both his hand and your panties, probably even leaking onto the already messy covers. 

you whined as the hand that had been groping you moved to grab at your neck, moving your head painfully to a side so zoro could slot his lips against yours, drinking up your moans and whimpers as you swapped spit, eyes wide open and taking in the way you were falling apart on his fingers. 

you quickly found yourself twitching in overestimation once your orgasm washed away, whining into zoro's mouth, a telltale sign to slowly stop his ministrations. 

“hey, hey…” he shushed you as he leaned back, letting you lie down properly as he propped himself up on the bed, watching you shiver in the aftershocks of your orgasm as he pulled his fingers back from your perky clit, leaning back down quickly to press a kiss between your furrowed brows. “y’okay?” 

you hummed in response, cracking your eyes open to take a look at your grinning boyfriend, his face flushed and sweaty as his chest rose and fell with each quick breath, almost like he'd- 

“zo, just by-?”

“just by seeing you, yeah.” he exhaled, eyes flicking down to his bulge, cock softening against his trousers as he himself came down from his high, bringing the fingers he'd used on you up to his mouth and licking them clean, eyes darting around the room as if he wasn't in the middle of licking your juices off his fingers. 

“don't goooooo…” you whined, knowing he was probably looking for the closest thing he could use to clean you up, much rather preferring cuddles with your boyfriend to a dry cunt. 

you outstretched your arms out to him and made grabby hands, watching as he grinned in response to your need actions, landing on top of you with a grunt and resting his head right on the tits he'd previously been attacking. 

“brute!” you gasped, hands finding solace in his hair and running through his green strands, pouting down at your boyfriend. 

“mmm… next time don't let me suck your tits, unless you wanna see a real brute.” 

[minisugakoobies]

Cross My Heart | KMG

Pairing: Mingyu x GNReader (afab)

Genre: smut, porn with the barest of plot, friends to lovers (?), non-idol!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: pussy drunk mingyu, late night texting, biting/marking, fingering, lots of flirting, lots of teasing, grinding/dry humping, dirty talk, cunnilingus, face sitting, come eating, hand job, mingyu's a messy boy, OC is needy and mingyu loves it, mingyu has maybe the tiniest bit of a praise kink, use of pet names - pretty, mingyu requests death by pussy

Word Count: 5.2k

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own SVT - they just inspire me

Summary: Your crush Mingyu wants (to eat) you.

Text Prompt: You: I can’t stand you Mingyu: Then sit on my face

A/N: Hiiiii I'm writing for svt now and I'm starting with Mingyu because he's driving me insane. This is actually the first in a planned series of 13 svt fics based on text prompts. I'm fully in my self-indulgent era, so this is for everyone who, like me, needs some munch 'Gyu right about now 👅

Unbeta'd as usual. If you like this and want more svt fics from me, please let me know! I'd love to hear what you think (but please be kind I'm fragile 🥺) 💕

SVT Masterlist 💜 Main Masterlist

It’s finally here. After months of planning, you and your friends have flown halfway around the world for a week of vacation. The six of you arrived just a few hours ago, and after the long flight, the long wait at the airport for your luggage, and the long drive to the hotel, you’re exhausted. 

Well, mentally you’re worn out, at least. Your body? Is still on your old timezone, where it’s currently tomorrow morning. So it thinks that you need to be awake, even though it’s night where you are. You had stayed awake the entire flight here in order to avoid this very problem. 

Fucking jet lag got you anyway.

Unlike you, Seungcheol and Vernon are having no issue sleeping. The three of you are sharing one room, while Minghao, Wonwoo, and Mingyu are sharing another. You glance over at the two lumps tucked in their beds, snoring away like you would be if your body wasn’t so confused.

Because you’re trying to be a good friend and let them sleep, you’re lying on your bed, scrolling lazily through your various social media apps. You could watch something, but you don’t really have the focus right now. Yet you want something pleasing to look at. Something to mindlessly enjoy while you wait for exhaustion to overwhelm you. 

So, naturally, you turn to your favorite nightly pastime - scrolling through your social media apps, looking for any new posts from Mingyu.

It’s an addiction, borne out of your raging crush on your friend. Well, really, he’s Minghao’s friend, you don’t know him as well as you do the others, but still. You’re friendly enough around each other. Which is because Mingyu is so nice, such a sweet and funny guy who always makes you feel more than welcome whenever he’s around. 

He’s also a blatant flirt. At first, his cocky smiles and playful words made you think he might be interested in more than just being your friend, but it wasn’t long before you realized he’s like that with everyone. So you tamped down the hope that burned in your chest, leaving only a simmering crush to smolder forever.

It’s morning back home, where most of your friends have barely started their days, so your feed is fairly dead. There are a few photos from Wonwoo from the flight, including one of Minghao sleeping with his mouth open that you immediately save to your favorites, a couple from Vernon, and, of course, several from Mingyu. You tap into his page.

Mingyu’s an avid photographer, particularly of beautiful things - breathtaking landscapes, delicious meals, himself. Mostly himself, to be honest. Not that you’re complaining. It’s maybe the most mutually beneficial relationship you’ve ever been in. Mingyu loves to provide pictures of himself. You love to admire them. A win-win all around. 

You tap back to home and refresh your feed. A new post appears, from Mingyu. The jet lag must be getting to him, too, if he’s awake and posting right now. The photo is another selfie, this time of him lying in bed, one arm resting behind his head, showing off a perfectly sculpted bicep. God. Could he be more gorgeous? 

Clicking into his page again, you rub your thumb over the screen to make his photos flip by in an endless parade of hot Mingyus. It’s ridiculous, you muse, watching picture after picture roll by, to think about how much time Mingyu must spend on these photos. Making sure he’s got the perfect lighting to bounce off his muscles just right in those gym selfies. Or figuring out the best angle to show off that sharp jawline of his. Just ridiculous. And yet, every second isn’t spent in vain, considering how the photos drew you in like shiny trinkets to your magpie eye. 

It would be so easy to think of Mingyu as a modern day Narcissus, endlessly snapping selfies, drowning in his own reflection on his phone. But he’s never struck you as conceited. It’s something else - a desire for connection, perhaps. A need for-

A tiny heart floats up your screen and you gasp. Shit. You just liked the post the scroll stopped on - one of his many gym selfies, frame zoomed in on his torso, his hand clutching the bottom of his shirt to show off his rippling abs.

Your eye drifts to the date of the photo. Posted eight months ago. 

Quick as lightning, you hit the screen again, shattering the little heart icon. Your pulse is beating too fast. There’s no need to panic. He couldn’t have seen that. Maybe you’re overreacting, but no one needs to know you’re lurking in his profile in the middle of the night, especially not him. 

A notification drops down over Mingyu’s face. A message.

Mingyu: Someone’s up late. 

Ah, damn. You were too slow. And now he’s in your DMs. 

After taking a moment to shriek quietly into your pillow, you write back. 

You: Can’t sleep

Mingyu: Same. Jet lag’s got me fucked up

Mingyu: You know what always helps when I can’t sleep?

You: What?

Mingyu: Creeping through someone’s old photos

Even though he’s not here looking at you, your neck flames with embarrassment anyway. You could play it cool. If only you knew how to do that. 

You: Shut up

Mingyu: It’s ok, I’m flattered

You: Oh fuck off

Mingyu: No really, I am

Mingyu: I like that you want me so bad

Pressing your mouth firmly into your pillow, you swallow another screech. Here we go. Right into the flirting. You can’t handle this right now.

You: Idk what you’re talking about

You:  It was an accident

Mingyu: Oh you were accidentally admiring me? 

You: How did you even notice? Are you just staring at your phone, waiting for attention?

Mingyu: I mean yeah

You snort. 

You: You’re ridiculous

Mingyu: Maybe. But I’m honest about it

You: I’ll give you that

A few seconds go by, then a minute, then two. Maybe you’re boring him. Maybe he’s found something else to entertain him. Or someone else.

When the next notification comes in, you jolt a little. 

Mingyu: What else will you give me?

And now your heart does a funny jump as you stare at his words. God, what a question. How you wish he were asking for real, and not just being playful, like he always is. 

Would it be too real to reply with the truth? “Whatever you want?”

You: I don’t know

You: What do you want?

Mingyu: What if I say you?

Suddenly you don’t understand words.

You: Why would you say that?

Mingyu: Because it’s my answer

Mingyu: I’m being honest again

You: That’s the jet lag talking

Mingyu: Oh come on

Mingyu: You really don’t know?

You: Know what??

Mingyu: How I feel about you

Is he being serious right now??

You: If this is a joke I don’t get it

Mingyu: Not a joke

Mingyu: Hold on

The notification icon on your app suddenly lights up. One heart. Two. Three four five. You open your notifications and immediately start laughing. Mingyu’s going through your oldest photos and liking them, one by one. 

Mingyu: See? I’m obsessed with you

Seungcheol grunts in his sleep, and you press your arm harder over your mouth, trying to muffle yourself better.

You: You’re so annoying, oh my god

Mingyu: So annoying that you can’t stop looking at my photos at 1 am?

Mingyu: Or flirting with me?

You: Is that what’s happening? Are we flirting?

Mingyu: Ok don’t act like you don’t know

Mingyu: I flirt with you all the time

You: You flirt with EVERYONE all the time

Mingyu: Yeah but I only mean it with you

Like any other time this happens, any time his words make your head spin, you put on the brakes, stopping before you start to believe you might have a chance. 

You: You’re so dumb

Mingyu: Are you really going to pretend you’re not enjoying this?

You: Who said I’m pretending?

Mingyu: Me. I know you’re loving this

Mingyu: Because you want me soooooo bad

You: Shut uppppp

Mingyu: Go on, yell at me

Mingyu: You’re cute when you’re mad

You: No really

You: I can’t stand you

Mingyu: Then sit on my face

Your mouth falls open, an amused huff of air escaping in a befuddled laugh at his unexpected response. 

You: What?

Mingyu: Come shut me up. Sit on my face.

You’re blinking so hard, you can hear your eyelids clapping together.

You: Fuck off. Stop playing. 

Mingyu: Who’s playing? I’m serious

Mingyu: Smother me with those gorgeous thighs of yours. I’ll go out a happy man. 

Your gorgeous thighs? He’s never said anything like that before. What the fuck is happening.

You can’t help but picture it - him lying on his bed, you kneeling over him, fingers tangled in his dark hair as you ride that pouty little mouth of his. It’s not the first time you’ve fantasized about it, but it’s the first time the vision has felt… possible. 

Mingyu: No response? You’re just gonna leave me hanging like this?

You: Don’t tease me

Mingyu: Trust me, there are a million ways I’d love to tease you, but this isn’t one

You lay down again, rolling onto your side, curling in on yourself, like you’re trying to contain all the excitement rushing through your veins, keep it from spilling out and over into the room where your friends are still sleeping.  

You: You’re really serious?

Mingyu: Cross my heart and hope to die

Mingyu: Between your legs

Again you laugh.

You: You’re such an idiot

Mingyu: Does that mean you’re not coming over?

You: Like right now??

Mingyu: Why not? 

Mingyu: Wonwoo and Minghao both slept on the plane. They went out exploring

Mingyu: I’ve got the room to myself

You bite your lip, a little harder than you normally would, the sharp sting confirming that you are not dreaming and this is, in actual fact, happening right now. 

You: I guess if I’m not sleeping anytime soon

In the dim light from your phone, you eye the path to the door. You can easily make it out of the room without waking anyone. Should you so decide. 

You: I could come over

Mingyu: I promise I’ll make it so good for you

Mingyu: Eat that pussy like you deserve. Make you cum on my tongue over and over

You inhale sharply. He’s definitely never talked about your pussy like that before. Reading his words has you positively throbbing.

Mingyu: Please, just let me taste you

What else is there to say to that but -  

You: I’m coming over

It’s a short walk to Mingyu’s room. A rush of anticipation hits you as you raise your hand to knock. It doesn’t take long for the door to open, bringing you face to face with the man whose social media you can’t stop stalking. Mingyu’s shirtless, grey sweatpants hanging alarmingly low on his hips, and if you weren’t already planning on crushing him with your thighs, this insta thirst trap of an outfit would push you right over the edge. 

“That was fast,” he laughs, stepping aside to let you in. “Did you run down the hall?” 

“I thought I told you to shut up,” you shoot back. 

“And I thought I told you to make me,” he smirks, reaching for you at the same time you reach for him, practically mashing his teeth against your lips as he pulls you in for a kiss. Despite what he just said, he’s kissing you, too eager to wait for you to do what he demands. 

It’s rough and messy, all teeth and tongue, both of you doing your fair share to keep the other silent. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say speechless, because Mingyu’s definitely not being quiet, moaning into your mouth, and you’re certainly whining loud enough for the other rooms to hear you.

He presses you back into the door, chest to chest, hip to hip. You tilt your head and he follows, chasing your mouth, as if he’s needing another taste. Your hands roam over his biceps, his shoulders, his neck, covering every inch of warm skin that’s exposed, and he slips his arms around your waist, holding you impossibly tight. Not for one second do your lips part. This is the type of kiss you’ve always read about in your favorite stories - the one that makes your knees weak, makes your head float, makes you forget everything but Mingyu. 

It’s delicious. It’s amazing. It’s every superlative you can think of. But it’s not enough. You want more. Part of you wants to tell him to get on with it, take you to bed, because you’re here to make him eat his words by eating you, but the other part isn’t about to quit kissing him any time soon. 

Thankfully, Mingyu takes care of your dilemma by eliminating the choice. Without warning, he bends his knees and lifts you, big hands secure on your thighs to hold you close to him. Okay, now it’s like one of your stories, the way he lifts you like you’re lighter than air. You’d swoon if you weren’t so busy licking into his lips. All that time in the gym is really paying off

He carries you to his bed, displaying his impressive thigh strength by slowly lowering himself into a sitting position, bringing you into his lap. You loop your arms around his shoulders, desperately seeking his mouth, as if the 0.2 seconds between kisses might kill you, which, honestly, it feels like it might, and you’ve never been in this situation before, making out with the man of your dreams, so for all you know, it will, so why risk it? 

“Stop me if I’m going too fast,” he says between kisses. 

“You can go as fast as you want,” you reply, without even a second’s pause. “Just don’t stop.” 

“Damn, and here I was worried I was coming off too excited,” he grins, face lighting up in delight. Then he kisses your cheek, whispering against your skin at your offended huff. “It’s okay, I like how needy you are for me.”

“Shut up,” you groan, but you know he felt the way you shuddered, so you give up the weak protests and start kissing him again, twisting your fingers in his hair to keep him close. 

Mingyu finally stops laughing when you take his bottom lip between your own, sucking and licking at the plump skin. With a groan, he digs his fingers into your sides, and he starts to guide you back and forth, rolling you over the eye-catching bulge in his sweatpants. It’s a sight that makes you clench, thinking about how much you want to sit on it now, just pull him out and ride, too needy to feel him inside you to even take your clothes off.

But again, you want more. You want what he’d promised earlier.  

He nips his way down your throat until his mouth latches at the base of your neck, sucking and biting, and you whimper, squirming in his hold. “

‘Gyu, please!”

“Please what?” 

He doesn’t lift his head, too absorbed in sinking his vampire-like canines into your soft skin, not sharp enough to pierce, just hard enough that you know you’ll have bruises blooming there tomorrow, little souvenirs of this moment. 

Please everything, you think. You want it all, whatever he’s willing to give, you’ll take. You’re feeling greedy as fuck right now. 

“I want what you promised me.” 

“Hold on,” he intones seriously, right before laving his tongue over a fresh mark. “Let a man at death’s door enjoy his last moments.” 

“Oh my god, you’re so stupid,” you groan, grabbing his face and smashing your lips together. He’s just - just such an idiot, such a stupid sexy idiot and you want him more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your life.

“Fine,” he says after a few minutes of frantic making out, a cheeky grin spreading across his face, hands circling around your ass, squeezing as he pulls you closer. “Time for my last meal.” 

He kisses away your embarrassingly pleased moan, and then he maneuvers the two of you around so he’s lying on the bed on his back and you’re straddling him. As he watches with rapt attention, you peel off your shirt. Since you’d been dressed for bed, you hadn’t bothered to throw on a bra. Judging from Mingyu’s expression, you made the right call.  

“Pretty,” he breathes out, wide eyes finding yours, and you have to take a beat, have to take a moment to sit and let the reality of the situation wash over you. The two of you are here, together, in this hotel room half a world away from home. Both wanting this. It’s clear to you now just how eager Mingyu’s been since you walked in. He wasn’t lying - he wants you just as much as you want him. 

With this new understanding, you stand up to slide your shorts and panties off in one go, before straddling him again, and lowering yourself for another kiss. Immediately, his arms are around you, gliding down your back, all the way to your bare ass, taking the biggest handfuls he can. 

“You drive me insane. So pretty, so hot.” 

Mingyu’s words kick the simmering heat in your gut into a full blown fire. You moan into his kiss, grinding yourself against him. One of his hands grips your side, helping you chase the friction, while the other slips between your bodies. When his fingers brush your inner thigh, he lets out a strangled groan. “Oh fuck, you’re so wet.”  

“Your fault,” you gasp, lips fervently pressing against his, licking at the seam of his mouth until he allows you in, so you can roll your tongue over his like you roll your hips. 

“Then allow me to make it up to you,” he grins, long fingers cupping your mound, trapping the heat there in his palm as he rubs it against you. You keen, thighs already twitching. You’re going to lose your mind before you even get to his face. 

You’re not alone in that feeling, as he suddenly reaches for your thighs, urging you to crawl up his body. “Get up here, please,” he begs, flat out begs you, and you slide forward as fast as you can. You need his mouth, right now.

Hovering over him is a little surreal - MIngyu’s big brown eyes are gazing up at you in a perfect replication of your favorite daydream, only it’s so much better than you’d ever imagined, because the expression he wears is one of complete awe, like he’s the one living out his fantasy. Again you feel bold, so you run your fingers through his hair, nails lightly scraping over his scalp. He moans quietly, low in his throat, like he’s trying to hold it in, and your mouth quirks in a half smile as you kneel. 

“Nice knowing you, ‘Gyu.” 

He hums a happy note, lips vibrating lightly just as your cunt reaches them, and you moan quietly. You don’t settle all the way down, because as much as you were playing along with this whole death-by-pussy dream of his, you are slightly worried that you might actually suffocate him, if not because of your weight than because of your dire need, that you might get too lost in the aching desire that’s building inside you, spurred on by the way he’s brushing the lower half of his face and down your folds, just breathing you in, teasing you with his touches but not giving you what you so desperately want. 

“‘Gyu,” you whine, tilting your pelvis forward, to catch his tongue as he traces your inner thigh, leaving a trail of saliva behind. He blows a puff of air across the wetness, sending goosebumps running at the cooling sensation. 

When you try to shift again, he’s quick to wrap his hands up around your hips, holding you still. Not hard enough to hurt, but strong enough to let you know - he’s in charge now. 

“Stay still, pretty,” he murmurs, tenderly pressing a kiss into your skin. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep my promise. Cross my heart, remember?” 

With that reminder, he pulls you down further onto his face. His tongue slides into you, nose bumping your clit, and you whimper, hands flailing at your sides, seeking something to cling to, finding nothing but the warm air around you. The pressure on the sensitive bud combining with the wet hot muscle plunging between your slick folds is overwhelming in the best way.

“‘Gyu, oh, that’s so good!”  

Mingyu nods his head vigorously, nudging his nose around, letting his tongue drag up and down your slit. It almost feels like he’s agreeing with you, backed up by the way he grunts brokenly, this deep rumble in his chest that gets strangled halfway through his throat. 

You’re not sure at what point you start thrust your hips. Mingyu helps you find the right pace, big hands guiding you forward and back, forward and back, until you feel the rhythm all the way from your ears to your toes. 

As his mouth slides up to suckle on your clit, his left hand also snakes upwards, cupping your right breast, thumb rolling over your puckered nipple. You shudder, nerves sizzling like power lines, lit up by his every touch.

“‘Gyu…” Mingyu’s mouth pulls another whine from you. You glance down, catching the furrow in his brow, the sweat dripping down his temples. “Oh my god.” 

“Mmmmphf,” Mingyu agrees, or so you assume, unable to understand anything he might be mumbling into you. A particularly sharp suck on your pulsating clit makes your back arch, and Mingyu’s hand falls from your chest, disappearing behind you. 

The sudden rustling of fabric draws your attention. You glance over your shoulder, only to whimper when you catch sight of Mingyu’s hand stroking his erection, band of his sweatpants hastily shoved down, stiff cock so flushed it brings a matching heat to your neck. 

If you were more limber, you’d reach for him, give him a helping hand, but you can’t stay twisted around for long, not when Mingyu’s tongue makes you refocus on his mouth. It’s too difficult to think about anything else right now but the way he keeps plunging inside you, using the thick muscle to fuck you shallowly. 

You can’t stop mewling like a cat in heat, rutting back and forth over Mingyu’s tongue. Even in your daze, it doesn’t escape your attention that Mingyu’s absolutely pussy drunk at this point, depraved moans buzzing endlessly against your most sensitive spots because he refuses to detach his mouth from you long enough to let them escape. Every muffled note reverberates deep in your core, joins the tense chord that’s building inside you to a crescendo. 

“‘Gyu, please.” 

At the sound of your plea, Mingyu stops stroking himself, bringing his hand around to find your clit, middle finger drawing circles around and around and around. 

When you double over, hands sinking into the plush bedding on either side of Mingyu’s head, he grunts, tipping his head to the side so he can speak. “You okay?” 

“Fuck, Mingyu, ‘m good,” you giggle, suddenly hit by a burst of glee, perhaps due to the lack of oxygen in your head, since all the blood in your body is concentrated in your clit right now. “I’m having an amazing night.” 

Mingyu hums again, sounding very pleased, and you meet his gaze, and suddenly you wish his phone was nearby, so you could snap a photo, because this look - hair mussed and clinging to his forehead, pupils blown, nose to chin coated in your glistening wetness - this is a look worth capturing.

“Yeah, me too,” he says, chest heaving as he catches his breath, and the sincerity in his voice steals your own away. If you had any nerve, you’d confess something right now, something you weren’t planning on telling him tonight or tomorrow or maybe ever. But you keep silent, only breathing a tiny exhale of surprise as he slides out from under you, and nudges you onto your back.

Mingyu folds you in half easily, because you’re giving no resistance, letting him shape you the way he desires, and then his mouth is on you again. Now that he's lying facedown between your legs, he’s able to get some much-desired friction without using his hands, grinding his neglected cock into the bed as he concentrates on you. 

His tongue glides over your throbbing nub again, and then his right hand ghosts over your slit. You whimper a soft “Please,” and that’s all he needs to slide his finger inside. The intrusion has you squirming, urging him silently to go deeper, and to your relief, he obliges. But he also locks his other arm over your legs, holding them so you can’t keep bucking your hips up. 

“I said, stay still,” he mumbles, with no anger or heat behind it, just amusement, laced with a slight tinge of cockiness. He knows he’s frustrating you, judging by the curl of his lips as he plunges his finger in and out slowly, way too slowly, teasing you with what you need most. You try to press your hips down onto his hand, to make him glide faster, but he just leans into you slightly, big arm stopping your movements. 

Your whine is beyond petulant. “Don’t tease me!” 

“Pretty, I promise you, when I tease you, you’ll know.” 

And then he adds his middle finger, curling both, pressing on the most sensitive spot on your inner wall. Over and over, his fingers flutter, massaging until starlight bursts behind your eyelids. 

“It’ll be something like this.” 

He withdraws his hand.

“Gyuuuuuu.”

If he was slightly cocky earlier, he’s fully arrogant now, face breaking into a wide grin while he laughs. “Wow, so whiny. You do want me bad.” 

“I swear to god if you dohhhhHHH-”

You break off in a moan when he lowers his face again, loudly lapping at your wetness. Clever fingers alternate between scissoring and stroking, following the changes in your breathing, and you hope that he’s close to being satiated, because you’re teetering on the edge of your climax, only the slightest bit more stimulation necessary to push you over. 

“Mingyu. Mingyu, I’m gonna cum.” You open your eyes, raising your head enough to look at him, to watch with a dropped jaw as he buries his face in your cunt, his own eyes closed in ecstasy, and oh, that’s it - “Oh god, I’m gonna cum!” 

Your warning cry - though clearly appreciated by Mingyu, who groans in answering refrain, hips humping the bed furiously - is ultimately unnecessary, given how hard your walls suddenly clench around his fingers. He doesn’t stop his ministrations, fingerfucking you through your orgasm as your lower half trembles beneath his heavy arm. He holds you in place as best he can, sweetly kissing your clit, while you wail and writhe, pressing your palm into your mouth to keep your cries from waking the rooms around you. 

Eventually your tremors slow, turning into occasional twitches, before your body finally relaxes. Mingyu continues to lap at you, every pass of his tongue getting lighter and lighter, until he lifts his head. He’s the perfect image of lust, eyes dark and desirous, and you claw at his shoulders, needing him close again. 

“Kiss me.” 

He wipes his face with the back of his hand, smearing you over himself more as he rises up to meet you. His cock is hard between you, and you moan, knowing that you did that, that he got this turned on just from eating you out, and extend your fingers to wrap around him.

The unbidden sound he utters when you take his cock and slide it through your soaking folds, coating it in your wetness, is the filthiest sound you’ve ever heard.

“Careful, pretty,” he pants, looking down at your hand. Under his close gaze, you circle the head of his cock before rubbing your thumb over and around the slit there. “‘M close.” 

“Wanna make you come, ‘Gyu,” you tell him, and he hisses, hips bucking into your grip. 

“Fuck.” His long fingers cover yours, guiding you into a faster pace. “But I’m gonna make a mess.”

“Do it. Make a mess.” The need to make him completely fall apart takes possession of you, makes you say things you’ve never said to anyone else. “Come all over me.” 

Mingyu whines, chin dropping to his chest. He’s barely blinking as he stares at your entwined hands. 

“Pretty… don’t say that….”

“Please, ‘Gyu.” All shame has fled your body. “I want it.” 

No further encouragement is needed. Mingyu grunts a few times before he’s painting your stomach in so much white, in little drops and big splashes, doing exactly what you told him, eyes rolling back in his head as he does.

When his high abates, he sits back on his heels, gazing at the mess he created, all the sticky sweat and semen that covers your body. A delirious thought comes to you. Is the sight beautiful enough for him to want to take a picture? 

“Wow,” he murmurs after a moment, shaking his head. “You’re even prettier when you’re covered in me.” 

His dead serious expression is enough to break the haze of lust hanging over you. You throw your arm over your face, too flustered to look at him. “‘Gyuuuuu!”

“Changed my mind, I’m calling you ‘whiny' from now on.” The bed shifts as Mingyu rises. He laughs all the way to and from the bathroom, laughs even harder when you glare at him, reaching for the towel he holds. He surprises you by nudging your hand away. “Let me.”  

His touch is so gentle as he wipes away his mess, then your own. When you’re both clean enough, he lays on his side, draping his arm over you. “Think you can sleep now?” 

Oh, you can sleep. You’re feeling satiated in a way you haven’t for a long time, and now that the rush has worn off, you could knock right out. You should probably go back to your room, ride this calm wave right into sleep, not let yourself get too excited at the thought that this vacation might be the best one ever.

Instead, you grin, sliding your fingers through the hair on the back of his neck. “Yeah. But I don’t want to.” 

“Oh?” Mingyu’s smile mirrors yours. “What do you wanna do instead?” 

“I might have some ideas.” 

He lets you pull him down for a kiss, humming eagerly.

“Tell me what you want, pre-”

A sharp rap on the door startles you both.

“Dude, don’t you dare!” Minghao hisses through the wood. “We’ve been out here forever!” 

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

© 2024 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my work.

[dmitriene]

based on the request from my inbox.

cw: size kink, reader mostly described as petite.

könig is so obsessed with the size difference between you both it's almost laughable, through you don't have time to tease him about it, not with the way he almost clings to you and uses every opportunity of your admiring words about his body to show how much bigger than you he really is, so you better hold back from talking about it at all, liebling, even if it doesn't really help.

he's acutely aware of how much bigger than any average men his body are, with his brawny chest and the pumped lines of his body filled with coiled, hard muscles, his meaty thighs, the height that helps him tower over the people easily, even through often his head knocks against the jamb of the doors, leaving occasionally growing bumps on his forehead.

but it's nothing, tiny nuances that cannot be compared with the all fulfilling excitement that courses through könig at the knowledge that he can so easily manhandle you, scoop your dainty body up and seat you on his forearm, it's not important at all what your height is, how much you weight, for him, you're small like a pretty bunny and light as a feather, made to sit in his arms with your legs swinging around, as you decorate his rugged, smug grinning face with light pecks from your pouty lips.

könig often does that silly thing of comparing, as if trying to brag, holding your palm against his, enormous, calloused and scarred, able to encompass the entirety of your diminutive, soft hands, carrying you all around like you're some kind of not independent, lap pet, sometimes cruel, too, slapping his engorged, fat cock over your sensitive, weepy pussy, cooing at the way your folds flutter beneath, making your whole body seize and shudder, twitching violently with a wet, needy whimper.

you kick your legs in his chest, whining at the boyish, bursting laughter könig let's out, nudging his leaking, bulbous tip against your clenching, gaping little hole, watching the way you tilt your hips, chasing the feel of his cockhead rubbing up and down, catching on your slick soaked, parting lips, breaching in inch by inch, leaving your throat seizing around a loud, crying keen as he plunges you full with throbbing heaviness of him, fingers fanned out along the curve of your pulling tummy, impaling you in rhythm of his rough, pummeling thrusts.

könig is absolutely impossible to endure, he can't behave, not with how absolutely struck he is by you, by how adorable you are, sweet like a hilfloses, kleines tier, and even through it's sounds not as attractive he hoped to, his words still make your chest tighten, all fluttering inside, so you forgive his sneaking, mapping hands all around your curves, digging in your hips, kneading at your perky ass, tucking you beneath his heavy, draping hand.

you're neither can expect him to act properly when your parents invite you for a dinner in their house, dying to meet your boyfriend, not knowing that this seemingly charming, polite man with brightest, innocent cerulean eyes would take you apart in your childhood bedroom, he's been utterly respectful during the dinner, until you decided to show him upstairs, which led to your cunt being split open by his pounding cock.

each strained, blabbering mewl and gasp silenced by the pillows you burrow in, könig's gravelly voice whispering salacious, cooing praises, he's just so smitten for you, and you can't complain, not when he fucks all your protests out of your mind, enough so you'll be just a pliant, petite thing in his arms.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[pellucid-constellations]

Trial and Error (7)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Based on the request: "Azriel with single mom reader? I feel like being a single mom in ACOTAR would be tricky as hell… reader comes from autumn court and flees to night court because she got pregnant out of marriage? 😯 the shame"

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Angst

a/n: Hi it's been a while for this series! Next chapter goes crazy I'll tell you that much. Love you thanks for reading <3

Read part one | part two | part three | part four | part five (part five bonus) | part six

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

Life no longer felt as if you were on the run. 

You were, obviously, but an ease had blanketed the cage you had placed yourself in, fostering a warmth that almost tricked you into forgetting. The biting heat from Autumn, always so readily at the forefront of your mind, took a backseat to the calm routine of your life. You forgot, sometimes, that you and Melanie were living on borrowed time. On borrowed luck.

Azriel made that easy.

Things had progressed between the two of you, so slowly that the movement was imperceptible. But you felt the change in short bursts, at the most inconsequential of times. 

He would come over at night and hold you as you slept, but only after the unseasonable warmth had vanished and your single-paned windows became evident. Those nights were accompanied by an overload of blankets being heaped onto your daughter’s bed, but still, there was often a knock that shortly followed Azriel’s arrival. There was enough room for three on the bed, anyways.

Azriel was not shy about touching you, but he was also adamant about not crossing any lines. You weren’t sure who had created those lines, but they kept his hands in your hair and at your waist and clasped to yours when you took Melanie out for walks. His lips stayed, again, at your hairline and on your cheeks and in the divots of your knuckles when he said goodbye. 

You thought, perhaps, he was waiting for you to fully kiss him before he allowed himself the liberty, but there never seemed to be a right time. And you were still often confused. 

In the time you spent with Azriel, you opened up more about your past. You told him of the perilous journey to Velaris and the difficulty of finding a job with your lack of skills. He inquired about your position back in Autumn Court, how you could have survived with no job, but there was no reason to have a job when you were a court lady, and you told him that. 

“My skills mostly lie in propriety. I know how to work a room—” you had explained. “—but that is hardly useful when you come to a new court as a common person.” 

“So, you were not common in Autumn?” he had asked. 

Your chest had started to hurt at that, so you only shook your head and stared down at his fingers intertwined with yours. 

Azriel hadn’t asked for more. He kissed the side of your head and told you about growing up in Illyria. He told you about Rhysand, Cassian, and Mor. He spoke of the Archeron sisters and their abrupt arrival in the court. He would brush your hair back and tell you about the nights he thought about his mate and how you had decimated every one of his expectations. 

“Because I came with so much baggage?” you had teased. 

Azriel had only smiled softly, the fire crackling in your hearth lighting up Melanie’s face as she slept against Azriel’s thigh. “Because you have offered so much more than I had imagined.” 

Each time he looked at you took your breath away. You had thought he looked at you with admiration before, but after he had become sure you wouldn't bolt at the first sign of his feelings, the pure adoration in his gaze was almost difficult to meet. He looked at Melanie in a similar way—softer, more fond than adoring, but you could pick out each difference and they made you feel lightheaded. 

You were going to kiss him today. 

You were going to drop Melanie off at the neighbor's next door for a sleepover with the other kids, and you were going to invite him to stay. And then you would tell him who Melanie’s father was. 

Maybe you wouldn’t tell him everything yet, but you had amped yourself up to tell him that much, and you wanted to kiss him desperately. 

Standing outside of Melanie’s school, you leaned against the pillar you claimed as your own and stared up at Azriel as he told you about the best places to get weapons in town. You were half listening, half simply admiring because you had no use for information on weapons sales, but Azriel didn’t seem to mind your lack of interest. He usually didn’t come with you to get Melanie, but he was tasked with picking up Nyx, which meant it was safe for the two of you to be here together. 

Well, according to Azriel, it was always safe. But this felt safe for you. 

“There is an elderly woman on the far side of the Sidra who offers the best prices but she’s rather prickly.” 

“Are you usually concerned about prices?” you posed, a knowing judgment in your eye that was mostly in jest. 

“Well, I would not enjoy being ripped off,” he countered with a laugh. He was only a short step away from you, craning his neck down slightly as you spoke of nothing important. 

“Oh no, we couldn’t have that,” you mocked, mouth twisting into a smile. “Something to finally put a dent in that bank account of yours? Couldn’t be.” 

Azriel scoffed, his eyes bright. “I’ve told you, countless times, that I would like to use some of that money to get you a new place. But you always refuse.” 

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not using you for your money, Azriel.” 

“I know,” he softly replied. He brought a hand up to tilt your chin. “I’ll still get you to agree eventually.” 

“I think you underestimate my resolve.” 

“Oh, I know I do. Give me time to get more acquainted with it.” 

You breathed out a laugh, opening your mouth to respond, to quip, to remain in this peaceful bubble Azriel seemed to have carefully curated when a confused shout of Azriel’s name sent terror washing through you. 

“Azriel?” the voice called again. You kept wide eyes locked on the Shadowsinger before you, the cause of your fear emanating from behind your back. “I thought I was getting Nyx today. I could have sworn—” 

Azriel quickly removed his fingers from your chin and straightened his stance, but it was too late. The man behind you let out a low, playful whistle, and you could hear his footsteps drag casually as he walked, but you had never been more tense in your life. 

“Cassian,” Azriel cleared his throat, looking over you to the man you knew to be the High Lord’s war general. You kept your gaze locked on the veins weaving intricate patterns in Azriel’s wings. “I was getting Nyx today.” 

“But I thought you had plans tonight.” 

“I do. I was going to get him and drop him off at Feyre’s studio. She’s teaching a class.” 

A pause. 

“Is your friend shy?”  

Azriel’s wing inched forward, but it didn’t enclose you. That would make this obvious. He wouldn’t want to make a scene. 

Azriel looked down at you and you could tell he was trying to convey so much with just that gaze. But above all, you knew this was unavoidable. Cassian would see you; he would only become more suspicious if you remained in this state, frozen and defiant. So you found the reassurance you needed in Azriel’s expression and you plastered a strained smile on your face. And you turned around. 

“Hi,” you greeted. Cassian was exactly as Azriel had explained, sly grin and all. “Not shy, just taken off guard a little.”

Now behind you, Azriel spoke your name introducing you and acting as if you had no idea who Cassian was. The General couldn’t seem to wipe the smirk from his face, eyes flitting back and forth between you and Azriel. “It’s nice to meet you,” Cassian nodded. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m guessing you’re the one taking up all of Az’s time recently? We’d love it if you came to us every once in a while. Maybe the guy would actually be present during our get-togethers if you were there.” 

You let out a nervous laugh, hands joining at your waist as you began picking at your fingers. In response, Cassian’s expression faltered. He uncrossed his arms. 

“She’s very busy,” Azriel answered for you. “She runs an apothecary.” 

Cassian’s brows shot up. “Oh? Maybe I could come by sometime to—”  

The school bell rang, punctuating the height of your anxiety. An overwhelming urge to cry heated your face and made your waterline sting, but you bit hard into your cheek instead, face twisting into another semblance of the worst smile imaginable. 

A few more minutes. 

The teacher was always late. 

“Is there a remedy or something you’d need from an apothecary?” you asked, the words sounding strange as you lost your breath behind fear. 

Cassian’s brows came together, an action so brief you almost missed it before he lowered his tone substantially. “I would mostly just like to see your craft. Having your own station is incredibly impressive.” 

He sounded soft now, unsure. You smiled again, but that didn’t seem to help. You had a small inkling that had you known who Azriel was the first time you’d met him in this exact location, the situation would have gone similarly. 

A warm hand met your back causing the air to vacate your lungs. 

Azriel was here. Azriel was here and although this was close to your worst nightmare, he understood and he wasn’t going to let anything happen to you or Melanie. 

Melanie. 

Cassian would see Melanie. 

Fears actualized and then amplified as your daughter’s soft tone formed the syllables of Azriel’s name. Her shout was happy and followed closely by Nyx’s, and it would have been clear to anyone observing the scene that your daughter was very familiar with the Shadowsinger. And that Nyx was very familiar with that relationship as well. 

Azriel, not wanting to confuse the five-year-olds now tugging at his pants, gave your shoulder a slight squeeze before kneeling to gather them in his arms. They giggled as he rose, rattling on about the events of the day, and you used the noise as an excuse to finally turn around and avoid Cassian’s baffled expression. 

“Mommy!” Melanie called, beckoning you forward until her small arm was wrapped around the back of your neck. “Maybe Nyx could come to my sleepover tonight. He’s my best friend, did you know that?” 

You fought past the quiver in your throat to put on a smile. “I did know that, Mel. But Nyx doesn’t know your friends at home and his parents might not be okay with him staying with strangers.” 

Melanie narrowed her eyes and gasped in revelation. She turned to Nyx, slapping Azriel in the face with her braid in the process. “You’ll have to meet my friends during the daytime then. So your parents can see them!” 

“That sounds like a good idea!” Nyx cheered. “I’ll ask my mommy later. Then maybe we can all be friends.” 

“I think that sounds like a good idea too,” Cassian sounded off from behind you. “Lots of new people to meet, it seems.” 

You winced, the expression hidden by your daughter's tight clasp on your neck. Azriel readjusted the children in his arms before clearing his throat. He caught your eye briefly, just a short glance, before staring up at his brother. 

“Can we do this later?” he asked, the question not sounding like a question. 

“Do what later? I’m not doing anything?” Cassian defended. “I was just meeting your new friend. That’s all.” 

“Ms. Y/n isn’t a new friend, Uncle Cassian,” Nyx almost boasted. “She’s just new to you.” 

“That right? Why didn’t you mention her sooner then, Nyx?” 

Nyx brought his finger up to his chin and shared a private laugh with Melanie, the sight making your anxiety lessen. Until Cassian spoke again. 

“Well, now I’m feeling left out. This isn’t fair.” He stepped forward enough to capture Melanie’s limited attention. “I’m Cassian. I’m like Azriel over here, but a whole lot better.” 

Azriel scoffed, but Melanie only smiled, finally releasing you from her grip to take the hand Cassian had outstretched towards her. “My name’s Melanie. And I’ll believe you only if you take me up flying 'cause Mr. Azriel never lets me.” 

“Ah-ah,” Azriel tsked. “Melanie, you know why I won’t take you.” 

Melanie groaned and knocked her head back. “Mommy doesn’t need to know everything we do. Sometimes she’s busy, Mr. Azriel.” 

“You guys all seem pretty close,” Cassian observed, turning his gaze over to you. “I think I’d really like to get you over to a family dinner sometime. See what’s been keeping Azriel so occupied.” 

“Melanie can come to our house?” Nyx screeched into Azriel’s ear. 

“Oh, um,” you stuttered, your skin prickling with uncomfortable heat. You stared up at Azriel, widening your eyes just a fraction to show your panic, but he was looking at Melanie as she screamed into his other ear. “I-I really don’t know about that. Azriel only really—what I mean to say is that Melanie only really knows Azriel from school events. She really likes his wings. I don’t think—” 

“Cassian, later,” Azriel emphasized once again. 

This had always been a terrible idea. 

What was Azriel going to tell Cassian during this undetermined period of time? 

And family dinner? With the High Lord and Lady? 

You felt like you would be sick, any and all comfort being ripped out from under you. 

And Cassian—Cassian looked so confused you weren’t sure his brow could twist any further. He lifted his hands in gentle surrender, opening and closing his mouth several times as if to speak but then thinking better of it. 

You should leave. You should leave right now. 

You coaxed Melanie out of Azriel’s arms, much to her protest, and calmed the calamity that was your breath as you nodded to Cassian. “Very nice to meet you,” you rushed. 

“Mommy, but I—” 

“No, honey. I’m sorry but we have to go home,” you cut Melanie off. 

Your feet took you further and further away from the disaster in front of the school, none of the fear and panic being left at the gates. You took it all with you, heavy on your shoulders as your daughter told you, multiple times, that she could walk beside you and she promised she’d hold your hand. 

But you were back in survival mode, as Azriel called it, and none of your daughter’s pleas were registering. 

Because now, a member of the court knew who you were. And he knew about Melanie.

[joshujin]

dude, nice try!

teaser • series masterlist • part one ▶

joshua hong has had the immense privilege of living 30 whole years without ever feeling so much as an ounce of jealousy. that is, until you come prancing into his picture-perfect life on your dumb burner account with evidence that his long-time girlfriend is cheating on him… with your boyfriend.

as he gets tangled in your chaotic plan to get back at your adulterous partners, he begins to wonder if this growing discomfort in his chest was ever even heartbreak to begin with, or if it’s something entirely new to him—something that has the ability to eat him alive from the inside out.

♫ get him back! olivia rodrigo ⟡ hot girl bummer blackbear ⟡ lackin’ denise julia ⟡ is this love xg ⟡ why can’t i? liz phair pairing: joshua x fem!reader cw: strong language, mentions of/implied sexual activity tags: strangers to partners-in-crime to partners-PERIOD, joshua pov, pining, he fell first AND harder hehe, a few smau bits but mostly writing, no smut, inspired by get him back! by miss rodrigo, basically john tucker must die except joshua is sophia bush hehe iykyk a/n: this was a request for jealous!shua and i’m laughing bc i started responding to this anon and said i was going to just answer with bullet points bc if i didn’t, this would turn into a whole thing. and here we are anyway… with a whole thing lol. i know he doesn't seem super jealous here, but consider the joshua x jealous arc a slow burn haha. anyway, enjoy this teaser!

dividers by cafekitsune! cover by yours truly!

joshua's phone pings, and it’s one message from you, just a little over 24 hours since your last message went ignored.

he glances down and feels his stomach turn.

i have evidence.

an hour later, joshua and jeonghan are sprawled across the latter’s living room. when they’d seen your message, both of them had quickly and wordlessly vacated the cafe they were holed up in, gotten to jeonghan’s apartment frighteningly fast, and rifled through the series of messages you sent—all of them photos you took of your boyfriend’s phone screen.

at first, joshua was just annoyed at how hard snapchat made it to read messages; most of the ones sent by whoever your boyfriend was were deleted. he was ready to wave you off and call your “evidence” a reach. but then, he got to more damning photos—photos he was vexed jeonghan got to see too.

because they just proved his know-it-all best friend right. mina was a fucking snake.

he’s shocked at the lengths they went to to be able to communicate with each other without being caught.

but perhaps the most damning piece of evidence of them all comes last: a photo of a woman’s naked back as she laid on her side in a bed—that wasn’t joshua’s or mina’s—away from the camera. it could’ve been anyone. the small tattoo at the base of her neck told joshua exactly who it was.

“so what now?” jeonghan asks, both of them still starfished on the floor and staring at the ceiling after spending several minutes furiously swiping and cussing at his screen. “let’s fill all her shampoo bottles with hair remover,” he answers his own question before joshua can even open his mouth. “oh! or we can follow her around, inevitably find this dude, and kidnap him! i’m sure this y/n person will appreciate that too!”

joshua doesn’t bother entertaining his best friend with a proper response, choosing to ignore the suggestions altogether. his mind is racing a mile a minute, trying to find the point in his relationship mina might have started straying away. has it been happening the entire time? or did she recently decide joshua wasn’t fulfilling her needs to her liking?

“… his car and it’ll probably break down and explode at some point later that week?”

he frowns, realizing jeonghan has been suggesting ridiculous things they can do to mina and your boyfriend the entire time he was contemplating his relationship. it’s his first time getting cheated on, but he isn’t surprised at his best friend’s reaction to it. he’s more surprised when silence blankets over them for several long seconds before jeonghan asks:

“are you okay?” he sighs. “i know that’s a dumb question to ask. you’re obviously not going to be okay after finding out your girlfriend cheated on you.”

his frown deepens at that. it’s a fair statement. he always imagined this kind of thing would throw him into some kind of jealous rage—emotions he’s not really familiar with. rage like yours.

he wonders if he had been the one to find out about this, would he have had a meltdown the way you did? make a burner account and find you to tell you the way you did? try to find someone to commiserate with—even if it’s a stranger—the way you did?

no, probably not. he was telling the truth when he told you that all he would do is break up with mina.

and he’s incredibly confused to find that, contrary to what jeonghan is saying, he feels very okay with that. he can’t really imagine caring enough to do anything more, and he doesn’t know why. shouldn’t he care more?

if you and jeonghan were wrong about him loving mina the way he was so convinced you were, why didn’t he care more?

“joshua,” jeonghan reaches over and pokes his shoulder. “speak. you’re scaring me.”

he snorts. “i’m fine.”

“okay…” he responds slowly. “so still in shock?”

“no, i really think i’m fine,” joshua says, shaking his head at the ceiling. “i feel… normal. i guess just confused about when and why she decided to cheat.”

“you did nothing wrong. she’s just a conniving, slutty ingrate who doesn’t know that she’s throwing away the most decent man in the universe,” he assures him. “which brings me back to my initial question. what should we do now to punish said conniving, slutty ingrate?”

joshua sighs. “we’re not doing anything. i am breaking up with her as soon as she gets off work.”

jeonghan perks up, rolling over onto his stomach and crawling to him until his head appears in his line of vision. his best friend has a shit-eating smile on his face that makes him instinctively roll his eyes.

“can i be there?”

he knows he should say no. it’s an absurd request and it shouldn’t even take joshua more than a second to answer. but as he thinks about it, jeonghan continuing to smile at him like a little devil on his shoulder, he thinks it might be nice to have him there and shame mina for cheating in a way he knows he doesn’t really care to do himself.

he shrugs. “sure, why not?”

jeonghan squeals with delight, scrambling to get up. “come on, we have to make sure you look smoking hot so it hurts her twice as bad. you can borrow my leather pants.”

“leather?!” joshua repeats. “it’s the middle of summer!”

joshua texted mina to let her know he wanted to talk to her after work and he would be dropping by. she told him several times that tonight wasn’t a great time and insisted they wait until tomorrow, but he couldn’t bring himself to give a shit about her convenience, so here he is, with jeonghan practically vibrating with excitement at his side, standing outside her apartment building.

“i still think you should’ve worn the leather pants,” his best friend says, “but you look killer. she’s gonna shit herself.”

joshua recoils at the idea but thanks him anyway.

“ready?”

he sighs. “yeah, i guess. ready as i’ll—oof!”

he stumbles a few steps and right into jeonghan as someone violently shoves him, continuing to push and slap at both him and his best friend until they’re several steps away from the entrance to mina’s apartment.

“what the—”

“and what the hell are you doing here?!” a female voice shrieks.

he wants to yell at this stranger for putting her hands on him. he wants to tell her to have some manners and to get away from him. at the very least, he wants to glare at her until she shrivels up in shame and scurries away. but all ideas of even attempting to do any of that die as soon as he lays eyes on the stranger.

your instagram photos don’t really do you justice. your photos were well-taken and curated perfectly for your profile, but now that you were—for some weird reason—standing in front of joshua and jeonghan, he can confidently call your photos dirty liars. he can’t blame them, though. he has a feeling no camera in the world can capture how pretty you actually are in real life.

prettier than anyone i’ve ever dated, his intrusive thoughts remind him. prettier than mina.

“well?!” you screech when neither of them answer you, making them both flinch. you don’t notice your effect on them, though, because you’re busy frantically looking between them and the entrance of the building like you’re scared the three of you will be seen.

he knows jeonghan is thinking the same, exact thing he is because he is never rendered silent.

“i—uh,” joshua stammers for what he thinks might be the very first time in his life. “we…”

jeonghan glances at him, face twisted in amused confusion before he schools his expression and points his signature stunning smile at you. “you’re y/n! hi!”

“who the hell are you?” you turn back to them, cross your arms, and practically bark at him.

his best friend’s laugh is exaggerated and several decibels louder than it has any business being. it grates joshua’s nerves. he glares at him but jeonghan pays him no attention. “i like her,” he mutters to him before saying, “i’m jeonghan.”

“okay, jeonghan,” you spit his name like venom, obviously unimpressed, making him giggle.

joshua rolls his eyes at him and his increasing giddiness. his best friend doesn’t date often, but he shouldn’t be surprised that he enjoys this kind of vitriol. jeonghan is, at his core, attracted to the same chaos he himself is made of.

“what are you doing here?” you ask again, raising an eyebrow at joshua to make it clear you’re talking to him.

“i’m… here to break up,” he answers weakly. “with mina! i’m here to break up with… mina.”

he doesn’t know what’s come over him, but being confronted by you in person and unnervingly close in his vicinity has him forgetting how to properly communicate. the thought of blocking you was a lot easier when he had no idea if you were a real person. now, he feels like there’s no escaping you.

“what are you doing here?” jeonghan asks the question he forgets to return to you.

you ignore him, eyes staying trained on joshua as you speak, and something about you pretending like his best friend doesn’t exist forces him to fight down a smile.

“you’re not breaking up with her today,” you order him confidently, like you know saying it is enough for joshua to agree. if the way his palms start to sweat are any indication, you might be right. “she’s up there with siwoo.”

“who’s—”

“my boyfriend,” you answer before jeonghan can finish his question. “i followed him here when he told me he was getting drinks with coworkers.”

joshua’s stomach flips. he’s not really sure how anyone can even think about another person in your presence, let alone cheat on you. maybe your intensity scares siwoo, though. it definitely kind of scares him.

“you mean… they’re up there right now… and they’re probably…” jeonghan’s sentence trails off, but you’re you and you don’t shy away from finishing it.

“fucking?” you ask with a biting and sarcastic enthusiasm. “yeah, jeonghan! probably!”

joshua winces. your fury was already palpable via DMs, but it’s near suffocating in person. it grabs him by the neck and shoves his face back into the dilemma he was quietly contemplating back at jeonghan’s apartment: why isn’t he sharing the same anger? why isn't he doubled over, throwing up at the idea of mina having sex with someone up in her apartment at this very moment?

“are you hungry?” you ask joshua.

“what?” he asks dumbly.

“are. you. hungry?” you repeat, irritation laced in your voice.

“i am!” jeonghan announces.

you give him a blank stare before looking back at joshua. when he fails to say anything, you sigh, your temper appearing to deflate infinitesimally.

“they’re going to be a while,” you inform him like you’ve done this before. “there’s a fried chicken shop i like nearby.” okay, so you’ve definitely done this before. “we can eat and… talk, i guess.”

“we would love to talk. right, joshua?” jeonghan asks, pinching his side with more force than necessary. he fights to keep from jumping.

"sure," he finally agrees. "i could eat."

"thanks for ignoring me amidst my weekend-long menty b, by the way," you say sarcastically as you set down a pitcher of beer and three glasses next to the tray of friend chicken on the table.

"ment—?"

"mental breakdown," jeonghan whispers to him as he reaches to pluck a piece of fried chicken from the tray.

instead of depositing it on his own plate, he stretches across the table to put it on yours. joshua's eyes involuntarily narrow at the gesture. he doesn't realize he's glaring at his best friend until he speaks again.

"what?" he pouts at him but his eyes glint with mischief. "ladies first."

"thanks," you murmur, not-at-all sounding thankful. jeonghan snorts. "well? explain your rude behavior." he looks back over to you to find you sulking. you add more chicken to your plate even though you haven't touched the one jeonghan gave you.

"ah." joshua shakes his head. "i was just... not all the way convinced."

"and now?"

"now what?"

"i take it you're all the way convinced?" you clarify as you tear into your first piece of chicken like you haven't eaten in years. with a full mouth, you add: "i mean, i assume you are if you're here to break up with your girlfriend."

"uh... yeah..." he nods slowly, distracted.

joshua is often described by his friends as a gentleman—elegant even. with the exception of jeonghan and mingyu—the two people who know him best—he is always polite and accommodating. he's careful that his clothes are always pressed and lint-free. he always has good posture, and he does his best to remember his table etiquette, especially in the presence of elders. he tries to be buttoned up and put-together almost all of the time, sometimes even to his own detriment.

so staring at you, wiping soy garlic sauce off your mouth with the back of your hand and talking with your pieces of chewed up chicken tucked into one, puffy cheek, he should absolutely feel repulsed.

he frowns at you and knows it probably looks like he is repulsed by you. but really, he's just confused about why you look so endearing sitting there, eating like it pains you to while taking turns glaring at your drumstick and glaring at him and his best friend.

"hello?" you wave your saucy fingers in front of joshua's face. "is he always this... spacey?" you ask jeonghan without taking your eyes off him.

"i'm glad you asked! no," the man next to him answers—also through cheeks full of chicken. "i've actually never seen him this nerv—"

"sorry, what were you saying?" joshua interjects before everyone at this table, including him, has to face the fact that yes, he is very much nervous and he's unsure why.

you sigh as you wipe your fingers on a napkin. "what is it about me that men's eyes just begin to glaze over as soon as my mouth opens?" you complain, the signature rage joshua has come to expect from you in the one hour he's known you bubbling back to the surface.

his eyes widen in horror at the thought of you mistaking his fascination with disinterest. "oh! i didn't—no, i'm not—i—"

"what joshua is trying and failing miserably to say," jeonghan cuts in, sneaking him a look that screams get it together, "is that no one here is ignoring you. he's just... trying to process all of this. after all, you had all weekend to think about this, and he just realized you were telling the truth, what? two hours ago?"

you stare at jeonghan with the same unimpressed expression you’ve been forcing on him since you met him. after a moment, your gaze travels to joshua, and he gives you a meek smile. you finally hum in understanding.

“sorry, i know i’m projecting. i’m just all…” you wave your hand wildly near your temple to mimic a muddled brain. “siwoo has done a number on me.”

joshua finally gains enough composure to string a sentence together. “i’m sorry i ignored your messages… and blocked your burner account.” you cringe at that but nod an acceptance of his apology. “and i’m sorry i’m not fully present right now. jeonghan’s right.”

kind of. not really. he was processing your existence more than he was processing being cheated on, to be frank.

“i’m just… trying to understand what’s happening, i guess. for what it’s worth, i find it really unbelievable that anyone would ever cheat on you.”

he ignores the way jeonghan inhales deeply and slowly through his nose. only joshua would be able to tell it’s the equivalent of him scream-giggling and kicking his feet when he’s trying to be discreet.

your eyebrows rise like you’re shocked joshua is capable of more than grunts and one-word replies.

“ditto,” you say plainly. joshua can’t help the immediate laugh that escapes his mouth at that, and he’s pleased when you smile for the first time since you met. “mina seems dumb. and not just because she and siwoo are ruining my life. you’re very handsome. and if you blocking me on instagram so fast was any indication, you seem very loyal too.”

you say it easily, as if giving out compliments like that is no big deal to you. maybe it isn’t, but even if that’s true, he’s going to appreciate it nonetheless.

unfortunately, that appreciation manifests in a fierce blush joshua feels spreading across his face like wildfire, much to his mortification. he doesn’t remember the last time he blushed like a pathetic schoolboy with a crush. it was probably when he was an actual pathetic schoolboy with a crush.

he clears his throat, choosing to ignore the compliment. “yeah, i guess we have the same, bad taste in dummies.”

you suddenly groan, throw your head back, and blink rapidly at the ceiling like you're trying your best not to cry. both men glance at each other and fidget awkwardly at the abrupt change of mood, neither of them being great at handling a crying woman. joshua has little to no experience with it and jeonghan tends to fall back on ill-timed jokes during times of distress.

"i followed him here months ago," you tell them unprompted. “i followed him here so many times because he was always so fucking sketchy. but his lie always involved ‘one of the guys,’ so i just thought his friend lived in that building.”

“and you found out this weekend…?” jeonghan asks carefully. joshua rubs the back of his neck nervously.

you nod, squeezing your eyes shut briefly before bringing your line of sight back to them. your eyes are glassy but your efforts to keep from crying were mostly successful.

“he lent me his laptop because mine stopped working,” you explain, rolling your eyes like having a broken laptop on top of all this is almost enough to send you over the edge. “his texts are connected on there too. i was at a cafe with a friend, and one of those verification texts came through. i ignored it but a few seconds later, it messaged again and i saw that he’d replied on his phone.”

“he told her it was safe to text,” joshua says, remembering the photos you sent.

“yeah…” you breathe, hugging yourself tightly and rubbing your arms as you try to self-soothe. “and i just sat there in front of my friends, watching him make plans with her in real time… brainstorm the lies they agreed to tell us… and i just had to pretend to be normal or else i would’ve burned that cafe to the ground.”

jeonghan coughs as he chokes on his chicken a little. joshua pats him on the back absentmindedly, eyes never leaving you, even as his best friend stretches across him, still coughing, to pour everyone a glass of beer. you sniffle as you accept your glass with a small nod, your body visibly relaxing after the first sip. he tries not to gawk when you finish the entire glass in one go.

joshua thinks this is probably what someone in love should look like when their heart has been broken: drunk and sad. now that the initial shock of seeing you in person has worn off, he can see how tired you really look. there are dark, bruising circles under your eyes, visible even under your makeup, and your hair looks like it was haphazardly put up into a ponytail to avoid having to wash or brush it. your eyes are tinged pink, a little swollen, and dull, like you’ve been crying all weekend. you have been crying all weekend.

and joshua? he’s asking himself why he hasn’t felt the urge to cry at all yet because right now, he could be the poster child for soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend who is going to be okay has been okay, is okay, and will always be okay. aside from his irritation with mina and her insane audacity, today is like any other day.

he’s never had his heart broken before this, but maybe it’s just different for guys. he read somewhere that men’s emotional intelligence develops a lot slower than women’s; maybe he just hasn’t reached a level of maturity you have.

“anyway,” you say as you stifle a tiny burp that makes jeonghan giggle for the nth time tonight, “i’m going to ruin his life.”

okay, so maybe maturity is the wrong word.

“wh…” joshua glances at jeonghan for confirmation he heard correctly.

his best friend’s eyes are lit up with excitement as he leans forward with impossibly even more interest in what the pretty lady across the table has to say. joshua would slap him if they were alone. what for, he doesn’t know, but he would.

“sorry, what was that?” he asks, trying not to sound judgmental at the risk of setting your anger off again.

“she’s going to ruin his life,” jeonghan answers for you giddily. “what are you going to do? i told joshua he should fill mina’s shampoo bottle with hair remover.”

that earns the two men another smile from you, but this time joshua finds himself annoyed it was because of something jeonghan said.

“oh my god, that’s vile,” you say even though you’re grinning and obviously love the idea. “maybe i’ll add that as a little cherry on top for siwoo.”

“oh, he’ll be so ugly,” jeonghan claims like he’s already daydreaming about it.

“you don’t even know what he looks like,” joshua murmurs.

“i don’t need to,” he responds, smiling as he stares off into the distance. “a stupid motherfucker who can cheat on our lovely y/n here like that has to look like ass.”

you roll your eyes at the compliment but your cheeks turn a cute shade of pink anyway.

“well, making him bald will look like child’s play when i’m done with him,” you match jeonghan’s dreamy tone, and joshua feels a chill of fear from having the two of you at the same table crawl up his spine. why was he a magnet for agents of chaos?

“is that why you haven’t broken up?” he asks. “you’re scheming to ruin his life?”

you frown. “what makes you think we haven’t broken up?”

joshua shrugs. “maybe the fact that you followed him here and then shoved me and my best friend into next week to keep us from attracting any attention?”

jeonghan snickers and your cheeks turn a darker shade.

“ah, right.” you nod once. “sorry about that.” you don’t look sorry at all and joshua finds himself thinking it’s amusing. “i suppose that was a bit… rude.”

joshua hums like he’s contemplating your apology but he knows it’s clear he’s fighting a smile as he brings his beer to his lips.

you sigh. “anyway, yes. that’s why i’m still with him. he doesn’t even know i know. i’m trying to get my ducks in a row and figure out the most devastating way to leave him.”

jeonghan smirks. “my kind of girl.”

joshua’s foot finds his best friend’s and stomps on it as hard as he can without thinking twice about it. it almost shocks him—how much it felt like instinct—but after the day he’s had, he thinks he’s entitled to a bit of a tantrum. maybe this is how he is when his heart is broken. a little mean.

“ow, what the fu—”

“so what’s the plan?” joshua asks loudly when your eyes snap up to jeonghan mid-sip over the glass of your beer.

you lick your lips clean of foam before setting the glass down, and joshua forces himself to look away when he notices how plump and pink they are.

“well, to be honest… i haven’t been the smartest,” you admit, seeming timid for the first time since you barged into his DMs. it’s an odd look on you. “i—um. i kind of rely on him… financially.”

the explanation comes tumbling past your lips after that like you’re afraid the two of them are going to judge you if you allow even a second of silence to pass.

“i had a job! i had a great job! but siwoo’s a bit traditional, and he comes from a more conservative family that really buys into gender roles, and i mean, fuck that, right?”

you give them no chance to agree.

“i’m a feminist! i swear to god i’m a fucking feminist!” you’re practically shouting now and the two men are so stunned, they can’t bring themselves to notice or care that the other patrons of the restaurant are starting to look over. “but i was in love! and i thought i was going to marry this moron! so i convinced myself i wanted to stay home and i wanted to clean the house and take care of a man—”

you say the word with so much disgust, both joshua and jeonghan struggle to keep from laughing.

“—and he was so happy when i quit my job like he’s been asking me to, and i thought i was happy too, like, what woman doesn’t want to be taken care of by a rich man?!”

you pause to burp briefly but it still isn’t enough time for either of them to get a word in.

“though again, i was in love! i was looking at that shithead through rose-tinted glasses! he’s nothing but a spoiled mama’s boy with a rich family! that asshole doesn’t have to do anything for the wealth he has! so now it's, like, what woman wants to be fake-taken-care-of by a 30-something-year-old mama’s boy?!”

the words come with even more disgust than “man.”

“and he had the nerve to act like he was better than me because i had to make everything i had before i met him! like, dude. if your bank account is still connected to your fucking mom’s, lower your goddamn voice when speaking to me!”

his best friend’s mouth drops open in absolute joy-filled shock at your biting remark. he’s enjoying meeting someone as chaotic as he is too much.

“and what was it for?! empty promises that he would propose soon?! endless faked orgasms for a man who’s afraid to give a woman head?!”

jeonghan chokes again, this time on nothing. joshua has more decorum but he can’t help the way his face turns bright red.

“you’d swear i was harboring a monster down there the way he cringed at the mere mention of oral, like, what is he, 12?!”

joshua has to avert his eyes to the ceiling of the restaurant at the mention of your “monster,” and he can’t even get it together long enough to nudge jeonghan when he bursts into hysterical laughter. they might as well be nonexistent, though, because you keep barreling through your rant.

“i was on track to be a director before 30! i was a fucking star! and look what he made me!” you screech, words slurring.

it takes your slurred speech and yet another burp for joshua to realize with mild horror that the pitcher of beer is almost empty, and that he and jeonghan are still on their first glasses. he elbows his best friend, who’s still cackling, and motions at the pitcher. jeonghan sighs happily as the last of his laughter leaves him and mutters a quiet: holy shit, pretty aggretsuko can drink.

“he turned me into a housewife without even making me a wife! and let me remind you: I AM A FEMINIST!” you slam your palms against the table with each word to punctuate your point. joshua can see why you picked aggretsuko for your burner account. “i support a woman’s choice to be a housewife if that’s what she wants, but my dumb ass didn’t realize that this isn’t the life i wanted until this fucking weekend! god!” you groan miserably. “all of this heartache and for what?! he cheated on me and now i’m jobless and about to be homeless and completely broke, and i…”

you seem to abruptly run out of steam, slumping in your seat and looking at your near-empty glass of beer pitifully. joshua has the urge to round the table and give you a hug, but he stays put, trying to process the whiplash of witnessing what he imagines is a mini “menty b.”

you take a few breaths before quietly saying, “i can’t believe this is what being in love got me.”

something violently lurches inside joshua’s chest when you say that.

“i can’t believe something that’s supposed to be as beautiful as love blinded me so badly.” your voice cracks. your eyes well with tears and this time, you make no move to stop them as they begin to streak your face. “how the hell can love hurt this much?”

joshua’s mouth falls open to say something—anything. any kind of comfort or kindness or advice. but no sound escapes his lips as he watches your heart break into tiny, little pieces in front of him.

he’ll look back at this moment and realize this was the first time his heart learned something he, himself, didn't know yet: what he had with mina wasn’t love—that maybe, he had actually never even been in love before. there’s no world where mina would ever have the kind of effect siwoo has on you on him, and there isn't anything mina can do that would make joshua scorn the concept of love because it's something he never even experienced with her.

but for now, all he can think is that, despite barely knowing you and despite being somewhat afraid of you, he has an insatiable want to fix this for you. he wants you to stop crying. he wants to see the rare smiles they were gifted tonight on your face once more. most of all, he wants to make the man who made you cry sorry for ever entering your life.

the words are out of his mouth before he can think twice about them.

“i’ll help you.” you immediately stop crying and look up at him with wide eyes. “i’ll help you ruin this idiot’s life. and when the two of us are through with him, i promise you he’ll be afraid to breathe within a 10-mile vicinity of you.”

[parkersbliss]

the 141 and the really weird or random quirks I’ve decided they had

pairing: task force 141 (ghost, gaz, price, soap) x female reader 

warnings: suggestive content, like sexual content but not smut

a/n: I have zero reason for doing this expect I wanted too?? and got carried away with suggestive aspects of it which is funny cause I don't write smut lmfaooo. so mostly fluff and based off real quirks people I know have.

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for tf141!

—

Price:

no matter how many times he cleans the bathroom, his beard hair is everywhere. obviously he keeps that shit well groomed but it’s always somehow stuck on your face after you wash it, or on your shower loofah or towel. and you've tried and he’s tried to clean it and it never works. 

loves gnomes. you have ones in the garden, the front yard, in your house for EVERY occasion. I’m talking christmas, easter, halloween, thanksgiving. he has a set for every season and it honestly scares you a little. one year he bought a giant one for your christmas tree as the topper and it made him so happy so you just accepted it.

doesn’t like to celebrate his birthday. He’s so much of a giver he downplays it every year. If you guys have kids, he’ll buy something for them ON HIS DAY just to take the attention off. so he kind of hates gifts, but he’s not going to not accept that. Would prefer you don’t, even though he bought you a $20K pearl necklace for your birthday. (You’re still afraid to wear it)

leaves you on heard. all. the. time. you ask him something, like as he’s sitting next to you and just … silence. sometimes he even nods, looks at you and then turns away. you’re not sure if it’s something to do with his hearing or he’s just so relaxed at home he just doesn’t comprehend sometimes. “hey, baby, what do you want for dinner?” “mm.” 

average dad experience of sharing a hotel room and brother is snoring. you know what I’m talking about? the cold A.C turning on and off and mf just be out and it’s so loud you have to wear ear plugs. you wonder if he has sleep apnea at some point bc he can’t be real. 

but don’t worry, he’s just as loud in bed bed ;) and he makes it known when you’re going at it 

Ghost:

too stealthy for his own good and always scares the shit out of you. and he’ll try to be loud too, knocking on doors AND still isn’t loud enough. He always feel so bad but it’s also so funny to him bc he really does try to not be so quiet. 

owns the same black t-shirt, like at least 5, but claims one of them is just softer and better than the others. you’ve tried them all on and there is no difference to which he mumbled something about you not having the special sense??

cat whisperer. you’ll adopt a cat while he’s gone bc you’re lonely and you spend all the time with the cat but no. cat loves ghost more. He’ll sleep on top of ghost, but never you. he’ll follow ghost around the house, but not you. it’s very infuriating. and ghost has no idea why bc he’s around 1/2 the time you are. 

has a whole cabinet for his bourbon collection. and a special glass cup AND special spherical ice for it. he doesn’t even drink that often, but it was absolutely necessary (to him). 

he’s a clean freak. very routine in how and when he does laundry. Bed sheets on this day, dark on this day, etc. he won’t let you do any of it. If he loses a sock, he throws out the other pair. as soon as there’s a hole in something, he throws it out. 

nov. 1st is christmas to him. the tree is already up, no questions asks. there are no thanksgiving decoration in this house. he also has multiple trees, one by the entrance, one in the living room, one in your bedroom. 

has definitely fucked you under the christmas lights by the fire. begs you to wear bow lingerie so he can quite literally “unwrap his best gift” 

Gaz: 

loves the lego car sets. his home office is decorated with all his medals AND the lego cars. has definitely left pieces out that you stepped on and then proceeded to scream his ear off.

begs you to play fortnite with him. you think he’s batshit crazy “that’s literally your actual job” “no but the raging kids makes it fun and we can match skins” (he means the banana skins btw) and he’s a troll. he doesn’t take the game seriously, he just wants to torture little kids and make fun of you when you can’t figure out where the shooting is coming from. or when you throw down a med kit instead of splash. 

cannot get through a movie without fucking you and it’s always during the good parts so he’s got you in doggy and you’re still trying to watch the movie??

Instigator fr. he’s not toxic but like he’s gonna argue. Has literally once said to you “I’m not arguing I’m just explaining why I’m right” to which you stared at him and asked if he was stupid 

always ask for hot sauce or sriracha at restaurants or if he can get something spicer. he eats buldok noodles with the whole sauce packet and then proceeds to sit in the bathroom for an hour while you scold him. 

reckless driver to the max. you fear for your life when you’re in a car with him. He speeds (within reason he claims), he makes quick merges and switches lanes fast. he does use a turn signal so you let it slide bc he’s risky but not THAT risky. 

obviously, he has horrible road rage. you’ll be calling him while he’s driving and it’s all normal and then “OI YOU FUCKING SHITE DO YOU HAVE A LICENSE?” you just sigh and then he answers you like normal, “yeah I think I’m out of toothpaste too.” 

saves every selfie of you from snap and his rotating ones as his wallpaper. even the ugly ones you beg him to take out. like any guy, he’ll claim it’s his favorite and then it’s a 0.5 of you eating ice cream and it’s dripping everywhere and your eyes are half closed. 

Soap: 

leaves sticky notes everywhere to remind himself of things. anything. “need olive oil” “missing one blue sock” “(Y/N) wants thai takeout” “call ghost” “laundry” 

and sometimes they’re not even correlated to where it should be. like the note that just says “laundry” will be in the kitchen. and he stacks on top of those sticky notes with more. “did laundry” “bought more socks” it drives you insane

he's obsessed with blankets. He has a designated like basket/bin or blankets in the living room and your bedroom. He sleeps with like three. and he’s got heated ones, sherpa ones, weighted ones, etc. absolutely collects the different printed ones for each holiday. 

loves to go decor shopping with you, but only because he wants to pick out the ugliest things and see your reaction as you swat at him and tell him to put it back. only for him to sneak it back into the cart and you death glare him. 

If you need to rant, he resumes the whole “omg girl, period.” personality. he loves gossip and he loves doing facemasks with you as you talk shit and drama about your coworkers. 

he's so “wait I have to tell my gf this” bro will literally be on a mission and gets a cut? “I have to tell (Y/N).” the room exploded? would take a selfie and send it to you, if possible. sees a weird shaped potato at the grocery store? Sends a picture. Falls down the stairs? you're getting a picture of his broken foot. hard? here's a dick pic just for you babe

uses the same hydroflask water bottle that’s dented, has sticker residue and chipping on all side. “It’s reusable, that’s the point” he claims. you're not sure if he’s ever washed it and you certainly aren’t going to open it and find out for him. 

[electricgg]

Ancient Dreams In A Modern Land

Chapter 6: I Stray Not From The Path, I Hold Death’s Hand In Mine

Masterlist Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 (Here!) / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 /

Head wounds tend to heal relatively fast. 

All due to the ample blood supply in the head and neck region. The abundant blood flow helps deliver the necessary cells for tissue repair and regeneration. The healing time can vary based on many factors, like wound size, depth, and individual health.

Large and deeper wounds potentially heal up to 2-3 months.

Maximoff’s wound didn’t even leave a scar or trace on her skin.

The butler, Alfred, had mentioned being of help to the young girl the first day until she claimed being able to take care of cleaning the wound and changing the gauze by herself once he explained the steps one by one. She would do it every morning after waking up and after taking her nightly shower, before heading to bed.

But even with a strict cleaning routine, a head wound like the one she had shouldn’t have healed so quickly. 

Especially in only 5 days.

“Someone certainly has some impressive genes…” Rio muttered offhandedly, pretending to be very busy with her files as she took a seat at her desk.

The looming glare from the girl sitting at the examination table had the green witch holding back her grin.

Everything was falling into place.

There was no reason for the girl to come for a check-up directly to the police station. Much less likely to get a check-up from Rio. The Wayne family had their private doctor and were way more capacitated than a nurse with basic paramedic training and a doctor title, mostly directed towards cadavers and autopsies.

Well, that was just her cover story. No need for mortals to know the personification of Death was playing dress up for funsies.

Either way, the only reason her Wheel of Fortune would be here, it would be if she had requested or demanded that she be brought to Rio herself.

She certainly caught on to things quickly, unlike her bothersome twin brother. Even if she had some otherworldly help, Rio had to give her some credit.

Which led to the current tension in the office that was currently occupied by the two of them. The butler was off talking with the chief about some new development in the investigation of the attack.

Red Hood had left almost nothing to identify the bodies with. Rio retained her bubbling anger by dumping the files into her hand on the desk with a controlled sigh.

Endless Above, the Waynes were a thorn on her ass.

Good thing her cards on the table were placed along quite fast.

“Where is Billy?”

She was straight to the point, too.

That wouldn’t do.

“Why would I know?” the woman drawled, spreading on her chair will looking at Maximoff with a raised eyebrow.

Maximoff’s face was all frowned up, the corner of her lips curling in frustration and impatience. Rio thought she looked like an angry puppy about to start yapping and barking at her feet while shaking. Almost like a chihuahua.

That made her laugh sharply, startling and confusing the young girl.

“Ask the right questions, pet. That may get you the answers you need.”

The shiver of disgust at the nickname amused Rio to know end. Getting under people’s skin was such an entertaining show for her.

“...Do you know who I am? What am I?”

Rio could work with that.

“I am familiar with your family’s history.”

The girl gave her a deadpan expression. “That’s the most vague shit answer I ever heard off.”

“Take it or leave it,” she shrugged.

With a roll of her eyes, Maximoff sighed and shrugged in defeat. Might as well ask other questions then, right?

“Fine, then. Who are you then? Because I’m pretty sure you know something that I don’t about the Addams Family on steroids.”

“Ah, the Waynes,” Rio’s tone was sarcastic and low. She got up and stood in front of Maximoff, who listened attentively.

“They have been messing around with things that they shouldn’t, and it’s time for them to pay me back.”

“...So, you are like, mafia or something?”

“Not quite. The mafia still manages to keep up with their parts of my deals.”

That got Maximoff thinking, her head tilting to the side as her gaze moved up to the ceiling in thought.

Yeah, she was just like a puppy. She could now see why Agatha was so entranced with the other Maximoff.

“So,” the girl said while her nails clicked fastly against the metal table. “the Waynes owe you something, and you have it out for them?”

“Seems almost too simple, right?” A grin crept on the witch’s lips. She could almost see the gears turning in the girl’s brain.

Maximoff groaned, scratching her cheek as she tried to piece stuff together.

“You told me to keep a ‘low profile and trust my gut’,” she complained in a higher pitch tone while gesturing around with her hands. “And all that I got from that was meeting a bunch of unstable men who don’t seem to grasp emotional intelligence to save their lives, and way too touchy. And that’s without counting the horror tapes from the poor girl whose body I’m possessing while her spirit-”

Her rambling had sped up halfway through, words turning into a tongue twister for any person listening. It was fascinating for Rio to witness how the girl’s mutation was developing without her even noticing, blending in with such normal things like talking or moving around, and making her stand out easily. But the abrupt stop put the room in a sudden silence.

By how wide her eyes were as she looked at her, Rio could easily guess Maximoff had figured something out.

She remained quiet, waiting for her to find the words.

Maximoff pointed at her, eyebrows furrowed,” You knew her? The Wayne girl?”

“We never spoke directly, but I did know her. And heard her.”

That wasn’t a lie.

“Then this whole owed deal it’s related to her? Or most of it, at least.”

Seeing how such a young being pieced together the bits of small information she had at hand was very pleasing to the witch. 

It had crossed her mind before. The thought of taking on an apprentice. It had crossed several times, and there were very few candidates she had considered worthy (with the very exception of Agatha, of course). 

Only one had been oh so close to be hers by sacred ritual. A deal made by a desperate mother, looking to protect her child from Rio’s own hands.

A child who was hidden from her by none other than Bruce Wayne.

The room’s temperature grew colder at the thought of said man crossing her head. He had cheated her over and over and over and over and over and she had had enough.

Rio took a deep breath through her nose, brushing away the bangs on her face to disguise her slip of control.

“I don’t like it when somebody messes with my deals,” she said with a sickly sweet tone, starting to pace around the room.

“Bruce Wayne and his flock of little birds have been getting away from me with a little too much for my liking. And because of that, I have decided to hit him where it hurts the most. A man like him craves control. He is paranoid and needs to know all the possibilities at the palm of his hand, just so he can have the high ground in any given situation.”

She sharply whips her head back, a loud crack of bones startling Maximoff as Rio gives her a maniacal, wide smile over her shoulder. Her sharp black nail pointed at the girl, sauntering towards the metal table.

“Which is why you, my dear wheel of fortune, make the perfect piece in my chessboard table to make him suffer.”

Maximoff looked at her as if she had spouted pure nonsense. Which it probably was for her, since Rio looked like a madwoman with a chaotic glint in her eyes.

“And why should I be involved in this? I didn’t exactly choose this body.”

“True. You didn’t. But your brother did.”

That made her click her mouth shut and glare harshly at Rio. The woman inclined forward so they were eye to eye, smiling with a sharp edge at the corner of her lips.

“It’s nothing hard to do, just being yourself is doing more than enough to make my plan fall right into place. I only need you to be a tiny little less instigating and let them overthink it by themselves. And, of course, a couple of little favors that only you can help me out with.”

“Are you going to kill them?” Her tone was somewhat small and quiet. Worried, as to say.

How sweet. But that wouldn’t do.

“Sadly, no, I can’t,” Rio took notice of the tension slightly leaving the girl’s shoulders. “The Waynes are vital to the balance of this city, and I can’t mess with that. But I can make them miserable. As retribution.”

Maximoff hummed to herself, never looking away from Rio’s gaze as she thought of what to say next. Their visit was coming to an end, and she needed to get her answers quickly. Or at least, some of those answers.

“What favors would you need?”

“Just some old items that the mother of this new body of yours has entrusted to Dear Old Bruce. And anything that spirit that keeps hanging around you asks you to do.” 

Maximoff gasped and looked around her before looking back at the amused ‘doctor’.

“You can see h-”

“Tick tock, pet. Last question.” That made her curse under her breath as she gave a quick glance at the door. Footsteps coming up the stairs were echoing outside the office. Maximoff looked at Rio with a reluctant air around her.

“If I do your favors,” she said quickly, standing up from the table and facing Rio directly. “Will you tell me where Billy is and help me find him?”

Rio laughed, crossing her arms as she took in her firm stance. Decision and steel in the girl’s eyes and posture.

Oh, she was keeping this Maximoff.

“Don’t you worry, pet.” She teased with a less sharp smile. Maximoff frowned.

“He will come directly to you.”

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

“Would that be all, gentlemen?” 

The sharp tone coming from Mr. Wayne had made the business associates look at one another in silence. The air was so tense in the meeting room that it made some of them fidget with their ties, swallow back coughs, and sweat beneath their hair implants.

A poor intern glanced nervously at his boss every 5 seconds, hoping the meeting would be dismissed sooner rather than later for the sake of everyone’s nerves.

Bruce Wayne had not come to Wayne Enterprises in a good mood.

The meeting had been scheduled with two months of anticipation. Worthington Industries had made several business proposals to ally with Wayne Enterprises in a series of funded research projects involving medical substances that have yet to be discussed. First, they had to do some research around said company, avoiding getting involved in any type of scandal before making any decisions. Then, they would weigh the pros and cons of agreeing to the proposals before deciding to come to an official meeting with the Worthington Industries CEO.

All the documents and research had been done thoroughly, and there were more pros than cons surrounding the proposals. Everyone was expecting a positive outcome from the meeting.

But Mr. Wayne’s mood had dampened any ray of hope.

As to why he was in such a mood?

That would have to do with breakfast that very morning with his daughter.

╰───────────✧──────────────╮

It had been an uneventful morning. At first.

After Bruce had made sure Tim was sleeping in his own bed without any type of electronic nearby, and that Dick had gone to Barbara’s apartment to get some space to calm down for a bit away from the supposed chaos among the walls of the manor, he was eating his own plate of scrambled eggs that Alfred had made for him in the stove before he left to drive Damian to school.

Apparently, she had slept in for a bit longer, and Alfred would come for her once he had dropped Damian off.

He had gotten distracted by the sudden breakthrough of the case. By the time they finished downloading files from the hospitals and clinics around the area, Bruce was pretty sure everyone had retired for the night.

Meaning that this very morning, he would finally get to see his daughter after days of putting back the said encounter.

The feeling of patheticness loomed over him, making every bite of his food taste as bitter as his cup of black coffee.

He would never admit it to himself, but Bruce was anxious.

Would she be upset he hadn’t checked up on her? She was always so understanding and sweet. At least, that's what he had gathered from their past interactions. Perhaps he could let her stay at the manor another week if she wasn’t feeling like going back to school.

Was she scared of going out, too? He had read the police report over and over again after Dick had shoved it right into his face while yelling at him for not keeping a closer eye on her safety.

He could only imagine the feast the media would have once the information about the attack became public. The press following her around, the school getting swarmed, the flashes of camera invading her space, and making her have another public meltdown.

Maybe considering homeschooling wouldn’t be such a bad idea-

The scraping of a chair against the floor dragged him out of his head, gaze landing on the other end of the table. Far away from his spot.

She was wearing a green jacket and some dark bell-bottom jeans. A clean gauze stood on the left side of her head, which led to noticing how her hair was pulled back in what seemed like a butchered braid with some wavy curls slipping out and framing her face.

Not a single hello. Not a single good morning. Not a single glance his way.

Just the clicking of the fork against the plate as she ate from a huge pile of scrambled eggs as if she had been starved for weeks.

Bruce suddenly understood why the boys were freaking out.

(Y/N) was a simple, well-mannered, and polite. Always greeting, always offering help, and always looking for ways to be close to them. No matter how many times they avoided or ignored her efforts and advances.

If Bruce were by some chance eating at the table, she would take the spot right next to him and try to start a conversation before he excused himself under the guise of needing to finish some work.

And another thing was how impeccably she dressed. Business casual and hair down, not a single strand out of place.

Before him was the total opposite of what his daughter was supposed to be.

He cleared his throat, hoping to catch her attention since she was way too focused on her food.

She didn’t look up.

“Dear?” he questioned. “Do you feel alright?”

His breath got caught in his throat once her gaze snapped up. Making eye contact for the first time in days.

Before him stood the reflection of a woman he had failed to help and keep safe. Dark, soulful eyes staring deep into his own and making him fall back into that dreadful night, where he was too late to make a difference. Where a child lost a parent and gained a mediocre imitation of one. Where he lost another important person in his life. Where he failed a friend.

Where his daughter lost her mother.

“Quite late to be asking me that, don’t you think?” she grumbled, shoving her fork full of eggs into her mouth.

He had to take a quick sip of his coffee, feeling his throat tighten and trying to speak up at least.

“What happened to your contacts?” was all he managed to utter out. He would later realize that was not the best thing he could have said.

Those dark eyes were suddenly sharp, and Bruce could only see Bianca glaring at him as if she was ready to knock him off his seat.

“You sure you want to go down that line, Father?” 

The way that she said father had him standing up from his seat, knocking the chair down to the floor, and making a clutter of noises around the room.

“Young lady, that’s not a tone you will use with me.”

He had hoped that would make her back down. Go back to the sweet girl he swore she was, because there was no way that she had changed this much. Not in the blink of an eye.

Was it though? Had it been the blink of an eye? Had it really been that fast? When was the last time they actually talked? When was the last time he had spent more than a few minutes with her? 

Listened to her talk about school. About her classes. About her hobbies. Her aspirations in life. What she liked. What she disliked. Favorite foods. Favorite movies. Favorite books.

When was the last time Bruce had even hugged her?

His expectations were broken the moment she slammed her fork against the table and got up from her seat, gaze unwavering and lips pressed tight.

Before she could get another word out, two sudden presences caught their attention.

Cassandra stood by the entrance of the kitchen, with Alfred giving a heavy stare over at Bruce.

Without a second thought, the younger girl picked up her now-empty plate and gave it a quick wash in the sink. Ignoring the owlish stares from Cassandra and Bruce. Once she was done, she looked directly at Alfred with an undefined gaze from Bruce’s perspective.

“I’ll wait in the car.” She said, getting a nod from Alfred as she passed between him and Cass. The other girl gave two steps back as she followed her retreating form down the hall with her gaze.

Bruce began walking towards them. “We are not finished-”

“I believe,” Alfred cut him up both verbally and physically by stepping in front of him. “This is a good moment for everyone to have some space to think things through before escalating the situation in a way that there’s no coming back from.”

“Alfred, I need to-”

“You need to get to an important meeting and give her some space, Master Bruce.”

That got him a deep sigh from Bruce, who impatiently rubbed his chin before nodding at Alfred.

“Good. Now, if you excuse me, I can’t keep the young lady waiting.” With that, Alfred was gone.

Cassandra only looked back at Bruce once she was sure she heard the car pull away from the garage. He was looking at the empty chair where she had been sitting not too long ago. A look full of what Cass could gather as despair and confusion. It unsettled her a bit, seeing him like that.

But, she still said a few words to Bruce before walking away.

“That was on you.”

And Bruce knew she was more than right.

╰───────────✧──────────────╮

His mind was stuck on that encounter all morning.

His child couldn’t have changed so drastically like that. Was it a new tactic to get his attention? Because it was working extremely well. But it didn’t make sense. His dear daughter was nothing but good intentions and wouldn’t even try to argue back with him. She didn’t even fight back with Damian, and most of the time, he had to intervene himself so it wouldn’t escalate (at least when he was present). 

That hit on the head had altered her personality, and Bruce wanted his old daughter back.

It had to be that damned wound, it couldn’t be anything else. There just wasn’t another expl-

‘But there is.’ A whisper shot through his head, making him tense up.

…There was a very small alternative. But it couldn’t be. It didn’t work like that at all. He knows it.

Even if mental illnesses can be hereditary, that one couldn’t be. There were too many factors that came into play with such a condition, and he had made sure she hadn’t been exposed to any type of heavy trauma. Keeping her at an arm’s length away from his night job and all the repercussions it brought along.

But had he actually protected her enough? Did keeping her away actually prevent any trauma that could affect her personality?

No, he hadn’t.

And now he had a huge problem in his hands.

“Call to organize a meeting with Mr. Worthington as quickly as possible for negotiations. Meeting dismissed.”

Almost everyone let out a breath of relief once Mr. Wayne walked out the door with a hurried step.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

It had been such a shitty day.

First part, finally meeting the man behind this whole family madness. She was hoping to get away without interaction. Just eat her breakfast, dip, and hide in the garage so she could avoid encountering any other member of the family until Alfred came to pick her up. It was a picture-perfect plan, in her mind at least.

But her first mistake had been sitting too far away from Dear Old Bruce. 

Apparently, this family was so obsessed with order and patterns, that they would have freak out if she even stepped out their imaginary drawn lines. Wayne had giving her a splitting headache as punishment for not putting that much attention to those details after she had stormed off towards the garage.

To which she responded by swinging fists at empty air before Alfred caught up to her.

‘Fuck their order and patterns. I ain’t their little doll they can manipulate around.’

That thought put her ghost companion in silence, making the headache slip away as they drove to the police station.

In the second part, the chilling interaction with Rio. Jesus, that woman could make the bogeyman sweat. She had hoped to get some answers out of her, and while she got some, she left with even more questions. And, apparently, got dragged into a messy deal with said crazy lady in order to get at least some information on where Billy was.

As long as she found the items that Rio claimed were owed to her.

Items, that she had not a fucking clue of what they were.

The only bit of information that she had was that the mother of this body (she really should start referring to the body as her own, it was getting annoying) knew about said items and their locations. Which meant that Wayne, her dear grumpy ghost bestie, would also know about these items since she would visit her mother every two weeks.

It had been served on a silver platter. All that she needed to do was ask Wayne!

But that silver platter had been thrown into the Bermuda Triangle when Wayne apologetically flicked the bathroom lights of the thrift store Alfred had taken her to give her boxes of clothes away in denial of knowing about said items.

All because her mother was in a state of delirium and mania. Meaning that any word coming from the poor woman wasn’t coherent or trustworthy.

Another dead end.

Which leads us to standing inside the record shop beside the thrift store. Gaze lost in deep thought, facing a rack of vinyl records of the pop genre, as her fingers flicked through the albums mindlessly with a frown on her face.

Just when she thought a door had opened, another ten appeared in the next room.

Rio wasn’t exactly someone reliable. Something in the back of her head was inclined to think she wasn’t even human. All the vague shit and weird mannerism seemed more than act to unsettle people. If it was an act, then she was very committed.

Still, she wasn’t to be trusted. Not when she was keeping her so in the dark.

The new information she had was still in pieces and needed to be put together with delicacy and patience, or something could slip, and she would end up even more lost than she already was.

That didn’t stop her from trying to overthink it.

‘If the deal had to do with Wayne, why would her Old Man not keep a closer eye on her? Rio is pretty hellbent on getting her stuff back if she is making me pull my weight around to find it. Does he even know her mother made a deal, or was he the one to make it? It wouldn’t make any sense if he did it, though, because then he wouldn’t have just left Wayne go around without some bodyguard.’

She pursed her lips, fingers rattling the record stand by how fast she continued to flip through them.

‘Hell, he never stopped by to check in the bedroom or even bother to pick her up at the police station. There’s no way he knows about this. He doesn’t care enough, clearly. What kind of a father acts like that around his daughter?’

Her nails began to scratch off the chipped black paint of the metal from the stand, switching her weight from leg to leg as her mind sped up in circles.

‘What parent does that? Where’s the warmth and care? Where’s the concern? Where’s the love in his actions?’

Teeth began pulling at the fragile skin of her lips, almost peeling it off. A high-pitched ring was going by her ear.

“My parents would never do that. My mom would make hell on earth to protect me. To protect us. Where is she? Is she dead? Is she gone? Where is she? Where is my mom? Where is my dad? Where? Where is my family? I need them. I want them here. HEre witH ME. HERE. HERE. HERE. HERE. HERE. WHERE ARE THEY-”

“Did Cher do something to offend you?”

A voice snapped her out of it, startling and making her jump, while looking to her side towards the person who spoke to her. 

It was a guy. Just about a few centimeters taller than her, with a well-built body. Light brown hair that seemed almost ginger when the light hit just right. Blue eyes with concern and an awkward smile, dimples showing off his faint freckles over his cheeks.

He took a step back to give her some space once she looked at him down-up, giving an apologetic smile as he gestured to the record she was holding in her hands.

“Sorry for that! Just saw you almost ripping the record in half and thought that I should say something about it.” He fretted gently, hands shoved into the pockets of his denim jacket.

She looked down at the item and realized he was right. The plastic was torn off, and the edges of the record were already crumbled under her still-fidgeting fingers. 

An embarrassed groan left her throat, covering her face with the crumbled record.

“I didn’t notice. I got lost in thought, ugh,” she urged, pulling down the record with a red face.

Great going, girlie. Now you are a criminal.

“It’s alright, I get lost in thought too!” he quipped back with a stammer and an awkward laugh.

Which plunged into an awkward silence.

Awkward enough to be contagious and make her snort a laugh as well. And making him snort as well. Both of them were laughing before calming down from the tense moment. An easy, friendly air was going around them, making her feel some weight off her shoulders.

She really needed that.

“I have seen you around, at school,” he commented. “We actually take class together, but we never actually talked before.”

That got her attention. 

“Oh, yeah. I usually prefer my own… company.” That last part sounded very similar to a question.

The boy nodded in understanding. “No judgment! I can only imagine how it is for you.”

She rolled her eyes with a snort, moving back towards the records. She could only imagine how public the fact was that Wayne was the least liked amongst her own family. That doom scroll through Twitter last night was very enlightening.

“Wait! I didn’t mean it like that,” he sputtered, with a wide look, realizing how wrong his words sounded out loud.

She let him squirm for a few moments, glancing from the corner of her eye as he tried to stammer an explanation and apologies, before grinning at him. Making him stop talking and shut his mouth.

“I was just teasing. Chill out,” she trailed off, motioning at him to introduce himself.

He nervously laughed, offering his hand for her to shake.

“I swear, I have manners.” His tone was lighter, making her smile as she took his hand for a quick shake.

It caught her off guard how cold his skin was.

Almost as cold as pure ice.

“I’m Robert. Robert Drake.” He smiled brightly. “But I prefer Bobby. It’s what my friends call me.”

Bobby Drake

The young girl nodded, pleased at finally getting a name from the first friendly person of her age. A soft warmth invaded her chest.

“Well, Bobby,” she teased, making him chuckle as he took a place beside her. “Mind helping me out, hiding this broken record and picking a new one before I get banned from this place?”

Bobby hummed with a mocking tone, pretending to look busy by flipping through a few records while she waited for his answer.

“Well, I’m in desperate need of a friend and a lab partner for science class, soooo,” He drawled while giving her pleading puppy eyes.

Now it was her turn to act all busy, before nodding pleasedly.

“You got a deal, then.”

“Oh, thank god. Because I couldn’t let you walk away with that monstrosity in your hands. Do you like Chappell Roan? It doesn’t matter. I have to amend your sins one way or another.”

A friend.

She had made her first friend.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Westchester County, New York - 9:30 PM

Charles Xavier had been holed up in his office for the past two hours. There were documents all sprawled around his desk, all meticulously studied and organized in a way that was only for Charles’s thought process.

Another child had disappeared. A mutant child.

The child was on the list of possible candidates for the school. Their mutation has recently awakened (being able to go through walls and different surfaces). A very fascinating mutation, but still overwhelming for a teenage girl who didn’t understand what was happening.

They had scheduled a home visit with her parents a few weeks back, both of them willing to find the help needed for her daughter’s new development.

Then, she disappeared. Just like the other three children.

A pattern was made. And Gotham City was the hunting grounds.

“Professor, am I interrupting?”

Xavier lifted his head and smiled at the young man at the door. He opened the door wider with a small nudge with his mind.

“Come in, Scott. I was just searching around.”

Scott Summers clicked the door closed behind him, making his way towards the desk with a worried frown.

“No updates yet?”

The professor shook his head, rolling back in his chair and going around the front of the desk to be side by side with one of his oldest students.

“Unfortunately, not yet. Our ‘investigator’ just got settled in Gotham this morning.”

That made Scott grumble under his breath, crossing his arms over his chest and making Xavier give him an amused look.

“Why send him? You know how unstable he can be, and this situation is very delicate.”

“I need you here, Scott.”

The young man gave him a side eye under his red-tinted sunglasses.

“Ororo would be more suited for the job than he.”

Charles shook his head, moving his chair towards the glass-stained window that gave a view of the front yard of his mansion.

His home. His haven. His school for his children.

His children, who were taken away before knowing they were more like them. A place where they could belong.

“The students can’t know something is wrong. It will upset them, and Miss Monroe’s presence is required to keep peace and calm in the mansion. You know she is almost like a mother to the student body. We can’t take that stability, not from them.”

Scott remained quiet, moments passing before nodding with a sigh.

“Fine. But if the Batman finds out a feral man is running rampant amongst his city, I am not saving his hairy ass.”

Charles knew he was bluffing.

But he let him be. For now.

Because he was dreading the moment a certain metal bender found out about this.

And Charles knew that would be a nightmare to deal with.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Author's note: SURPRISE SHAWTIES!!!! Longest chapter up to date and with SO much information because we are finally moving foward!!! I wanted to get done with the introductions of the batfam an most of them are almost done ( I haven't forgotten about Cass and Jason, don't worry.) But we finally have Bobby with us! I was so excited to write him because i love him to bits. He's my golden puppy and I will make you guys love him. We're also back with the Saturday/Sunday updates every week! Let me know what you guys think of this chapter or theories you have in the asks or comments. I love answering! Lots of hugs and love, GG✨

Tag List:

 @bat1212 @kneelforloki @1abi @galaxypurplerose @yhin-gg @cxcilla @momentomoribitch @stargirl404 @initial-ari @welpthisisboring @icefox8155 @bunniotomia @alittlelostmoonchild @devotedlyshamelessdetective @shycreatorreview @nirvanaxx1942 @soulsire @ryuushou @rinkydinkythinky @lithiumval @ithoughtthinks @reeyy0-2 @cssammyyarts @lordbugs @ilovecoffe0 @kore-of-the-underworld @fortunatelydifferentqueen @vanessa-boo @livingund3ad @aelxr

Bonus Memes:

[pedgito]

𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄 | Jesse (TLOU) x reader

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec 

summary | Anger finds you both in a moment of weakness.

author's note | Young Mazino's portrayal of Jesse needs to be studied. They plucked that man straight out of the game. Anyways, the girlies and I had a visceral reaction to his outburst last night and I had to fulfill my duties.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, angry!jesse, dom/sub elements, public sex, brief mention of injury and an attack, angst and tense arguments, vague backstory this is mostly pwp, taunting, unprotected piv, spit as lube, i know this man fucks nasty, that is all <3

word count — 3.3k

The way silence consumed him was terrifying.

Your patrol had gone awry. A simple check in with base and a quick sweep had swiftly turned into a fight for your life, neither of you at fault but an unwillingness to admit both of you could have avoided the situation altogether. 

The night was all-consuming, swarming around him in the dark and shaded protection of the stables.

He had been off his game admittedly, running on a few hours of sleep the past few days and may have missed a checkpoint or two on the way to the patrol area, but you couldn’t be angry with him – the area was always quiet, never gave anyone issues, it was safe.

Until it wasn’t.

You fell asleep during watch, something both of you were guilty of from time to time, but you never slipped too far into deep sleep, constantly on edge. But, with Jesse’s head leaning against your left hip while you had nestled up in the small alcove of the window, it was inevitable.

“We don’t talk about it,” you coax him into secrecy, watching as he slowly bandages the gash on your hand, his jaw set as he remains quiet, eyes flickering up to look at you briefly.

“Tommy should know,” Jesse says eventually, a stickler for rules and the distinct line of command that was unofficially set for the people running patrol—Jesse had become one of Tommy’s most-trusted leaders outside of him and his brother Joel.

It went against everything Jesse stood for—lies, he hated lying.

“They’re dead,” you remind him, “crisis averted, problem solved.”

“You think they’ll take you off patrol, don’t you?” Jesse pries, tying up the bandage so tight it makes you wince, but you know it was all in an effort to control the bleeding.

“The last kid I was with got bit and they took me off patrol for two months,” you retort back with a tinge of anger, “I’ve spent eight months building trust with them, proving I could lead just like you, but I can’t control some eighteen year old kid because he thinks he fuckin’ knows everything?” Jesse knew vaguely of the situation, knowing himself that the kid would be a problem, but less likely to disobey under Jesse’s command.

“It was a test,” you tell him, “I failed—I finally get a chance to do something I feel comfortable with again and we get ambushed, I’m injured—and they—he…he almost,”

“Hey,” Jesse lowers his voice, softer.

You hated it. You hated the pity.

You and Jesse had an unspoken understanding, even if you weren’t really friends.

You didn’t hang out with him outside of patrol, didn’t seek him out in the crowd during town parties and dinners, whatever connection you had with him remained outside the boundaries of Jackson.

You didn’t know how he ended up in Jackson, you’ve never spoken to his family or friends. You were reclusive, preferred being on your own. Joel had found you stealing from the kitchen, a stray with nowhere to go, a fearful look in your eyes as Joel had rangled you up and hauled you to his brother, presenting him with the problem.

You. You were the problem.

You’ve been proving yourself ever since, trying to match up to Jesse.

“I don’t need you to coddle me,” you snapped at him, his fingers still lingering on the back of your palm as he examined his work, watching the tinge of blood seep through the bandage.

Being vulnerable in front of anyone, let alone Jesse, was completely off the table.

The raiders had forced it out of you and now—well, you had nowhere to hide. 

“I’m not keeping your fuckin’ secrets,” Jesse barks, though his voice is low.

“Fine, go tell Tommy how you were being careless,” you challenge him, “skip a couple checkpoints—no biggie, it doesn’t matter,” you shake your head in annoyance as he turns his head and looks away from you, “you were nodding off the entire ride there, you know?”

“Does anyone ever tell you how irritating you can be?” Jesse asks, head snapping back to look at you and you smile in amusement, letting out a bitter laugh.

“Come on, let me hear it,” you taunt him, “tell me how Tommy did me a favor by taking me in, how I’m surviving on borrowed time, how much you can’t fucking stand me—oh, but you sure do love to mope about Dina when you’re fighting because really, who am I gonna tell? Am I only safe to be around whenever we’re outside of Jackson? Is it because everyone still looks at me like I’m an outsider?”

You couldn’t explain how long this had been building between you and Jesse, the inevitable outburst, thankful for an empty stable and sleeping horses, all of Jackson tucked safely in their beds while you wanted nothing more than to run.

Especially with the way Jesse was looking at you now.

“I think your refuse to trust anyone,” Jesse counters and your heart sinks in an instant, “I think all that matters to you is trying to prove people that you’re impenetrable, like you don’t have a weakness—”

You scoff, sliding off of the workbench Jesse had initially crowded you against, his pack still laying unzipped and strung open but he wasn’t letting you off that easy, his hand curling tight around your bicep to yank you back, your hand coming up quickly to counter his grab.

But, Jesse was skilled in hand to hand combat, so his counter comes just as quick, squeezing and twisting your arms up so tight that you’re immobile, stuck under his heavy gaze as you both breath into each other’s space.

“I never would have let him go that far,” Jesse admits, “and I know you were scared, but—”

“I wouldn’t have let him,” you challenge him, a stark reminder of your strength—Jesse could admit that, as unwilling as you were to appear human or show any tangible emotion, you could handle yourself in a life or death situation, you had a survival instinct that was vital in the current state of the world, “I let him touch me because it gave me an opening, not because I was scared,”

It was a lie, even Jesse could see through it.

–

Jesse had overpowered one of the two men that had attempted to ambush you on patrol while the other man had you held down, preparing to indulge in a lot more than just murder.

This man was so much stronger and the fight with the other assailant had led Jesse outside, his grunts echoing in your ear alongside the stiff and deafening crack of his fist against skin and bone.

You’re growling behind gritted teeth as his knee digs into your back, the deft sound of a belt unbuckling before a hand is diving under your jeans, giving you an opening as the attacker’s head bows and you rip off his ear with your teeth, an echo of a blood-curdling scream lets out before your hearing goes quiet and then rings as a bullet strikes him dead center, right through his skull.

Your eyes were wide with fear for only a brief second and the look of instant pity that Jesse had on his face was something you never wanted to witness again—but, there it was again.

–

Your lips pull into a thin line as you attempt to shrug him off, but he isn’t letting you go.

“What if I hadn’t shot him?” Jesse asks, eyes half-lidded as he stares you down.

Your eyes search his own for a moment, finding that his grip loosens as he tries to decipher whatever emotion you were currently feeling, but he is far too late when he finds that it was only anger, your hand rearing back to strike him, a slap that sounds inside the stables with a heavy crack, pulling back from him in an instant as his face refuses to change.

“Yeah, get angry,” Jesse encourages, “you wanna do it again?”

Part of you wants too, but you understand what he’s trying to do.

You needed an outlet, you didn’t have one, and he was willing to be that for you.

Your bottom lip temples slightly and Jesse nods, almost taunting.

When you finally do, feeling the rage in your chest swell as he goads you on, raising your hand back to slap him again, his hand is already there, stopping you in an instant.

There’s a split second, fearing whatever words were about to spill from his mouth before you decide to act, begging for any escape from this conversation, you silence him with your own mouth.

Your hand twists into his hair as you pull him to you, against you, his weight guiding you against the wall behind you as your bodies thump against hit, breathing hot and heavy into his mouth as split his lips with your tongue, hearing him groaning softly as his grip on your wrist loosens before trading for your waist, holding you tight against the wall as you were pinned between him and the hard surface of wood.

It was inevitable.

This—you and him.

It had been building, creeping in the shadows whenever you two would share a look or a touch.

You didn’t like complicated—and Jesse had that in droves.

Still, the silent gasps that escape him as your other hand shifts into his hair and tugs alongside the other, tethers you to him.

You want it to hurt. Deeply.

Not him necessarily—but the connection, this moment.

Because that would make it easier to hate yourself for wanting him so badly, even if it was nothing but a distraction or a means of avoidance.

He was apprehensive for a moment, almost pushing you away from him, but something in him relaxes as you moan softly into his mouth, less defensive as he presses the hard, solidness of his chest against your own and reciprocates the kiss with a sudden enthusiasm. 

Jesse kissed like someone holding something back—he always has, even in arguments.

It wasn’t to be secretive or manipulated, it was because he was controlled. 

Everything he did was a calculation. 

You press him harder, push him further, feeling his tongue drift over your split lip from the earlier attack, faintly aware of the sting as he lapped at the small drop of blood that had collected there.

He groans low in his chest as you break the kiss, resting your forehead to his as your eyes peer into his own, wordless but aching to speak—you do that for him, “Dina?”

“Off,” he says simply, knowing full-well what that meant—he was just as eager for distraction.

Jesse focuses on you quietly, hand rising until his thumb could brush across your cheek. 

You flinch—not from the touch, but from the tenderness.

You preferred the violence—his instinct for softness with you wasn’t welcomed.

“Don’t be sweet to me,” you whisper, shaking your head with the weight of your words.

His jaw tightens and his nostrils flare slightly, tilting his chin down to look at you.

His hand lingers at your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek once more before curling under your chin, lifting your face so you have no choice but to look at him, your eyes frantically searching his face.

“I’m not,” he says, like a growl—and you can feel the heat in his tone, strangled by his own instinct to control himself.

You kiss him again before he can say anything else.

Words complicate things.

Words make things real. 

But this?

It was instinct.

His mouth crashes into yours with a similar fervor, teeth knocking briefly. You bite his bottom lip hard enough to draw a gasp and enough blood to match your own, hearing him groan into your mouth, gripping your hips impossibly tighter as a hand spreads out over your ass, curling under your thigh as he hoists it up against his hip, his knees pressing into the wall to entrap you further, a fist landing a blow against the wall beside your head.

You grind down against the thigh slotted between your legs, chasing a desperate friction that seemed unattainable. Your hand threads around the collar of his jacket, yanking hard as you angle your hips against his and he grunts—short, rough—a sound that makes your stomach somersault. 

"Soft? With you?" he mutters, breath hot as he drags his lips down the side of your throat. “Fucking impossible,”

Your jacket's shoved halfway down your arms, mirroring his own before your hands find his belt, tugging with impatient and shaky fingers. Jesse curses softly against your neck as his mouth trails until he can feel your pulse against his tongue, blindly tugging your jacket the rest of the way down before his hands move underneath your shirt, his palms curling against your sides as he squeezes the soft flesh under his grip.

You rip his belt from the loops and toss it aside, quickly shuffling his jeans down enough that he stops his movements against your neck to do the same, consuming your mouth to avoid the inevitable longing gaze, unbutton your jeans and slipping his hands under the fabric of your underwear, shoving the fabric down in one swift movement.

"Turn around," he demands in a low tone, voice sounding raw, frayed.

Jesse doesn’t offer much time to answer before he’s spinning you himself, your hands reaching behind you blindly to slip under the waistband of his underwear and push them down, hearing him grunt softly as your hand grazes his cock—hard and heavy in your hand but soft, his hand snaking around your neck to tilt your head back, catching a glimpse of the way his lips part at your touch, eyes closed.

His breath is heavy, labored. It matched your own.

Jesse pointedly catches your gaze as you let out a high pitched and breathy gasp as his finger squeezes around your neck, licking at the fingers of his empty hand before he spreads the makeshift lubrication from his saliva over your cunt, only partially surprised by how wet you already were.

When he enters you, it’s with no hesitation, no slowness, no apologies. 

He was giving you exactly what you wanted.

You arch back against him, a harsh breath ripping from your throat as he sets a bruising rhythm, hands now gripping your wrists so tightly it borders on painful.

Perfect, you think.

He positions your hands above your head, forcing them to grab onto a hook nailed into the wall before he returns the pressure to your throat and silently forces your jeans further down until they’re pooling around your dirtied boots, snaking his hand around the inside of your thigh as he palmed at the flesh, greedy.

But you want it that way.

Angry and desperate, driven by pleasure and need.

“Fuck,” you gasp softly, a devastating slip-up.

“Shut up,” he seethes, “I don’t wanna hear a fuckin’ word from you, got it?”

You nod quickly, eyes fluttering shut as you could feel the frustration rolling off of him in waves, through his touches, the quick and sharp thrust of his hips as he fucked you into an inevitable submission against the wall of the stables, blearily aware that anyone could come in and catch you like this.

It didn’t matter. It didn’t fucking matter.

Nothing mattered, really.

Jesse's thrusts grew more erratic, punctuated by the low growls that escaped his throat.

He was wrestling with something internally, almost animalistic. 

The grip on your throat tightened slightly, your pulse thrumming under his touch. You pushed back against him harder, desperately and silently asking for more, go further, go harder.

“You were scared, I saw it,” he grunted, his breath hot against your ear, and you could only manage a fragmented whimper in response, “I still see it,”

You didn’t need words—your body spoke for you.

Each thrust drove him deeper into you, struggling to keep yourself quiet as you bit down on your bottom lip, already swollen from the earlier attack, but the pain was welcomed.

Your breath quickened, the sharp edge of your pleasure driven deeper with every merciless thrust. “I’m not scared,” you managed to breathe, defying his earlier order. Jesse's grip tightened in warning, a growl rumbling up from his chest.

“Fuckin’ liar,” he hissed, punctuating each word with a brutal thrust.

The stables around you faded into nothing, a dark abyss, the only sound that mattered was the heavy thud of his body against yours and the way he filled you completely, stretched you out and kept you anchored to him.

He leaned closer, mouth brushing against your ear as he whispered, “I see right through you,” he reminds you, “always tryin’ to prove somethin’—tough girl, unforgiving world, right?”

You growl in frustration, the heat of his words igniting something primal in you, “You don’t know me,” you hiss, but it only fuels him further as he drives into you harder, “no one does.”

“I know enough,” he taunts back, voice low and laced with a deep, dark pleasure.

Each thrust pushed you closer to the edge, eventually divulging into a mess of limbs as Jesse leaned against you, pushing you up against the wall as he thrust into you, free hand slipping under your shirt to roam over your chest, squeezing harshly over the fabric holding your breasts in, feeling your nipples pebble underneath the fabric with a sick satisfaction that he barely even had to touch you to get you like this—breathless and needy.

The world around you faded to a dull thrum in your ears as Jesse continued his relentless pace, the friction between your bodies becoming the only thing that mattered until his thrusts faltered, feeling your orgasm creep in before quickly slipping away as his pace slows, but as if he heard your silent plea, his hand slips between your legs without a thought.

“That kid was never your fault,” Jesse tells you, feeling your chest lock up in fear, “it could have been any of us—and today, we’re alive, right?”

You nod, mouth hanging open as a broken sigh slips out, his fingers moving expertly over your swollen clit, “I won’t tell Tommy,” Jesse agrees, “but, you will.”

You both slip into a silence as your orgasms crest—a mingling of breaths, cheek against cheek as your cunt spasms and squeezes around him so tight he nearly chokes, slipping out of you hurriedly as his comes spills over his fist and against the back of your thigh as you heave in a charged breath, releasing it shakily. 

After a moment, Jesse clears his throat, ripping off a fabric hidden inside his back before he approaches you, cleaning you up without a word as you examine him carefully, pulling up the layers of fabric with caution as his are hoisted up but hanging low on his hips, a remnant of what had just happened. 

“I won’t lie to him,” Jesse explains, “but, you seem pretty good at that.”

He silently adjusts his jeans, re-looping his belt before he’s reaching for his jacket and backpack.

“This didn’t happen,” Jesse tells you, “tell him or not—but if he asks me, I’m not lying.”

Integrity was everything to Jesse, but this blip between you both seemed to be his exception.

You had a choice—but you weren’t sure if making the right one was even worth it.

“Jesse,” you called softly, the sound barely escaping your lips as he turned back, eyes sharp and calculating. He was such a puzzle—difficult, infuriating. You don’t know why the words slip out so easily or why you feel them so strongly, “thank you,” you tell him, his face softening slightly.

The charged essence of what had just transpired seemed to bind you to him even tighter now, even if unintentional. It was an unbreakable thread forged in desperation. 

Unspoken, you were tethered whether you liked it or not.

“Let me know when you figure out what you’re thanking me for.”

Maybe it was for your life, maybe it wasn’t.

You weren’t sure if you even meant it.

[alinathinkstoomuch]

PART OF THE JOB

pairing: dbf!bodyguard!hotch x reader summary: you go to a party to make hotch jealous and, in the process, end up butt-dialing him mid-make-out with another guy…oops, based on this request. warnings | an: jealous jealous super jealous hotch, protective hotch, age gap, mutual pining, tension, lil bit of manhandling, 2 divas arguing instead of kissing, angst if you squint, r is a brat. word count: 2.2k

✧ masterlist

Being a good kisser had never ranked high on your list of life priorities…until now. The sloppy lips currently smothering yours made you want to reconsider that standard entirely. And, annoyingly, all you could think about was how Aaron—no, Hotch, you reminded yourself—probably wouldn’t kiss like this.

He seemed like he'd be patient and gentle at first. He would take his time, studying, sensing your body before he decided to take it any further. He’d wait, just until a whimper was on the tip of your tongue before giving in, silencing you with his.

He had spent years, decades even, studying people’s behaviour for a living. And that skill was bound to apply to scenarios a little less gruesome than murder.

And his hands—so big—seemed like they would cradle you in place. Keep you still. Keep you there, ready for his taking. Fingertips moulding into your skin as his mouth trailed lazily down your neck.

The thought alone made you moan into the mouth of someone who neither deserved it nor was the reason for it. But Steven had taken it as encouragement anyway, his hands sliding down to your ass. They felt smaller. Wrong. Insufficient in every way Hotch’s wouldn’t be.

You pulled back slightly, lips parted, the words you’re not him taunting your tongue, only to frazzle into nothingness as you remembered all the countless times you’d practically thrown yourself at Hotch only to get nothing in return.

You had a pool. A big, gorgeous pool that mostly just existed for when your father’s friends brought their kids over. Otherwise, it sat untouched. You never really cared for swimming anyway. Chlorine clinging to your skin and ruining your hair? Not exactly your thing.

But you had noticed that on the gentler mornings, when your father was out of town, Hotch would sit outside with his coffee and the newspaper, positioned perfectly to face the said pool.

So, naturally, you decided that morning swims were now officially your thing. Wellness era, fresh air, early starts, all the things magazines were banging on about. Never mind that the swims lasted fifteen minutes and the everything shower that followed took forty-five.

You’d swim a few laps, then stretch out along the edge of the pool. You’d tip your head back, sun catching your skin, doing your best to coax even the smallest comment from the man who seemed permanently committed to keeping his mouth shut, and his eyes anywhere but on you.

But by your fourth attempt, you were convinced he’d started timing it. Closing the paper or standing up just before you decided to get out, like clockwork.

That was just one entry on the ever-growing, mildly unhinged list of attempts you’d made to get him to notice you.

There were others. Of course there were.

The final straw came in Steven’s bedroom. A house party that had slowly devolved into a bedroom party. One that, unfortunately, only one of you (Steven) seemed to be enjoying.

Hotch had been so good at dodging any and all attempts to get even a sliver of attention—anything that didn’t fall strictly within the bounds of his contract to keep you safe—that you’d started to think you’d imagined the connection between you altogether.

It felt less like something real and more like a concept. An idea to keep you company on the nights you couldn’t sleep, and, apparently, during moments like this, when you were actively trying to scrub him from your mind by hooking up with someone you had barely any interest in… only to end up thinking about that damn scowl anyway.

You pulled back all the way this time, a hand flat on Steven’s chest.

“I—I need a second,” you mumbled, standing almost too quickly, the drinks you’d indulged in earlier deciding your balance.

“Is something wrong?”

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, mostly to stop yourself from blurting out the truth that yes, everything was wrong. Because the man you actually wanted was old enough to be both Steven’s father and yours, and you had no business wanting him the way you did.

“No, Steven,” you said, forcing a breathy laugh as you smoothed your hands over your hips. “I’m just a little hot, you know? No AC in here, let’s crack a window open, yeah?”

He didn’t look entirely convinced, but you were too warm to care. You turned and made your way across the room. Your fingers curled around the latch, starting to twist it open, only to freeze at the banging on the bedroom door.

“Uh hey? Sorry to interrupt your, um… whatever, but—” The door creaked open, and one of Steven’s friends poked their head in. “There’s some strange man at the door who just threatened to break my arm if I didn’t tell him where you were.”

Steven straightened immediately and it almost seemed endearing. “What the hell, I’ll go down—”

“No,” you cut in quickly, grabbing his arm before he could move. “It’s fine. I’ll go.”

“You sure? Sounds like a psycho.”

“Yes, I’m sure. It’s just my babysitter making sure I haven’t been kidnapped,” you muttered, brushing past Steven’s friend in the hallway as you headed for the stairs.

You were halfway down by the time your eyes landed on him, standing on the doorstep like a vampire who refused to enter without an invitation. You raised your brows first, the disbelief plain on your face, before hissing, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Your father wants you home.”

“My father is in a completely different state and has no clue where I am,” you bit back, whipping your head over your shoulder at the sudden stillness behind you.

Several pairs of eyes were strained on the two of you. At least the music was loud enough to drown out your voices, leaving them only with a visual, like a grainy, black-and-white movie.

“I will shut this place down quicker than you can blink if you don’t get in the car.”

“Feel free,” you encouraged, arms settling comfortably on your chest as you crossed them. “Did you bring your badge for the full effect, or was that confiscated before you swapped the FBI for a career in babysitting?”

Your name fell out of his lips in warning.

“There is no danger here. Just a bunch of honry young adults. Feel free to resume your evening, Hotch.” You reached for the door, hand already moving to slam it in his face, but he was painfully faster.

His own hand shot out, catching the door before it even reached the halfway mark. With a slight shove, he forced it back open and before you could react, that same hand was wrapping around your wrist.

“What the hell—” you started, but he was already pulling you through the door.

You stumbled after him, heels clicking against the pavement as he all but dragged you toward the car.

“Let go of me,” you yelled, yanking against his grip.

“I asked you nicely.” He didn’t even look back. “You wanted a scene, now you’ve got one.”

You dug your heels in, breath catching as anger surged in your chest, before you confidently decided to take a page out of his handbook.

“I will have you out of a job before you’ve even put the keys in the ignition if you don’t let go of me right now.”

That stopped him.

He turned to face you, your wrist slipping free. “Do you want to use my phone or yours to call your father and tell him you spent the night getting drunk, letting some guy crawl all over you?”

“What?” Your stomach dropped, brows pinching together as the words landed.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “You pocket-dialled me.”

“No, I didn’t,” you breathed, denial rushing out as your hands flew to your back pocket, fingers scrambling for your phone.

You unlocked the screen, heading straight to your call log.

There it was.

Hotch (bane of my existence) – 5 minutes, 42 seconds.

Fuck.

“That was an accident,” you said quickly. “I didn’t mean to.”

Which, technically, was true. You wanted him to imagine it, paint his own picture when you walked out in that low cut top, knowing full well he’d track your location to Steven’s house. You wanted to get under his skin, not give him front-row seats to the sound of your moaning.

He said nothing.

Just stood there, watching you like he could see straight through every excuse before you even placed them in a sentence.

“I figured. Didn’t sound like you meant to call anyone.”

Heat flooded to your cheeks, every drop of blood in your body momentarily being replaced by molten embarrassment. You didn’t trust yourself to say anything else, so you sighed, then walked past him, spotting his car parked a short distance away.

He followed without a word, but when you reached the curb, he moved ahead and opened the passenger side for you.  

The call had lasted almost six minutes.

And he hadn’t hung up.

He’d stayed on the line, listening to Steven’s hands on you. Listening to the moans that weren’t meant for him but came from thoughts that were. Thoughts that had always been about him.

You stared at the window, your teeth picking apart the inside of your cheek, trying to focus on the blur of streetlights instead of the shame simmering beneath your skin, settling into the space where your confidence used to live.

Still, he said nothing as he drove.

Didn’t ask questions. Didn’t bring it up. Didn’t even look at you.

Back to the usual, then.

Pretending like nothing had ever happened. Like this was just another night, another drive. Like escorting you home after dragging you out of a party wasn’t personal, and instead was just part of the job.

As if you were the only one making this complicated. As if you were reading too much into things. Like he hadn’t quite literally shown up, stormed in, and hauled you out after listening to you dry-hump someone else over the phone.

“Are you hungry?” he asked after a moment, the delivery of the question and when he chose to ask it pulling a laugh out of you.

“Really? You came all this way to make sure I’ve eaten dinner?”

“A yes or no would suffice,” he replied, eyes fixed on the road.

“No, Hotch. I’m not hungry. Though I probably would’ve worked up an appetite if Steven had finished what he started.”

His jaw twitched—just slightly—knuckles tightening around the steering wheel. “I’m sure you’re not missing much,” he said flatly. “He seemed a little sloppy.”

“Oh yeah?” you shot back, a bitter little smile curling at your lips. “You got all that just from listening in? Bet you wished it was a FaceTime call instead, huh? Would’ve really completed the picture for you.”

“You think that’s funny?”

You shrugged, fingers busying themselves with pulling apart the loose threads of your denim skirt. “I mean, don’t you? You’re the one who stayed on the line for six minutes just to judge my taste in men.”

“Boys,” he corrected.

“Oh yes, absolutely. Because a man would never string me along. Never make me feel like I’m imagining things. It’s the boys that are the problem.”

He stopped at a red light, using the pause to turn toward you but you shifted immediately, pressing yourself further into the door, angling your body away from him. As far away as you could get without actually jumping out of the car.

“I just don’t think you should be giving your attention to people that don’t deserve it.”

“And where do you think you fall on that scale?” you asked, glancing over at him.

“I don’t.”

You frowned. “You don’t what?”

“I don’t fall anywhere on it,” he replied simply. “I’m not supposed to be on the scale.”

“Right.” You nodded once, popping the t. “Of course not.”

“I—”

“Just take me home, Hotch,” you cut in, turning your body back toward the window. “I’m tired, and, quite frankly, I don’t want to be around you anymore.”

Lies. All of it. Every single word.

You wanted to stay in that car until he cracked. Until he slipped up. Until he admitted something. But there was only so many hits your pride could take in one night, and you were already bleeding from every place that counted.

He obliged to your request, shifting the car back into gear the second the light turned green.

The rest of the ride back was spent in silence. Halfway through you reached for the radio and started flipping through the stations, deliberately landing on the cheesiest pop music you could find, just to irritate him further.

And when he finally pulled into the driveway, you wasted no time reaching for the door handle, but his voice stopped you.

“You don’t have to keep trying so hard.”

You turned to face him. “What?”

He stared ahead, not looking at you. “To get my attention. You already have it.”

Your breath caught, stuck somewhere between disbelief and something dangerously close to hope.

You nodded again, this time managing to successfully open the car door.

“Goodnight, Hotch.”

tags - @fandomscombine @pastelpinkflowerlife @hazzyking @bernelflo @risenqueen1521 @jazzimac1967 @camihotchner @abschaffer2 @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @pacmillo-blog-blog @stilestotherescue @kiwriteswords @anvdala @supersanelyromantic @yourallaround-simp @percysley @writerskive

[grotesquevi]

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ ‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤㅤ ‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤTHE WAVES SUCK YOU IN, THEN YOU DROWN.

18+ mdni, men dni, this is based on a previous request from my r.i.p blog @vicorices, use of strap-on, dirty talk, fingering, soft!dom vi, praising, tight + bottom afab reader, vi is folded tbh — i tried this to be kind and nice, so it is mostly? but i'm also a dirty slut at the same time so it gets tiny bit rougher by the end my bad, collage au, formal fuckgirl!vi now on a leash. comments, reblogs and likes are loved literally tell me your thoughts talk to me,,

side notes — if you recognize this it may be because my previous account got deleted out of nowhere, i'm trying to get all my work back up again cause of tumblr's dumb ass, check out my masterlists to help me out fic hunting! wc: 1.6k

“shh— it’s okay,” the pleasant sound of her voice sends shivers down your spine as she presses soft kisses in your naked shoulder, breathing in the scent of your skin. the hoop of her nose piercing dragging across the moles she had learned by memory, the marks you utterly hate yet she finds so fucking attractive. “it's okay sweetheart, i got you.”

patience.

it's a struggle since she's so bad at it. trying her best cause she really really likes you, so indulging to your needs every time. it’s a big issue to restrain herself from taking you just the way she wants to, preparing your pretty pink hole to have her so deep inside, you won’t even notice where you begin and she ends, where limits finally erase and you’re melting in her embrace.

her fingers curl inside, and the sound you make tickles a part of her brain, that sultry whine, the dryness of your voice as she pushes and pushes until she's knuckles deep and she's so fucking close to you she can smell the lavender in your shampoo, the taste of your sweat in her tongue — "are you okay? talk to me baby."

she's so kind even when she's from mere seconds to lose it. gentle as she keeps you pressed against her bare torso "yes-yes, i'm good" you let your girlfriend know, burying your head against the pillows — "keep stretching me out vi, please."

she's such a sucker for it. when you start talking so bluntly about your needs and she stays silent for a bit, letting the weight of your words sink in her skull for a second. you clench around her digits and she’s so happy to give you just what you asked for, let her ring and middle finger rub against that spot she's well aware you're fond of by now, the same that makes you arch your back pressing your ass against the strap.

"that's it suck me in," it's such a sight vi could cum by just looking, giving yourself to her like a damn gift. "stretching out so good for my cock baby, fuck- you're doing so well for me."

she knows what she's doing. towering over you, talking against your ear as she finger fucks you into plain madness. arousal gathers on the palm of her hand and you roll your hips against vi's fingers, mumbling about how good she feels already, how you're sure you can take her, all pink cheeks and heavy breathing making her mind go blank.

violet’s fingers withdraw and you gasp at the hollow in your insides, spreading yourself wider to her view, to call her in, make her fuck you again until you're not sure about your own name: stop being unfair. yet, despite all annoyance, you cannot find time to complain when she’s grabbing your leg up in her arm, angling you to her liking.

obscene.

"you're always so sensitive, fucking hell-" vi curses under her breath, hips rocking against you now as she holds the base of the purple cock to rub it against your folds, teasing your entrance in a steady pace, wet, sloppy kisses being etched in the skin of your back almost in a soothing way. "let me fuck you," she asks you soon after, muscles flexing as she keeps you still, pushing the strap against your cunt — "gonna be gentle baby i promise, 'gonna be whatever you need me to be."

"vi-" you breathe out, and she's holding you at this point cause shit, you're a fucking mess, barely saying more than two-word sentences.

"let me fuck you, please" the pink haired begs once again. "you put on this nice set for me, took my fingers s'good. let me make you cum in my cock."

now, she's not usually right, but this time? vi hits the spot cause you did buy a shameful new set of underwear, you did wear it even when you're a complaining bitch always whining about being so tight, about your constant struggle to take her, how she has to use you like a damn toy if you wanted to be fucked until you got a noise complain, stretched out slowly.

when you nod however, it's like she's granted permission to rule the world.

"i got you pretty girl," vi says, leaving a soft kiss over your temple as her fingers take the already lubricated strap to your slippery entrance, forcing just the tip in — the intrusion however, makes your body tense as her lips leave a path of soothing kisses in your shoulders, breathing right next to you, holding you as close as possible — "get used to me baby, m'not moving."

and yes she's such a sucker for it. for the way your legs shake in her arm cause you lose control of them so quickly, pushing her hips slightly forwards again, the loud sound you make as she sinks in just enough. delicious. you make room for her, the skin of your back pressing just right against her chest, the friction of your spasms hitting in vi’s pierced nipples.

it’s so fucking good. she never gets over it, never find it boring — you’re making such an effort in taking her deeper she has to praise you cause you’re halfway through it now and vi loves to see that smile on your face, the fact you’re having a great time with her, your greedy hole sucking her cock in, relaxed now, insanely pliable.

“tell me when it feels good,” she says, looking down at you through half lidded eyes, an explanation of why her words are slurring together in the air as she talks you through it. “can you do that? so i can fuck you properly.”

patience.

violet didn’t even think about cockwarming until she has to stay there every time, filling your tight little cunt over and over again. she thrives now on the idea of keeping you full, how you must be clenching round the strap as you struggle to get used to the size of it.

“want me to stop?” she's so filthy by that point, looking down to notice how the strap is now covered by your arousal, lubricating down to the fabric of the harness on her hips. in all reality, she's asking so she can get an answer from you, hear how fucked she has you by now by the tone of your voice.

"no," you reply. "no, i can take it vi, please- need you inside."

god she’s so fucking patient in these times she should get a prize, sinking in painfully slow until there’s no room for more and she’s fully inside, balls hitting on your clit, teeth bitting to leave a mark in your shoulder you’re totally unaware of: patience.

"you look so pretty full of me," she whispers, and it's so intimate, the lack of space between you both, the sweat that makes your skin glow under the warm lights of your dorm — she angles your face up to kiss you, swallowing your whimpers as she moves beneath you, a gentle pace at first to see how'd you react. "that's my girl. breathe."

it only takes you a couple of minutes, overly enjoying her gentle touch, her way of taking care of you; soft bites in your neck, kisses over your shoulders, how her arms surround you as they hugged you, cause after that vi's moving faster, sloppier cause she's sure she's damaged at that point, malfunctioning at her worst.

she picks up her pace relentless, and your moans mixes well with her own, that need that pours on her stomach making vi's vision cloudy as her hips pistons until you can hear that clap filling each space of the room. her fingers rub against your clit in tight circles, matching her intense movements cause fuck — it's almost lame to admit she's so sensitive already it only takes friction to make her cum and squeeze around nothing but the view she has of you melting in her.

you shake as you cum, arousal gushing out even when she's still plunged deep in you, coating your tights as she keeps you spread, fucking you through it only to get you to that point of damn of insanity.

"feel better?" she asks after, and it's an understatement that makes you blush, almost laughing as you began to remember how to fucking breathe at that point — "looks like you enjoyed yourself, huh?"

"shut up," it's useless even try to defend you, cause you're leaning into her seeking for her warmth, even when she probably smells funny and is sticky. "i did in fact. thank you vi."

you're so fucking cute it's like a dagger to the chest to take, and it's weird cause vi craves this attention, how your heart beats right against her, to be close to you at the end of the day, not questioning anything as your body just fits against hers. silent and shared trust.

even when she might suck a little by saying it she's damn good at showing you at least, madly good when her hand slips against your neck and she's suddenly gripping it tightly, hips moving only to sink in deeper inside your cunt — "you're so open already, can you feel that? think m'gonna have to fuck you again."

and you giggle looking up to her like a fucking deadly sin, asking for more like a greedy, greedy slut, so deep down vi knows it, but it's really late to avoid it when she realizes she carries you like a tattoo right under the ink already on her cheek, squeezing your neck, pushing you against the mattress this time cause you can take it now.

all the pleasure always comes in cherry waves, you dig it now more than ever.

[anonf1writer]

can u make a masterlist pls

(i PROMISE one day i'll work on something aesthetically pleasing, but for now this is what i can offer)

──────────────────

🔞 DISCLAIMER: please, please, please, do NOT interact with my content if you're a minor. 🔞

it makes me uncomfortable.

I hope you'll understand and respect that.

──────────────────

✽ SINGLE PARENT UNIVERSE

drivers: max, charles, oscar, lando about it: this universe was originally created from the concept "reader being a single parent and the driver spending time alone with the child alone for the first time". then, we collectively decided to keep adding more and more to it! lol they're mostly text aus, but not exclusively.

drivers spending time alone with reader's kid for the first time

driver gets called dad/daddy by the reader's kid for the first time

reader’s kid steals their phone to text the driver

driver calls reader's kid their son/daughter in an interview

reader reacts after the interview

driver stands up for his family

reader’s kid said driver agreed to having a pet

EXTRA:

but please shut up (written)

summary: from the same single parent universe and based on THIS request, I present to you 2k words about the moment Yn first said the three words to Lando, and then told him to shut up (or something like that). reader x lando norris (use of Yn, yes) word count: 2k

──────────────────

✽ STAND-ALONE TEXT AU

drivers: max, charles, oscar, lando all of these but one were based on requests.

texting them “I need help” (because you actually do)

texting them “you kissed me last night”

texting them about wanting a baby (and they say you already have one)

they text about wanting a baby (and then freak out when you say yes)

pregnancy cravings when they just came back from the store

texting them because it’s been “too long” since you’ve last seen them

when there’s a new pet at home

thinking they hate you when it’s just the opposite

accidentally texting them🌶️

VICE VERSA (kinda): drivers accidentally confessing their feelings DIFFERENT VERSION: accidentally texting them after spending the night together 🌶

there’s always the classic jealousy

when you can’t sleep without them by your side

VICE VERSA: when they can’t sleep without you by their side

congratulating them after a race

morning texts (extra fluff version)

──────────────────

✽ LN4 UNIVERSE

about it: here you'll find things I wrote exclusively about lando. they're not connected to each other, but they are all about the same driver.

she used to be a fan — text au

lando finds out his girlfriend used to be a fan based on this request

go off and wear whatever you want — text au

lando gets jealous after his gf posts a picture wearing a ferrari hoodie. inspired by this request. angst to comfort. suggestive language.

my current boyfriend — LN4 tiktok trend

you're dating lando and pull the "current boyfriend" tiktok prank on him written 800 words based on this request

it's stuck — LN4 TikTok Trend

you're dating lando and pull the "tampon prank" on him written 1,6k words based on this request

like you always did. like he always did. — LN4 one-shot

lando is going through something and he pushes you away. written. 8,8k words. content: angst to hurt to comfort. warning: suggestive language. mental health struggles. based on this request

──────────────────

✽ FOR REAL UNIVERSE (TEXT AU)

driver: lando summary: he promised he'd be there. she saved him a seat. then, for the 100th time, waited for him to show up. smau (mostly texting) +18 please angst

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4

──────────────────

✽ A POSITIVE SURPRISE (LN4 SMAU)

driver: lando norris. summary: a trip to visit her best friend after a break up leads to lando norris asking for her number, and that’s just the beginning. smau (mostly texting) +18 please

part 1

note: first thing i posted here !! i was supposed to keep working on it, but i got distracted with the single parent universe + for real universe... 😬 i'll get back to it eventually!

──────────────────

[the-witty-pen-name]

Not Just a Neighbor (1)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x PlusSize!F!Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: When Simon is home from deployment, all he wants to do is sleep, but noise from the apartment next door keeps him tossing and turning- his cute new neighbor's puppy.

Request submitted by anon. Thank you for your request!

Warnings: 18+ MNDI; eventual smut; language; mostly fluff; mentions of PTSD & anxiety

Series Masterlist

He hadn’t been home in months. The drag of his boots got heavier and heavier the closer he got to the front door of his flat. His eyes were heavy and his body was so goddamn sore. All he could think about was getting in his own bed, and he was looking forward to the best night's sleep since he can’t remember when. 

When he gets home, he leaves his duffel by the door with a thud and kicks of his boots. His feet sink into the carpet and he can’t even begin to describe how good it feels to be home. His muscles begin to untense and he’s not moving as rigidly as he was moments ago. 

He desperately wanted a hot shower, and that was his first stop. The water pressure in his building was nothing to write home about, but god did it beat the terrible showers with no pressure on base. The hot water did wonders for his aching muscles. He was beginning to slip back into a normal routine quite quickly. 

He couldn’t wait to fall asleep in his own bed. An actual bed with a plush mattress and pillows that don’t deflect immediately. He’s craving sleep so badly. He steps out of the shower and throws on a pair of his sweatpants. He collapses on his bed instantly, not even bothering to get under the covers. He stretches out on his stomach and he’s feeling the pull of sleep just about to take over him. 

Noise from the other side of his bedroom wall kept him from fully losing himself to sleep. It wasn’t like him, being so used to sleeping wherever on deployment, sounds never bothered him when he tried to sleep. He knew the apartment next to his wouldn’t have stayed vacant forever and perhaps he'd just been spoiled the last time he was home and it was vacant. He tried his best to ignore it. 

Was that a fucking dog? 

After a few attempts of tossing and turning, he was getting sick of this. He could barely stand it. He was so close to sleep and yet, it was like he got a second wind as he got up and headed out into the hallway to give this new neighbor a piece of his mind. He knocks on the door, and he hears another bark from the other side. He’s ready to lay into whoever is on the other side of the door, to cuss them out for not being able to control their dog while others are trying to sleep. 

Everything he intended to say goes out the window when you open your door. 

You’re so pretty.

Pretty eyes, pretty smile with soft cheeks… is that a dimple? Plush skin that looks so soft to the touch. So absolutely fucking beautiful that you make his mouth go dry. He’s completely forgotten why he came over here when you look at him with those eyes and that little head tilt. He should say something. 

“I’m so sorry,” you begin the conversation much to his relief. “Sarge is sick. I’m assuming you heard him barking.” 

“S-Sarge?” 

You nod, apologetically, but he can’t even remember why you’re apologizing until he hears a little yip from behind you. A little dachshund peers at him from behind your legs. It’s clearly a puppy, a really young one at that sporting an obnoxiously large cone for his little body. 

“I’m so sorry, like I explained in the note he’s a rescue..” 

“Note?” 

You left him a note? Something you wrote to him is in his possession and that knowledge makes his stomach flip. He glanced over to his door, and now he finally notices a yellow envelope taped to the front. He steps over and pulls it away. 

“I didn’t see this,” he says, tearing it open. 

“Hi, I’m your new neighbor Sarge. I’m a four month old dachshund. I have PTSD and I’m adjusting to my new home. I’ve recently been adopted and am trying to learn to be a good neighbor. We appreciate your understanding as I’m still in training. Please have a coffee on my mom as a thank you for your patience and support.” 

There’s a gift card attached to the coffee shop next door and he realizes a few other doors have that note as well. You got a small gift card for everyone in this hallway? He feels like an ass now. 

“I didn’t see this,” he explains, dumbly. “Sorry, I just got home from deployment- I’m so tired I must’ve missed it. Thank you for this.” 

You reiterate, overly apologetic, that you’ll do your best to keep the puppy quiet but he can’t even find any ounce of him that cares about that anymore. He can't even focus on what you’re saying, as much as he’s trying, because watching your lips is too distracting. 

As you’re trying to apologize, Sarge makes his way over, waddling from the weight of his cone and he rests his body against Ghost, taking a seat on his foot. God, how could he have ever been upset before? 

“Oh,” you say surprised, cutting yourself off. You look at Sarge, completely baffled. You look back to Simon. “He’s usually afraid of men.” 

Somehow your dog, notorious for barking and cowering in fear at the sight of any man, declared your neighbor- your tall, bulky and intimidating neighbor- safe. Your eyes widen in surprise, but also you can’t help the wide grin that expands across your face. 

“This is huge for him, you have no idea,” you gush. Your excitement makes his heart swell. Your dog likes him, your dog chose him. He wonders if this means maybe if he’s lucky he’ll have a chance with you. He can only hope. 

“Come on, baby,” you say, bending over to pick up the puppy in your arms. Simon quickly shifts his attention to the wall because he definitely wasn’t staring at the subtle way your tank top exposed your cleavage when you bent over. “I’m so sorry again, I promise I’ll do my best to keep him quiet,” you say, moving to close your door. “I hope you’re able to get some rest, you deserve it,” you smile, closing the door with your foot since Sarge was bundled in your arms. 

Simon is left dumbfounded, staring at your closed door for a few moments before he can even shake it off and return to his own apartment. He keeps your note clutched tightly in his hand, reading it over and over, practically tracing the slopes of your pretty handwriting.

[nerdygirlramblings]

And now for something a little different, based off this prompt from @writing-prompt-s.

After five years of droughts which caused a famine that led to wars over resources, your people were desperate.

They had long ago lost the ability to read the ancient tomes. You only had a rudimentary understanding of them, but you were your people's only hope. You were confident in your translation, that there were four gods to be appeased: Jon, god of war and blood; Gaz, god of famine and abundance; Tav, god of fertility and the harvest; and the god of death, who bore no name.

Each required a slightly different sacrifice.

Jon needed blood, willingly spilled. Gaz required a mother's milk. Tav wanted human seed. And the god of death required a life.

You knew your people would baulk if you requested the things the gods needed, so you cloistered yourself in your home, set up an alter, and worked to gather what was required. An evening alone, touching yourself to thoughts of the village elder's middle son left you slick. You collected it in a brass bowl and hoped Tav would accept your "seed." The next day, your goat supplied a small basin of milk for Gaz, and you hoped he did not expect human mother's milk. Before you let fear override your senses, you sliced your palm, dripping the blood into a shallow dish for Jon.

Once everything was on the alter, you called out to the gods, offering what you had and vowing your life to the god of death if they would save your people. Outside, the wind picked up until it howled. You thought you heard it moan your name, but you pressed on, repeating the words from the tome you'd read, again offering your sacrifices and trading your life for that of your people.

On and on you called out the words to the gods until, hoarse and exhausted, you fell into a fitful sleep. You dreamed a battlefield where a man in warrior garments, covered in blood, wrapped an arm tightly around you, calling you his queen as his bearded face pressed bloodied kisses into your temple.

Then you were at a table groaning under the weight of dish after dish of succulent food while a beautiful brown-skinned man in a flowing tunic cradled you in his lap as he hand-fed you pieces of fruit, encouraging you lick the juice from his long fingers.

Next was a rolling field where a mostly-naked man, dressed in a strange kind of skirt, and with hair only running down the center of his head, laid you down among the stalks of wheat and sunk his cock into you.

Finally, you found yourself in the dark with a skeleton. It reached for you, and you went willingly to it, allowing it to embrace you, one hand wrapped loosely around your neck, but you did not feel fear.

When you woke, it was to the sound of rain on your roof. You looked at the alter and found all three offerings empty. Something had happened, yet you were here, despite offering your life for that of your people. You felt different, but didn't know how.

You searched for a looking glass, and that's when you saw it: Jon's mark near your hairline, where the bloodied warrior kissed you in your dream. You could also see the god of death's mark on your neck over where the blood beat under the skin. You couldn't see a mark from Gaz or Tav, but so much of you was covered. Stripping off your top, you saw Gaz's mark on your breast and Tav's over your womb.

Through the sound of rain and thunder, you thought you heard a series of laughs in different tones and timbres and a voice whispering, "We'll see you tonight, love. You'll have sweet dreams."

more

series masterlist | main masterlist

[aliteralsemicolon]

Bad, bad news 2 (worse news) - 18+

Masterlist | Part 1

GIF by Reidgif

Requested - "I daydream abt that one fic of yours (bad bad news) from how bad you edged me is it possible that we might get part 2"

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

DISCLAIMER You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Minors do not interact at all. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read. 

WARNING: Smut, soft dom!/dom! Spencer, slight manhandling, PinV, no mentions of protection, brat tamer if you squint, no rhyme or reason, just mostly filth, ass-obsessed Reid, light/minor spanking, man moaning!!!, slight nipple play, back shot esc.

Word count: 2K See notes at end for author's note & spoilers.

You can only muster a feeble squeak before Spencer tugs you off him and gently tosses you aside. You land on your stomach, nearly face-planting into the bed. When he drags you closer by your legs, you half expect him to turn you around.

And he would, if he wasn't so entranced by the view.

You've pushed yourself up on your arms creating a mouth-watering arch between your lower back and your ass. The way it's raised allows him to catch a glimpse of your glistening cunt. So, so wet and so inviting. He doesn't even realise when his head bobs to plant a hot, sticky kiss to the back of your thigh, sight set between your legs.

It makes you shudder.

"Spence..." His name escapes you in a small gasp as he travels up, leaving a trail of kisses on his way.

You barely get time to react before his mouth meets your cunt, hungry and desperate. The sound of your moan surprises you and your face inevitably falls against the mattress, fingers curling the sheets into a tight fist. He's obviously had a target in mind since the moment he laid eyes on it.

Spencer Reid also has an incredibly good aim.

His arms hook around your legs from under your hips, hands digging into your skin. His lips wrap around your clit and immediately tug. You feel his teeth barely scrape against it before it audibly pops out of his mouth. You whine, instinctively jolting away before pushing yourself closer to him. He doesn't object, licking a slow stripe from your bud to your entrance.

"Please. Please..." You don't know what you're begging for, you just know that you want more.

Not only does he take pride in the fact, but he delivers. His tongue prods your hole, lapping up the fruit of his labour. He's barely begun and you're already lost in his touch. You can feel yourself going limp, succumbing to the pleasure. It takes no time for your orgasm to brew, he knows you're close. Your eager mewls give you away. The thought of tasting your release sends a rush of excitement straight between his legs.

You grind against his tongue and he can't help himself from picturing how good you'd look taking him from behind, just like this. It gives him a new, utterly sinful idea. He lets you ride his face for a little bit longer. You're almost there, but just as quickly as Spencer brings you your orgasm, he snatches it away. And you damn near yell when he does, twisting your head with a displeased frown.

"Baby! Baby, I'm so close. Please–"

He cuts you off with a firm spank, kneeling directly behind you. It doesn't hurt in the slightest, but the sting shocks you enough for you to drop limp, again. He watches you roll your hips, arch deepening as you hum. It's a weak attempt to build some friction. Lust takes him over. If he could pick one, single moment from his entire life to be etched into his brain, it would be this one. More vividly than it already has.

"I told you," he grabs himself from the base, stroking up to his tip and wiping away his pre-cum, "only good girls get to cum."

You whimper when he drags his hardened cock through your folds. That whimper turns into a string of more pathetic whines when he repeats a motion a few more times. He fixates on your clit, rubbing the tip against your extremely fragile bud.

"You have to prove that you're my good girl."

You could honestly cum from this, but he won't let you. Prick. You push your weight onto your arms, turning your head again. Your hair is a mess, eyes wide, brows pleading–you look almost ruined.

"Do you..." You begin to speak, inhaling slowly, tone uncertain. As if you don't know if what you have to offer is sufficient. "Do you want me to suck you off?"

He wants to ruin you. Completely.

"Oh, baby. That's very tempting." He lets go of himself, both hands caressing your skin from thigh to cheek. "But you look so good like this."

You unintentionally whine your hips as he spreads you like he's inspecting the mess he's caused. His tongue swipes his lips in satisfaction.

"Then how?" Your bashfulness has more blood rushing down to his already painfully hard cock.

"Hmmm." He bites his lip, pretending to contemplate, like he hasn't known exactly what he's wanted since he put you in this position. Spencer grabs a fistful of your hair at the nape of your neck, just gently guiding your back to his chest. You follow his direction blindly and tilt your head at his command. He nips at the skin below your ear and then you hear his voice–a beautiful combination of gravelly and sweet–whisper to you. "Do you have any idea how pretty you are? Grinding your pretty cunt on me? I could watch you forever."

You pull away from his loose grip to meet his eyes. There's a noticeable lack of brown in his irises, pupils almost completely dark. You don't know whether to be concerned or flattered. He doesn't give you time to think too much about it, steadily lowering you down into your previous position.

"Spence, I'm not sure if I know what you mean." You mumble, hesitantly.

That's when you feel him line himself up with your entrance.

"Give me a show, won't you?"

Six words that stir in your stomach. Goosebumps rise everywhere.

"What?"

"You heard me."

You hesitate. You've never been in this position before, literally. On your knees, bent over with him kneeling behind you. You look back at him, his eyes locking with yours and he's mesmerised. Certain. He tilts his head. Like he expects you to act up. And he's ready to put you right back in your place. Then you remember how you got here. How badly you wanted to make him lose his mind. The stupid bet.

"Will you let me cum after?"

Spencer smirks like he's holding back a chuckle and gives you a light nod. You pout. It's playful. The pout you utilise when you want something.

"Promise?"

He huffs, playfully rolling his eyes.

"Yes. I will make you cum."

You give him the sweetest smile you know to muster and then lean forward, resting your head on the bed and sticking your ass up as far out as you can. His attention returns to where he's patiently waiting for your bodies to connect. You roll your hips again, slowly sinking down on him.

Fuck.

You can't escape the fluttery feeling from every inch of him you take. He throws his head back, hands rushing to grip your skin. Both of you moan loudly, almost primally. By the time he bottoms out, you swear his cock is pulsating from how hard he is.

"God, you feel amazing."

It takes you a few seconds to adjust, breathing deeply to ground yourself. He eases his hold on your flesh and that's when you raise your hips again, maintaining a slow, steady pace. You have to use the back of your hand to muffle your sounds, trying to stay focused on fulfilling his request. He wants a show. You'll give him a show.

You wiggle your hips when you reach the tip, swiftly sink back down and then up. Spencer hisses, hands squeezing you tightly from behind. He can't take his eyes off you, entirely under your spell. He relishes the sight of his cock disappearing in you and the warmth of your walls. You're hot, sweaty, sticky and it's driving him crazy. Only when a strained moan escapes you does he realise that you're holding back.

He doesn't appreciate it.

"Stop that. Let me hear you." He pleads almost out of air. It's polite.

You don't adhere to his request, opting to increase the speed and fluidity of your movements instead. He groans as you clench around him, annoyed at how he's unable to fully enjoy himself because of your restraint.

"Cut it out." He spanks you again only achieving a small squeak before you shake your head defiantly. His breathing is heavy and you can sense his glare. "Can't behave for more than a few minutes."

The snark on your tongue is replaced by a loud moan as his hips impulsively snap into you until his length is impossibly deep inside. You shriek, not expecting him to pull your knees straight out from under you, pinning you flat on your stomach. In that same motion, he lifts your ass just enough for him to comfortably thrust in and out.

You barely get a chance to blink and he's pounding into you. The sheets can't ground you. Every mewl and moan you withheld from him leaves you tenfold.

"That's it, scream for me. Just like that. Oh, baby, yes like that." His grunts lace with your voice, and the sound of skin slapping fills the room. You try to rebel once more, burying your head further against the bed. "No, oh, no."

Spencer pauses for a brief second, roughly grabbing you by your arms and pulling you upright. He pins them in place behind your back, his hold just above your elbows like they're handlebars.

"Hey–ah–Spencer!"

"That–my name–is the only coherent sound I want from you." He slips inside you again, barely giving you time to adjust and then ramping up to a brutal pace. You're on fire, it's like he's reaching every part of you. You can't tell whose moans are louder. He's drilling you at an impossible speed, stretching you open. He yanks you flush against his chest, hands rushing to cup your breasts. Your back stays arched, paralysed from intense pleasure.

"Oh–fuc–uh–Ah! Ah!" Your head falls back and you're basically just yelling.

You're back at the edge of your orgasm before you realise it. It's when you feel him tug your nipples that you know you're done for. He rolls the nubs between his fingers and you're panting like you've gone mad.

"Sp–Spencer, baby–"

"Yeah?" He's panting with you, his breath fanning across your neck.

"Gonna cum–fuck–I'm–so...fuck–"

"C'mon, use your words."

You'd bite back if your brain wasn't so scattered.

"Say it or you don't get to finish."

"Cum! I'm gonna cum! Now! Now! Please!"

Not that either of you has a choice. He's edged you for far too long, your release is inevitable at this point. He gathers as much when you limp in his arms, head lolling from side to side on his shoulder. As if you're trying to run from how overwhelming it is.

"Cum. Cum all over my cock."

That's all you need before the dam breaks. Your legs spasm as the pressure leaves your core, orgasm wracking through your limbs. By the time you come to, you're on your stomach again, Spencer's just watching you, soothingly rubbing your calves on either side of him. You muster any leftover energy to peek back at him. His whole body is flushed.

"How are you feeling? Feeling okay?" He mumbles, out of breath.

"Mhm." You nod, voice hoarse.

You attempt to shift and turn around but he stops you.

"No, don't turn around. You'll get it all over the sheets." You furrow your brows, confused. That's when the warmth on your back registers. "Stay there. I'll get a–"

"You didn't finish inside?" You look betrayed, almost hurt. He knows how much you love it when he cums inside you. You'd think he feels bad and he almost does, but the smirk on his face tells you otherwise.

"Good girls get what they want. Brats take what they're given."

Spoilers: None, you get what you see.

AN - Ermmmm...surprise? This was an entirely spur-of-the-moment decision. I started answering this ask and then started writing within the same answer and just never looked back. Still formatted it nicely for my peace of mind. Please note that this is not who I am (it might be) and this is not a reflection of my writing (it might be). I haven't written smut in sooo long please don't judge me rn.

Also, the title and gif selection were sending me. I really thought it was the funniest thing ever (it was not).

Thank you for reading!

[xreaderbooks]

Asphyxiated | Azriel

Summary: you overhear your mate talking to the inner circle about someone being clingy and annoying, and you decide to remove yourself from the court and your mate to avoid further humiliation.

based on this request

Warnings: language, insecurity, eavesdropping, feeling unworthy, court of nightmares, there's a stalker, some random OC, angst, miscommunication, fluff

Word Count: 2.9k

Azriel Masterlist | Navi | Wattpad | AO3 | Masterlist

"Azriel," You sing his name as you walk into your secluded home. A decently sized cottage to fit your tall, broad, wide-winged mate, that you designed and built together, just outside the city of Velaris. "Look at what I brought you."

You walk into the sitting room where you and Azriel enjoy each other's company in peace, however rare the occurrence. He appears troubled in his sleep as you've found him lying on his back with his wings spread open and a hand draped over his eyes.  He removes his arm from his face and blinks your way, feeling your presence as you enter the room.

"What do you have there?" His melodic voice makes your stomach flutter in a frenzy as it always does and you hope the bond doesn't translate too much to him, or his shadows, the gossipers that they are.

With a bright grin, you bring the box from behind your back and show him a white box with clear plastic for the perfect view of the treats inside. "Cupcakes," You reply cheerfully, awaiting a grateful response. "Went by the river today and Hilaria was working at the shop you like, did you know she found a job? how great for her!"

Azriel grumbles slightly and your smile falters but you don't let it show, opening the box you move to the couch and sit beside him with the room he gave you tucking in his wings.

"You got my favorite," Az murmurs, carefully taking out the beautifully decorated dessert. You take the statement as a note of appreciation for how well you know him, that much was obvious as you've known each other since birth practically, and in love with each other for half of that time.

He bent his neck down to kiss your cheek and muttering a thank you.

"Don't get too excited now, I heard from Rhys about where you're next assignment is gonna be and I expect a little something when you get back," You tease.

Azriel exhales through his nose and it sounds like a small laugh, "I'll be sure to return the favor if all goes well, love."

"What's wrong?" You ask, the energy in the room has been off since the moment you arrived and you couldn't deny it frightened you a little.

You and Azriel have been going through a rough patch, it happens as often as he overloads himself with work but you have always managed to work through it, it's never too serious mostly the both of you missing each other.

Whenever Azriel was working, you were home, and whenever you were working- he was home. You've spoken to Rhysand about your and Azriel's assignments but it wasn't about when he wanted you both to work, it was simply what needed to be done when it needed to be done.

Both of you being spymasters of the night court, it wasn't ideal to send you both on the same mission unless needed. Most of the time, either one of you or both of you were needed in separate places.

On the days, weeks- if you were lucky- months, that you had 'easy' assignments or days off, you spent it together. You and Azriel would spend time in bed or with your family, going on outings, and trying new things to add to the excitement of life. You loved to be together, your relationship being very sacred to both of you.

"Just tired," Azriel shrugs. You know him better though, something was bothering him that he didn't want to tell you.

You felt his frustration through the bond, you wanted to help him but knowing Az he'd tell you when he was ready.

~~~

"-the fucking shop, I mean honestly how close is she trying to get?"

You didn't mean to eavesdrop. Originally you were coming by to talk to Rhys and Feyre about some of the rumors going around the court of nightmares, nothing too concerning but something that needed to be checked on the next visit. When you heard the muffled voices in the townhouse sitting room.

"Perhaps if you spent less time with her?" Mor suggested.

You couldn't think of anyone else Azriel might be spending time with if not for you. Did Azriel want to spend less time with you?

Your brain immediately jumps to conclusions, Azriel has been in his thoughts as of late, and he hasn't told you what's been bothering him. You thought it had something to do with the distance, perhaps a lack of communication. It was putting a strain on your relationship but you didn't think even more distance was the answer.

Azriel shakes his head insistently, "I don't spend time with her, ever. She finds me somehow, it's maddening and I can't tell Y/n to stay away while I figure out how to solve this, she's always just there."

It was like a dagger in your heart. If you were always there it was because you felt like you never spent time together, how were you supposed to have a relationship if you were never together?

You thought for sure, Azriel felt the same.

"She is a bit clingy," Cassian nods. You felt another pang in your chest, Cassian who was your partner in crime, Mor who was your favorite person to talk to about anything, and your mate had all agreed that you were too much.

"A bit is a bit of an understatement," You heard Feyre chuckle.

You almost couldn't believe what you were hearing, your fault for listening to a conversation you weren't privy to you suppose but you would've never guessed your family felt you smothered them.

Perhaps you were too clingy, you were over at their house every other day. You felt like you were dividing your time between the people you loved, maybe they didn't want you there, and you were an imposition on their daily schedule. You felt embarrassed and humiliated that they were in a meeting to discuss what to do with you.

"I can talk to her if need be, brother," Rhysand gives Azriel a reassuring nod.

Azriel shook his head, "No, no need. I will speak with her, it's my relationship, my responsibility."

Cassian snorted loudly, "Your need to fix things yourself is admirable brother, truly. Let us pray that this will not dig you a deeper grave."

You didn't hear the rest, didn't need to.

Silently, you slipped out the doors of the townhouse. You didn't want to lose your friends so if they wanted space- you'd give them space.

~~~

You disappeared for the rest of the day, and the next. You left a note to Azriel so he wouldn't worry- not that he wouldn't appreciate your shared home now all to himself. You still had your apartment in the city that you rented out when you moved in with Azriel.

There were currently no tenants as there were renovations to be done.

You avoided your room at the townhouse knowing you weren't as welcome as you thought. You didn't show up to training with Cassian and Azriel that morning. Instead, you met informants and did some investigating yourself.

You sent a letter to Rhysand with details on the Hewn City problem, told him that he should look into it as soon as possible, and asked if he wanted you to get a handle on it instead.

He replied with a note giving you thanks and telling you that he'd deal it himself but would call on you with the rest of the inner circle when the visit would happen.

Days passed by until it had officially been a week of no contact. Azriel had sent you letter after letter requesting to see you. You denied them all with sweet words to show that there was nothing wrong, that you didn't overhear what they said about you.

Where'd you go - A

Miss you -A

Come back, our home feels empty without you - Azriel

Are you alright? - Desperately need to see you, Az

Several letters with pleading undertones, each one more than the last.

Then letters from Cassian about training, you reassured him that you were following the usual routine. Mor had invited you to Ritas one night and lunch another day- you declined both with excuses of having too much work to focus on anything else. You didn't realize how much they felt it was an obligation to do things with you.

Eventually, the time came, and Rhysand called on you for the visit to the court of nightmares. You were anxious at the thought of seeing them again, maybe as time passed they would feel better with you around now that you gave them space.

~~~

You dressed appropriately for the setting, your leathers, and weapons strapped to your body. The scowl was natural as you hated being here, glares sent to everyone who looked your way, intimidation being the only way to survive this gods-forsaken place.

Bowing in front of Rhysand to fit the narrative, Feyre sent you a curious as you bowed to her, you felt her stroking the inner walls of your mind- a request to enter. You shut her out with strong mental walls, standing once she allowed you, and took your place next to Azriel, slightly behind him and Cassian.

Azriel's eyes followed you, he tried to brush a finger against your hand as you passed him but you clasped your hands behind your back. Through the bond, you felt a sting in your chest. You spared a glance at your mate, you missed him so much your body craved to be near him but you resisted.

It went as well as it usually did, a dramatically villainous speech from Rhys, with some added threats to those opposed to his reign. The High Fae in attendance got drunk on Faerie wine and danced with the whole night ahead of them.

Azriel attempted to talk to you over his shoulder, "Are you upset with me?" He muttered to you with a crease on his forehead.

You shook your head, "No, why would I be?"

"Where've you been?"

With the few looks you've gotten of his face he looked stressed, circles under his eyes, his hands were clenched and you could tell that it was to keep him from fidgeting.

"Now is not the time," You told him, straightening when you saw a reveler get too close to the High Lady.

"We're done here anyway," Rhysand's voice echoed in your mind. You didn't doubt Azriel heard him as well. You took your leave, Azriel right behind you, he caught up so quickly he held your wrist you didn't notice until you felt the world shift and you realized he traveled you both to your cottage home with his shadows.

Azriel had stood in the same spot he landed while you backed away from him a couple of steps.

"You've been avoiding me," A statement. It was heavy with questions, with want of information you didn't want to divulge.

You asked one of your own, "Have you watered the plants?"

"Have I watered the plants?" He scoffed out the last word. "I've barely been able to function without you, Y/n."

You flinched although he didn't yell but the tone in which he spoke felt like he was scolding you.

He continued, "Yes, I watered the plants."

A weak smile was pulled out of you, he probably loved those plants as much as you. You weren't as much a gardener as Elain but you managed a small garden of your own, they were like yours and Azriel's children, something you both grew together. A garden of both of your favorite flowers and fruits and vegetables.

"Seems like you've been functioning just fine," You responded in a smart tone, it just slipped out.

"Tell me what I did, please, it's driving me mad." He stepped in your direction, shadows reaching to touch you, and you saw Azriel forcefully reigning them in like he wanted to reach for you too.

You softened at the sight, "It's not something you did, Az."

"Something I said, then?" He didn't refrain from fidgeting now, in the comfort of the home, he fidgeted with his fingers. "Something I didn't say, I know I didn't want to talk about what was happening before, but I'll tell you whatever you want me to if you promise not to leave again."

You just about melted, you felt yourself wanting to sway at his beseeching. "What was happening before?" You questioned in barely a whisper.

"Hilaria happened. She- Nothing happened- I swear to you, she grew attached. She grew attached to me," He grimaced as he said it. "She was everywhere I happened to be, it wasn't normal, I've warned her off so many times I was glad you didn't notice. I didn't want you to be uncomfortable with her. The moment she got a job at the sweet shop, she got too close, you went there and I knew it wasn't a coincidence."

Azriel had a fucking stalker and you didn't know about it. That was what he was so stressed about. Hilaria- an Illyrian female who had a shitty life, Azriel had given her refuge, because she had no family left to care for her, and a female alone in that camp was no place to be.

You helped Azriel find her a living space, and gave her safety for her to heal from the traumas, she must've mistook that for something else entirely. You couldn't help but to feel bad for her.

"I went to Rhys, he and the others offered their advice and I tried to talk to her about her behavior. She didn't take it well, so we sent her to Dawn court with the assurance that they would do all they could to help her."

"You talked to the others about this?" It all made more sense now. 

He nodded.

"Did Cassian say she was clingy?" You needed to be sure you were getting all the details now.

His brows furrowed, "How did you?"

"Because I was there when you were talking, but I didn't know you were talking about Hilaria." You sat on the couch slowly, forearms on your knees, hands clasped.

You laughed incredulously, slapping your hands to cover your face and running your hands into your hair. "I thought you were all talking about me."

"What?" Azriel's eyes were on you, deciphering your words when he pieced them together. "Why would we ever?"

"You weren't telling me anything about what was going on, I thought I was prying too much, I do spend a good bit of time with everyone, it wouldn't be too far off."

A smile tugged on his lips, one he was trying not to show. He was trying not to make you feel foolish but it was too late. "I love you, but this was not your wisest moment."

You grabbed a pillow from the couch and threw it at him with little force, "Az!"

"You had everyone concerned, they thought they had offended you in some way."

"Of course not!" You shook your head in disbelief, at how easily your insecurity took over.

"Now my family has some attachment issues, you couldn't get rid of them if you tried, you would probably want space from them yourself."

You rolled your eyes knowing them all too well, centuries with them and you still felt undeserving.

Azriel kneeled in front of you taking your hands in his and settling them on your lap then caressed your face in his hands. "I could never not want you near me, you're everything to me, understand?" His hands gave your head a gentle shake in emphasis.

"I don't think you understand where my mind was at the moment," You avoided his gaze. You didn't want him to know, the feeling of not being worthy enough for him, how you compared yourself to everything in his past and it didn't seem plausible for him to accept you. When he did accept the bond, it was the greatest moment you ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

Azriel was the love of your life, with and without a bond. It was hard for you to accept that he loved you without it if it wasn't for the fact that you trusted him to tell you the truth. He came to you and confessed his love and then the bond happened. You would have continued to pretend you weren't in love with him, otherwise.

"Do you not understand," Azriel sighed, "Do you not understand my love for you, at all?"

"It was easier to believe that you needed space from me," You confessed, shutting your eyes tight. Warm lips landed on yours, you were startled for a second before reciprocating the kiss.

He kissed you breathlessly, a minute, two or three- you didn't know how much time passed. Your blood pulsed in your ears, or was it his? it was rapid and created an electric current in your veins.

"I want to drown in your love, to be asphyxiated by it until all I know is you, in this life and after. I could never get enough of you." He whispered the promise on your lips with his eyes closed. You nudged your nose against his to open his eyes.

The warmth of his hazel eyes graced you and you murmur his name, he nudges your nose in response. "I love you."

Hours into the late night, after Azriel insisted on a bath together, you had a late-night snack nuzzled on the couch catching up on the lost time. You whispered sweet nothings to each other in bed with limbs entangled, and long-lasting kisses.